#your family owns-so you’re responsible for-a creature in which your family’s whole mission is to eradicate like fucking Slow Down

[pebblezone]

She was Twelve I don’t care how mature she was she’s going to feel emotions

[pascalpanic]

Alpha Beta Charlie- A Frankie Morales Story

Summary: Frankie is a lonely man with a big heart. His life changes when a new girl comes into his life.

W/C: 4.1k

Warnings: This one is a little heavy. Lots of language, talk of poor mental health (Frankie has depression and anxiety), Frankie’s recovering from a coke addiction, alcohol is prevalent here, harm to animals, lots of talk of blood and injuries.

A/N: This story is different than I normally write. There’s no reader in the story, this is just a story about Frankie Morales and a moment in his life. Please note that this is darker as it centers around an injured animal. Be warned of that. P.S. some of my friends might see ur names in here :) thank u to all of my friends who helped me pick Charlie’s name, and to @ilikechocolatemilkh who helped me create this whole story!

Frankie Morales is a kindhearted man. Anyone who meets him knows it instantly. He’s got a wonderful laugh that’s warm and inviting, and it’s often on display to anyone who chats with him for more than a few seconds. He’s caring, it’s clear, with big brown eyes that radiate compassion. 

His friends would describe him more as an idiot. Frankie, who they call Catfish from their days in the military, insists that they’re the idiots. He’s the voice of reason in their group, making the rational decisions and de-escalating fights within their group. 

That’s not to say Frankie is entirely sunshine and rainbows. He’s now several months sober from a long and grueling addiction to cocaine. It ruined him: it took away his pilot’s license, his everything in life. Flying helicopters was Frankie’s passion, but he’s recovering. He’s on the right track.

He had a girlfriend, who became his fiancée, and left him not long after he returned home from a dangerous mission in South America. It didn’t matter anyway; her child, who Frankie had dedicated all of his heart to before the birth, was revealed to be another man’s. As much as she resented him for taking the mission, he resented her for cheating and lying and holding the information back.

So now Frankie lives on his own. He resides out in a more rural town, not far from where Benny has his weekly fights and Will (also known as Ironhead) works with young military recruits. It’s been a couple of months, and it’s hard to be alone. Santiago pops into town once or twice a month, and it’s always the highlight of Frankie’s very being. His best friend brings light and laughter into his life. When he leaves again, Frankie’s small home feels massive and quiet.

He plays lots of CDs. He has bluetooth speakers all around the home and blasts his favorite songs. He’s learned how to cook and clean and has even learned how to bake a decent, basic version of a nice loaf of bread. He works as a mechanic at a shop in his small town’s center, working the odd hours that no one else wants, the hours where others want to be home with their families.

He’d considered different options to make the house more home-like, more welcoming. He tried his hand at gardening, only to find that he had the opposite of a green thumb. He painted the walls a warmer color, then painted them again. He was currently considering changing the colors for the third time. He’d burn candles that he thought smelled nice. He’d hung up a few photos of him and his friends, or his family. Nothing really worked.

A typical night for Frankie held one of two patterns:

-Night A: Frankie gets home from the shop at about 7:30, hands covered in grease and smelling of burnt motor oil. He gets in the shower and cleans up, then either ends up at Benny’s arena to cheer him on, or at the bar with both Miller brothers.

-Night B: Frankie gets home at the same time. He showers to clean himself, simply because he hates leaving smudges over his home. He cooks a nice dinner or orders takeout. He eats it on the couch and watches a new Netflix series. He gets sad and feels alone and drinks a beer, then a few more, to drown the sensation. He goes to bed early and calls into the shop to see if any of the morning shift workers want to go home early, because he can come in an hour or two before his shift. He claims it’s for the overtime pay. It’s really to avoid the loneliness.

Frankie likes patterns. He likes routine. It’s soothing. Maybe it’s a remnant of his military days, where not a second would pass without having a title affixed to the very second he was living in. Predictability made the hurt easier.

Tonight was an A Night. Frankie and the Miller brothers sat at the bar of McCreary’s and talked about everything and nothing at once. Will talked about the new girl he was seeing. Benny made lewd comments. Frankie smacked his arm and ordered another round for the other two, then nursed one beer for the entire night.

Winters were the worst for Catfish. He lived in the South, where snow was uncommon, but the dreary February weather stole whatever energy he could muster up and sent it up to join the gray masses that hung in the sky, yet never shed their raindrops. It gets dark early, another thing Frankie hates. It reminds him of the look on Tom’s face when he died. Of the way his bachelor home never made sounds unless he created them. Of the way the craving for one more hit of that devious white powder felt, the way it scrambled his brain until he thought it was the only thing that could take it away. 

This A Night, which also happened to be an especially chilly Tuesday, Frankie drove home from the bar at 12:21. The backroads that lead from the suburbs out to the rolling hills are dark, with a rare streetlight or two illuminating a fork in the road that led to a house. The radio droned on, some old Waylon Jennings song that was threatening to send Frankie into a fit of rage and smash a fist into his dashboard. He turned off the radio instead.

Another car drove the opposite way, far in the distance. He could see the lights approaching, then dim slightly. Frankie turned off his brights, instead allowing the road to be illuminated just by his front headlights. He turns up the heat in his truck as a shiver runs down his spine.

Something is running across the road. Frankie can see it now. It’s far from him, but visible in the other car’s light. He slams on his brakes, his body jerking forward.

The other car doesn’t slow.

He slams his horn several times, for whatever is in the road and the other driver.

The thing doesn’t move.

The car doesn’t slow.

The car and the creature- oh fuck, it’s an animal- collide.

Everything that happens next is too quick. The car stops for a moment. Frankie whips the truck into park and turns on his hazards.

The other car stops for a moment. Frankie can just make out a silhouette inside. He gets out of his truck, eyes wide and frantic. He runs to the animal’s side.

The car drives off.

Dust swirls across the road as the car’s tail lights fade into the distance. Leaving just Frankie and his truck and the mangled mess of fur and blood.

“Fucker!” Frankie screams after the car. “You fuckin’ bastard! You didn’t even check, you motherfucker!”

He gets closer and realizes it’s a dog. Its fur is white and brown and so painstakingly red with its own blood, and it whimpers and cries and Frankie realizes the poor fucking thing is still alive. Whether it’s his caretaking or his military instincts that kick in, Frankie isn’t sure, but before he knows it he’s ripping off his jacket and picking up the poor poor baby, oh you little angel, he coos to it, wrapping it in the denim and setting it in his passenger seat.

It’s still whimpering and crying, and Frankie gets in the driver’s seat and grabs his phone. “Nearest 24-hour pet hospital,” he shouts into it, hands shaking. He doesn’t realize either reaction is happening. It gets the words wrong. “No, fuck,” he groans, shifting the truck into drive and whipping a U-turn. He types in the words as he starts to speed back in the direction of the town. He knows he shouldn’t text and drive and normally he doesn’t, but he’s a fucking former military helicopter pilot, he rationalizes with himself, he can handle this. He finds the directions and types them in and tears start dripping from his eyes.

“Hang in there, buddy, hey,” he says and rubs the poor dog’s big ears as they drive. “It’s gonna be 30 minutes. Think you can hang on for me?” he asks it, not expecting a response. He wants to check the dog’s sex but now is certainly not the time, not while he’s doing 85 in a 60 zone and the dog’s blood is seeping into his denim jacket and his passenger seat.

The tears are flowing freely from his eyes now, his heart breaking. He can feel the animal’s shallow breaths as he drives, and he sobs to himself. “Hang on, buddy. It’s gonna be okay, I gotcha. I’m Frankie,” he introduces himself to the dog, “and I’m gonna take real good care of you. You’re gonna be alright and we’re gonna get you fixed up and back to your owners.”

The drive takes 24 minutes when Frankie is flying down the backroads. Fuck if a cop sees him. Fuck blowing a tire. That can be cared for later, when there’s not a dying creature next to him. A steady murmur of ‘it’s okay’ spills from Frankie’s lips. He’s not sure if he’s saying it to the dog or himself. One hand firmly grips the steering wheel and the other never leaves the animal’s body. He comforts the poor creature, murmuring more reassurances the closer they get. 

“Please hang in there for me, cariño,” Frankie whimpers, chewing his bleeding lip. “I gotcha. It’s all gonna be alright, bud.”

When he sees the hospital, he drives a little faster. He pulls into the emergency room area and parks in front of the door, turning on his hazards and running inside. There are a few veterinary nurses inside and they greet him, but their looks turn to fear when they see the denim-wrapped animal. “Please, please, Idon’tknowthisisn’tmydogitwasahitandrunandIpickeditup-”

“It’s alright, sir, come with us. Please breathe and tell us again,” a kind woman tells him with a hand on his arm, rushing him and the dog back. Frankie calms down after a moment and explains what happened. “It’s not my dog, I don’t know whose dog this is, you gotta check it for a chip-” he rambles.

“It’s alright, sir,” the nurse tells him kindly and takes the dog from his arms. Frankie clutches after it and a new woman pushes his arms down. “We’re going to take it back and operate on it. Would you please wait here for us? We’ll come give you updates as we get them,” she tells him, gesturing to the waiting room. He nods. “And is this your dog’s first time here?” She asks.

The tears come back, choking his throat as water falls steadily from his eyes. “It’s not even my fuckin’ dog, man,” he whimpers, worrying his lip between his teeth again.

The woman is still kind. “I see. Please, sit, Mr….”

“Morales,” he manages out.

She nods. “Mr. Morales. I understand you’re worried. Please just wait in here for us and we’ll bring you information when we have it.” He nods softly, grabbing a tissue from the front desk. He wipes his eyes and nose. “My truck is parked right outside, it’s in the way, I’ll go park it somewhere else,” he tells her.

“That’s perfectly fine, sir. You can even leave and come back if you’d like.” He shakes his head. “I’ll be right back,” he tells her and walk-jogs outside, getting in his car and bringing it around to park.

-

Frankie enters the emergency room again and sits in a chair. He worries and worries for hours, texting his group chat with the Millers and Santiago. He gives them a play-by-play, but only Santiago responds. He sits awake for another hour, nervously wringing his ball cap.

The dog must be alive, or at least be able to save, he rationalizes with himself. After a while, the worry fades and he falls asleep. Two hours later, no other patients around to disrupt him, he’s woken by the nurse who took the dog back. “Mr. Morales?” She calls out gently.

He jumps awake. “Yeah, yeah, that’s me.” He sits up from his slumped state, readjusting the cap from where it had been resting over his eyes.

The nurse smiles softly at him and sits in a chair across the waiting room from him. “The dog is safe now. We had to amputate her front left leg, and she had a lot of stitches, but she’s stable and looks like she’ll do well.” He lets out a sigh and her smile becomes more genuine. “You told us she isn’t yours?”

She. The dog is a girl. Of course she is, Frankie smiles a little. The smile falls as he remembers the fact again. “No, no. It was a hit and run. I saw it happen, the other guy took off, it wasn’t me who hit her, I’m-”

“Mr. Morales.”

“Right. No, she’s not mine.”

The nurse nods and writes that down. “Well, we scanned her several times. She has no chip, no identifiers at all. Our options now are to send her to some rescue or kennel of some sort, or you can take her home with you.”

His heart breaks at the image of the sweet dog in the front seat of his car going somewhere without daily love and affection. “She’ll come with me,” he answers before he can rationally think about it.

“Wonderful,” she nods, marking that down as well. “She’s looped up now on some drugs. We’ll let her sleep them off for a bit and then she’s all yours. We do have some procedures we’ll need you to follow, for caring for the wound and such. But after that, it should be all good. You’re free to head out now. We can call you when she wakes up.”

Frankie nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that would be great.” He looks down at his watch and notices how early in the morning it is. “Thanks,” he tells her with a genuine smile, taking off his cap and running his hands through his hair before replacing it.

- From that moment on, Frankie was enamored with the dog. He called in from work when the shop opened bright and early at 6:00 A.M. 

“Hey Carol. It’s Morales.”

“You can stop asking if you can come in early, Frank. Just do it,” the woman chuckles on the other line. A loud slurp is audible- it’s the coffee she’s always drinking, the dark sludgy shit that she brews in the break room that Frankie can’t stand but she absolutely adores.

“No, uh. Actually, I was calling in to see if someone else could cover for me today.” He explains the whole story to her, wringing his cap between his hands. “So. I was kind of hoping I could take the day to look for the dog’s owners and care for her.”

There’s a beat of silence over the phone. “Of course, Frankie,” the older woman says kindly. “You got a real big heart, kid. Real big. That’s awful kind.”

He smiles a little. “Just doing what I can. Thanks, Carol.”

“Keep me posted, Catfish.” The woman hangs up.

Frankie’s in more comfortable clothes now. He didn’t sleep at all once he got home, waiting for the hospital’s call. He distracts himself, cooking a breakfast he only picks at, watching his new series halfheartedly on the couch.

The animal hospital calls him again at 7:30. He gets off the couch immediately and into the truck. There’s a bit of blood on the passenger seat, from where the dog wasn’t immediately covered by his jacket. It’s not a worry, though, he thinks to himself. He’ll get some stain remover and maybe a new and nicer jacket. 

When he arrives, they usher him back to a check-up room. The dog is lying down but she wags her tail at Frankie, looking up at him with big brown eyes that could rival his own. “Hey, sweet thing,” he calls softly, and the dog stands and walks over to him. It’s pained, that much is clear, but she’s already adjusting to walking with one less limb. She rests her head on Frankie’s lap and he scratches her ears gently. 

Some paperwork is filled out and Frankie leads the dog out to his truck with the leash and collar the hospital provided. He lifts her into the passenger seat and she snuggles in. The scent is familiar to her. 

Frankie drives her to a pet store nearby, smiling over at her. She looks at ease with him, relaxed and trusting. Of course she is. This is the man who saved her. 

He helps her down once they arrive and leads her inside. Her walking is pained, he can tell. “Aw, honey,” he frowns. There are carts right inside; Frankie sees the immediate solution. He scoops her up and sets her in a cart. Her tongue hangs out happily as they go through the store. “We’re gonna get you all kinds of fun stuff, huh?” He asks, scratching her head. 

Frankie spares no expense for the dog. As they cross through the store, the cart fills: bags of food and treats, a new leash, and a pink collar decorated with donuts “because you’re such a sweetie, right cutie?”, doggie bags, and food and water dishes. Finally they reach the toy aisle. “Do you wanna pick your own toy?”

He picks her up and sets her down on the ground, unclipping her leash to allow her to explore the toy aisle. She meanders, sniffing toys here and there, even considering one big bone. A few moments later, she comes tottering back to the cart with a toy in her mouth. It’s a big plush hedgehog.  Frankie grins. “Aw, that’s a good one! Good choice, cutie.” He kisses her head as he puts her back in the cart. 

They check out and drive home, and Frankie allows her to wander inside. “Welcome home. At least for now. I suppose I should put an ad out for you online.” 

The dog doesn’t respond, just wanders around the house, sniffing the furniture warily and looking back at Frankie. Asking if he’s coming. He smiles and leads her to the couch, sitting down on it. “I know they say you shouldn’t let dogs on the furniture, but I think you and I can share.” She jumps up and Frankie praises her, giving her a smooch and earning a big lick in return. “Oh, pretty girl, I think you’ll like it here,” he coos to her. She snuggles into his side with a sigh and Frankie sighs too. 

Over the next few days, he posts ads for her, but no one responds. He reaches out to people from the area he was driving in, but no one responds. After Day 4 of searching, there’s no response and he allows himself to sigh in relief. “You’re mine now, baby girl,” he coos to the dog, who’s happily panting and grinning. 

During the first week, Frankie tries out different names for her. None of them seem to stick. He wonders if she ever even had a name before. Ada, Lucille, Thea, Sunny, Miki, Zulu, Fox, Pancake. None of them work right for her personality. 

It’s not until late one night when Frankie’s coke cravings decide upon a name for her. 

It’s 2:24 in the morning and Frankie is quaking like a leaf. The dog is cuddled up into his side on the bed. Wherever he goes around the house, she follows. He’s biting his lip so hard it’s drawing blood. Normally when he’s this anxious, when he yearns to call his dealer, he rides it out by balling his fists so tight his knuckles turn white. But his dog seems to notice. 

She rests her chin on his hip, wagging her tail against the mattress with a steady thump. She whines quietly. She knows. 

Frankie’s at least momentarily distracted. “Hey, beautiful, what’s wrong?” He asks her, scratching his head and rolling over to pet her. He’s still desperate but the focus shifts from the sensation of one last hit to the feeling of her soft fur beneath his fingers. She sighs happily and snuggles into Frankie’s side, and he starts to cry. 

No one has ever needed him. Not his plants: they’re succulents. He deals with them once every other week. Not his former fiancée. She didn’t need him, just liked him for his money and his dick late at night. Not his friends. They had other friends to go to. No, this dog needs him, and it makes his heart feel like it’s going to burst. 

Sitting up, Frankie turns on the television. He hits a random button to choose a channel, and Princess and the Frog comes on. He chuckles a little. “How about Tiana?” He asks his dog and scratches her ears. She doesn’t react. 

It’s near the beginning of the movie. The relaxing music soothes him as the movie starts. The dog lies with her head on his thigh, happily receiving scratchies from her new father. Her head perks up when she hears a shrill noise from the television: Tiana’s best friend in her puffy pink dress. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay baby. It’s just Charlotte.”

Charlotte. Her ears perk up and she looks at him. “Charlotte?” He asks again, and she looks at him in confusion. “Do you like that one? How about Lottie?” No response. “Or Charlie?”

The dog pounces on him with her one front paw and licks his face. Frankie laughs happily scratching her sides. “Is that your name, pretty girl? Is your name Charlie?”

The answer, it seems, is yes.

It’s funny, Frankie thinks. Charlie is the third letter of the military alphabet, after Alpha and Beta.

Before Delta.

She would be, he realizes. She’s more important to him than his Delta Squadron guys. More important to him than the terrible things he did in the military. She comes before Delta.

And that’s how Charlie got her name. 

-

The guys finally came over to Frankie’s house on Night 9 of owning Charlie. 

All of the men are dog lovers, and Charlie takes to Benny quickly. He gives her her favorite kind of scratches: one hand behind the ear, one hand on the tummy. “Yeah, that’s a good tripod,” he teases her as he snuggles her. 

“Hey man, cut it out,” Frankie frowns and smacks his arm. “She’s insecure about it! Be nice.”

Santiago laughs. “Hey, you know what, Fish? This isn’t what I meant when I said that you should get a girl, but I’ll take it. Especially when she’s such a sweetie- oh hi, beautiful,” he coos as Charlie hops his way and licks his face. 

Frankie shakes his head. “Isn’t she a cutie?” He laughs happily as he watches his dog. “I tried posting ads for her, but no one answered. She’s such a sweetheart, potty trained and everything. I can’t believe I got so lucky.”

Benny grins. “And all because we asked you to get a beer and you caved and said yes.”

“What the hell do you mean caved, Ben? I get beers with you two fuckers three times a week,” he laughs and shakes his head. 

He’s been home alone with her all week, but he hasn’t felt as anxious as he normally does. Her companionship is all he needs, the way she snuggles up tight against him, the way her meal schedule motivates him to eat more. He has a purpose now. 

After the initial excitement, Charlie finds her place sitting at her dad’s feet, panting happily and looking around the room. “She fits in well,” Will nods and leans over as he scratches her head. “She’s the newest member of our group, I suppose.”

“She’s much less work than Fish. Maybe we replace him with her,” Santiago teases and Frankie flips him off, chuckling softly. 

This was a pattern that came to be known as the newly named C Night in Frankie’s head. These are the nights where they order a pizza or takeout and hang out in Frankie’s living room with Charlie. She’s the entertainer of the group, giving the men each some individual snuggles and wandering around the room. She’s funny, flopping onto her back at a human’s feet so that she can get tummy rubs, spending an absurd amount of time sniffing one specific spot on one man’s jeans. They all adore her. 

Life improves for Frankie when he has Charlie. He works shorter hours, spends time brushing her fur. He sleeps at better hours and cares for himself better as a result of caring for her. 

He takes her on a jog every morning. At first, he was nervous to do it. It’s been a long time since he’s been able to pass those Special Ops fitness tests. The thing that encourages him most is that Charlie is just the same speed as him. She runs along happily on three legs at the perfect pace for Frankie to match. 

Frankie lovingly refers to her as his copilot. She loves riding in the passenger seat of his truck, letting the wind from the open windows run through her fur. She gets excited when she hears the word truck and demands that Frankie snuggle her when they’re on a long drive. She even fell asleep on his lap once, with her face resting in the curve of the steering wheel.

Charlie is Frankie’s baby, and Frankie is her favorite human. The two of them are each other’s soulmates, Frankie thinks. His baby girl, his fluffy baby, his cuddlebug. His girl. His one true love is his dog, his Charlie. 

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal

[fanfic-cave]

Request incoming 😄 Since I love your OC Sera so much and Hunter / Omega as Dad / Daughter how about they teach Omega random daily stuff? Like swimming, dancing, singing, ice skating, baking or building an enormous sand castle. Something nice. And then the rest of the batch comes and they all have fun together. Like the big family that they are (at least in my head)

Okay that's not specific at all but I love the random nice familytime 💙

Breather

Rating: SFW/PG-13

Word Count: 2.2k

Pairing: Hunter x Fem Jedi!OC

Warnings: People in swimsuits/swimming, kissing/romance, star wars swears, alotta fluff.

Summary: Sera and the Bad Batch decide to take a day off. They enjoy some time relaxing and having fun, and Sera gets the opportunity to teach Omega how to swim.

Authors note: This is in response to a request, and I was really feeling some fluff. I like the idea of writing a chapter or two where its more relaxed and they get to spend some happy fun times together. Hope you enjoy!

@mangoberry99

The swimwear felt strange against Sera’s body. I don’t think I’ve ever worn something like this, she contemplated internally.

She frowned and looked at herself. She had picked this up at her last stop at a planet with a decent market, where they sold good clothes. The suit was a more modest 2 piece; swim shorts and a top with thin straps, and it exposed some of her back as well as a small strip of her midriff. The shorts were an emerald green, and the top was patterned with the same color green along with white and brown.

This is kriffing weird. She never wore anything so exposed, or tight. Not in public anyways. She then shoved away her thoughts, gathered her belongings, and ran off to meet up with the rest of the group.

They all really needed a break. Doing supply runs and odd jobs while avoiding being hunted by the empire was surprisingly draining. Sera had the idea that the group all go explore the lake just a few miles off of where she currently took up residence. She had crossed it several times while exploring on her own. The lake was a decent size, in a remote area, and it didn’t look like any creatures were living inside it, which seemed as good as it could get.

Sera wrapped herself up in a cloak she had and headed down to the lake, ready to meet them there. After walking a few minutes through a forested area, she could see the lake within distance, and noticed everyone was there.

Hunter was with Omega, they were both by the shallow part. Omega was kicking up water and laughing, clearly enjoying herself. Wrecker was already completely soaked, and was swimming more towards the deeper end, although he looked a bit awkward as he swam. Crosshair wasn’t near the water, and had opted to sit on one of the folding chairs they brought along. Tech was closer to the edge of the water, datapad in hand, and he looked to be researching, as well as taking dedicated notes. Echo had joined Crosshair at the safe distance away from the water, but he seemed to be relaxing. Sera had noted they all wore their swim clothes as she had requested.

“Hey!” She smiled and waved at the group, still holding onto her cloak. Everyone’s heads turned in her direction. “Sera!” Omega waved back enthusiastically. She wore a one piece swimsuit and had already gotten wet. She ran over to greet Sera, Hunter following close behind.

“This was such a good idea!” She jumped excitedly. “Of course it was kid.” Sera smiled at her and ruffled her hair, to which Omega responded by laughing. Sera’s eyes went up to Hunter now. He had green swim shorts on and wasn’t wearing a shirt, and it looked like he looked like he had been splashed a few times. Sera drew from her memory the last time she saw Hunter's shirtless body when he was injured back in Dantooine, and suddenly she felt her heart rate pick up.

“Hey Hunter.” Sera did her best to sound casual, and also made a point to stare at his face, not his chest. Hunter smirked at her, and then nodded in greeting. “I have to agree with Omega,” Tech began speaking. “This trip has given me the opportunity to analyze the flora on this planet, and a body of freshwater seems to affect the plant growth nearby…” Tech went on and Sera began to zone out. After a minute of pretending to listen, Sera turned her head over to Echo and Crosshair.

“Hey! Are you two going to be lazy banthas the whole time?” She shouted at the two clones who were several feet from the waters edge. Echo lifted his head up, and seemed irritated at Sera. “I have a feeling that going in water isn’t going to turn out well for me.” He then lifted his prosthetic hand and gestured to the rest of his body. “Oh.” Sera felt a little bad for just shouting at him. Of course the water would mess with his machine parts. She quickly wrote him off and turned her attention to Crosshair. “What’s your excuse, blaster brain?” Sera found herself growing a little more comfortable with Crosshair lately, and she expressed it by calling him whatever bad name or insult came to her head.

“Kark off.” Crosshair replied. Sera liked to think he was feeling the same way, as they both threw the insults back and forth at each other like it meant nothing. “Crosshair can’t swim!” Wrecker yelled to the group, still swimming in the water. He laughed and splashed water in Crosshairs direction, but only got Hunter, Omega, and Sera slightly wet. Crosshair growled in Wreckers direction, to which Sera raised an eyebrow at. “So if we threw you into the lake-”

“Try me, mir’sheb.” Crosshair glared at Sera warningly. She laughed at him and raised her hands up, palms facing him. “Fine, fine.” He rolled his eyes at her, and continued to sit in his chair. Sera felt Omega grab her hand and she looked down at her.

“Hunter was helping me learn to swim, could you come too, Sera?” Omega looked up at you eagerly. Sera looked at Hunter and he shrugged at you, trying to convey he didn’t mind one way or the other. Kriff it. “Sure Omega,” Sera tossed aside her cloak, along with her insecurities. “By the time we’re through, you’ll be swimming laps.” Omega cheered to herself. Sera smiled down at her and began walking into the water.

While walking past him, Sera looked to Hunter and made eye contact with him for a brief moment. He had a wide eye, nearly slack jawed look adopted on his face. When their eyes met each other, he quickly corrected the expression and looked away from her, heading into the water with the two of them. Is he blushing? Sera smiled to herself at the thought.

Hunter and Sera actually made a decent team with teaching Omega. He helped keep her afloat, and taught her the basic form in simple terms. Sera would step in to encourage Omega, or join Hunter in explaining or correcting her form, even swimming alongside her. Omega was a surprisingly fast learner, and was paddling after 15 minutes had passed.

“Are you sure this is your first time swimming?” Sera remarked questioningly, as Omega circled around her in the lake. “Yup! You guys are great teachers!” Sera doubted that they were that good, and chalked it up to the fact that she was raised on Kamino, which was a saltwater planet. It probably didn’t make sense, but she didn’t want to think about any alternative reasoning.

“That’s not us kid, you’re a good learner.” Hunter added his comment as she continued swimming. He was watching her closely, and Sera could tell he was being protective over her. The thought made her laugh to herself, since Omega had grown to be plenty capable on her own. Who was she kidding though? Sera was pretty sure everyone was protective of her. After all, she had been keeping a close eye on Omega too.

The afternoon passed by quickly. Sera and Wrecker pulled a prank and managed to splash Crosshair. With Wreckers strength and Sera’s use of the force, their combined efforts was just enough for the water to reach Crosshair. He was pissed of course, but they all had a good laugh. Omega and Wrecker played games in the water, with Sera occasionally joining. Echo had dozed off a few times. Eventually, Tech dipped his toes in the lake and surprised Sera with how adept he was at swimming. As the sun dipped down and it began to grow dimmer, everyone decided it was a good time to head back.

“We have to come back again!” Omega remarked, towel around her shoulders as she walked ahead with Wrecker and Echo. Crosshair was at the head of the group, and had been the first to start leaving. “I’m sure we’ll get to come again.” Sera spoke to Omega, and really did hope they could find time to do things like this, instead of missions and hiding. Sera stopped and everyone in front of her continued walking. She tried to dry herself off with her cloak, still feeling soaked. The cloak didn't do much, and it was now too wet to be of any use. She felt herself shiver a bit.

“Here.” Hunter approached her from behind, offering her a large towel. He was in close proximity to her, and she could hear him breathing. She had to concentrate to keep her own breathing steady. “Thanks.” She took the towel and wrapped it around herself, then continued walking. Hunter joined her and they walked together, now more distant from the rest of the group. Being alone with him reminded her of the last time they were alone together. Right. The kissing. She felt her heart skip a beat as she remembered it.

“Thank you, for today.” Hunter pulled Sera from her thoughts. She realized there had been at least a minute of silence. Sera continued to look forward and smiled. “It was no problem. Thanks for coming.” She smiled in his direction and he glanced at her. She felt herself shiver again, and couldn’t tell if it was because she was cold, or if it was a reaction from his stare.

“Still cold?” Hunter asked. “Just a bit.” Sera answered quickly, and looked away from him. “Thank you. For the towel, though-” Her stammering was interrupted when Hunter put his arm around her. He rubbed her toweled arm on the opposite side, trying to warm her up with some friction. Sera was caught off guard, and audibly gasped. “Sorry, this should help you warm up, if you’re okay with it.” Hunter looked down to her questioningly, and had stopped his movements.

Sera reached up and grabbed his hand as she began to speak. “Of course, you just surprised me. Not the first time that's happened though.” She smiled up at him, almost smirking at the memories that flickered through her mind. Hunter laughed quietly at her expression. “Yeah, you get your fair share of it too.” He pulled her in as he spoke, and Sera could feel his warmth from his body, with the more exposed part of her arm making contact with his skin. Electricity sparked through her body from feeling his touch.

They walked in silence for another minute, content with sharing each other's company, and body heat too. “We’re almost back.” Sera spoke up after some time had passed. The path was familiar to her, and she recognized they would turn a corner up ahead and her home would be within sight. Hunter stopped, and with his arm around Sera she stopped along with him. She looked up to him questioningly. “You okay?” She watched him expectantly, waiting for him to say something.

Suddenly, he turned and pulled her into him, planting a kiss on her lips. A small squeaking noise escaped her, and then she relaxed and returned the kiss. One of Hunter's hands was on Seras cheek, the other wrapped around her, palm flat on her back. Sera reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in and herself up to better reach him. Although the kiss was gentle, she could feel the passion behind it. He stroked her cheek first, and then ran his fingers through her hair. Sera felt a sigh escape her, and she returned his kisses more eagerly now. After a minute of kissing, Hunter was the first to break away, but returned to plant a kiss on her forehead.

“Well, I didn’t expect that.” Sera looked up to him as he pulled back to see her face. “I had to do that again. I would say sorry, except I’m not.” Hunter held her gaze with no hesitation, and Sera could tell he was sincere. “Well, I’m glad you’re not.” She reached up to kiss his cheek, and they stood for a moment, embracing each other. She listened to his breathing, leaning her head on his shoulder. Hunter made small circles on her back with his hand, and rested his head on top of hers. She wished they could stay here like this.

“I have a feeling we won’t get to have another day like today for a while.” Sera nodded after Hunter spoke. They seemed to be on the same wavelength more often than not lately, almost like they knew what the other was thinking. She pulled away and sighed. “Who knows. Maybe we’ll get lucky.” She and Hunter looked at each other for another moment, and Sera could tell her lack of confidence in her statement showed. She then turned away and began to walk forward.

Let me have this, Sera thought as they walked together. Hunter intertwined his hand with hers. Just let me- let them breathe for a minute, before we get thrown back into the flames.

She didn’t know who she was pleading with internally, but she continued to silently hope they could keep their moment of peace.

[tu-mint]

Amendment

A/N: Sooo I’ve been meaning to share my Mortal Kombat stuff on here for a while, I wanted to wait for the movie to come out first 😅🤣

TW: mentions of torture & sexual assault

In which Shang Tsung and the Black Dragon are officially put down and Earthrealm's defenders are able to return home, but Raelynn is stuck in her thoughts, but one of the young Kombatants is able to help her reconsider the negativity in her mind. (Based around MK11 & Aftermath but w/ a twist?)

Raelynn knew this all too well. With her entity as a half god, a change in time would do nothing to erase the horrifying memory in her mind back in the Black Dragon's dungeon -- at least, that's what it felt like. Hours upon hours of nothing but brutal beatings, each kick, punch, and swing as harsh as the last. While it wouldn't have hurt too much being that she was stronger than the average mortal, the bindings fused with the dark power of Shinnok's amulet extracted much of her godlike strength and left her as a helpless bait to be shredded and mauled at by the jaws of vicious and starved predators, desperate to take a leap at the prey before them. It still seemed unbelievable how she was alive even after all the bruises and cuts and blood...but she managed. After all, those shallow wounds were all but nothing comapred to--

The demigoddess shivered involuntarily and inhaled sharply. Thankfully, everyone aboard was too immersed in their own activities to notice her sudden actions, but she knew she wasn't stable enough with where her thoughts were treading. Her eyes searched for her son who was currently speaking in a group of the younger Kombatants. A yellow strip of cloth with an intricate design she couldn't make out was fastened around his bicep, and she wondered where it had come from until her eyes peered at the young male he stood beside. Takeda, son to Kenshi and pupil under Grandmaster Hasashi, was missing the usual yellow band that adorned his head as a reminder to those that he was a member of the Shirai Ryu clan. His short onyx locks blew freely but he didn't seem to mind all that much, instead grinning down at Haru who wore the cloth proudly. Cassie and Jacqui mirrored the telepath's reaction, the blonde pulling out her phone and snapping a picture. The sight warmed her heart and she was thankful the young fighters didn't look upon her son with irritation, but rather genuine care and happiness. When Haru had told her of the adventures and stories spent with them, a pang of guilt struck her for the early misjudgement on her part, believing they were just frivolous juveniles that only gained their high positions due to the status of their families.

Wishing not to allow her brooding to draw unwanted attention, Raelynn slipped silently to the back of the ship. Her efforts did not go unnoticed by Raiden who stood near the hull of the ship, but he decided against speaking with her in that moment.

He recalled the time he had found her, bound like a dog and covered in welts and lacerations big and small. She was curled into a ball, shaking and burying her face into her knees. It was then Raiden became aware of the state of her clothing, torn and barely covering her form as if someone intentionally ripped and pulled at it to expose more of her. Immediately he slipped out of his own robe and pulled it across her trembling form, respectfully averting his eyes. As he helped Raelynn stand to her feet, his eyes widened as countless more bruises and marks made themselves visible, tiny splotches of smooth brown skin barely surviving. These people had clearly put her through a very long, thorough beating, and it was evident that they were in no means hoping to show mercy. No, they wanted her dead. Raiden had teleported into the SF ship and rushed her to the infirmary room. People cleared the way immediately and knew better than to question his sudden appearance as he brushed past them while carrying the barely conscious woman to a bed near the back. He knew the Kombatants would be able to handle themselves well, so he stayed and began the healing process.

It was during this time he realized that Raelynn was no mere mortal, but a half god created by the hands of Cetrion. While it was difficult at first for him to fully trust her said intentions due to her creator's betrayal upon the Elder Gods, he had seen her heart's purity during the mission. The thunder god knew that she was making the best of efforts to redeem herself of past mistakes, and Liu Kang recognized this as well. A twinge of concern fell upon him just then as he knew that she still had much she needed to recover from. Whether she would eventually open up to him or not didn't matter, he would be patient and assist her as best as he could.

Raelynn took a seat upon the thick wooden rail and swung her legs over to face the bloody depths of Netherrealm's ocean. She wasn't afraid of falling nor coming across any odd sea creatures knowing that she had flying abilities, but of course she also wasn't dumb enough to try and test her strength or reflexes. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she looked on at the overlapping waves, allowing her mind to space out and roam. Her fingers tapped on the rail in a rhythmic pattern, and she suddenly was reminded of something. Her hands came together and moved in a circular motion, stretching further until the form of her solar powers had become a guitar. She clutched the neck and hugged the body of the instrument under her other arm smiling to herself.

Upon visiting the islands of the Pacific in the past, she had learned about the aspect of music through vocals and tools that produced a pleasant audio. The demigoddess found that these brought her a sense of peace and tranquility, and immediately she wanted to learn the ways of this fascinating revelation. What came as an interest to her in the beauty of music was the endless techniques for a new sound, new sensations, new reactions, and day by day, there was always the creation or discovery of another. She allowed her fingers to delicately pluck and strum a mix of chords, a tingle settling in her chest at the euphoria beginning to wash over her. Her hands moved on their own accord, finding a steady tempo and following a pattern with an occasional switch. The nerves that built up in the pit of her stomach had eventually disappeared into wisps of nothingness. Her eyes began to slowly close and she hummed quietly wanting no attention to be drawn to the back of the ship. It seemed to work decently, until-

"Wow, you're part god and a singer? Gotta say I'm definitely jealous."

The woman’s fingers froze in place already in position to strum a new chord. She craned her neck just enough to glance over her shoulder at the intruder, already knowing it who it was. “My life is nothing to be envious of, Specialist Briggs.”

Raelynn heard footsteps tread closer and tapped on her guitar. The younger woman climbed onto the rail and threw a leg over the other. They sat for a moment in silence, staring off at the deep scarlet waters swishing and rolling about. “I owe you an apology, Specialist.”

Jacqui’s eyebrow quirked and her eyes fell upon the half god. Raelynn took her silence as a sign to continue. “I apologize for my behavior towards you and your friends throughout most of the mission. Even after I had caused harm upon your lives and nearly killed your fiancé, you still ensured trust in me. That I could never understand, but-"

"It wasn't easy." The half goddess shifted her attention to the soldier. Her face was impassive as she watched the waves. Raelynn couldn't tell if her expression was a good or bad thing, but she decided against trying to get her hopes up. A great deal (if not all) of her acts under Cetrion were cruel and groundless, and she held no anguish up until the time she had to come face to face with the truth of her doings. It tore her day and night, and meeting Hajoon had her convinced that she would be able to leave the life of corruption far behind and start fresh. Of course, the facts couldn't be hidden forever, and the half goddess found herself back in the deep hole of falsehood, surrounded with nothing but fabricated offers to a better life. She scoffed mentally. That opportunity was officially closed off to her. It seemed as though disaster was always a few steps away, eager to ruin her chances at something sound, and risking it a third time was nowhere near appealing.

"There were many instances where I questioned why the Chosen One defended you to such an extent, especially after it was SF that provided for your recovery." Jacqui's voice had brought her out of her thoughts. "Trust me, I was beyond ready to blast a hole or two through your head a hell lot of times." She paused. "But spending time with Haru and hearing your whole deal...I understood you." Raelynn's brows raised slightly, not expecting such a considerate response.

"I couldn't imagine a life finding out that the one who was supposed to be my caretaker, my protector, my safe haven, was actually the one who robbed me of all that. My mother..." Her words trailed off and she peered down into her lap. She tightened her jaw and bit her lip to keep from releasing the tears awaiting just behind her eyes. Raelynn almost reached her hand out in an effort of comfort but stopped, not wanting to ruin the intimacy in the moment. Jacqui lifted her head and continued. "Man, it would kill me if she'd ever done something like that...growing up believing that everything was all good and sweet, and everyone just hated her for doing what I thought was the right thing, thinkin' it was my own folks who were the crooks trynna steal me away and take my power from me..." She scoffed. "Seein' my dad as a revenant then manipulated by Kronika was betrayal enough, and it hurt like hell. Point is, I realized that you truly had no malice in you. You were just takin' orders and tryin' to keep your mother—uh, Cetrion, happy."

And it was true. Raelynn trusted completely in the virtue goddess as any child would their guardian. She worked vigorously in carrying out the Elder Goddess' wishes, longing to eventually gain any sort of praise or affection, but it was rare that those occurrences came to past. Most of her upbringing revolved around unanswered questions and the constant urge to do better, trying at all costs to win approval. But like a fool, she allowed her heart to get the best of her, put her through the worst of hells just to seek out a foolish desire that would never be anything close to genuine. That's what messed her up in the first place, and she couldn't—no, would not dare to do something as stupid as that again. It was only her and Haru. Nobody else.

"I am...appreciative of your understanding, Ms. Briggs," Raelynn spoke after a long moment of silence. "You and your comrades are owed a huge debt on my behalf."

Jacqui chuckled and shook her head, then turned to look at the demigoddess. "You're damn right we are!" The two women shared a laugh on the rail. "Actually, I believe there is a way to pay back this debt."

"How so?"

"Well, Takeda and I's wedding was put on pause due to this whole mission, and it cost a lot to find decent live music. Cassie offered, but we're trying to have a simple proper wedding, not a drunk karaoke session. And you have the voice of an angel—well, a god in your case. If you can strum a few chords and sing a few notes for a few hours, I'll consider you free of deficit."

Raelynn cocked her head and raised a brow. "That's...that's all?" She figured the woman would request of something more extravagant, like a prolonged lifespan or giving her supernatural abilities. Jaqui nodded and crossed her arms awaiting an answer.

"I...very well, Ms. Br-"

"Jacqui. That formality stuff is weird if it's not comin' from General Blade." The demigoddess was taken by surprise again. She gave a single nod and looked on at the waves which now fell into to a more mellow and calm pattern.

Perhaps it wasn't just Haru and her against the world. Every person aboard had their story, their differences, their fall outs, but they were able to cast it all aside at an effort for peace upon a world that did almost nothing for them in return. Some aspects of the Earthrealm were odd, she thought. It was going to take a lot of time to get used to these people, but maybe, just maybe...

There was a sense of hope.

[charmed-henry]

The Adults Are Talking | The Order

Phil and Tom take it from here. Mostly.

TW: Discussion of the attack, description of a dead body

@prince--thomas​ @knightley--phillip​ @thehuntress-rose​

PHIL

Right, so John had to sub in last minute for a class, which meant Phillip and Tom were in charge of this little meeting, which was objectively a terrible idea. But here Phil was, bringing out a tray of drinks and setting it on the coffee table. Rose and Henry sat on the couch. Phillip, doing his best imitation of John, sighed deeply and took a seat on a chair he'd preemptively lugged from the dining room across from the sofa.

"So... you two fought off some mysterious deep lake creature."

HENRY

Henry felt like he was going to explode. On one hand, he was really excited to share his epic tale and impress everyone, but on the other, he had to be really careful about what he said about his plan. He couldn’t out Eric. And the thought of lying to Phil was uncomfortable, to say the least.

Phil already looked tired. Which Henry understood, sort of, but it wasn’t like he was the one to fight off the monster, right?

“Yup. Had to really improvise— didn’t exactly pack my weapons for a trip to the beach. Turns out hitting the thing right over the head really worked out. Not to worry, though, Rose and I are going to take this thing out for good. Right, Rose?” Henry smiled like he was a news reporter delivering the weather.

ROSE

Rose sat with her arms crossed and a sour look on her face. She knew what this was as soon as she got her summons. Hell, she got one last time she did something high profile... ex. pulling a knife on someone. And that someone was here to scold her now.

Phil had brought them drinks and seemed cheery enough, but that meant he was good cop. Henry was gonna tell them whatever they wanted to impress them, but Rose didn’t care about that. Especially when they were going to take this away from them.

“Yeah, we are. So why have we been summoned here again?” She said with a lot more attitude than the golden retriever next to her.

TOM

For the record, Tom was not pissed that Henry and Rose had helped that poor girl. That was their jobs and helping people came before all else.

But, he was worried and that worry translated into a tightness in his shoulders from where he stood leaning against the wall in the living room with his arms crossed. He didn’t want to sit down because he felt this sort of pent up energy bubbling in him that made him want to pace.

His eyes cut to Rose, unamused at her attitude. It didn’t come off as self assured. It came off as cocky. And that cockiness was going to get her or someone else hurt or exposed.

“Because this problem involves all of us,” Tom said, pushing off the wall so he was standing at his full height. “You’re not the only ones here and we need a debrief on the situation, so we can decide what to do.”

PHIL

"Right." He nodded, thankful that Tom was taking up John's job here. Phillip liked to hide behind John when it came to serious things like this, because frankly, even though he was pretty damn good at the whole fighting and protecting thing, he hated doing mission debriefs and all that boring paperwork and sucking up stuff.

Not that this was sucking up, per say, but he didn't want to be mean to Henry and Rose. Not when Henry was beaming so brightly at doing a good job.

"You lot did good work, but we can handle it from here," he said. "Tom's whole family schtick is dangerous water magicks and besides -- if you don't pass your finals, that'll be a whole other problem to deal with."

HENRY

That caught Henry by surprise. His face fell, the easy, jovial grin gone.

"But... I thought you'd want our help, since we're the ones who fought the monster. We'll be better prepared next time and we'll take it out for good. The only reason we didn't this time around was because there was a civilian involved," Henry protested, the disappointment showing on his face. "Isn't that why we're all here? I can do this, just... give me the chance to prove it to you."

For the thousandth time, Henry wished Eric were here. That would be a third person on their team, and someone who also specialized in water magicks. Maybe that would help his case. But he knew he couldn't say that. He had made a promise to Eric.

Henry glanced at Rose sullenly, already knowing what her reaction would be. And fine, he thought, let her yell at them. It was how he felt inside, too.

ROSE

This was utter bullshit. How could they treat them like children?Why was she was old enough to have sex with but not to do what she had been sent here to do? “It doesn’t involve all of us though. It involves me and Henry because we were there! And you’re trying to uninvolve us. We aren’t fucking kids, we can handle it. I don’t need a marine biologist family to kill a fucking sea creature, believe it or not, I’m quite capable of taking care of my own shit. Henry too!” She smacked his arm, hoping to get an agreement. Rose knew he wouldn’t fight back from this, so she had to fight this bureaucratic bullshit for the both of them.

“We aren’t ornamental.” She sneered at Phil when he spoke again. “Please, don’t act like you care about my grades. School is the least of my problems right now.”

TOM

“This isn’t about your damn pride!” Tom snapped at Rose.

“This is about who has more experience. Who is better suited to this task. If you don’t want to be treated like a child, act like an adult!” Tom rarely raised his voice, but he was frustrated and worried.

He knew Rose was capable. He’d seen her take on a bloody vampire, but she’d done it with help. Working on a team.

“You can help us by telling us what you know.” His gaze turned to Henry. He wasn’t annoyed with him, but his features were still drawn and serious.

“You can help us by telling us what you know. We are not saying what you did was wrong or bad—but this needs to be handled discreetly.” His eyes flicked back to Rose for a moment before settling again on Henry.

PHIL

TW DEAD BODY DESCRIPTION

For a moment, Phillip was quite. He folded his hands together, fixing his gaze on Rose as she fumed at him, glancing briefly at Tommy as he retorted back. There was a second of silence before Phillip spoke again.

"Three years ago, we met up with a team off the coast of Scotland about a kelpie problem," he began. "Young team -- round your age now. 'course we were younger then. And we had a strategy. Or rather, John had a strategy and we had a whole plan. And then one reckless kid decided since he was the one who'd spotted the bloody thing, he'd be the one to do it in. He snuck out the night before we were supposed to launch our mission." He flicked his eyes to Henry. "We found his body trampled to bits as the sun came up. Had to collect him in five separate bags. Never actually found his left hand."

He sighed, wincing as he thought of Charles Norrington.

"I know you're both talented. And strong and capable. But this is the sort of thing that relies not just on that but strategy and planning and teamwork, okay? I don't want to have to clean up another body because one of you decided to play hero."

HENRY

Henry paled, the description making him feel just a little nauseous. Personally, he still thought he could handle this. He and Eric had planned everything out. But it was a sobering thought— especially when thinking about his and Eric’s close call on the ice back in the winter. He didn’t want to be responsible for anyone’s death.

But what would his father say?

Henry’s loyalties were always torn between his family and the greater Order. The Order wanted him to be a team player, to leave the difficult missions to the more experienced people. But his family wanted him to seek personal glory. And to bring that glory to the often-ridiculed Charming name.

If Henry could pull this off, take care of the monster for good and maybe even bring Eric back into the Order? He might permanently prove himself in the Order. It was too good an opportunity to pass up.

But Henry knew he wouldn’t get anywhere in this meeting by saying that. Rose was being much more direct than Henry, and Henry could tell it was getting them nowhere. He was going to have to do the thing he hated.

He was going to have to lie.

Henry sighed, the guilt already eating at him. But what choice did he have?

“You’re right,” Henry said, avoiding Phil’s eyes. Hopefully Rose would catch on. “We’ll help you all prepare, but if the three of you want to be the ones to fight the beast, I trust you.” He glanced at Rose, hoping his gaze communicated Just go with it.

ROSE

The story didn’t dissuade her. So what some kid got got by a kelpie! It was kind of embarrassing in her opinion. And Tom berating her did nothing to ease her into cooperating. Sure, it wasn’t about her pride... it was about their’s. How they were older and better and more experienced. But if they didn’t need her, then why was she here?

She wasn’t here to be shark bait. Or to be an Order lady. She was a huntress too. And it wasn’t fair!

She was about to speak up; say anything about the injustice she felt, but Henry spoke first. You’re right he said. She scoffed and rolled her eyes. Of course he’d yield to his superiors, but they weren’t her’s! Rose opened her mouth to say something snarky, yet again, but the look he gave her stopped her. Henry was plotting something.

“Fine. But only because Henry is fine with it. It’s still not fair.”

TOM

When Phil mentioned Charlie, Tom’s jaw clenched and his weight shifted. He knew this was the price of being a Prince. He still hated that was the case, especially when it was someone so young and so stupid and it was so avoidable. Accidents happened. Being in the Order was dangerous.

After all: his own father had died on a mission. His father, who had been the best of the best in the Order—and he had still died.

Tom didn’t want to lose anyone else. Especially not on his watch. And especially not for something that was avoidable.

When Rose and Henry agreed without more fuss, Tom turned his head, sharing a look with Phil. It was a subtle quirk of his eyebrow, but he knew that Phil would see it as: doubtful. He trusted Henry, but he definitely did not trust Rose. She’d been too angry just a moment ago to want to back down easily.

“Alright,” Tom said, nodding his head. “Now, tell us what you know: what did it look like? It’s behaviors? Anything you remember that could be helpful.”

HENRY

Henry relaxed his shoulders when Rose went along with his plan-- though he still felt the guilt of lying to Phil and Tom gnawing at him. He didn't have much of a plan right now. He hadn't expected that to actually work. So now he had to improvise. Henry cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Erm... Pretty big. Humanoid, sort of, like a mermaid but covered in scales entirely, more of a dull gray color than the shiny ones you'd expect from a mermaid. I didn't get a good look at any identifiers past that, but Rose might've seen something. It just, er, seemed like it really wanted to attack Candace, dunno what its plan was beyond that but it backed off when I hit it in the head. Maybe it got scared. It's probably still out there in the water, can't imagine it'd survive on land. Er, did I miss anything, Rose?"

ROSE

She had flipped too quick. Now she had to sell it. Not anger, but a reluctant relinquishing of her power. Power that she never had back home and here was only an illusion. Rose wasn’t in the Order, so they couldn’t command her as if she were, right? Wrong.

Leaning back, she looked away from all of the expectant men. “It seemed hungry. I kicked it and it didn’t let go of her until we seriously injured it.”

PHIL

He nodded, mentally taking notes. He still didn't trust them to not just run off on their own  -- well he trusted Henry, but Rose was not the best influence. Normally he thought it was funny but not right now.

"Did you see the rough direction it swam off in? We should start minimizing the search area."

HENRY

Henry shook his head. "I'm sorry, I didn't," he said, lowering his eyes. He couldn't imagine this could get any more embarrassing or painful, but he still wanted it to end as soon as possible. "I'd recommend searching the whole lake just in case. Let me know if there's any way I can help."

ROSE

Her arms were still crossed. She was almost pouting; like a kid who’d had their toy taken away. Rose hoped whatever Henry’s plan was worked out for them because if it didn’t they’d be in for it with the rest of them.

“Yeah, it could literally be anywhere in that lake. Maybe even the river at this point.”

TOM

Tom felt like they were holding information from them. He trusted Henry to back down, but he didn’t trust Rose. She had been a force of nature since she had arrived. This was both a good thing and a bad thing. The Order worked because the families trusted each other, because everyone worked as a team and listened to each other’s experience and knowledge. (It was easy for him to say this as a man and as a member of the Golden Trio.)

If they did not trust each other and work together, this could all fall apart. Rose had proved she was capable, now she needed to prove she was a team player.

She was, so far, not doing that.

“Alright, very well.” Tom shared a look with Phil, wondering if he had also realized that they were going to be of little help. “Thank you for the information and if you think of anything else, let us know.”

[inscribed-in-asteroids]

AN: Here’s chapter three!

Title: The Ripple Effect

Characters: Hordak, Entrapta, Odessa, features others including OCs

Pairing: Entrapdak

Rating: M

Read on AO3.

                                                        Tower

Odessa has her gear prepped to go. Extravehicular Mobility Units were not used too often anymore, however, Entrapta and Hordak took extra precautions with the EMUs, and have even modified Tristan’s and Hydrangea’s spacesuits as well, to account for their height, weight, and metabolic rate. Darla had been upgraded continuously throughout the years, but has since been retired for this mission. Which didn’t bother Odessa in the slightest, as her parents believed she should have a ship of her own.

Celeste sits in the hangar, a cavern that had been excavated to accommodate for the growing number of people that now resided on Beast Island. The chatter of pookas echo through the vicinity. Her uncles had learned to live on the island, and that included taming some of the beasts that resided here. Pookas were not too dissimilar from the usual pet once their behavior was understood. She notes a few resting on Celeste’s roof, chittering at her as she walks beneath them. Odessa glides her fingers along the metallic surface, “Hey, it’s been a while since I used you.”

The ship whirs on, responsive to touch, but only from the genetic makeup of those that have been programmed into her system. Her parents, her siblings, Tristan and Hydrangea, and herself, are the ones that have been given permission to access her ship. However, it’s meant to be hers and no one else’s.

“This is so exciting!” Entrapta shouts. Hordak strides over, Entrapta shuffling beside him on her hair. Her father lugs heavy equipment bags with ease. Settling them on the ground, Entrapta beams at the two of them, “I wonder what our baby will find on the flagship!”

“It may be overrun with vegetation,” Hordak says. “None of us have bothered to go to it since the war.”

“There were collections of weapons and tech on the flagship as well that might be useful,” Entrapta says. She turns to Odessa, handing her a communicator. “I hacked into the mainframe of the ship and managed to give you a map of it, using old data from my past devices to navigate it. This one should be better, and I also updated its ability to detect heat signatures.”

Odessa looks at the screen, before smiling at her mother, “Thanks, Mom. This is going to be helpful. But, did none of you ever check the ship once Adora helped to defeat Prime?”

Hordak’s ears flick down for a moment, “It was no longer a concern, at the time. We only regrouped the rest of my brothers that had been left aboard. And when your mother and I had gotten closer to finishing up the repairs for Beast Island, turning the Fright Zone into New Chelicerata, and aiding everywhere else, we had not believed it necessary to investigate it further. There simply was no purpose to a flagship that was decimated of its original functions.”

Odessa nods, “It makes sense that it wouldn't work any longer. It’s hard to do that when a large amount of trees are protruding out of it.”

“With that, the atmosphere is not safe to breathe, of course,” Entrapta adds. “I have ensured that your oxygen tanks will last for nine hours—an improvement from the usual amount!—but you should be cautious, regardless of how confident you are that the tanks will not deplete their air supply too fast.”

Hordak opens the hatch, walking into the ship. He places all the equipment down, hooking the bags onto steel clasps. He points to weapons that he lines up along the wall, pressing a button for them to stick to magnetically, “Should you need any of them, they’re here.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Odessa replies. Walking up to him, she grins, resembling her mother, “I think we’ll be fine, but it’s good to be prepared, right?”

Hordak smiles at her, patting the top of her head, smoothing back her hair. Affectionately, Odessa pushes her head up into his palm, the way she used to as a child.

“I know we said we’d only be here for six weeks, but I do appreciate being allowed to pursue this,” she tells him.

“Your mother and I wouldn’t discourage you from curiosity,” Hordak replies.

Odessa beams up at him, shaking with excitement.

Her friends arrive ten minutes later, on time. They know how punctual Odessa and her family are, and after making her wait once, they learned to not do it again.

Entrapta, excited, bounds over to them, “Look! I upgraded your suits!”

“Ooh, cool!” Tristan says, holding up his. “I love the sheen going on.”

“I thought you might!”

Hydrangea grins at her, “Ooh, you changed up the texture for my fingers!”

“I even added these new features where you can get a snack and drink if you need it,” Entrapta tells them, explaining how to access it. Tristan and Hydrangea clap at her innovative features, thankful at her thoughtfulness.

Hordak, pleased at their display of gratitude, walks over to them, “In case of emergency, we have extra suits tucked away in the hatch, in addition to oxygen tanks stacked in storage. The distance is not far, but we made sure that you will all be comfortable on your journey to the flagship.”

“Thank you—both of you,” Hydrangea says. Entrapta hugs her tight, mimicking Scorpia surprisingly well.

Hordak pats Tristan’s shoulder, “The three of you be mindful. We will be on the communicator whenever one of you is in trouble, and we will send a portal your way.”

“Yes sir,” Tristan says. “We wouldn’t put Odessa in danger.”

Hordak smiles, touched, “I know you wouldn’t.”

                                                                 -

Odessa always feels at home in space.

The endless darkness, speckled with shining stars, leaves her breathless each time. Space is too amazing to leave unexplored. There’s so much left to find out there.

She turns to her friends, “It won’t be long now. The flagship went further away, but thankfully it remains reachable.”

Hydrangea flips back her hair, “Des, do you believe we’ll find anything? The flagship had been overrun with plants, and I’m quite sure it had grown.”

“I don’t doubt there’s an abundance of it,” Odessa replies. She grins at her, “But that’s where your powers come in.”

Tristan zips up Hydrangea’s spacesuit, lifting her hair, “We’ll need to make sure there aren’t any living organisms on it. That thing’s been floating around Etheria for two whole decades. It’s likely made itself home to another alien creature by now.”

Odessa holds out her pad, “Whatever is on there will show up on the monitor. But, frankly, we shouldn’t find much else except for whatever bodies were left behind.”

Hydrangea walks over to the window, looking out. She hasn’t been up here for a good few years. There are shimmering sights beyond where they are, and she wonders if they’ll find what Odessa is looking for. Her friend has a determination that knows no bounds, but she doesn’t want to risk that there’s a chance she might not succeed. Although, she should give Odessa more credit. If an experiment or hypothesis proves incorrect, she is the sort to accept that it isn’t possible and move on to the next project. Hydrangea glances at Odessa, red eyes fixated on the pad, brows knitted together as she maps out the best course to head in.

Smiling, Hydrangea touches her shoulder, “You’re excited.”

Odessa grins at her, “Of course! It’s been a long time coming since you, Tris and I were on an adventure together.”

Tristan leans against the wall, “Hopefully, this won’t turn into a mess like last time.”

“Last time we were younger—inexperienced and kind of dumb,” Odessa answers. “We are perfectly equipped this time around. We’re not going to be reckless when we land.”

Hydrangea giggles, “You have to admit, the mess made it a little more exciting. And even then, we didn’t get into too much trouble. We just got lost.”

Odessa looks at Tristan, “Besides, why are you worried? You winged it when we were on R-175. You were more than fine.”

“Just because I know how to improvise doesn’t mean I’d like to do it again. I’d like to take it easy,” he replies. Moving over to them, he smiles, “I’d rather not play babysitter to the two of you.”

“Ooh, what an adult!” Odessa says, squishing her cheeks together. She then folds her arms, smirking, “This is coming from the guy who sulked at not having the last bowl of ice cream.”

“Uh, I called dibs and you swiped it, right under my nose. Yeah, I was gonna be a little upset.”

“Doesn’t help your case, Tris. Honestly, you’re not much older than Des and I,” Hydrangea says.

“Yet I know that if something goes wrong, I’ll probably get more shit for it. ‘You’re almost 18! This is on you!’” Tristan mocks, wagging a finger. He crosses his arms, “Like the two of you can't make up your own minds.”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head,” Odessa replies, pointing to the communicator. “You know my parents never discouraged us from exploring, and they do know we’re all capable of making our own decisions. I’m leading this expedition, so if anything does happen, it’s on me.”

Hydrangea leans over to check the monitor. She looks at Odessa, “Do you know where we’ll be landing on the Velvet Glove?”

Tristan snickers, “That name I swear…”

Shaking her head, Hydrangea feigns a sigh, "So sad. I wonder if he compensated for something.”

“Do you think that’s what he called his dick?”

“No, that’s the name of Horde Prime brand condoms,” Odessa says. “His dick was probably something like ‘The Illustrious Rod of Justice.’”

Giggling, Hydrangea adds, “He did go around ‘impregnating’ hundreds of galaxies. That guy had a loooot of repressed sexual feelings, I think.”

“Yeah, like, he did and didn’t?” Tristan says. “He was bizarre. He got boners over rules and oppressed people with his holier-than-thou morality.”

“Seriously. Did he have shitty parents that couldn’t go ‘hey son, maybe bullying people into following your rigid, black and white laws is pretty messed up’ or what?”

“Well, whatever he was,” Odessa says, looking out the window, “Prime’s remnants are still in the Velvet Glove. His, hopefully, very much intact and preserved genetic material.”

“Des, that sounded so wrong!” Hydrangea laughs.

Tristan makes jerking off motions and makes a ‘sploosh’ sound.

Odessa grins at them, turning back to the monitor, “But to answer your question, my father informed me of an open bay area that should still be functioning. We’ll dock there.”

Tristan bends down, voice low, “By the way, we’re all aware of the two red dots above us, right?”

Odessa whispers, “Yes, it’s been there for a while. But I didn’t want to alert anything to make sure we could sneak up on it.”

Hydrangea nods, “How should we proceed?”

“Gea, leave for the main corridor. Send an electric shock through the air duct to incapacitate, not kill the intruders or damage Celeste. Tris, you stay to the side and be alert in case that doesn’t knock it out—take my spear from me. I’ll stand here to look vulnerable. Countdown now to 120 seconds.”

Tristan removes her weapon without trouble. Hydrangea walks out of the cockpit, the doors whooshing open and closed. Glancing over his shoulder, Tristan meets Odessa’s eyes.

Suddenly, sparks of electricity crackle into the vent. Cries of shock reverberate through the duct, followed by loud banging as something hurries along within. Odessa narrows her eyes as Tristan rushes toward her, both stances offensive.

From the opening, two bodies fall down in front of them. Electricity fluffs up tufts of fur, as Adam and Molly look up at them.

Hydrangea bolts back inside, “Hey, what came fr— Oh!”

The three look down at two of the quadruplets.

Adam grins, lightning coursing over his whiskers, “What’s up, everyone! Fuck Prime, am I right?”

Molly groans, thunking her forehead onto the floor.

                                                              -

“I am so, so, so sorry!” Hydrangea says again, handing Molly and Adam packets of food. “I do hope the shock wasn’t too much.”

Adam waves a hand, “Nah, we’re fine, aren’t we?”

Molly sighs, wishing she was anywhere else.

Tristan kneels down in front of her, “Why didn’t you tell us you were here?”

At Molly's silence, Adam grins, scratching his cheek, “Weeeeell, you see, I thought it would be fun if we came to visit. I saw Odessa’s ship, thought, ‘Hey, that seems cool!’ so I got in—”

“—I tried to stop him.” Molly adds, giving a small glare to the floor. “But he was climbing in anyway—”

“And ta-daaaa, we’re here! In space,” Adam finishes. “It was really nothing more than the lust for adventure.”

“That was very dangerous,” Hydrangea scolds, placing a hand on her forehead. “We could’ve killed you by accident.”

“Now it will be on purpose,” Odessa hisses, stalking toward them. “You two fools could’ve endangered your lives, that of my crew, and neither of you have experience in space travel. You are liabilities that may impede our progress.”

“Odessa,” Tristan begins. “Your parents provided us with extra supplies. It’ll be okay.”

“I have to agree with Odessa,” Hydrangea says, staring at Adam and Molly. “What the two of you did was irresponsible.”

Molly remains mute, looking away.

Adam stands up, “Hold on, we'll be okay keeping up with the three of you.”

“That’s not the point,” Odessa snarls, hair slightly curling. “I don’t even know how you snuck inside Celeste, much less evaded detection for almost three days.”

“See? We’re very quiet! You didn’t even notice us until now. I think we’ve proven our capability to you,” Adam insists.

Arms in a placating position, Tristan remarks, “I think we need to take time to reflect on the next course of action. Adam, why don’t you and Molly go wait in one of the rooms?”

“Aww, that’s no fun,” Adam says, irritated.

“If it’s fun you want, I’m more than willing to tear it into you,” Odessa threatens.

“Yeesh! Okay, okay, I’m going,” Adam complains. But he exits the cockpit to enter a room down the hall.

Tristan stretches out a hand to Molly. She looks at it for a moment before taking it in hers. Guiding her to the door, Tristan nods at Molly, who gives him a small smile.

Once gone, Odessa says aloud, “Celeste, lock the two of them in their quarters.”

“Affirmative,” the ship answers.

Hydrangea sighs, claws rubbing her temples, “I have to admit, this isn’t the sort of conflict I was expecting immediately.”

Tristan returns Odessa’s staff to her, “Perhaps we should consider allowing them to tag along.”

Frowning, Odessa glares out the window. Arms folded, she shakes her head, “I would prefer not.”

“It may serve better to deal with them directly,” Tristan says. “I doubt you would want to allow Adam free rein of Celeste.”

“Ooh, yeah, that would not be good,” Hydrangea agrees.

Growling deep in her chest, Odessa throws her hands up in the air, “Fine! Fine, but if they step one toe out of line, I’m leaving them on the flagship. Don’t think I won’t!”

“Got it,” they say together, very aware she’s serious.

                                                            -

Reaching their destination, Celeste is docked. Odessa steps out onto the flagship, staring around at the expanse of white and grey. Once sleek walls have indeed been overgrown by flora—vines weaving through its corpse, leaves scraping its sides. There’s no oxygen in space, but they were correct to assume it’s only grown. The plants were called forth by She-Ra, and seem to contain a magical property that prevents them from wilting in zero gravity.

Odessa collects a sample in a small test tube. Plugging it closed, she says, “No one touch anything. The flagship isn’t moving, but there’s no certainty that Prime had not built back-up systems into it. Should one of you find something of merit, call me over.”

Adam pumps his fists, “Whoo-hoo! Let’s go exploring!”

Rolling her eyes, she turns around to face him, “Adam. Look at me. Are you looking? Look at me. Do. Not. Touch. Anything.”

“You just told everyone that,” Adam replies.

“Yes, but I have to make direct eye contact with you to ensure that you will, indeed, in the back of your brain, not touch anything.”

“Relaaaax,” Adam says, wrapping his arm around her, ignoring her scathing leer. “You’re talking to the King of Cool. I’m not going to mess anything up.”

“You better not,” Odessa threatens before stalking away. Not peering over her shoulder, she adds, “Tris, take Molly. Gea, take Adam.”

Pulling out her own pad—quickly modified by Odessa due to unwanted company—Hydrangea smiles at him, “Let’s go see what’s around, hm? I think heading east leads upwards to the elevators.”

“Sounds fun!” Adam says, breaking into a sprint. “I’ll race you!”

“Adam, that leads to the supply closets!” Hydrangea yells, running after him.

Tristan looks down at Molly, “Why don’t we go west, then?”

“Yeah, um, that sounds okay…” she whispers, feeling cramped in the EMU.

He smiles at her, unsure of what to talk about. Settling on silence, they walk in the opposite direction.

                                                            -

Hydrangea catches up with Adam, “Hey! You can’t go wandering off like that.”

Adam grins, “I know where I’m going. I have an excellent sense of direction.”

Shaking her head, Hydrangea walks alongside him, “Alright, but I think following the map will yield better results. This mission is very significant to Odessa, and we should make an effort to find what she needs.”

He glances at her, “What exactly are we looking for?”

“Pardon?”

Shrugging, Adam says, “She didn’t specify what she needed, so how can we put in any effort for things we’re unsure of?”

“Honestly, none of us are too sure of what we may find here. The flagship has been abandoned for so long, whatever may have been here might not even hold up anymore.”

“If I was her, I’d go scout for any leftover weapons.”

“Why’s that?”

“They wouldn’t be of any use floating around in the nether regions of space. Wouldn’t her family want them?”

“Her family would not,” Hydrangea states. There have been no wars, no battles, no unrest on Etheria since the Horde invasion came about. She knows that Odessa’s father and uncles have done their best to make reparations for past injustices towards her people, and what she is aware of is bringing back weaponry may instill fear and distrust again.

It had not been easy the first few years—the first decade—since Hordak and his brothers made a genuine attempt to make Etheria their home. Etherians, understandably, had very little faith and charity towards the Horde clones. Glimmer, Bow, and Adora vouched that things will change between the two factions of race. Adora assured the people that Prime’s defeat would bring a new dawn for them all, and Catra, having been Hordak’s very own second-in-command, stepped forward to aid him in making peace with the Etherians. For it did not matter that she was She-Ra’s lover. She, too, had caused destruction. Had tormented and ravaged Etheria, and even admitted that she was the mastermind behind the majority of attacks, much to Hordak’s chagrin. There were many villages who remembered her for that.

The idea of bringing Horde weapons onto Etheria would have consequences. The years go by, and she knows plenty of Etherians who welcomed them eventually. As of now, it’s nearly the majority. They have integrated into Etherian society remarkably well. Known in their respective communities, Talon and Hordak are two, in particular, that chose partners who were as equally recognized for their achievements in the realms of magic and science, respectfully. She knew Entrapta had not been accepted prior to the war, and had to prove herself after. Nyxia, from what she’d been told, had raised several eyebrows for taking a Horde clone as her husband, though no one commented on it. To her face, at least.

Hydrangea comprehends the value of peace. The lack of war was not the issue, for dissent can be riled without impending doom. Civil unrest depends on power structures. Everything continues to hinge on the belief that harm is not what the Horde desires.

She holds up the pad, showing Adam a different route, “We can go to another room. You can even pick.”

“Fucking awesome,” Adam says, pointing to another hallway.

                                                            -

Tristan continues along through the hallway, minding his business.

Molly does the same, but with an inclination toward anxiety, her thoughts bounce back and forth between not caring that he’s here, and wondering how anyone can stand her being here. Adam had to go and sneak into the cargo hold. Adam had to drag her along by grabbing her against her will and making her jump in. Adam had to insist on climbing into the vents instead of saying they were onboard, wound up electrocuted, and got Odessa mad at them.

Odessa isn’t a person she knows too well, but Molly would prefer not being viewed as a pest by the one leading them into unknown territory. She wouldn’t blame Odessa if she did abandon them on this empty hunk of junk.

“We’re coming up to a divide, which way should we go?” Tristan asks, breaking her from the reverie.

Molly crosses her arms, “I don’t know…”

“Do you want to go left?”

Glancing that direction, she frowns. Shaking her head, she says, “I’d rather go right. If that’s okay!”

Tristan smiles, “Right it is.”

Keeping up with his long strides, Molly sighs to herself.

“Not exactly what you planned on,” he states, attempting, once more, to make conversation.

“No, I definitely did not expect to be out in space for three days,” Molly complains, crossing her arms. “I don’t really care for it.”

“Space travel isn’t for everyone,” he says. “I’ve only gotten to go a handful of times.”

Looking up at him, she lightly clears her throat, “When?”

“When I was younger, I went on a trip with Gea, Des, and her parents. It was amazing! Normally, we talked with her via telecommunicator.”

“All the time?”

“Every day if possible.”

Molly gives a small nod, “That sounds nice…”

“It was,” Tristan replies. “Granted, like I said, it was a handful of times. Our parents weren’t too keen on Gea and I being gone for extended periods of time.”

“What was the longest you were gone?”

“Five months. Half a year was too much for them, I think,” Tristan laughs. Not that he would’ve minded being gone for that time, or longer. There was so much out there to investigate, it didn’t make sense to stay in one place. That, and he didn’t venture out of his room unless it was to spend time with his friends. He’s considered a homebody by his parents, but truthfully, he doesn’t spend much time at Salineas.

“Right,” Molly remarks to herself. “There was a festival a couple years back. You and your friends weren’t there.”

“Right, the Fresian Festival,” Tristan replies. He smiles at her. “I’m amazed you remembered.”

“Oh! People commented on it. I only just connected the dots,” she says, chuckling nervously.

“Even so,” Tristan says. Stopping in front of a large entrance, he reaches his hand out. Ensuring there’s no barrier, he walks through. A table sits, unobtrusive, in the center. He inspects it all around, kneeling to peer at its underside.

Molly rubs her arm, feeling more stifled. She tilts her head, “What is a table doing here?”

“Not sure,” Tristan replies. He looks at its edge, noting the faintest outline of a pad. He shrugs, “It must’ve been used for something.”

“I guess it’d be bad if we checked…”

“It may not work anymore,” he says. “It could be a control pad for navigation, or releasing dozens of soldiers at once.”

“Maybe it’s a hologram for entertainment,” Molly lightly jokes.

He grins at her, “Maybe!”

Returning the smile, she clicks her claws against each other, “Um, well, Odessa said not to touch anything. So we should probably leave it alone.”

“We’ll bring her back to look at it,” Tristan replies.

Exiting the odd room, they begin down the other corridor.

                                                             -

Dangling from wires that stretch deep into black, hundreds of bodies hang suspended where Odessa walks. Being the main goal for this expedition, she steps past several columns before pausing in front of a random case. Wiping off imaginary dust, observing the weathered face inside, she wonders if it’s even viable. The system has continued to function. She spent the first few hours merely inspecting an aspect of her life that she only heard about. The weapons were kept in storage, and she found the pool of liquid where her father had been stripped of all free will. Further along, she encountered an odd room with a single table, its buttons and pad faintly outlined. Pressing it, it opened a hole where copious amounts of surgical tools were kept, laid in neat rows. She took them for herself, and some were medical instruments she never saw before.

With that accomplished, she ventured out to find this room. Approaching another container, she looks within to see a similar individual with long, white locks, eyes closed. Prime. Or one of him. All of these must be him. The actual Prime was never retrieved from the chasm of the flagship. No one wanted to bury him, and she doesn’t blame them. She wouldn’t either.

But this… this is another of his forms. An impressive specimen, she must admit. Even in this state, at his peak, he would’ve stood out among her father and uncles. Likely as a way of preserving their species’ capabilities of agility and strength, while keeping their physical bodies weaker than his own to overpower and dominate.

Touching the glass, she presses her face closer to the vitrine. Her father told her that he’s dead, but there had been a way of accessing his memories. Prime had done it before. She surmised that his previous bodies were kept on hand for knowledge. The body may be inanimate, but the brain, if preserved, could be examined. A corpse with a living mind. Its own special little coffin. Such a thing would frighten Etherians, who, despite their alliance with her people, still have a difficult time comprehending—or, rather, accepting—what science can do.

Odessa touches the black pad wrapping around the case. It turns on, and she balls her hand in a light fist, gently pricking her palm with her fingernails, uncertain of what to do. Rubbing her thumbs underneath her fingertips, she decides to press down on a few buttons. Nothing. She slides her digits over the longer, colored section, and it hums with energy. The vitrine lights up within, haloing the body. Its eyes remain closed but she sees his form better.

Odessa taps a few more combinations, and it glows even brighter—

Right before it opens and spills the contents out onto the ground.

“Shit,” she murmurs to herself, kneeling in front of the body. Glancing at its case, she knows there’s no way to put it back in. Tugging its face toward her, she inspects the body. It really is remarkable how preserved it is for all the decades it's been deceased.

Setting down her bag, she pulls out cotton swabs to collect skin samples, trims off claws, and pulls out teeth with a plier. Then she stares at the head for a good moment or two.

Pulling out the trephine, a gift from the table earlier, she drills a hole in the head to relieve pressure, as well as to remove excess liquid so that nothing sprays out at her. Once complete, having opted for a full removal, she puts away her tool for favor of a small, circular blade. Shearing off the hair, and some wires, from the scalp, Odessa marks where to cut with a pen. She digs into the skin and stops for a second when it makes contact with bone. Clicking it on, the blade begins to gingerly whir, and she follows the path.

Brain fluid and blood seep out onto the floor, mixing with the liquid from the vitrine. Carefully, she pulls away the bone flap, and inspects the brain for possible damage. Taking out a small scalpel, she slices at the thin layers of membrane that cling to the inside of the skull. The meninges cut, more cerebrospinal fluid spills out. Tugging it out inch by inch, she snips the connection at the brainstem and spinal cord; Odessa holds the brain in her free hand, its weight sinking into her palm. Holding up the organ, she inspects it: perfectly intact.

Laying it down on a towel, she wipes her hands off the edge of it. Odessa brings out a large jar from her bag, filling the container with any of the remaining liquid from the vitrine. She needs every bit of it though.

Holding down her helmet’s interphone, she says, “Tristan, do you copy?”

“I do, what’s up?”

“Can you come to my location and help me with something?”

“I’ll be right over,” he says.

It doesn’t take him long before he arrives, and the first thing she hears is Molly yell.

“What is that?! Is that a body?!” she demands, jumping back in disgust.

Odessa crosses her arms, “Yes, obviously.”

Tristan walks over, looking down at it. Then he turns to her, smirking, “I hope he was dead already.”

“He was,” Odessa smirks back. “I need you to move some liquid left in the vitrine into the jar behind me. I took some but it needs more.”

Molly wrinkles her nose, bothered by the nonchalance displayed by the two of them.

Tristan moves his hands in a flowing arc, pouring the water into the jar until it reaches the top. Odessa spins the cap back on, pleased with her work.

Groaning, Molly keeps her eyes on the door.

Tucking all her items with care into her bag, Odessa says, “What did you find?”

“We came across a room with a table in it, but we didn’t touch it,” Tristan replies.

"Was it before you came here?"

"Yes, why?"

Odessa gives her bag a slight shake, "These were from there!"

"Nice," he says. "Good thing we didn't open it, that'd be anticlimactic."

“Anything else?”

“We came across the kitchens, the holding cells, the area where it seems clones are born, all that fun stuff,” he says.

“Interesting,” Odessa answers. “It seems that the flagship was to keep the amount of soldiers he had, and different areas were few and far in between.”

“Seems to be,” Tristan says, walking with her and Molly to the exit. “I guess interior decorating wasn’t his thing.”

Odessa laughs, “No, I suppose not.”

Heading down the hall, they contact Hydrangea, who says she is nearby Celeste. Odessa is led by Tristan to the room with the single table, and she remarks, “I wish there were more instruments in here."

"Didn't you already have these things on hand with you?"

"Yes, but it doesn't hurt to have more!"

“I guess...” Molly murmurs.

Continuing down the corridor, Odessa asks, “Did you explore that area?”

Tristan shakes her head, “No, Molly and I checked everything else. Gea, maybe?”

“Hey, Gea, did you happen to investigate the northern corridor?” Odessa queries, clicking her interphone on.

“No, I didn’t,” her voice comes through the intercom.

“Tris, why don’t you two head back to Celeste? I’ll only take a minute. And for the love of all that’s good, keep Adam from the controls.”

“Will do, Captain,” he replies.

With that, she takes her leave. The hallway is covered with the faintest layer of dust, floating, never settling onto the surface. Odessa notes cracks in the walls, stepping over foliage that wraps through the metal. She finds a room filled with keepsakes, creatures and objects lining the walls. At the forefront, she notices shattered glass on the ground. Bending down, she raises it to her eye level, its surface poorly shining. The colors are strong, however, and it seems to have formed a particular shape at one point.

Compelled, Odessa gathers every broken fragment and places it inside her bag.

                                                              -

“What is it?” Hydrangea asks, combing through Tristan’s hair. They have bid their unwelcome guests, as Odessa puts it, goodnight, and are congregated in Hydrangea's sleeping quarters.

“I’m not sure,” Odessa says, holding up a small piece of glass. “It doesn’t seem to hold much value anymore, that’s for certain.”

Tristan tilts his head down, letting Hydrangea brush better, “A treasure from a conquered planet. Doesn’t seem to be anything else, aside from a sad reminder.”

Peering at it, Odessa checks every bit of its blue, dulled by time, but no less impressive in its sheen; its delicate thinness reveals a species that valued aesthetic beauty. Whoever this belonged to stood no chance against Prime.

Twirling the fragment in her hand, Odessa says, “But we found much more than we believed, which counts for something.”

“Which is exciting!” Hydrangea says, switching places with Tristan. “We don’t know what all this means yet, but I’m sure we will eventually.”

Odessa smiles, shaking her hands at the possibilities. Any object or clue that they find has potential. She isn’t sure where this will go, but she wants to learn as much as she can.

Like her mother always says: for science!

[heyitsthemj]

Score: 5/5 Replayability: Fun enough if you're looking to 100% the game. And high for the multiplayer.

Where do I begin? It was AMAZING and left me in such a game hangover I needed to take a weekend to recover. So, please sit down, and let's unpack this wild AF ride.

Picking up shortly after the end of the previous game, we follow our Delta Squad as they go on a mission for Baird to restore the Hammer of Dawn network. Shortly after returning from their mission, JD and the team are sent to Settlement 2, currently under attack by the Swarm. Here we learn that Del and JD were responsible for losing civilians during a previous attack that led to their AWOL. During the current swarm attack, JD tells Baird to launch the Hammer of Dawn, leaving the Swarm dead and JD injured. Four months later, and playing as Kait, she begins to unfold her family's past and how she and her mother are connected to the Locust. Kait and Del go to an Outsider village to convince them to join the COG. Oscar, the village leader, and Kait's uncle refuse to join. Before Kait can persuade him, the village is attacked by the Swarm.

After being captured by a Snatcher, Kait finds herself in control of various Swarm forces through a series of visions, one of which shows Oscar's murder. After the battle is over, and Kait tells everyone about her visions, Marcus tells her to look to New Hope for answers. Clues at New Hope send Kait and Del to a former Locust stronghold, Mount Kadar.

The game becomes a massive WTF moment of shocking reveals from here on out.

At Mount Kadar, they come across an AI named Niles Samson. After six games in the series, we finally learn how the Locust came about. The Locust were direct results of Niles' experiments between Imulsion-infected children and indigenous Hollow creatures. Queen Myrrah, who, as revealed in the previous game, is Kait's grandmother, was not only human; Myrrah was also entirely immune to the Imulsion. And due to her genetics, she could control the Locust.

And the catalyst of the whole Locust rebellion? The kidnapping of Reyna, Kait's mother, by Reyna's father. At this moment, Kait realizes she is the next Queen of the Locust and takes matters into her own hands to stop that from happening. Kait allows AI Niels to put her in a machine to disconnect Kait from the Queen. However, AI Niels has another plan in mind, and that's to bring Reyna back online as the Locust Queen. 

During this whole mess, Kait and Del have to fight a dormant Berserker called the Matriarch (which, in my opinion, is the hardest battle in the entire game, including the final wave of the game), which confirms the need to reactivate the Hammer of Dawn.

Back at New Ephyra, Marcus tells Kait he has convinced Jinn to stand down on reconnecting Kait to the hivemind. However, Jinn changes her mind and tries to connect Kait by force to find the main Swarm Hive. And of course, during this, the Swarm attacks New Ephyra. 

Here comes one of the most heart-wrenching experiences in the game - having to choose who to save: Del or JD.

In proper Gears form, the crew goes wave after wave of enemies before Jack, the robotic companion that has been helping Kait along the way, sacrifices his life to take out the final baddie. Marcus tells everyone the obvious that Reyna will return. Kait tells them they'll find her first and throws away her mother's Locust necklace.

I couldn't believe all the information thrown at us in the game. We not only learn more about Kait; we finally know how the Locust came about. I can't wait to see how they handle the next game, as your save game should directly affect who you have on your team in the next game.

I chose to save JD for the simple fact that I love the Fenix boys. Marcus has been one of my favorite characters since the beginning of Gears, and JD quickly became a favorite during Gears 4, and while the death of Del broke my heart, and the thought of killing JD wrecks me.

Watch my reaction to Del's death here.

Gears of War has been my all-time favorite series since the first one came out. I regretted not getting the Gears X-Box when released (BTW, I still want it). One of my next tattoos will be a COG; that's how much I love this game. I'd be lying if I said I didn't get a bit emotional with everything, including that teeny, tiny hint of a smile from Marcus at the end. Find me on the Socials: Twitch Twitter Facebook Instagram Goodreads Website

[mattzerella-sticks]

Caught in His Webb, a speculative fanfic about what we hope have learned about season 15, episode 8

When Sam met one of Dean's old hunting buddies - made during his time at Stanford - he didn't know what to expect.

When said hunting buddy leaves, after finishing a hunt, and says goodbye with a chaste kiss - he doesn't know what to think.

Can Sam get Dean to talk about his feelings? And will airing everything to dry help Dean understand and come to terms with more than what happened after the hunt?

Sam watches Leo’s truck drive off, waiting until the cherry red Ford disappears around the corner before turning to Dean. His brother putters around the motel packing. Face hidden but flushed neck still burning minutes after Leo left. He isn’t surprised Dean bounces off the walls, especially with the explosive farwell Leo dropped on their laps.

“ Maybe in another lifetime… we could’ve had something good. ”

A cheek kiss isn’t the most suggestive gesture, except the only time Dean’s seen a man’s lips close in on his brother’s face was in the heat of battle. Creatures snarling as they fight against whatever shield or restraint that blocks them from tearing into his brother’s face. Nothing as soft, innocent, or intimate as a featherlight press against stubble.

“Dean -”

“We better get a move on Sammy,” Dean cuts him off, zipping up his duffel, “if we leave now we can probably skip an extra night on the road.”

Sam frowns, brows pinching tighter than a rubber band. “Dean… we need to talk.”

Dean’s hands pause from where they rest on the handles. His shoulders stiffen, enough that Sam doesn’t need to see his face to know his dimples are on full display. “Talk about what?” he asks. Gruff, tone warning Sam that if he chooses to travel down this road it’ll be filled with bumps, potholes, and traffic.

Luckily he knows all of Dean’s shortcuts.

“Leo was a pretty swell guy,” he starts, leaning against the wall.

Dean, thrown off like Sam planned, finally sneaks a peek. A fog of wariness clouds his gaze, as expected. “Yeah,” he says, “Glad to see the years don’t really change a guy…”

“So he was like that when you knew him?”

“Not exactly,” Dean says, “Was a lot less responsible, then again he wasn’t in charge of a whole camp. Just volunteered there a few times a week. More so in the summer… once it felt like I didn’t see him for two weeks when I was in town ‘cause he was putting in extra hours. I always felt like the bad influence, telling him to take time for himself so me and him could…” The smile slowly blossoming on his face withers away in the next moment as Dean catches onto Sam’s ploy. “No.”

“Dean -”

“I said no, Sam.” he barks, ripping open his duffel once more, “I don’t want to talk about our history, don’t care how much you want to.”

“ Our ?”

“Our what ?”

“You said our,” Sam smirks, “As in your’s and his… meaning there is history.”

“So?” Dean asks, attempting to play cool even as his shaky fingers give him away, “you and I got a past. That’s our history. Don’t know why you have to say it like that ‘bout me and Leo.”

“Because our history isn’t… your’s and Leo’s history.”

Dean digs further into his bag, messing with the already perfect packing. Unfolding jeans and wrinkling shirts, tossing guns and blades like they were wadded balls of paper instead of weapons. Sam huffs, pushing off the wall and gliding towards his brother. He takes the plaid shirt from Dean’s hands - knuckles pale, freckles pronounced - and sets it to the side.

“C’mon, Sam,” he says, voice trembling, “we can’t waste any time…”

“Dean. Please .”

The plaintive notes Sam spoke jar with Dean, tipping him over the edge. He shoves Sam away and roars, “What do you want me to say, huh? What do you want from me!”

“I want you to tell me the truth,” Sam says, “I want you to know that whatever that is… I’ll accept it.”

Dean challenges Sam with a long bout of silence, unaware to the lengths of awkwardly charged silence he’s willing to suffer through. Showing nothing but honest affection, Sam waits for his brother to fold. He crumples like a napkin, fog turning to mist.

“Shit, Sammy,” Dean coughs, rubbing at his eyes, “Couldn’t you have pretended you didn’t notice?”

Sam shrugs, mouth stretched thin. “Pretty hard not to.”

When Dean pulls his hand away Sam at least won’t comment on the redness rimming his eyes. “Me and him had this thing, okay? Dad had gone off on his own when I stumbled across a haunting here in town… Leo was gonna be its next victim when I swooped in and ran the ghost in with my crowbar. And then when the ghost came after me he did the exact same thing…”

“I figured it’d be a one-and-done kind of deal. We salt and burn the bones and then we go off our separate ways except… Leo didn’t want to leave. If that bastard is one thing it’s kind… saw hunting as another way he could give back. Tried to talk him out of it, tell him that it wasn’t the glamorous job he was thinking but… he was stubborn. And I guess I was lonely.”

Sam nods. “You and him hunted together?”

“Whenever I was in Texas,” Dean continues, “I’d call him up and we’d handle a case here and there, then we’d drive back to his place and patch each other up. I taught him all I knew about hunting and… well, Leo opened my eyes to this whole other world I was missing out on, too.”

“Then it wasn’t…” Sam sifts for the right words, “A one time deal? Some kind of gay thing?”

He can see Dean weighing the options, hands swaying from side to side as he compares. Thankfully Dean chooses and shakes his head. “Definitely more than that. We never put labels on it or anything… with me on the road all the time I didn’t want him wasting away, waiting after me. Whenever we met up though… it was like the world didn’t exist. Of course, one day the pressure gives and it crashes back into you.”

“Dad hadn’t checked in in over a month, and not even Bobby or anyone else heard from him. All we had was…  Jericho, California.”

Sam tenses, reminded of ghastly women and burning ceilings. He thought he put that town far back in the rearview mirror, so much so it wasn’t even a speck. But as this year has proven, nothing can stay buried in the past for long. Like the aftereffects from that simple hunt years ago still shake the very foundations of his and Dean’s relationship. Swallowing around the stone in his throat, he asks, “When you came to get me?”

Dean hums, a tight-lipped smile fixed to his face. “I wasn’t planning on coming alone,” he admits, “I was with Leo, getting ready to hit the open road again when I… I guess I was feeling bold. Or maybe cocky… I don’t know. Something made me ask him if he thought about coming along, to help.”

Stunned, Sam unconsciously moves away from Dean. Wobbles with spinning vision, as if learning what could have been was enough to fell his oak-like stature. His mind races at the possibility of Dean showing up in his apartment with Leo in tow, both there to whisk him away to find John. How different the road so far would be. The worst possibility Sam imagines sends shivers racing up his spine. Where the max occupancy remains two, except it’s Leo taking the shotgun seat instead of Sam. Sam washes his hands of any responsibility for John and sends Dean off with a half-hearted goodbye. An apocalyptic decision, he thinks, given the only reason the world’s been kicking for so long is because of them and the friends they’ve gathered.

He clears his mind of the what-ifs, reminding himself that they don’t matter since he and Dean went to Jericho, alone. They didn’t find their father but they finished his mission. He lost Jess… but he found his brother.

Sam focuses on the present and his brother’s uninterrupted rambling. “...a mess, though. Like, what if dad was in Jericho? Leo wasn’t ashamed of who he was… dad would’ve known in a heartbeat what was going on between us. Doesn’t matter now, though, since Leo said no.”

“Why did he?”

“Texas was one thing,” Dean smirks, gazing at a point beyond Sam, “California was another. Thought that by me asking for him to come with I was really asking for him to leave his old life behind which… in a way I was. When you’re a hunter, it's really hard to live half-in, half-out. Leo couldn’t cut the ties.”

“And what did you do?”

“What could I do?” he chuckles, “Tell him he was making a mistake? You saw his life… loving husband, great kids… I couldn’t give that to him. I swallowed down the hurt and left early in the morning, before he could wake up. With a note saying that he should forget about the life… and about me . Then I ditched my phone and picked up a burner on the way to meet… you .”

Dean collapses onto the bed, uncaring to the mess he sits on. Gasping as he breathes for the first time without all that weight crushing his chest. Sam, at a loss for what to do, blindly reaches for his brother and squeezes his shoulder.

“Thank you for telling me all this, Dean,” Sam says, “I… I should’ve realized how close he was to you.”

The past few days make sense, the final piece fitting and highlighting the full picture. Dean’s awkwardness whenever they met up with Leo. His arms hung awkwardly at his side, no idea what to do with themselves. Over aware of their surroundings at all times, budgeting every word and movement like they were in short supply. Whenever Leo mentioned his family he jumped worse than a rabbit. How curt Dean became whenever Sam asked how he and Leo came to meet, offering only one or two words in explanation. Usually ‘no comment’. He figured there was hurt Dean kept hidden, but wouldn’t have guessed the cracks were in his heart .

Dean snorts, running his wrist up his face. “No, you shouldn’t’ve. Leo was my first and last . With him it felt like whatever anyone else thought didn’t matter, and when he was gone I… I locked the closet door behind me.”

Sam doubts that. With the floodgates open, memories pour into his awareness of times that Dean flexed the other half of his sexuality. How his eyes followed a mark a little too closely sometimes in the bar, leaning into them and blaming it on acting ‘drunk’. The snarky compliment here and there, masking the actual appreciation. Every time he deflected violently or made fun of Sam’s preferences weren’t the crumblings of Dean’s fragile masculinity. It was a scared boy, afraid that his younger brother was about to discover something he didn’t want getting out.

“Not even once?” he asks, “You know I wouldn’t have cared… right?”

His brother shrugs. “Yeah I knew. There were times I thought maybe I… could’ve said something. All those near-death experiences… and the actualdeaths… I was never able to break through those walls though. Every opportunity was shadowed by the fear of dad finding out… even when it wasn’t possible. I’d lose all ability to talk and I… I’d freeze up like a deer in headlights. Kept me from saying a lot… doing a lot… being - being with…” Dean tucks his hands under his armpits, curling around himself.

The sudden pause draws Sam’s curiosity in, his mind leaping ten steps ahead to finish his brother’s thought. He tries to do so, attaching every possibility he can consider. ‘Being comfortable with himself’ isn’t a wild guess, but it makes no sense seeing how Dean was already this vulnerable with Sam. ‘Being with Leo’ tracked, given the lingering thread hanging between them. But he doubts Leo would trade the life he made for himself here, nor would Dean give up his life. He said before how proud he was of the journey they’ve traveled - all the people they helped and the wrongs they’ve righted - and Sam doesn’t doubt the conviction threading through those words.

Although he does consider what life Dean and Leo could have made together. Would Dean continue hunting every month, slowly weaning himself into retirement. If Leo was in Dean’s life could he have prevented some of the crazier things that have happened. His influence a calming force in their Winchester whirlwind?

Maybe with Leo Dean’s chance at normalcy would have succeeded? Waking up every morning with a pair of blue eyes to greet the morning.

It hits him like a lightning bolt.

“Dean,” Sam starts, “do you… you’ve felt this way about somebody else, right? Who wasn’t Leo.”

Dean rocks on the bed, unwilling to answer.

“Dean,” he whispers, “do you love Cas -”

“That’s enough!” He jumps forward, throwing Sam’s hand off of him. “We’re done with all this… touchy-feely crap. My skin’s starting to crawl…” he mutters, picking up the stuff he scattered with a fury. “You know I like guys, big whoop. That’s the only emotional doozy I’m sitting on so let’s get the show on the road, okay?”

Sam cannot turn away. They’ve made it this far, he needs to see this through. “You love him.”

“Sam, he’s our friend. He’s like a brother -”

“And you love him -”

“I did!” Dean shouts, rounding on Sam, “I did love him. Did . Past tense… over and done. Meaning we don’t have to dive back into this bullshit. I felt it, I lived it… and I’ve gotten over it. Stacked it on a pyre and burnt the shit out of it. There’s nothing left to dissect but ashes, capisce?”

Given the grand display Sam finds it hard to believe. He stays silent though, the anger coursing through Dean’s gaze enough to char an iceberg. Sam retreats to his own bag. Cleaning in silence. A beat passes and Dean stomps to his duffle, shoving things inside.

They don’t speak to each other, and don’t need to.

Sam uses the time to reflect. On all the shared moments between his brother and the angel. Every charged exchange in the roller coaster of their relationship. From the highest peaks to the rocky lows. Remembers how friend and foe alike commented, reading more into what laid below the obvious surface. Again Sam figured they swung for low fruit in an attempt to rattle his brother. Actually they were striking closer to the heart.

The way Dean slammed Baby’s trunk reminds Sam of when Castiel died at Lucifer’s hands. When their friend’s grace dimmed, so did the light in Dean’s eyes. Returned only when he appeared in that alleyway. Dean’s face twitched, unable to smile. As if he forgot which muscles were used to lift the corners of his mouth. Or maybe was too scared that if he did Castiel would disappear in the next blink.

And therein lies the problem

“He’s as much in this as you are.”

Dean swerves, halfway out of the parking lot. Sam’s voice echoed in Baby’s cabin, the atmosphere too tense for any of Dean’s cassettes.

His brother squints at him, “What are you -”

“Cas,” Sam continues, “whatever logic you’ve used to convince yourself that he doesn’t love you back… it’s all wrong.”

Scowling, Dean completes the turn onto the main road. It takes one stop sign and two red lights for his brother to respond. “Who do you think you are, Mr. Know-It-All?”

“I think I’m the guy who’s had enough of his family falling apart and is yelling at the reason for it.”

“Me!” Dean shouts, “How is it my fault? Cas was the one who kept Jack’s soullessness under wraps. Who got mom killed -”

“Stow it, Dean.” Sam glares at his brother, shifting in his seat so Dean suffers the full force. “Cas isn’t the reason mom isn’t here. I know it, you know it - even mom knows it. What would she think if she knew you were acting like this to Cas?”

“But -”

“He thought he was doing what was right, and when he realized it wasn’t he apologized ,” Sam tells him, “You said you accepted it, but you still keep him at arm’s length. You barely speak to him unless it’s about a hunt. If it was really about mom, things would’ve gone back to normal but no - you’re afraid -”

“Maybe I have reason to be afraid, huh?” Dean snarls, clenching the steering wheel, “With Chuck abandoning us - for good - we have one shot. No more do-overs, no more hidden fixes. No kid to come by and shove another quarter into our slot, taking us into another level - none of it! And when things are on the upswing for us… that’s when the boot’s waiting to smush us. I can’t handle watching Cas die, again, Sam. The bastard’s more stubborn than you and I… he’ll go out in a blaze of glory before either of us. Where will I be then, huh? Mourning him all over? Wanting to die, again? Why shouldn’t I numb myself to that pain?”

Sam’s anger softens as Dean finally reveals the source of his problems. Worry lines add texture to Dean’s face, aging him severely. “So we have one shot,” Sam says, “now we’re no more special than anyone else. Good. You know how terrible it is being brought back again and again, Dean? Thinking you’ve found peace only to be shoved onto one last ride? With Chuck gone, it won’t be like that again. Finally we can choose how we end it.”

“Everyone ends up leaving me, Sam,” Dean whispers, tears pricking the corners of his eyes, “Cas always gets taken from me, just when I think I have him.”

“ Chuck took him away,” he tells Dean, “Chuck was the one who did that. To make you suffer for… character development . Like he did with Jess, and Eileen… Bobby, Rufus, Ellen and Jo, Charlie… dad and mom . We’re off the page now… it’s our life to live.”

“And die,” Dean says, staring into the open road as they leave the small Texas town, “Would it be more or less cruel if we die because of chance? If Cas gets unlucky during one fight?”

“Then wouldn’t it be worse to have loved him and not told him?” Sam asks, “Some of my biggest regrets are never telling Jess I loved her one last time… or asking Eileen to dinner… we need to make each second count this time around. So stop pushing us away and allow yourself to feel. It makes what little life we got left last longer.”

Sam, saying all he has to, faces the passenger window and waits. The flatlands go on for miles, blurring because of the speed Dean drives. They passed cattle and horse ranches, Dean not slowing down for either of them. He weaves through the traffic, a reactive driver even while stewing.

Overhead the sun dips, orange bleeding into the blue sky. They’re halfway through Oklahoma when Dean clears his throat.

“I love you, too, y’know,” he says, “Figured… if I’m gonna be saying it to Cas. And… don’t really know how many of those we’ll have left.”

Sam mirrors the tiny smile on Dean’s face. “I love you… no homo .”

“Sam!”

“What?”

“Quit ruining the moment!”

“I just wanted to make it clear -”

“Oh like I’d ever get with you -”

“Some people want us, too. And you said you weren’t in love with Cas anymore…”

“I was trying to get you off my back -”

“Maybe I’ll see if Cas is interested in me? I think we’d be great together. We’ve been able to hang out a lot since you’ve been avoiding him.”

“You touch him and I’ll drive us both into a canyon. I’ll end it right here, right now.”

“You wouldn’t do that, you love Baby too much!”

“If we’re both dead who’s going to drive her? Better she goes out with me than stolen by some spaz who won’t treat her right!”

They bicker while the sun sets, and well into the night.

[whentommymetalfie]

Be Where You Are

A/N: nothing, my brain is empty from editing! just please enjoy this huge chunk of mostly fluff and forgive me

Summary: Five times Alfie and Tommy talked about spending the rest of their lives together -with each other, with others, and sometimes without doing much talking at all. 

In which there's house-hunting, life changing decisions, and yet another failed (sort of) shovel talk from Arthur.

Notes/warnings: Heavy drinking and implied alcoholism, smut

Wordcount: 10 K (yes, yes it’s that long) 

It may be true that Alfie Solomons is not the most… patient man in the entire world. He’s well aware of that. But when it comes to the things that truly matters, he’d like to think that he can in fact dig deep and muster up some of it. Patience, that is. Like with everything that concerns Tommy, for example. That includes his at best mildly infuriating and at worst absolutely unbearable family. And the living situation on Watery Lane. He’s put up with that far longer than any sane (or… less sane) man should ever have to.

But it’s the lock on their door breaking that finally is the last fucking drop.  

Alfie has suffered through Arthur banging on their door at all hours, from early fucking morning to late in the evening (And yeah he’s entirely fucking sure that he does it just to disrupt any amorous activity that may or may not be going on in there, despite Tommy rolling his eyes at this and stating that not even Arthur could be that childish).

He’s quietly bitten his tongue whenever Ada’s passed by to ask irrelevant questions; like if Tommy has seen her missing dress. And no, why on earth would he have done that? Ada only gives Alfie a look when he grumbles this, which makes him wonder exactly what she thinks he and Tommy get up to in bed. When he brings this up with Tommy, Tommy is mostly annoyed that Alfie thinks Ada’s dress would even fit him. (He’s pretty sure that it would bu that’s not the point)

Then there’s John, who can’t seem to take a single step without checking with Tommy first whether it’s alright or not…. And all of these are just things that Alfie can come up with at the top of his head.

Well, the point is that he’s been very fucking patient with all of it. Because if the Shelbys all want to share the roof of that giant, rickety ancestral home, then that’s all well and good. And yeah he’s well aware that the whole lot -Tommy in particular, even though he’d deny it to his dying day- suffer some kind of collective abandonment issue. So, Tommy moving out before Finn is older is out of the question.

But when Arthur actually manages to break the fucking lock on their bedroom door by bursting in through it, Alfie’s had enough. On top of it all, he just got Tommy onto his back, making those noises that would make the best of men commit all sorts of atrocities if only to hear them again. Legs spread and cheeks flushed, and looking absolutely worthy to be devoured…

That’s when Arthur stumbles in, effectively putting a stop to the whole thing. And once he has rushed out again, red faced and shouting, Tommy is not in the mood anymore. In fact he’s so much not in the mood that he rolls over onto his side and hides his face under a pillow when Alfie suggests that now when they’ve scared Arthur off, they might as well get back to what they were doing.

And that’s when Alfie’s had enough.

“Tommy, my dove,” he says, very carefully keeping the frustration from his voice as he runs a hand up Tommy’s arm. “Has it, and I ask this with the best of intentions in mind, has it ever fucking crossed your mind that living somewhere where your relatives can’t burst through the door at all hours would bring you some peace of mind?”

A muffled noise comes from under the pillow.

“See, I know it might take some time getting used to the idea, but finding a good house, yeah, that’s also something that takes a bit of time, doesn’t it? So you might’s well start looking, should you decide later that this is an acceptable idea-“ It’s very hard to gauge Tommy’s reaction when he’s under the pillow like this, so Alfie pauses. But when no life signs come from the feathery depths, he goes on: “I’m not saying that I’m tired of these constant interruptions, no, who doesn’t want people running in and out of one’s bedroom at all hours, fucking brilliant thing, isn’t it? All I’m saying is that your family would most definitely survive making a phone call instead. Or just taking a little walk when they feel the need to ask you something.”

Tommy is quiet and Alfie has the good sense to stay quiet too, knowing this is the mandatory processing time that he needs to go through before giving some kind of response.

Finally he rolls over onto his back, pulling away the pillow to reveal a head full of messy curls and cheeks that are still a bit flushed.

Alfie waits expectantly.

Tommy reaches for a cigarette.

“Fine,” he says, raising an eyebrow when Alfie gives him an incredulous look.

“Fine?”

“Fine.” Tommy lights the cigarette.

And that’s that.

A week later, Alfie is coming along as certified ‘Haver of great taste’ on this house buying mission.

“Now this, Tommy, this is a proper bedroom,” he says, cane tapping over the wooden flooring as he inspects the spacious room with its fancy wallpaper. But it’s a bit of an overstatement, that. The room is in fact not very inviting. Something about it feels… inhospitable and cold. But that’s what you get with an empty house, innit? And it’s better than Tommy’s little nook back in his family home.

Tommy nods, decidedly unenthusiastic. Not that his face is giving it away, but Alfie can read most of his tiny little shifts in mood without any problem these days. There’s that slight slump to his shoulders, and the way he’s not quite looking properly at the room. The same it’s been with the other four fucking houses they’ve been to. Alfie is starting to feel all the staircases in his knees.

“Could put a bed over there, and fit in a huge wardrobe for all those expensive suits of yours-“ he says. “Could have two, even.”

Instead of looking, Tommy stands by the window and gazes listlessly out at the dreary street below, smoking his cigarette with the same air of indifference.

“Do you like it?” he asks.

The question sort of surprises Alfie, because although he’s realised long ago that Tommy does in fact care a great deal about his opinion, it’s unlike him to admit it out loud.

“Well, love, I do fancy myself a man of good taste in all matters, the present company clearly being proof of that. But for once, what I think isn’t what’s most important.”

Tommy very thoroughly avoids looking at him.

“Well, it’d… be your house too.” He says the words with a slight shrug and carefully constructed nonchalance. Swallows visibly -Alfie can see it all the way from across the room. “Ours.”

Ours.

Maybe it’s ridiculous, how monumental that little word feels, but Alfie can’t help it -it does send him reeling for a bit. It’s not like they don’t already live together. They do, in most senses of the word. Wherever Tommy is, Alfie is too. And vice versa of course. But that’s been more of a gradual thing rather than a big decision -Tommy has just slowly crept into every crevice of Alfie’s townhouse back in London: an ashtray on the kitchen table, well pressed suits hanging between Alfie’s own in the wardrobe, extra blankets in the bed because Tommy always runs a few degrees colder than any other warm blooded creature… And the house is arguably just as much Tommy’s home as it is Alfie’s now. But Alfie has a feeling that although Tommy might view it as both of their home, it’s still Alfie’s house. Alfie isn’t entirely sure if there’s a distinction to be made, but it feels like there is.

Buying a fucking house together feels like officially stating out loud that this is a permanent kind of thing. And even though Alfie has known that particular fact for a while, even though they’ve talked about the prospect of doing it in the future, there’s still something about hearing Tommy say it out loud that fills his entire chest with warmth.

“Ours, eh?” he repeats and Tommy’s shoulders set into a rigid line. He walks up behind him and smooths a hand over them. “Well, in that case we should be looking at something with an actual, proper fucking kitchen.” He can feel the muscles relax under his palm. “Yeah? And with a more appealing view, if that is to be found in this shithole.”

“Maybe something outside of the city,” Tommy says quietly, still looking out the window.

Alfie says nothing. Barely dares to breathe

Tommy clears his throat. “You know… like we talked about. I’ve been thinking and- and it might be nice. We could always just drive into town for work.”

Alfie still says nothing, for fear that anything he might say will ruin this. But he lets the hand on Tommy’s shoulder slip down to his waist, tugging him a bit closer. Tommy willingly turns to face him, arms coming up to loosely encircle his neck. His eyes are still fastened on some undetermined spot on his chest.  

“Yeah, well, then we’ll have no trouble with the view,” Alfie says after careful consideration. “Whole countryside is full of it, innit? Granted that’s all it’s full of, but that’s the whole point of it, right?”

A smile tugs at the corner of Tommy’s mouth and he finally glances up at Alfie. Alfie rubs small circles on his back with his thumb.

“You sure about this? Don’t have to be doing anything you’re not ready for, love.”  

Tommy leans in that last little bit and kisses him. And then the smile finally widens into a real one -the kind that makes his eyes sparkle and manages to light up the entire, previously so cold room.”

“I’m sure.”

Two

Alfie wakes up from the book he’s been reading very falling down onto his face, and blinks to adjust his eyes to the darkness in the living room. The fire has died down to glowing embers, telling him that he must’ve somehow managed to sleep with the book in upright position for a while before it rudely decided to jam the edge of his glasses into his face. It also tells him that it’s late, and, combined with the silence in the house (and the fact that Tommy would no doubt have moved the book from his grasp) tells him that Tommy hasn’t come home yet and is working a whole lot later than usual. And he is just about to get off the sofa and call the office to tell Tommy to get himself home right this instance when the door creaks open. The annoyance is instantly replaced with relief, because fuck it, he can’t help it. Just the way he functions, innit?

He can hear Tommy moving about in the hallway, and it’s probably a sign of something significant, that he can hear just from his steps that there’s something wrong. Unwilling to explore that thought any further, he closes the book and listens.

“Tommy?”

There’s no answer, and that’s enough of an incentive for him to struggle his way off the sofa and out into the hallway. Tommy is stood by the large bureau, clutching the top in a white knuckled grip. A quick onceover tells Alfie that at least he’s not fucking bleeding from anywhere. But he’s so pale that his skin looks fucking luminous in the dark hallway.  

“Oi, Tommy?” He crosses the hallway in a few long strides, and that’s when he can smell the whiskey. Tommy glances up at him, bleary eyed and flushed, swaying on his feet.

“Fucks sake,” Alfie sighs and pitches forward to catch him when his legs inevitably give out. Tommy clings to him, shuddering breaths making his back heave. He uselessly tries to catch his gaze without much success. “Hey, are you gonna be sick?”

All he gets in response is a weak hum, but it’s enough. Wasting no time, he drags Tommy into the kitchen and to the sink -the closest appropriate place to be sick- and barely has time to deposit him there before Tommy is vomiting his guts out. Alfie pats his back and mulls over if he could’ve seen this coming earlier in the day.

“I take it you broke into my desk, hm? Or will I find one of the fucking stills empty tomorrow, eh, silly boy…”

His disapproving mutters go unnoticed. Not that Tommy is really capable of listening right then, because he barely has time to breathe between the horrid waves of retching. Alfie puts all other thoughts on halt and just focuses on damage control, continuing to rub Tommy’s back and steadying him against his hip when his knees want to buckle. Not much else to do right then. But Tommy just continues vomiting long after the most likely meager contents of his stomach are gone, and finally, the bile that splashes into the sink is red with blood. Fucking hell. Yeah, he’ll have to step in here…

He puts a hand on the back of Tommy’s neck.

“Alright, deep breaths now, love,” he says. “You ain’t got nothing left to vomit up so I’m gonna need you to just breathe for a bit. Go on-“ Tommy pants, still hunched low over the sink on shaking arms, and Alfie takes the opportunity to fill a glass of water. He manhandles Tommy into a somewhat upright position against his chest and holds it to his mouth. Tommy just whines and turns his head away. His skin feels cold and clammy when he pushes his forehead into the crook of Alfie’s neck.

“ ‘m sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah it’s all fine,” he mutters and resists the urge to sigh. “Go on and drink this, or you’ll be even sorrier tomorrow.”

Tommy leans all his weight against him, and Alfie has to wrap an arm around his waist to keep him upright, all while continuing to fruitlessly push the glass of water against his lips. It takes a few more seconds, and then Tommy finally opens his mouth, grabs the glass and greedily swallows the entire thing down in three long gulps before Alfie can protest or remedy the situation-

Which of course has him hunching over the sink again, vomiting it all up within a second.

They end up on the floor after the whole ordeal, because Tommy just collapses where he stands and Alfie isn’t quite quick enough to do anything but break his fall. He’s still dry heaving somehow, and it’s right about then Alfie actually starts to worry.

“Tommy, hey, I’m gonna need you to focus for a moment here,” he says and holds his head up by his chin. Tommy’s eyes are still closed, his long lashes dark against his cheek. “Do you need me to get you to a hospital? Is it that kind of situation?”

Tommy shakes his head and curls into him, tearing his chin away from Alfie’s grip to bury his face in his shirt. And at least he’s stopped dry heaving for now, so Alfie will take his fucking word for it.

“ ‘m sorry,” Tommy repeats against his chest when Alfie pulls him into his lap. He’s finally opened his eyes a little, if only barely, and looks up at him, struggling to focus.

“What are you sorry for, eh?”

“Just… fuck up all the time.”

Alfie sighs and tries to adjust his right leg to avoid a cramp.

“Feel like telling me why you suddenly decided to fucking drown yourself in whiskey on this fine day?” he mutters and pets Tommy’s hair. “Seemed alright when I left you at the office.”

Tommy shrugs and slurs, “ ‘s just bad. ‘vrything’s bad.”

Alfie hums. Tries to not feel disappointed because he really thought they’d gotten past this. But it’s a two steps forward, one step back kind of deal, isn’t it? It’s been… well now when he thinks about it it’s been months since Tommy last had a proper slump, so they’re probably due for one. And they’re fewer and farther between now. He tries to remind himself of that.

“Bad day eh? How about you just do what you normally do and tell me, instead of doing shit like this.”

Tommy pulls his knees up to his chest, turns himself into a ball as he buries his face in Alfie’s chest and just breathes. Alfie continues stroking his hair.  

“You’ll get sick of me,” he mutters suddenly, without emerging.

“Well, I do recall us having this conversation before. Multiple times, in fact, but I suppose I can remind you: since I haven’t gotten sick of you yet, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Maybe- maybe not now, but in-  in five years. Or ten,” Tommy mumbles.  “Twenty.”

Despite the implication -that Tommy himself can’t see an end to these occasional burst of self-destructive behavior- Alfie can’t help smiling.

“Twenty years, eh? We’re in this for the long haul I hear.”

Tommy’s entire body freezes into a tightly coiled ball of muscles. But Alfie keeps stroking his hair.

“I won’t get sick of you, love. Not in ten years, or twenty, or fuckin’… fifty. Though I can’t promise that you won’t eventually get sick of me now, can I. That’s a long fucking time, fifty years.”

Under his fingers, Tommy’s back heaves in a shivering breath and he pushes his face further into the confines of Alfie’s wrinkled shirt. He wraps his arms around Alfie’s chest.

“I won’t. Not for… for as long as I live.”

Alfie has to clear his throat.

“Well, that’s good, innit? Because you’re sort of stuck with me now.”

“Good.”

And with that, Tommy has apparently fallen asleep in his lap.  

Three

”How many people have you slept with?” Alfie asks Tommy one night, as the beginning of what could quickly turn into the worst pillow talk in recorded history. But it’s one of those occasions when the question just pops straight from his mind and out of his mouth. Luckily, he’s spent the past hour or so doing a very good job of fucking Tommy in every position imaginable, and Tommy lies satiated and warm against his chest. So his question is only met with a quiet little laugh.

“Haven’t we talked about this before?”

“Nah, then I was just wondering if you’d slept with that tall, lanky…” Alfie gestures to help the words along, “Communist fellow.

“Freddie Thorne,” Tommy offers helpfully.

“Hm, yeah, that’s the one. But now I’m just thinking about the general number.”

Tommy shifts, lifting his head up and settling his chin on Alfie’s chest. His eyes are still soft, a glint of laughter in them.  

“Hm, what was it? Half of Birmingham or something, wasn’t that what you said at some point? So how many would that be?”

Alfie snorts, even though he probably deserved that.

“Why do you ask?” Tommy wonders then, genuinely curious it would seem. Alfie shrugs a little, a hard feat while lying down.

“It just feels a bit strange doesn’t it? The idea that you might not fuck anyone else for the rest of your life. That this is all you’ll be getting.”

“Oh, ifthisis all I’ll be getting, I’ll be more than satisfied,” Tommy whispers, and suddenly there’s a hand on his cock, fingers curling loosely around the shaft.

“Always knew you only wanted me for my cock,” Alfie says with mock offence, and Tommy smirks as he begins stroking him slowly.

“Well, in my defense, it’s a very nice cock. Best one I ever had in fact. And I should know, seeing as I’ve slept with… half of Birmingham.”

All blood is rapidly leaving his head, and Alfie sighs, feeling quite pleased with the turn the conversation has taken. Tommy rubs careful circles over the head of his cock, and he slips a hand down to grip his arse firmly, pulling him closer against his hip.

“Mhm, talk more about how much you like my cock.”

Tommy huffs out a laugh and kisses him, slow and soft as he rubs himself against Alfie’s thigh. Alfie is fully hard already, aching and leaking in Tommy’s grip, because fucking hell if he’s not ready to give it to him again whenever Tommy wants it…

“As if your ego needs it,” Tommy whispers against his lips, before sitting up and straddling him. Alfie’s hands immediately find his waist, palms flexing against the expanse of smooth skin and lean muscle. Tommy’s waist fits perfectly there, with Alfie’s fingers around it. Just as the rest of his body fits against Alfie’s: how his head lies perfectly against that spot on his chest, or how Alfie can tuck him under his chin… like a perfect puzzle piece- And then his thoughts are interrupted because Tommy rolls his hips, grinding down on his hard length and he bucks up against him, impatient. It seems to be one of those days when Tommy doesn’t need much convincing, because he just takes Alfie’s cock in hand again and sinks down slowly, moaning obscenely as it slides all the way in. He’s slick and open from before and something about that, fuck, that just makes Alfie so turned on that he gets fucking dizzy… That Tommy just so ready for him: wet and just barely open enough- Fucking hell this isn’t going to last long if he keeps this train of thought. He bites his tongue hard, hoping the pain will bring him back enough to keep himself from coming right then.

Tommy rides him slowly, just barely lifting his hips to begin with. Must be a bit too deep to really be doing it for him, but fuck it really does it for Alfie, is the thing, and Tommy appears pleased to just be giving him what he wants. He’s so fucking wet and warm and tight, and he must be feeling it because Alfie went none to gently on him before. Tommy curls his fingers loosely around his own cock and moves in tandem with his thrusts, eyes falling shut.

Alfie just keeps his hands on his waist for now, lightly, not trying to control anything. When Tommy gets on top like this, it’s usually because he wants to set the pace himself, and who is Alfie to deny him anything?

“Fucking hell, just look at you,” he breathes out. “Wish you could see yourself now, love- really is something else entirely, aren’t you?”

Tommy lets go of his cock and settles his hands on Alfie’s chest instead, lifting his hips higher and making Alfie slide almost all the way out before sinking back down. Moans each time, loud and unabashed and fucking desperate for it, as if it wasn’t just half an hour ago that Alfie pounded him into the mattress until he’d screamed himself hoarse.

Then he tugs at Alfie’s shoulders and Alfie takes the hint immediately, sitting up and wrapping his arms tightly around that narrow waist.

“Why would I ever want anyone else, ever again?” Tommy leans in and whispers, voice husky and unsteady in a way that just shoots arousal down his spine. He rolls his hips, cock brushing against Alfie’s stomach. His legs are trembling now, so Alfie helps him along, holding his weight up with his arms. Fingers tangle into his hair and Tommy kisses him, wet and sloppy and panting loudly, frantically pulling in the too hot air between them. Alfie has no answer of course, because with Tommy like this on his lap, grinding down on his cock and looking like it really is the best fucking thing he’s ever had, no, he can’t come up with a reason why.

“Fuck, it’s so good- so fucking good Alfie I-“ Tommy buries his face in the crook of his neck, clinging properly to his shoulders now. “No one else could ever come close.”

Alfie’s hips are moving on their own accord now, while he virtually takes Tommy’s entire weight and lifts him up and down on his cock, because Tommy’s legs have apparently decided to give up. And he doesn’t fucking mind in the least, does he? Because Tommy makes these desperate little noises, rutting and grinding against him as if he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.

“Won’t ever have to worry about that now, do you?” Alfie mutters into his ear. “Because you’re all mine and I’m going to take care of you. Fucking hell, if I had my way, you wouldn’t ever have to leave the bed. Would just keep you there. Make sure you’re fucked real good every single day… several times a day, because that’s what you want isn’t it?”

Tommy whimpers, and Alfie releases his waist to wind his fingers into his hair and pull his head back. And Tommy is just there, unable to move properly and just desperately grinding on Alfie’s cock. And it’s a fucking sight alright. His eyes are blown wide, filled with that raw, open vulnerability. It makes Alfie growl and tug harder at his hair.

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” Tommy whispers. “Always.”

Then his hands are back on Alfie’s shoulders and he pushes himself up, despite his shaking legs and clenches around Alfie and that’s it, Alfie fucking goneand he fucks up and into Tommy, arms clenched tight around his waist again. Tommy lets out an almost pained sound, shaking and twitching in his grip as he comes all over his stomach.

He collapses completely against him afterwards. Alfie can’t be bothered to stay upright and slumps down onto the mattress, but manages to at least be considerate enough to keep Tommy from hitting his head on the bedframe.

It takes several minutes before Alfie comes back enough to himself to manoeuvre Tommy off him, which is necessary, because God knows Tommy will just stay right where he is for the rest of the night otherwise, with Alfie’s cock still buried in his arse. Always needy and clingy after sex, Tommy of course whimpers out various complaints, until Alfie has got him settled against his chest again. And that, well that’s somehow just as great as the actual sex isn’t it? Alfie hushes him. Strokes his back until he’s calmed down again and seems at peace. Tommy drapes one leg across Alfie’s hip and noses against that spot on his chest that’s become his designated head rest, right below his left collarbone.

Alfie runs a finger down his spine, grabs the blanket and pulls it up over them both. Because although he still feels overheated, he knows for a fact that Tommy will start shivering in a minute. That’s just how it works.

“So, I take it you’re not going to miss fucking anyone else? Hm? Is that what I should take away from this?” He smirks to himself when he sees the exasperated wrinkle between Tommy’s eyebrows. “See, because I might need more convincing. Not straight away, mind you, but in half an hour or so…”

Tommy slaps his arm with the conviction of a sleepy cat swatting for a fly that’s buzzing around it’s ears.  

“Fuck off. You’ve gotten yours tonight. Twice.”

“Oh, it’s more than that if you count the times I very selflessly made you come, love, How about you add that to the list of my fine qualities? What other man has done that for you?”

“If you continue to be this infuriating, I might find someone else who will,” Tommy mutters and shuffles a bit closer still.

Alfie continues, undeterred because he’s feeling quite pleased with himself right now thank you very much.“See, love, there’s only one thing that’s better than knowing you’re a generous and considerate lover,” he says and ignores Tommy’s annoyed groan. “Who can make their partner come their brains out several times in a single evening, and that’s knowing that you’re better than all the previous ones…”

“You’re fucking impossible” Tommy mutters into his chest, keeping his head firmly pressed against it while clinging to him. “Now shut up and let me sleep, or I will banish you to the sofa.”

Alfie scoffs, “Empty threats, love. You know better than to play cards like that.”

Tommy opens one eye and gives him a glare. Going against one of those would definitely be pushing his luck, so the best route now would be to stay quiet. But he does press a kiss against Tommy’s forehead. Which is met with another little huff.

Tommy is still smiling against his chest. He can tell.

Four

There are plenty of things about Tommy’s older brother that Alfie finds infuriating. Were he to make a list, it would most likely be impossible to complete: Arthur would find new ways to bother him while he was writing said list and constantly add to it. But somewhere at the top of that hypothetical list, he’d put the fact that Arthur Shelby has the worst possible timing for absolutely everything. From barging into Tommy’s office with some question just when Alfie has persuaded Tommy to take a little break from working to sit on his lap for just a tiny bit, to calling them at home in London (God knows how he got the fucking number) demanding to speak with Tommy about all sorts of irrelevant matters, usually once they’ve finally settled in for the evening.

So really, it should be no surprise that when Alfie steps into the Shelby household much later than he’d anticipated and passes the kitchen, he hears a familiar voice.

“Oi, Solomons, a word.”

Alfie stops in his tracks and groans because fuck, has Arthur just set up permanent shop in the fucking kitchen? Ready at any time to call people in and have various ‘chats’ with them about questions that are none of his business and yet somehow crucial for him to put his nose in.

And furthermore it’s fucking late and he’s had a hellish evening dealing with incompetent employees and a broken still, so all he wants to do now is go upstairs to Tommy. Pull him close and bury his nose in soft hair that smells faintly of soap and smoke...

“Unless you hadn’t noticed, I was actually on my way to something more important. Namely to a bed that has your brother in it,” he tells Arthur and can’t keep himself from adding: “See if he’s up for getting a bit of cock on this fine evening.“

Arthur chokes on his whiskey. And really he should’ve fucking expected an answer like that. But he still waves for him to sit down and bloody hell, Alfie figures that it’s better to just have it fucking over with. So he ambles over to the kitchen table, slumps down on a chair and leans back in it, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Alright, as I’m sure you can see, I’m here,” he says when Arthur just stares at him. “So fucking talk.”

Arthur promptly empties his whiskey glass and then refills it.

“I’ve been thinking-“

Alfie huffs out a laugh. “Oh watch out, you might hurt yourself.”

Arthur glares, clears his throat and leans back in his chair, mimicking Alfie’s pose. Puts on what is most likely supposed to be a serious face, takes a breath… and fuck, Alfie is seconds away from just getting up and leaving when he finally gets to the point and says, “What are your intentions with Tommy?”

It takes a while for Alfie to take this in, even though the buildup should’ve adequately prepared him for something this stupid.

“What?”

“What are your intentions with my little brother?” Arthur repeats, over annunciating every single word, as if that will clarify anything. My little brother… Arthur always adds that when he’s feeling particularly over protective. As if to further hammer home the point -mostly to himself probably- that he is indeed the older and wiser out of the two of them. That Tommy is his responsibility.

Alfie blinks. “Yeah, well if you really want to know, right now I intend to go upstairs and see if he’s still awake. And then possibly make him come his brains out a few times-“

Arthur’s face turns a darker shade of red and his moustache twitches in that absolutely hilarious way. His right hand clenches into a fist where it’s placed on the table. But he doesn’t lose it. Surprising, that.

“Which I really should prioritize right now so if we’re done here…” Alfie puts both palms on the table and makes a half-hearted effort to stand up but of-fucking- course Arthur won’t have that

“You know what I fucking mean,” he snaps.

“Well, dear Arthur, as it so happens I don’t actually know what you fucking mean so if you could fucking clarify…”

Arthur glares down at his whiskey. Moves the glass a bit to the right. Moves it back again… Alfie sinks deeper into his chair and sighs demonstratively.

“He loves you,” Arthur says, suddenly, still studying the glass. “Really… fucking loves you.”

Alfie decides to be quiet.

“Fucking hell I never thought that it- that it would actually go this far,” Arthur continues. “But he fucking loves you, more than- than I think he’s ever loved anyone or anything.”

Yeah and what on earth is happening now? It’s getting bloody uncomfortable, that’s what. So Alfie opens his mouth to fucking say something, but Arthur waves a hand dismissively and keeps talking.

“And the thing, the fucking thing is that now… Well, he wouldn’t fucking survive you leaving, alright? Almost fucking fell apart completely when you had that fight. And if you- if this isn’t fucking permanent in your eyes, then I…“ Arthur allows himself a moment of silence, probably because he discovers that Alfie won’t interrupt him. “It would fucking kill him,” he then finally says, without the tiniest bit of smile. Dead fucking serious.

And something about the tone… Alfie can’t bring himself to say something snide or sharp, but he doesn’t exactly have any other options either, so he just continues being silent.

“And, yeah I don’t know what to do with that fucking realization. Sure I can do the whole ‘If you ever hurt my brother I’ll hunt you down and fucking beat you to death with your own cane-spiel, but-” Arthur pauses again to breathe. “But that doesn’t really matter does it?”

Alfie sighs. “Fucking hell I��m not in the mood for this-“

He rubs his temples and realizes that a bit of sincerity is the only thing that will work here, even though he really is in no mood to be having conversations like this with Arthur.

He shoots a glare at the man in question. “What’s all this, eh, Arthur? Trying to catch up on 30 years of big-brother duties all of a sudden.”

Arthur ignores the remark and takes a swig of whiskey. Stares into the liquid again. “We just got him back, you know? We finally fucking got him back, and now I’m terrified that without you, he’d…”

He trails off and silence fills the kitchen.

“Nah, give your brother some credit,” Alfie says. “As much as I’d like to think that I have a magical cock that just… miraculously heals broken heads, Tommy’s done plenty of work to pull himself out of that pit he’s been in.”

Arthur sways forward and sets both forearms down on the table with a bang.

“Just give me a straight answer here,” he slurs, going a bit cross eyed as he watches Alfie. “Be honest with me here, between... two people, who just really fucking care about him alright?”

“You know that Tommy would fucking kill you if he found out you were having this conversation with me, right”

Arthur just keeps gazing at him with dim eyes, as if he didn’t even hear it.

Alfie sighs again. Fuck it.

“Alright, you want to hear what my fucking intentions are, do you?” He rests his forearms on the table and hunches forward, trying to catch Arthur’s eyes. “Even though you really have no fucking business knowing them. But I’ll fucking indulge you, alright? So here it goes, and you better fucking listen because I’ll only be saying this once: If we had lived in a world that was just a bit different… Or perhaps if Tommy had been a woman  and I hadn’t just been an old sodomite, yeah? Well, then I’d have asked to marry him long ago.” He stops staring at Arthur’s face- stares past his shoulder instead, at a wall. “Would’ve done it all… fancy and the like. Taken him to some nice place. Bought an ungodly expensive ring. The whole deal-” he clears his throat, suddenly realizing he’s said far too much. But surprisingly, Arthur doesn’t take the chance to laugh in his face or something of the sort. Instead he just sits there, staring down at the tabletop.  “That enough of an answer for you, eh, Arthur?” Alfie grunts when he finally can’t take the silence anymore. “Think you can get some peace of mind?”

Arthur opens his mouth, looks up, and his eyes drift to the doorway.

“Well, would you look at that. You’re talking, and the house is still standing. And no one is bleeding, from what I can see.”

The statement is finished off with a yawn and Alfie turns in his chair to see Tommy standing there in the doorway. He’s clad in only Alfie’s shirt and underwear, hair mussed from the pillow and with this soft, sleepy expression on his face that just makes Alfie’s heart skip a beat… But fuck how is it possible for him to walk so quietly? Alfie tries not to panic when he realizes that Tommy might’ve stood there for a very long time.

“Yeah, we’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” he says, feeling like his tongue is too big for his mouth. Tommy smiles and comes up to stand by his side. Alfie wraps an arm around his hips. Pulls him close

“Are you coming to bed soon?” he asks and leans into him a bit, soft and relaxed. Looks down at him through a fan of long, long, dark lashes. The way he is sometimes in the mornings after a good night’s sleep (and, if Alfie might add, a good and proper fuck before that).

“Yeah sure, if your crazy brother is quite finished with me, I’d very much like to go to bed.” Alfie tears his eyes away from Tommy long enough to look questioningly at Arthur. “Arthur here was just telling me about his secret dream of moving out into a hut in the forest to raise sheep for the rest of his days, and I told him to just go for it-“

Arthur sighs, as if the entire weight of the world was just dropped down onto his shoulders and gives Tommy a look.

“Really, Tommy, out of all the men you could’ve fucking picked, you just had to go with the most infuriating one?”

“Oh absolutely,” Tommy says solemnly. “It was very high up on my list of demands for possible partners-“

Alfie smirks. “Number one of course being that they must be above average both in stamina and in how well-endowed they are-“

“Number two: must be absolutely unbearable to be around,” Tommy fills him in.

“Fucks sake, you two. Absolutely fucking impossible,” Arthur mutters and looks almost pleadingly at Tommy when he adds, “Doesn’t it scare you that you’re gonna have to put up with this for the rest of your life?”

Alfie isn’t sure if Arthur fucking realizes how stupid it is, asking Tommy a question like that. But Tommy just keeps smiling.

“Not really, no,” he says, giving Alfie another look. “So… bedroom?”  The quirked eyebrow gets Alfie up and moving.

“Well, it’s been a nice little talk, this, Arthur. All around fucking brilliant and enlightening, just as all talks with you are, mate,” he says as he stands, his arm sliding up around Tommy’s waist to pull him closer. “But I think it’s time for me and Tommy to go upstairs and-“

Arthur’s frame seems to draw together into what can only be described as a full body cringe

“Don’t want to hear it!” And the fucker actually slams is hands over his ears. Tommy snorts and walks out of the kitchen with Alfie close behind.

In the hallway, he takes Alfie’s arm in a sudden uncharacteristic move for closeness. And Alfie wonders just how much of the conversation he heard. Can’t have been much, if the good mood is anything to go by. Only reaction Tommy could reasonably have to listening in on a conversation like that is either being pissed off or absolutely freaking out. And he’s doing neither. Could of course ask. Get it out in the open. But it feels unnecessary to start poking around in it, because Tommy looks so… at peace. Happy. And Alfie would be a fool to start asking questions that might ruin that. So he leaves it be. Over all, Alfie tries to not dwell on the whole conversation; not on his own words and not on whether Tommy was there to hear them or not. Just like he tries to not… lose himself in that fantasy. Because, well, saying it out loud just turned it all the more visceral and it’s sort of hard to ignore it now. As if just saying the words out loud made him realize it on a whole different level.

Realize that if things had been different, he would’ve---

But they’re not. So there’s no point in dwelling on it.

Then again, who’s to fucking decide what sort of questions he can and can’t ask Tommy, even if it would just be a symbolic kind of thing? Not like either of them pay much attention to what is right and proper in the eyes of the law in any other aspect. Why should this be any different?

“What are you thinking about?”

He realizes he’s been standing with his shirt unbuttoned halfway, just staring into the distance. Tommy is already in bed, all bundled up in the blankets and watching him with sleepy eyes.  

“Oh, nothing, love. Just the usual, eh?” Alfie mutters and finishes unbuttoning the shirt. “The weather, state of the English pound… things like that.”

Tommy yawns and sinks a bit deeper into the pillows.

“Well, if you want to do something besides sleeping tonight, you better think less and get undressed more. I’m already half asleep.”

“Oh would you look at that, love, a pig just fluttered by outside the window,” Alfie chuckles but puts some extra focus into getting his clothes off. Tommy lets out a snort that is most likely supposed to sound indignant, but when Alfie is finally down to his underwear and crawls into bed next to him, he’s all soft eyes and smiles again. And Alfie is tempted to ask what’s put him in such a good mood, but that is guaranteed to ruin it. So instead he just kisses him. And decides that all the thoughts the conversation with Arthur stirred up can wait till tomorrow.

Five

Arrow House -or whatever the fuck it’s called- is an enormous block of bricks. Question is if it could even be deemed a house, what with the size and everything. No, it’s not just a house, of course. It’s a whole fucking estate.

Alfie walks through yet another room that could possibly be a bedroom -guest or otherwise, and wonders who the fuck needs this many room.

But apparently, this is the kind of house people of their ‘stature’ should have. It’s what everyone keeps saying. Tommy too. So of course when the opportunity presented itself to buy the estate of one Lord Whatever-The-Fuck-His-Name-Was -who apparently fucked off permanently to one of the colonies for whatever reason- they at least had to take a look.

So now they’re here, wandering around this castle like structure and getting lost. Alfie hasn’t seen Tommy for several minutes, it’s quite possible that he’ll never find the exit again and he’s pretty sure he’s heard a minimum of five restless spirits.

It’s all around, not a great experience.

Alfie opens the door to the next room, finding it just as empty as the last one. It feels like the sheer size of the building is about to swallow him whole. He gazes out over the giant lawn that stretches before the house. And the vastness of that isn’t helping either.

He moves on to the next room, trying to ignore the way the echoes of his cane bounces off the walls.

That room is empty too, and now he’s seriously beginning to wonder where Tommy has gone.

“Tommy?” He stands stock still, straining his ears to hear a response.

“Alfie?” Ah, there it is. Seems like he’s far away though.

“Where are you?” he calls out again, moving in the supposed direction where Tommy’s voice came from. It takes him out into yet another corridor, with far too many doors. That doesn’t bode well.

“I’m not sure,” Tommy calls back and Alfie lets out a chuckle. “In… a room.”

“What can you see outside the window?” He starts opening doors, feeling increasingly like he’s part of a giant joke.

“Grass,” Tommy calls back, and despite the unhelpful nature of the response it still makes Alfie laugh. It sounds like he’s at the far end of the corridor somewhere, so he sets off in that direction. And of course he still has to try three different rooms that all look exactly the same before he finds Tommy, stood in what appears to have been the master bedroom, judging by the canopy bed that has been left there.

“There you are!”

Tommy turns away from the window and gives Alfie a faint smile.

“We’re gonna have to install… fucking phone lines or something between all these rooms if we’re gonna find each other,” Alfie states and walks up to him, standing to inspect the view. And yeah, granted it’s better than the dreary houses in Birmingham, but again, there’s something oddly… eerie over the giant fields of grass. Feels as empty and lifeless as the house. “But I suppose we’ll get used to it, eh? Having to spend a few minutes just looking for each other every time we’re separated. And we’ll have to plan things in advance too, seeing as it takes at least ten fucking minutes to walk from one end of the house to the other.”

Tommy hums and turns to face the interior of the room, inspecting the ceiling that sits high above them.

“Have you looked at the rest of the rooms on this end?” Alfie asks when the silences stretches on. Tommy shakes his head, which prompts him to put a hand on the small of his back.

“Well, how about we do that, then? And then, might I suggest we go out into the sunshine? Fucking freezing in here, innit?”

Tommy is quiet as they inspect the four remaining rooms in this wing, so Alfie fills the silence by talking about the amount of people they’ll need to hire just to keep this house in order. And making little suggestions on what could be done to the rooms to make them slightly less… ghostly. A word he doesn’t use of course, because saying things like that is bound to make the whole house feel even more eerie.

Tommy’s got a wrinkle between his eyebrows the entire time, and his jaw is clenched oddly tight. It’s not until they get back to the main entrance, and are stood on the staircase overlooking the grand hallway and front door, that he finally speaks.

“I don’t… like it.”

Alfie cuts himself off mid-ramble.

Tommy sounds incredulous. As if he can’t quite believe his own words.

“No?”

Tommy shakes his head and looks around; At the intricate wood panelling, the heavy oak floors and the thick velvet curtains that hang in front of the windows.

“Well, it’s hard to imagine living in it now, I suppose,” Alfie says to help him along. “Bet with some furnitures it’ll feel a bit more homely.”

A fucking lie if there ever was one.

Tommy shakes his head and sets off down the stairs, leaving Alfie to follow. Once they’re down in the hallway, Tommy looks around the room again.

“You do realise of course, sweetheart, that this is hardly the kind of house I’d want to live in either?”

“It’s not?”

“Now, love, when have I ever expressed that I’d like to live in a giant fucking ghost house that feels about as homely as an abandoned sanatorium?”

Tommy sighs and the tension finally creeps from his shoulders.

“Suppose it just… seemed like the next natural step.”

“Yeah, yeah because this is the kind of fucking house people with money live in, innit?” Alfie scoffs and taps his cane against an ornate fixture by a door. “Big gaudy things that require a whole squad of helpers and… cooks and fucking gardeners. And it’s still just as fucking lonely and miserable- I mean fucking look at it! Who needs all this fucking space? And it’s so fucking dark everywhere, even with all the windows”

He cuts himself off because Tommy’s got a sort of haunted look in his eyes.

“That about sums up why you’re not feeling it?” he asks, softer this time and Tommy shrugs a little.

“Maybe.”

Alfie walks up to the front door, resolute, and opens it. The sun streams into the hallway and a gust of wind blows in and ruffles Tommy’s hair. There, looks a whole lot better already. Alfie takes him by the hand and leads him out.

“I say fuck this house and whoever built it. Let’s go home

Tommy follows to the car without a word of protest.

Tommy isn’t too keen on looking at houses after that incident. So Alfie decides to hit pause on the whole thing for just a little while -sometimes he just needs a bit more time than other people to process things like this. But they do eventually look at another one, and that turns out -if possible- even worse. First off, it’s too far away from Birmingham. Then the estate agent tells them it was built by a Lord ‘What’s his name’(Alfie can’t be bothered to remember) who held a high position in the cavalry.

Tommy takes one look at the giant stone lions flanking the front door and then promptly gets back in the car.

Suffice to say, he’s not in a very good mood on the drive back towards Birmingham, quietly staring out the window and smoking one cigarette after the other. But the weather is nice, so when Alfie sees a fence bordering a large field that could possibly contain a horse or two -which could potentially cheer Tommy up- he pulls over and turns to his sulking companion.

“How about we take a walk, eh, love? We did make the drive out here after all.”

Surprisingly, Tommy isn’t hard to convince.

So they walk, taking a small gravel road that leads between two large meadows. And the sun is shining, a warm breeze rustles through the leaves, and although Tommy continues to quietly chain-smoke, the wrinkle between his eyebrow has smoothed out a bit.  

And sure enough, after walking for a bit they even pass a pasture where several horses are grazing. Predictably, Tommy lights up when one of them comes towards the fence, eager at the sight of two people who might just be there to give it a treat. The horse hangs its head over the fence and Tommy scratches it behind the ears. Were it someone else Alfie would suggest to stay far away from a strange horse, but he has yet to meet a single horse -known or unknown- that doesn’t like Tommy. And he’s quite pleased that this horse has decided to turn up.

The horse is disappointed when Tommy leaves (Alfie is the one who initiates it because otherwise they might be stuck here until nightfall). It neighs a complaint before realising that petting time is over, and turning to re-join the rest of the flock a little ways away.

Alfie meanwhile offers his arm to Tommy, who actually takes it as they continue the walk. And this time, Tommy even refrains from lighting another cigarette. It could of course just be that he’s finally run out.

The sun is beginning to set in the horizon, which Alfie only realises when he glances over at Tommy and is struck by how extraordinarily beautiful he is in this light. He’s just about to suggest that they turn back when he sees the sign. Or… calling it a sign is perhaps to use the word too liberally: it’s really just a wooden plank with painted on letters, speered into the ground by the edge of an moss covered stone wall.

‘For sale’ it just says. And then a telephone number. Alfie frowns.

“Is this how they fucking do it in the countryside? Just hang a homemade bloody sign up in the middle of nowhere advertising a sale of… whatever. How is anyone supposed to find it here?”  

But Tommy doesn’t appear to be listening. He’s let go of Alfie’s arm and walked up to the gate that is situated a bit further down on the wall, and is now standing there looking at something. Naturally Alfie has to see what is so interesting. And only a few steps along the road later, he sees the house, previously obscured by bushes.

He understands why Tommy is completely entranced by it, because it sure is something to look at. It’s large, but nothing compared to the last two monstrosities, just two stories and then what appears to be a large attic. Vines are growing up along the brick facade, and clinging around the green front door.

Alfie looks at it too. And then opens the gate and walks towards it.

“Alfie! Where are you going?”

“Just want to take a look, love.”

“That’s not how it works!”

“It is now!”

He gives the door three sharp knocks, just for good measure. As expected, there’s no answer. The door is locked however, and once it’s become clear no one is home, he begins inspecting the surroundings. There are no flowerpots or anything on the front steps, but by a barrel full of rainwater, there’s a watering can that somehow looks… suspicious.

Tommy’s steps are coming up the gravel path towards the house. “Alfie, let’s just leave before someone sees us.”

The key is, as expected, under the watering can.

Tommy looks absolutely mortified when he shows it to him

“Alfie, we can’t just go in,” he says with what honest to God sounds like a whine.  

“Oh, calm down, love. Very uncharacteristic for you, this behaviour.” Alfie unlocks the door and it swings open easily. “You’re usually quite unbothered by… well everything. Where’s your sense of adventure, eh?”

“I’m just sick of looking at houses,” Tommy grumbles.

Alfie goes inside.

“Hello?” he calls out, lest they scare someone to death. But it quickly becomes apparent that the house is indeed empty.

Tommy is still outside on the steps.

“Aren’t you coming in, love?” Alfie wonders with a grin as he pops his head out the door. Tommy demonstratively lights a cigarette and turns his back against him. “Suit yourself. I’ll be back in a moment,” he says and kisses his temple just for good measure, before venturing back into the house.  

Alife knows that no matter how hard he tries to deny it himself, heisprone to be a sentimental fool -Tommy’s words- so granted he might not be the best judge, but fuck if there’s not just something…about this house. Granted, the golden light of the sunset that cascades in through the large windows is of course showing it from its best side, but still…

The light spills across the hardwood floor and bounces off the walls with their white wallpaper, washing everything in golden tones. It becomes quite clear that no one has have lived there for a while, because a fine coating of dust covers everything. And still the house doesn’t feel eerie. More as if it’s sleeping, as odd as it might be to describe a house that way. The hallway takes him to a large living room with a fireplace, and huge windows that open up into the garden. He completely forgets to inspect the view though because he passed a staircase on his way in there and has to take a look at the upstairs quarters. Only a quick one, he promises himself -Tommy is bound to have become restless by now.

One look at the master bedroom though, and  Alfie decides that Tommy has to see this for himself. And if he’s not going to do it willingly, well then Alfie will just have to carry him.

But once he’s back downstairs and out the door again, he finds the front steps empty.

“Tommy?”

“I’m here.” The answer comes immediately, thank fuck (will Alfie ever stop being anxious the moment Tommy is out of his sight?) “In the kitchen.”

Alfie follows the voice to the back of the house, and does indeed find Tommy in a big, bright kitchen with pale green panelling on all the cupboards. He’s stood by an open back door, with coloured glass in its windowpane. The sun is shining through it, casting light in red and blue that dances across his face.

Alfie only then realises he’s been too engulfed by the interiors of the house to look at the garden at the back of it. Because that’s where the door leads, out into a big garden with a lawn, and a giant oak tree.

“There are roses,” Tommy says quietly.

Alfie can only hum. The evening air is thick with the scent of them as it wafts towards him in gentle gusts. For a while they just stand there in silence.

He thinks about it, wonders what the fucking odds are of stumbling on a house like this. Just because you decide to take a walk. Then again, sometimes things do just line up perfectly, don’t they? It does happen, as rare as it might be. You take a walk and find a house, your new business partner turns out to be the love of your life… Things like that.

“Think we better get going. It’s about to get dark.”

Alfie snaps out of his thoughts and blinks. Tommy takes his arm and pulls him back into the kitchen.

Once the door is locked and the key is safe back under the watering can, they begin making their way towards the car.

When they pass the sign, Alfie grabs it and tugs it straight out of the ground. Then continues walking. Tommy looks uncharacteristically appalled.  

“Alfie! You can’t just-“

“I’m just holding onto this for… safe keeping.”

Tommy shakes his head, but the lack of any more protests is approval enough for Alfie to carry the sign all the way back to the car and put it in the trunk.

And he’s fairly certain he catches Tommy smiling when he gets into the driver’s seat.

….

Alfie doesn’t call the number right away -granted he shouldn’t be calling at all until he’s hashed the whole thing out with Tommy- and that is yet to be done. The sign is now in the wardrobe (for safe keeping). On top of that, Alfie’s got the number written down in the only place he knows he won’t lose it (on the back of a photograph of Tommy that he keeps in his wallet. Which Tommy doesn’t have to know about)

But he sort of has another question at the forefront of his mind right now. One which has steadily become more and more obtrusive and that’s distracting him from the whole house business… It’s in fact taking up so much of the space in his brain that he finds himself unable to function. Back and forth it goes. Should he ask? Shouldn’t he?

It would be absolutely insane to ask.

But he desperately wants to, is the thing.

And it doesn’t hurt to just… see if he still has that box somewhere in the attic.  

He’s been keeping it there for years -unable to throw it out, but it’s too painful of a thing to have where he has to see it all the time. And one day when Tommy is out, he makes the rather uncomfortable climb up to the attic to search. Lo and behold, it seems like whoever is in charge of it all is working in his favour on this matter, because it’s the first fucking thing he finds. He carefully avoids the photos and other keepsakes, unwilling to face all of that right now. And he does find what he’s looking for -at the very bottom, carefully wrapped in thin, sheer paper. As it’s been for twenty-five odd years, ever since his uncle gave it to him.

“This was your mothers, She asked me to keep it safe. I know she wanted you to have it. So now it’s yours to keep safe.”

He’d asked what he was supposed to do with it. Because that’s the kind of questions kids ask. And his uncle told him that, well, at some point -if you’re lucky- you’ll meet someone who you want to give it to. Someone special.

“You’ll understand when you’re older.”

And sure enough, he did understand when he got older. But all that really led him to was the realisation that the ‘someone special’ his uncle had been referring to, well, Alfie wasn’t the kind of person who was meant to find one of those. Realised that quite quickly in fact. So what was the point of keeping the bloody thing? Just a reminder of all the things he’d never have, wasn’t it?

Still, couldn’t fucking throw it away, could he? What sort of son would he be if he’d done that? No, that was out of the question. So he’d put it in this box. And now he’s holding it in his hands again and it feels oddly small… Small and delicate and somehow still so incredibly heavy.

He’s sort of forgotten to breathe, so he tries to do that as he folds away paper and looks down at the contents.

Then he has to wipe his eyes because there’s a lot of fucking dust up here and it’s making them fucking water. Has to blink, just to get his vision clear enough to actually seethe thing properly.

It’d need some adjustments of course. But that’s easy enough to accomplish.

It wouldn’t hurt to just… bring it downstairs. Keep it there for a while. It doesn’t mean that he has to ask… It’s not like it’s a huge commitment to just bring it downstairs.

When he descends the ladder on unsteady legs, it’s in his inner pocket.

For safekeeping.

And if he should want to ask, well it’s easier to have it down here isn’t it?

Not that he’s planning to. Because it’d be an absolutely ridiculous thing to do.

But-

Well it can’t fucking hurt to have it close by, is the point.

If he would like to ask…

[marvelousmarvelimagines]

Goodnight and Goodbye

Pairing - Thor x Mermaid!Reader

Summary - Thor Request: The reader is a mermaid, which Thor meets while traveling the other realms. Reader somehow lures him in and he falls in love almost instantly with the mythical mermaid.

Word Count - 5,264

Warnings - None! 

When searching across the galaxy for Infinity Stones, Thor had not expected this much pain.

First, Jane had broken up with him. According to her, his lack of presence in her life had taken a toll on their relationship, and they had broken it off. It was mutual of course.

Mostly.

Added to that, the rest of the realms were in utter chaos. Disorder and disarray was present everywhere, yet his father Odin seemed to not care very much about it which caused Thor to have to do most of the heavy lifting and defend the planets that were unable to protect themselves from invaders.

Exhausting.

After all of that, his mission had still been fruitless. He had found nothing of importance and was beginning to lose hope. That was until he caught a break on his last planet. He had paid for it with a large gash that ran from one shoulder to his hip, but he got the information he needed and escaped as soon as possible to this new planet of Anahita.

It was a small planet, not known for much other than its rich resources. The strange thing about it was that it was a planet occupied mostly of water, so Thor shouldn’t have been surprised when he landed in some as he crashed into the planet.

His chest was still aching as he spun around, trying to untangle himself from the various underwater plants that he had landed in, but he found they had a tight grip. He fought for a few moments before reaching out his fingers, calling his hammer to help him as the urge to breathe became stronger. Before it could though, he felt a small hand grasp his wrist and pull. Unfortunately, the hammer that found its way to his palm was stronger and ended up dragging the both of you up and out of the water.

Thor heard a sharp gasp as the hand holding onto him tightened its grip while you both flew through the air and onto a piece of dry land. A trail sand followed behind the two of you before you both landed with a thump. “What in the name of Amphitrite -”

At the quiet, very feminine, voice, Thor turned his head. Laying there next to him was, in fact, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Thor had traveled to many lands and seen many people in his lifetime, but none had ever matched what he saw before him. Your hair flowed over your shoulders in gentle waves, your skin glossy and wet from the water the two of you had tumbled out of, your eyes enchanting and as deep as the water you had just left. Your eyes were filled with questions, as if you had never seen anything like him before. He watched, unable to speak as your delicate hand reached out to touch his chest, sending a sharp pain through his already pounding heart.

“What happened to you?” You gasped, staring at the injury that Thor had already forgotten in the presence of this ethereal woman. Your voice was soft and had a musical quality to it that had Thor’s tense muscles relaxing.

He looked down at the gash, noticing that it was now in fact turning a little black around the edges before focusing on you again, giving you a big grin. “Got in a bit of a fight. I won though.”

His words were rewarded with a smile, and however brief it was, Thor felt pride surge in his chest at the fact that he was the cause of it. “I’m sure it was very impressive, as is the poison now making its way through your body.”

“Poison you say?” Thor repeated, looking down at his injury again. “Seems about right.” As he looked, something else caught his eye, and he focused in on the large tail, swaying back and forth beside him. It was a beautiful mixture of blue and green, starting out gray at the bottom and slowly darkening until it reached your waist. “You’re a -” He didn’t know what to call you. He had never seen anything like it before, an alluring woman attached to the bottom of a fish. The poison was also hindering his ability to think as well, and his head fell back onto the sand, pounding hard. “Wow, this works fast,” he said with a chuckle.

Your soft smile calmed his soreness for a brief moment as your gentle touch brushed against his skin. “It does indeed. Thankfully, you happen to be in the presence of an accomplished herbalist.”

“I am a lucky man indeed,” Thor replied, his own smile pained. “May I ask the name of my savior?”

“Y/N,” You replied.

“Y/N,” he let the name roll off his lips. It was perfect. “Beautiful,” he managed to add before his world became dark.

‎ϟ‎ϟ‎ϟ‎ϟ‎ϟϟ‎ϟ‎ϟ‎ϟ‎ϟϟ‎ϟ‎ϟ‎ϟ‎ϟ

When Thor came to, the first thing he noticed was the numbness in his fingertips and toes. That feeling crept up his arms and legs, only to stop at his chest. It was still stinging somewhat, but he could feel his powers trying to heal him along with some other cold substance on his chest. When he was able to open his eyes, he found himself staring up at a rock ceiling. It took just a moment for his memories to come back to him, and he looked back down at the injury on his chest to find himself covered with a large leaf. He made a move to take it off, but a tinkling voice stopped him.

“I wouldn’t do that yet,” his eyes shot over to you. You were as gorgeous as he remembered except now, instead of the large tail, you were clothed in a flowy, loose white dress, feet bare as you padded towards him. “Your wounds still need time, although they are recovering at a remarkable rate.”

His eyebrows knit together as you came closer, his mind wondering how much the poison had affected his memory. “But, you were a -”

“Mermaid?” You gave him a low laugh as you sat down beside him. “I am, but I can choose to walk for short periods of time if I so desire.” You tucked your long legs to the side and placed your small hand inside of his own. “May I?” You asked, holding up his arm.

“Far be it from me to refuse help from a beautiful creature such as yourself.” Thor replied.

He watched as a faint blush graced your cheeks, but you remained focused on his arm. Thor shuddered as your fingers traveled, each touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. “It seems my medical attention is getting a little help.” You placed his arm back on the sand and turned your attention to him once more. “Who are you? And how did you find yourself in Anahita?”

“I am Thor, son of Odin, and I’ve been searching the galaxy for Infinity Stones.” Thor told her, seeing no reason to lie.

“Odin? Of Asgard? You are his son?” You asked him, you eyes widening somewhat.

“Indeed,” Thor took your hand back into his and brought it to his lips, brushing your skin with the gentlest of touches. “And I am in your debt.”

You shook your head back and forth, your lips turning up in a smile. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re quite the charmer, son of Odin?”

“None so beautiful as you.” Thor replied with a squeeze of your hand.

You stared into his eyes for a few moments, and Thor felt the whole world fade away. How could he focus on anything when you were looking at him like that? Not even the pain in his chest could compete with the adrenaline he felt when looking into your eyes. “Well, Thor, I must inform you I do not know of these Infinity Stones that you speak of.”

Thor let out a disappointed sigh. “Yes, that seems to be the general response I’ve been getting.”

There was silence between the two of you, and during that, Thor realized the fact that the Infinity Stones were not here meant that he had no reason to stay. There was nothing keeping him on this planet and with this amazing woman. The thought that he would have to leave you before he had even truly gotten to know you caused a whole different ache in his chest.

“That doesn’t mean they’re not here.” You spoke up.

He squeezed your hand, encouraging you to speak.

“My family . . . much like yours, are the rulers of this planet, but I’m the youngest daughter,” You placed your other hand on top of his, applying the softest pressure. “They do not tell me everything. They could very well be hidden here somewhere, and I would have no idea. There are so many vast places I’ve yet to explore . . .”

“They are protective of you.” He said, and at the sight of you, he could see why. If he ever had a child as beautiful as you, he would be terrified at the terrors that might befall her if someone ever got his hands on her.

“Some would say too much so.” You answered, nodding your head. “There are so many things here, Thor. It would be impossible for me to know. What do you need these stones for?”

“I’ve been having visions of the downfall of Asgard. Those stones have something to do with it.” Thor answered you.

His words shocked you, and you squeezed his hand tighter. “The downfall of Asgard? That would cause chaos across the nine realms.” You said, your eyes drifting away from him in thought.

“Exactly, so you see how important it is that I find them.” He said.

“Then I must insist you stay.” When you looked at him again, there was a bit of a goofy smile on his face at your words that caused your cheeks to heat up once more. “I mean, you must have time to search the planet . . . Not to mention you’re not well enough to travel.” You explained, your words coming out rushed.

“You seem to know more about my injuries than I do, as well as your planet, so I will yield to your judgement.” Thor replied.

You started to say something, but a loud horn cut the two of you off. Your head turned to the sea at the front of the cave, and when you looked back at Thor, there was a panicked look to your features. “I must go, and you must stay here.”

Thor watched as you stripped out of your dress in front of him without a second thought. Had you been nude when he had seen you earlier? He had been so enraptured by your face, he hadn’t even noticed. Your moves were graceful as you ran to the water and dove into it with one fluid motion. Thor scrambled over to the water, ignoring how much it hurt, and holding the leaf to his chest. First he saw your tail, splashing above the sea, and then you were facing him again, face and hair once again shining with water. “You are indeed the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” Thor said in total awe.

You reached out and grabbed his hands as if to get his attention, little did you know that you already had every speck of it. “Thor, my people are afraid of strangers. I’m afraid if anyone else sees you, you’ll be met with not only suspicion, but hostility. No one travels to this part of the land except me. You’ll be safe here.”

“You’ll be back?” Thor questioned, his thumb brushing across the wet skin of your knuckles.

You nodded, “after nightfall, but right now there’s a dinner I must attend. You should try and get more rest. It will help with your wound. When I get back, we can search for your stones, and maybe . . . you can tell me more about Asgard?”

He kissed your hand once more. “I will tell you anything you wish to know.”

Your answering smile dazzled him all over again.

‎ϟ‎ϟ‎ϟ‎ϟ‎ϟϟ‎ϟ‎ϟ‎ϟ‎ϟϟ‎ϟ‎ϟ‎ϟ‎ϟ

Thor knew he should leave. It had been over two weeks now, and much like every other planet he had been to, there was no sign of the stones anywhere. There was nothing keeping him here. Nothing except Y/N.

At first, he would admit, he had been enraptured by your beauty. Everything about your appearance was alluring and enchanting from the waves of your hair to your tail that shimmered in the water. The more you helped him though, the more he was finding that he was amazed by.

Not only were you beautiful, but you were so intelligent. You took him to many different places on your planet, that much like Loki, you had found through portals. At every single one of them, you were able to name every single plant that the two of you might come across and its properties. You healed his poisoned chest where not so much as a scratch remained and showed him how. You told him all about your planet and how it was known for its plants having healing properties.

“If Anahita is filled with such resources, why then do you not share them with the realms?” Thor asked you one day. He was sitting at the edge of an embankment while you floated in front of him, your tail splashing in and out of the water every few moments.

It took you a moment to respond, your fingers absentmindedly making circles in the water as you tried to find the right words. “We did once.” Thor watched in awe as figures formed in the water between them, puppets of Y/N’s fingers. “It was many, many years ago. Way before I was even a thought in my parents’ heads. We shared with various planets our healing practices, we taught them, gave them supplies . . .” The figures acted out what you said, passing baskets to different types of creatures and ships. “But then . . . they became unsatisfied.” At your words, the figures began attacking each other. Thor saw various species attacking your people with spears and swords, capturing your people in boxes while they screamed, stealing things from their planet. “We’re very strong, Thor, we can hypnotize men with a song, manipulate the tides, send people to their knees with a scream, and live as long as centuries without aging a day. Other species wanted to mate with us to see what could become of it, whether we wanted that or not.”

It was one of the worst stories that Thor had ever heard, but he was not surprised. In his lifetime, he had discovered that while most people considered it a human trait, fear of something more powerful than yourself went across all realms. “I am sorry that your people have had to endure that.” Thor told you, his hand reaching across the water for yours.

You took it without hesitation. “I am too, but it was so long ago. It’s a distant memory for most, but for some . . . That’s why I was worried about someone finding you.” Your fingers showed an army of Merpeople, fighting back invaders violently with multiple weapons. “We fought them, but the fear still remains. You’re the first visitor on this island in decades. The ones that have been here before . . .” Thor’s grip on your hand tightened as he watched various creatures get murdered before his eyes. “I didn’t want that to happen to you. You seemed . . . good.” You told him with a tender smile.

“And your opinion now?” He asked, eager for your answer.

Your fingers entwined with his, and you pulled yourself out of the water, bare and wet as your tail turned back into feet. Thor held his cape out for you which you draped around your shoulders. Your nudity never seemed to bother you, but Thor always liked to give you the option in case you wanted some modesty. As you settled beside him, your free hand cupped his cheek. “It is the same, and I will be sorry to see you go.” You told him, biting down on your supple bottom lip.

Thor hadn’t wanted to talk about this. He hoped that if they avoided the subject long enough, it would never come to pass, but here they were. For so long he had been focused on doing things for other people, but being here with you? He was able to push the obligation he had to Asgard to the back of his mind, and as selfish as that might be, it felt good. A large part of that was thanks to you. With you, he hadn’t been, Thor, Son of Odin and Prince of Asgard. He had just been Thor, a visitor on your planet. He wanted to take that Thor with him, but without you? He didn’t think it was possible. Unless . . . “Is it too much to hope that you would consider coming with me?”

His words had startled you, that was for sure. You eyes widened in disbelief and your hand dropped from his cheek. Immediately he missed the warmth of it. “Thor . . . what you’re suggesting . . . it would be insanity.”

“Why?” Thor turned the top half of his body to face you, one of his hands coming to rest on your knee. “You hate it here. You’ve told me as much. You feel as if you’re in a cage, and there’s so much more out there to explore. I could show you that.”

You laughed, but there was no humor in it, no, it was more a sound of shock. “As beautiful as that sounds, I think you’re forgetting the small fact that I am not Asgardian or Midgardian.”

“There are several bodies of water on Asgard. You can stay in any of them. You would love it. It’s the most beautiful place in the entire realm, and you could stay with me.” Thor spoke, his hand squeezing your knee.

“But my family, Thor . . .” You protested.

“We could visit any time that you wanted to. All it would take is a visit to Heimdall.” Thor promised.

His words did give you pause. He watched you, his heart aching in his chest as he waited for your response. “You make it sound so easy.” You said, looking back at him.

“Why can’t it be? I’m not ready to leave you yet, Y/N.” Thor said. It was almost unconscious, the way you both moved closer to each other with his words.

“You’ve known me for such a short time.” You replied, your words breathless as you stared into his eyes.

“And I’ve fallen for you more and more everyday. Are you saying you do not feel the same?” He asked.

It took you a moment to respond, but when you did, a faint sigh escaped your lips and you rested your forehead against his, eyes fluttering shut. “I do, but most people would call that insanity. After all, we barely know each other.”

“I know enough,” Thor said before he closed the distance between the two of you, his lips parted as his mouth brushed yours.

It was almost as if he was calling thunder to him. His whole body from the top of his head to the tips of his toes filled with a fire akin to lightning at the sensation of your lips pressed against his. From the gasp that he heard leave your lips, you were feeling the same. His hand gripped your knee tighter, his other arm slipping around your back to grip your bare skin and tug you closer. Your body was soft and warm to his touch, pushing yourself closer to him at the urging of his hands, one of your arms reaching up to slip around his neck and rest on his shoulder. Your lips moved with his in a fluid motion, parting as soon as you felt his tongue to deepen the kiss. A delicate moan left your lips at the sensation, and your arm tugged him impossibly closer.

The seconds seemed to turn to hours as the two of you continued to explore each other, hands memorizing bodies, followed by lips. It was only when the sun was rising that the two of you rested by each other’s sides. Your fingers traced over his chest in soothing circles that had Thor closing his eyes and relaxing into the sand. The way you touched him with such gentle fingers had shivers exploding over his arms. “We need to go before they’ve noticed my disappearance.” You whispered, though made no move to get up.

“Just a moment longer,” Thor requested, his hand making a lazy trail up and down your side.

You propped yourself up on your elbow so you could look into his eyes, an adoring look in them. “I’m getting the feeling that you enjoy putting yourself in dangerous situations, Thor Odinson.”

“Well, I do tend to find them more entertaining,” Thor replied with a mischievous grin, moving closer to met you in another kiss. Before he could, he felt a sharp pain shot through his neck, causing him to fall back with a grunt.

“Thor?!” Your voice was panicked as you leaned over him, worry in your eyes. It was the strangest sensation, his body losing all feeling as you pulled something out of his neck. There was a large splash and while he couldn’t look out at the ocean, you could, and he watched your eyes widen at what you saw there. “Sister . . .” You gasped in shock.

And thus, once again, Thor’s world went black.

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When he woke up the next time, the first thing he heard was your voice, and for a brief second he thought the whole last few moments might have been a dream. The aching in his body told him otherwise, along with your words.

“You have to believe me! He’s not dangerous! He’s just trying to save his kingdom!”

“You’re so stupid. And how do you think he’s going to save his kingdom? Anahita is filled with resources he could use to save it, and then he’ll come back and take us over! Have you not paid attention to the stories?” A voice argued with you.

“He’s not like that! He’s been here for weeks now, and he’s never -”

“Weeks?!” There was silence and Thor managed to open his eyes to find himself in a makeshift cage, bars surrounding him. At first he had thought the substance he had been injected with was what had been keeping him feeling so sore, but as he looked around, he noticed that wasn’t the case. He was tied down with rocks, rocks so heavy even he couldn’t hope to lift them. “You have betrayed your family, and your kingdom.” Thor turned his head to find you cowering before his cage, a strong woman standing before you with nothing but disapproval on her face. “We’re ashamed to call you one of us.”

“Sister, you have to listen -”

There was a loud smack, and Thor watched as you fell to the side, cradling your cheek with your hand. The sight of red and the pain in your hunched figure had Thor furious. “Do not touch her!” He tried to get up, used every bit of his strength to push the rocks off of him, but they would not budge.

Your sister approached the cage, her fingernails tapping the bars as she stared Thor down. There were definite similarities in your features. She was beautiful as well, but while your beauty was pure and soft, hers had a more . . . sinister quality to it, her light blue eyes icy as she stared Thor down. “Your power is no good here Asgardian. After the War, we had to make preparations in case your type ever tried to invade again. Looks like they’re doing well.”

Thor didn’t care, all he cared about was getting to you. “If you touch her again -”

She laughed, shaking her head as Thor continued to struggle. “You are a stubborn one, aren’t you? If you weren’t able to be hypnotized, I’d believe my sister had you under a spell.”

Thor struggled harder, his eyes locked on you as you turned to face him, gripping the bars of the cage tight.

“I’m sorry,” you mouthed to him, tears streaming down your reddened face.

“You know if she’d sent you on your way as soon as you got here, hypnotized you into leaving, you’d be fine, and we never would have bothered you again.” Your sister told him.

“Somehow I doubt that,” Thor grunted.

She laughed, the menacing sound sending shivers down Thor’s spine. “Oh, he’s a smart one, Y/N. I can see why you like him. All those bulging muscles and golden braids, then a brain on top of it. Easy to give into temptation like that isn’t it?”

“Let him go, please, he won’t tell anyone, I swear to it.” You pleaded for his sake, not taking your eyes off of Thor as you did.

But she ignored you. “When the Tide rolls in, you will sink. None of your magic, not even your little hammer can save you. You will drown, and then tomorrow, I will bring your body to my family for all to see, especially you.” She said, turning to you. “I’m going to take you back to the palace, and lock you in your room so you can spend all day thinking about what is happening to your precious Asgardian.”

“Let me stay with him please. I don’t care what you do to me, just don’t kill him!” You cried.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I will get out of this.” He couldn’t stand to see the despair on your face. “Somehow,” he added.

“Thor -” You started to say something, but before you could, your sister gripped your hair tight, dragging you away from him, your sobs echoing throughout the cave walls until there was nothing but silence and the sound of the water splashing the rocks around him.

Now, all he had to do was figure out how to get out of here and back to you before he drowned. Shouldn’t be too difficult.

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After hours and hours of struggling, Thor knew he was running out of time. He could feel the water from the tides lapping at his back but the ropes and rocks still gave him no pull. He had tried to call Mjolnir, and as your sister had pointed out, it did no good. It seemed all of his powers had been dampened in the cave. He had even tried calling out to Heimdall, but nothing had happened. He knew there had to be something he hadn’t thought of yet, but he was struggling to concentrate with the rising sound of the water.

Until another noise caught his attention.

A splash, out of place from all the others that he had been hearing for the past few hours. Assuming it was your sister coming to watch his demise, he called out. “Let me out of here, Siren! Or you will wish you had!”

His words were met with silence until another loud splash sounded, this time right beside his ear. He turned his head in a quick movement just in time to see a glimpse of a blue and green tail. He didn’t have to wait long before he saw your face, eyes still red from the tears you shed over him. “It would be my pleasure to let you out of here.”

“Y/N!” He wished he could touch you, reach out and hold you close to him. “How did you escape?”

Thor watched in amazement as you began pulling rocks that he had been unable to off of him. “My sister, while cruel, is not smart. I’ve been sneaking out of my room for years now. She won’t even know that I’m gone.” Finally, she was able to take off enough of the rocks so that Thor could start helping her. “Thor, I’m so sorry. I should have been paying more attention -”

“This is not your fault, Y/N.” Thor told her as they were able to start untying the ropes.

“Yes it is, and now you have to leave, and we’ll never see each other again.” You told him, your hands shaking as you worked with the knots until Thor was free.

Thor reached out, his hands grasping your face while his thumb brushed away your tears that were now streaming. “May I ask where you’re getting this information? Because I fully intend on seeing you again.”

“What?” Your voice broke at his words, and your wet hands reached up to grip his own. “Thor, you can’t . . . you can’t come back! They’ll kill you! You won’t be able to escape and -”

“I’ll risk anything to see you again.” Thor told you, “I’m going to come back for you, Y/N. I like dangerous situations, remember?”

You shook your head, but your frown faded and was replaced with an affectionate smile. Grabbing him around the waist, you tugged him into the water. “They’re growing on me too.” You told him, your nose brushing against his for a brief moment before you leaned up and pressed your lips firmly against his, smooth and fluid, your lips moving together until you pulled away, both breathless from the sensation. “Take a deep breath, let’s get you out of here,” You murmured against his mouth, gripping his hand tight.

Thor did as requested, and found himself dragged along under the water. It was a strange feeling, being pulled as if he weighed nothing, even stranger was the feeling of his powers returning to his limbs the further they got from the cave. By the time the two of you had reached the shore, he was able to call Mjolnir with no difficulties.

“Thor? Promise me you’ll be safe.” You begged, your hands cupping his face now while his arms held you close.

“You could see for yourself. Come with me,” he pleaded, his forehead resting against yours.

But you shook your head. “I have to make sure they don’t come after you.” You told him while your thumb caressed his cheek.

“Your safety is more important than my own. I promise I would keep you safe.” Thor tried to convince you, but even before he said the words, he knew they were pointless. Your mind had been made up.

“I know you would, my sweet Thor, but I won’t let you risk that. If you do indeed come back. Maybe we will find a way to be together then. If you still want to that is.” You told him.

“There is never going to be a moment when I don’t want to be with you, Y/N.” Thor told you, sincerity in his voice as he leaned down to meet you lips in a final kiss. Both of you clutching each other tight as you did, knowing this would be the last time you would see each other for a while.

“Go,” you murmured when the two of you parted. “Before it’s too late.”

Thor nodded and stepped back, glancing at you one more time before calling out. “Heimdall, open the bifrost!” Instantly, the portal opened and Thor found himself traveling in the air, already missing your presence.

He knew one thing for sure as he landed on the rainbow bridge. He was going to find a way back to you, one way or another.

[mama-m1na]

Apocalypse: Chapter 5

~~~V~~~

The next morning, the group of four had woken up early for their mission; and luckily for them, Kerstin was hungover.

"This is what you get for drinking so much yesterday," Rhamina scoffed as she placed her hand on the younger female's forehead as her palm glowed a soft purple and as her bell gave a soft chime.

Kerstin merely groaned in response as Cloud and Sierra watched the interactions with expressions of disappointment.

"I thought you knew your limits?" the blond asked as the eighteen-year-old retracted her hand that had stopped glowing.

"Oh shut up, I'll be fine," the darkette huffed, feeling better already as her eyes no longer burned in the moderate lighting and as her headache began to subside, "This happens all the time."

'I can't believe you were this irresponsible before a mission,' Sierra thought, 'If Mina didn't know that spell, we would have had to leave you here.'

"That spell is eventually going to stop working on you if you keep getting like this," Rhamina reminded before she went to sit at the couch so she could lace up her boots.

"Nevermind that right now," Sierra sighed as she shook her head, "If everyone has their things ready, then let's go."

"Yep!" the ravenette chirped as she hopped up with a smile and the four loaded up into the elevator.

Once they had reached the ground floor, the group began crossing the lobby to reach the entrance with Rhamina walking towards the back when she was halted by a hand on her shoulder.

With the eighteen-year-old already in the mindset that their mission had started, she did the first thing her body told her to do.

Quickly grabbing onto the person's wrist and upper arm before lowering her center of gravity, the ravenette threw the person over her shoulder, slamming them into the ground.... Hard.

Everyone turned to face the commotion as Cloud noticed the person on the ground, gasping for air, was the male who was watching Rhamina the day before.

"Just what do you think you're doing, boy?" she asked in a deeper tone of voice, glaring right through him as the others drew their weapons.

No one in the room dared interfere with the interaction as they knew just how dangerous the female was despite them being able to out number her.

"That's a scary expression you've got there, Hasu," the male chuckled between gasps, still trying to catch his breath as he stood up.

The ravenette's eyes widened a fraction as he spoke before she shook her head, expression hardened once more as she asked, "Who are you?"

"Hasu," he started in an almost disappointed tone, "Do you really not remember who I am?"

"No, I don't," she spat as the others in her group came to her side, "And I would also like to know how you know that name."

"Rhamina," the male sighed with a sad smile as his shoulders slumped, "It's me... Kiran."

The female's expression quickly faded from a dark danger to surprise as her mind processed the information just given to her.

In a split second, she had rushed forward and wrapped her arms around the male, leaving her teammates confused as they slowly lowered their weapons.

"Holy shit, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed as the male returned the hug before she pulled back to examine his face, "You're alive!"

"Yep, and so are you," the male chuckled as he looked at the female with a nostalgic smile, "So, how have you been, Hasu?"

"Hasu?" Sierra asked as she brought a hand up to her temple, "What the actual fuck is happening right now?"

"This is Kiran," Rhamina introduced with a smile, "his family owned the studio I rehearsed in when I was a fan dancer."

"'Hasu' was her performer name," the Korean male explained as he faced the others, "It means lotus in Japanese."

"Oh yeah, I remember you talking about him," Kerstin said as she thought of memories from long before their world turned to shit, "Didn't he move away before the whole thing went down?"

"Yeah and we ended up losing contact, so I automatically assumed he was dead when the generators fucked themselves," the ravenette sighed before the male ruffled her hair, much to her displeasure.

Seeing the ravenette act so casually around the unfamiliar male left a bitter taste in Cloud's mouth as he placed the buster sword onto his back.

His displeasure only grew as the female continued her bubbly actions until he scoffed, turning away from the pair.

"Hate to break up this little party, but we have a job to do," the blond spoke as he crossed his arms over his chest with a frown.

"Right, well it was nice seeing you again, Kiran, but we're kind of doing something so I'll just talk to you later," she said, giving him one last hug.

"Wait, can I get your number before we go? Make sure we actually stay in touch this time?" the male asked as he held out his phone, earning a nod from the female as she took the device.

After inputting her contact information, the ravenette handed the phone back to Kiran and the group headed back out to their vehicles.

"Hey, Cloud, are you okay?" Rhamina asked as he placed his sword in it's spot on his bike, "You seem kind of tense."

"It's fine," he spoke bluntly as he got on the bike and lifted up the kickstand, "Don't worry about me, just focus on the mission."

"I will, but I hope you know that you can trust me, Cloud," she spoke with a sad smile, "I might not be the best at giving advice, but I'm always willing to listen."

The blond looked up into her dark brown eyes and saw that she was being completely genuine in her offer.

With the words she spoke, Cloud was able to understand her a little better.

He was about to respond, but was interrupted by the van zooming past them and towards the exit of the parking lot.

Rhamina gasped before her eyes narrowed, growling, "Kerstin's driving, isn't she? That mother fucker!"

"Get on," Cloud ordered as he started his bike, the engine roaring to life.

The ravenette complied and hopped onto the back of the vehicle without a word before wrapping her armed around the male's waist, her qualms with the bike seemingly gone as she focused instead on her annoyance with her younger sibling.

The blond was able to catch up with the van after a few minutes and pulled up to them, on their left side, at a red light.

Rhamina turned to glare at the darkette as she lowered the tinted glass, both females in the vehicle laughing as she did.

"Fuck. You," the ravenette said, flipping off her younger sibling as the seventeen-year-old began recording on her phone.

"Mina, you were taking too long," Kerstin cackled as she zoomed in on the female's pout before showing the blond who was driving the bike.

"I'm not helping you if you get fucked by a warper!" snapped the ravenette as she pointed a threatening finger at the female.

"Aw, Mina, you know you will," the teen cooed, causing the ravenette to let out a huff before the light turned green once more.

"Eat my ass!" the eighteen-year-old growled as she secured her grip around the male's waist while they raced ahead of the van, Rhamina providing directions before they made it to a parking lot, quite a ways from the actual plant, but still on Coronado Island.

"Any reason for parking so far?" Cloud asked as he got off to stand next to the ravenette as they waited for the van.

"While armored vehicles would be nice to get past the drones and turrets when confronted with mutant fish with mind magic, vehicles become the ultimate death machines," she explained while shaking her head, "Mesmers get inside and fuck with your head so that you basically fall completely under their control."

"How do we get past them then?" the blond questioned as the van appeared in the distance.

"We don't," the ravenette replied as it got closer, "I have a high enough resistance to their hypnosis so that I can still stay in control of myself, so y'all are going to keep the drones and turrets off me while I take care of the fish."

The male then nodded as the van parked next to them before the two Filipino females popped out with their respective weapons.

Sierra had an oversized sledge hammer made of dragon bone in her hands as her medium length brown hair was held back in two french braids.

"Time to fuck some bitches up!" Kerstin exclaimed with a confident grin as she placed her two flint-lock pistols in the holsters at her hips.

With everyone ready to go, they began walking down the road towards the looming building known as the Coronado Plant, the very cause of the dystopia everyone was forced to live in.

About halfway down the bridge from the island to the plant, they came across a large fish that seemed to be floating in the air.

It had a purple body and a teal mouth with four petal-like appendages attached to the back of its head that were bioluminescent.

They were far enough from the fish that it didn't notice them; however, one of the roaming drones did and began to attack the intruders.

Unfortunately, all of the noise drew the attention of the mesmer; so when Rhamina noticed it approaching, she left the others to run towards the fish.

Blue eyes flicked in her direction, but were quickly brought back to his present battle by a certain female shoving him forward.

"Don't even look at it, they can get you from this far," Kerstin warned as she shot at the drone, "Mina can handle them."

Meanwhile, the ravenette was running straight for the mesmer when the petals behind it opened to reveal the glowing patterns that it used to hypnotize its targets.

As soon as those petals opened, a small voice at the back of the female's head began telling her to just calmly approach the fish; but as she usually did with the voices in her head, the teen mentally sassed it before she ran straight up to the fish, using her fan to slice off its head.

Upon the animal's death, it let out a horrifying screech which alerted the other mesmers in the area.

"Well shit," the eighteen-year-old hissed under her breath as more of the mutated sea creatures emerged ahead of her.

With a low growl, the female ran straight towards the school of mesmers, ignoring the drones that shot at her.

A little ways behind her were the others who were drawing the attention of the drones and turrets while trying to ignore the light blue glow of the multiple fish.

The mesmers were quite easy to kill since their only notable defensive and offensive features were their hypnotic abilities, but there were so many of them and Rhamina could feel her head start to pound as more and more voices invaded her mind, telling her to put her weapons down and just succumb to the creatures.

It took about seven minutes for the other three to finish off the defensive machines sent by the plant; however, as they had just let their guards down, a soft blue glow had appeared out of the corner of the ex-SOLDIER's eyes.

Upon realizing what it was, he was quick to turn away, but it was already too late; a soft female voice had invaded his head, coaxing him into fully facing the creature.

Noticing that the blond had failed to meet up with them, Kerstin and Sierra turned back to see that the male was slowly walking towards a fish.

"Mina!" both girls called just as the ravenette finished off the school of mesmers that had surrounded her.

Brown irises locked onto the fish before she ran over and leapt up, doing a front-flip to gain more power as she landed right on the fish's head, crushing it.

Stepping out of the bloody mess she had made, Rhamina looked straight into the male's blue eyes to find them completely unfocused, a dead giveaway that he was still under the hypnotic effects.

"Hey, Cloud!" she called, snapping her fingers in front of his face before shaking him by the shoulders, but he gave no response.

With a sigh, the female cupped both of his cheeks, resisting the urge to squeal at how soft he was, before pressing her forehead to his.

Despite the pressure and lingering voices in her head, the ravenette let her magic run free and flow through the male.

As Cloud floated around in a void, being lulled by the soft female voice, he felt a familiar warmth wash through him as if he were being called.

Following the warmth, the male slowly began regaining control of his body and he blinked a few times, his vision focusing on the face that was so close to his.

"Welcome back to reality, Hun," the ravenette chuckled with a tired smile as she stepped back, "Do you get why we don't look at the fish?"

"Yeah," the male sighed as he moved his limbs, feeling weird as he regained complete control over his body.

As the two walked up to the door where Kerstin and Sierra were waiting Rhamina squeezed her eyes shut and brought her hands up to massage her temples.

"Mina, You good?" the darkette asked as the older female pressed her back against the wall of the plant before sliding down to sit on the ground.

"Yeah, that was a lot of them," Sierra added as she handed the ravenette a bottle of Thai tea from her drawstring backpack, "Usually there only like five or six, not seventeen."

"I'm fine," she sighed, taking the bottle with her head down, "I just need a minute. We can get going once the voices fade."

As the ravenette took some time to sip on her drink and recover, the others stood in front of her to block out the sun.

After about seven minutes, the teen downed the rest of the drink and stood up, saying, "Let's get this over with, my dudes."

The fights on the interior of the plant were similar to the one in the Abyss; however, this time there were warpers, mutated sea creatures that had the ability to create portals and warp enemies away from them.

This was especially dangerous when one would be warped to an extremely high height only to be met with no ground beneath their feet.

By the time they made it down to where the actual generator was held, everyone had taken some damage, but decided against healing at the moment due to them wanting to save energy for the final fight.

Upon walking out onto the suspended platform, the group was met with the sight of three armored individuals waiting for them, but before the battle could begin, the intercom came on.

"Welcome, street rats of the Abyss," the haughty male voice spoke, "Congratulations on making it this far, but you're far too late."

At that moment, the building started to shake as gears on the generator began to turn and the water surrounding it began to churn.

"They're starting up the generator!" Sierra exclaimed as she peered over the edge of the railing to see a green glow from beneath the water's surface.

"Oh no they don't," Rhamina growled as she dashed forward, letting herself get hit with a few bullets sent by the armored figures, some of them bouncing off her corset with with a metallic clang, before slamming into the one standing in the middle.

As their body hit the ground, the teen just continued forward to the control room without looking back.

"Well, we have our jobs cut out for us then," Sierra said as she brandished her hammer, the others getting in their battle postures as well.

As the three fought the armored beings, they could hear shouts, gunshots, and things breaking in the control room before a body was thrown through the glass window.

A few moments later, the generator powered down and the entire plant switched to its emergency power source.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" one of the armored beings asked as they blocked an attack from Sierra, "She took him out way too fast!"

"Man, I didn't sign up for this shit!" another one said as they stepped back to regroup while the door to the control room slammed open.

"Three rats left, huh?" the ravenette growled with a scowl on her face as she cracked her knuckles.

"We got what we needed, so we're done," the third figure said as they took out three glass orbs.

Quickly throwing them to the ground, the area filled with smoke as Kerstin let out a gasp and covered the eyes of her partners before closing her own.

"What is this?" Sierra asked as she sensed three powerful presences appear in front of them, gripping her weapon tighter in response.

"Keep your eyes closed!" the darkette ordered as the smoke began to lift.

"What did they just do?" Cloud asked as his eyes remained closed, the rest of him standing with his sword in a defensive position.

Before the teen could answer, they all heard a loud chime ring throughout the room as Rhamina exclaimed, "Execute!" from the other side of the platform.

All three of them felt a large surge of power before another form dropped right in front of them.

"Alright, you can open your eyes now," a familiar voice spoke, prompting them to do just that; however, when Cloud opened his eyes, it wasn't what he expected.

In front of him was Rhamina, but her dress was now a purple color with black sleeves and her corset was a clean silver color as it was a plated piece of armor.

Atop her head was a pair of black fox ears with three large tails moving behind her; however, the most notable change happened to her eyes that now held golden flecks in her chocolate irises that glittered with every one of her movements.

"Both of you need to get to the stairs and just wait there," the ravenette ordered as everyone looked ahead of them to see three basilisks hissing at them, "Kerstin and I can handle them."

"Right," the brunette agreed before taking the male's wrist and dragging him in the direction they entered from.

Once they had reached the stairs, Cloud looked back to see that Kertin's form had changed as well, her shirt changing to a red deep red from the black as he noticed that she had large, red dragon wings on her back as a matching scaled tail flicked behind her.

"What just happened?" he asked as Sierra stepped next to him to watch the pair fight the three large reptiles.

"Well, they're in their execution forms," she explained, "It's a form given to them by their bells, physically enhancing them so that their bodies are closer to what Death and War would have been like."

"They're fighting basilisks so it makes sense they'd use their executions," the female continued as Kerstin sent large waves of flames at one of them, "They have an ability that makes it so whatever looks them in the eyes just droops dead, but Mina had a nullifying ability in this form, so she took care of it... That being said, it would still be too dangerous for either of us to fight them with what we brought."

The fight was over in five minutes; but as both girls were floating in the air, Rhamina suddenly fell as she reverted back to her original form.

Before she could hit the ground, Kerstin caught her and landed as she too reverted back with a worried expression on her face.

"Hey, at least I ain't coughing up blood this time," the ravenette joked between labored breaths, "That means I stayed within the time limit for once."

"Mina, shut the fuck up," the darkette huffed as Cloud and Sierra ran over, "You shouldn't have done that, I could have handled them myself."

The eighteen-year-old gave a weak glare as Cloud took her from her younger sibling before saying, "You wouldn't have even been able to open your eyes if I didn't."

"Let's go, there are ice packs in the van," Sierra spoke as the ravenette's hearing started to get muffled.

The female slowly closed her eyes as it got harder for her to breath, the others already running up the stairs.

Cloud briefly looked down at the girl in his arms, feeling his chest tighten as he noticed that she had gotten pretty pale.

"Does this happen every time she goes into that form?" he asked as he looked to the females running right in front of him.

"Yes," Kerstin answered with no sign of hesitation, earning a look from Sierra, "What? She was going to have to tell him something."

The brunette let out a sigh before saying, "She'll be okay in a little bit, she just needs to rest."

The blond narrowed his eyes at their responses, but said nothing as they made it out of the plant.

He couldn't help, but feel as if they were still keeping something from him despite the darkette's blunt answer; if one ended up like this after every time they used something, then it couldn't have been healthy.

And why did it only happen to her when the seventeen-year-old went into an execution as well?

Once the three had made it back to where the van and bike were parked, they laid down the back seats so the ravenette had a safe surface to be rested as they activated and placed the ice packs under her neck.

As she was resting, the others sat by the opened back doors of the van, just catching their breaths and taking a break.

The twenty-one-year-old kept his eyes on the ravenette who's breathing seemed to have even out, just thinking about their situation.

"Cloud, I know you probably want more information on this, but it isn't our story to tell," Kerstin sighed, getting pretty uncomfortable with the tense silence that had emerged, "You can ask her when she wakes up, but there's no guarantee she'll answer everything you ask."

"Do you have any idea when she'll wake up?" he asked in response, mako contaminated eyes never leaving her form.

"Depends, but since she didn't go over her time limit, a few hours at most, but not less than two," Sierra answered as she took a sip from her water bottle.

"We should start heading back," she sighed before standing up, "I already texted Hana and she's letting us get in through the back."

"Yeah, we really can't let any of them see an Apocalypse leader like this," Kerstin agreed as she stood, "It would ruin our reputation."

"Just follow us like you have been and come get Mina when we park," the darkette said as she climbed in next to the unconscious Rhamina before shutting the van doors.

With a sigh, the blond placed his buster sword in its proper place before mounting his bike and following the van back to the hotel.

Upon returning, they parked in the back before Cloud carried the eighteen-year-old up to the back door where an employee waited, not looking at any of them as they entered.

Kerstin and Sierra went in first, making sure no one was looking so the male could stealthily make his way into the elevator with them.

Once they made it back into the penthouse, the blond set the female down in her bed before Kerstin slipped the ravenette's boots off and placed them next to her bed.

As soon as the three returned to the living room, the elevator opened to reveal the Japanese doll herself in all her monotone glory.

"So, she used it again," the fifteen-year-old spoke as she seated herself on one of the couches away from the others.

"Yeah, but we were able to take those fuckers out," Kerstin sighed as she took out her phone, "They were trying to start the generator up again."

The noirette's eyes widened for a moment before returning to her flat expression as she asked, "Were the results worth the cost?"

Cloud narrowed his eyes at this statement, but before he could question it a familiar voice said, "The results were most definitely worth it."

Leaning against a wall for support in the entrance of the hallway was Rhamina, tired looking, but most definitely awake.

"Mina, you shouldn't even be awake right now, what the fuck are you doing walking around?" Kerstin chided as she stood to help the ravenette, but was beaten to it by Hana.

"I originally got up because I wanted some food, but this discussion is way more important," the eighteen-year-old replied as the noirette helped her limp over to the spot on the couch next to Cloud.

"What kind of food do you want?" the doll asked as she took out her phone, walking back to her seat.

"Meat," the ravenette replied simply, "I honestly don't care what it is as long as it's made of meat."

She quickly shot a glare at Kerstin who snickered at her statement before saying, "But seriously I found out something important."

"The people were a part of Scyphozoa," the teen continued as she brought her legs up so she could have all of her body on the couch as she leaned on Cloud, "the same group that was messing with the plant back in the Abyss."

The male tensed up under the ravenette, but soon began to relax as a familiar warmth washed over him.

"Oh? And how did you come to that conclusion, if I may ask?" Hana questioned after she finished typing something on her phone.

"The guy I was fighting in the control room was really cocky so he just droned on about how they would pick up where the rest of the world had failed," the ravenette explained with a frown, "He was getting annoying so I yeeted him out of the window."

"I see," the young Yukitara replied with a nod, "Then I will deploy some of my units to guard the plant as soon as possible."

"Wait, wait, wait," Kerstin said as she leaned forward, "Did he mean that they're trying to open a god damned portal again?"

"I don't know, but probably," Rhamina said with a frown as she curled herself up further, "I tried to get anything I could on the group when they first popped up back home, but I haven't found anything."

"But moving on from that," she spoke, looking right at the noirette, "Were you able to find anything out about your father's whereabouts?"

"Unfortunately, no, so I'll have to turn this over to you," the fifteen-year-old sighed, "I will however, provide one of our rising members to you."

"He joined recently, but his skill range is quite impressive," the female continued as she placed both of her hands on her lap.

"So he's kind of like Cloud then," the ravenette mused with a small smile as she felt the male tense once more.

"In a way, I suppose," Hana replied, eyes narrowing at the blond as the two other females chuckled at his reaction to Rhamina's statement, "his name is Kiran Reyes. I believe you might have known him as a child."

"Oh, yeah!" the eighteen-year-old chirped as she sat up, trying her best to ignore the throbbing in her head, "I saw him in the lobby this morning."

Noticing the female's discomfort, Cloud gently pulled her back down so that she was leaning on him again as Kerstin said, "You literally threw him into the fucking ground."

"He should have known not to come up behind me without making himself known first," the teen huffed in response, "You sneak up on a fan dancer and you will get yeeted; literally or via fan."

It was silent for a few moments before a nostalgic smile crept onto the noirette's face as she asked, "You know, Rhamina, I haven't seen you dance in a long time... Would you do it again?"

"Maybe," the ravenette hummed with a smirk, "If anyone can beat me at a game of poker while we're here, then I'll show you a dance I have yet to perform."

After a few minutes, the elevator doors opened to reveal some hotel employees with food from a restaurant that was very familiar to the ravenette.

"Is that Goldilocks?!" she asked excitedly from her spot on the couch before spotting the familiar Filipino dessert that immediately brought her back to when she was a child, "And you even got Halo-Halo?"

"I thought you might like it since it has been a while since you last visited," Hana spoke as the employees cleared the coffee table and began setting the food down on it, "And since you're still recovering, we can just eat here."

"Yo, do you think we can play some Studio Ghibli movies?" Kerstin asked as her eyes lit up, "it's been so long since we could just sit down and enjoy them."

"Of course, which one would you like to start with?" the fifteen-year-old asked as she reached over to grab the remote to the tv that sat in front of them.

"Spirited Away and Howl's Moving Castle are a must!" Rhamina spoke, already leaning forward to grab a plate and some utensils.

"Alright then," the younger girl spoke with a soft smile as she watched the excitement form on her friend's face.

The next few hours passed with the group watching the movies and enjoying their cultural meals.

Even Cloud stayed for it, though he was more busy watching the reactions of the ravenette than the movies themselves.

She was so animated as her eyes remained glued to the screen and as she took in the atmospheric soundtracks, but he also noticed a sort of longing in her eyes.

These movies were the first form of media that she was introduced to as a child; memories of drinking tea with The Cat Returns, exploring unknown planes with Howl's Moving Castle, falling in love with Asian folklore with Spirited Away, and wanting to pursue a career in music with Whisper of the Heart.

The ravenette loved the way each and every aspect of the creations romanticized the little things in life, even if there was no magic involved.

Sadly, as the world eventually turned into the wasteland they currently lived in, the teen would never get to see those childhood aspirations come true.

Instead, she had gathered her living friends as soon as the generator in, what used to be, Temecula exploded and formed a small gang that would later be known as Apocalypse.

She learned how to hone her predictive probability skills through gambling and negotiating with others.

She used her knowledge of her own, self-aware, broken mind and learned how to twist and break the minds of others.

She learned to separate her different faces and how to use them to her advantage, even if some of them slipped out unintentionally.

She learned to push aside her own well being as long as it meant the rest could continue walking forward, all the group had was each other.

She learned through betrayal and heartbreak that her trust was only for those that truly proved they deserved it.

Some things were easier to learn than others and they're what shaped Rhamina into the woman she was currently, but deep in her heart, past all of the want for adventure and survival, she longed to go back to when she was a child...

Back to when she could trust others without worrying about if they would kill her the moment she blinked, but she knew better than to think that it could actually happen.

Time only moved in one direction, forward and if this was what fate had in store for this world, then she knew that there was not way for it to be avoided.

She just considered herself lucky that the bells had chosen her group of friends to ring for, people she could trust as they all tried to survive in this hell together.

The day passed with the group just sitting in the living room watching all of the Studio Ghibli movies that were created; except for Grave of the Fireflies, none of the girls felt like sobbing their eyes out.

The atmosphere was light as everyone retired to their own rooms to go to sleep, Hana returning to her own home; but after about an hour of not being able to sleep due to her body aching, Rhamina rolled out of bed and grabbed the bottle of painkillers she always packed in her travel bag and started over to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

Small cusses left her lips as she limped through the darkened hallway, her eyes already used to the dark so she didn't have to worry about bumping into anything.

As soon as the female had reached the living room, she noticed that one of the lamps was on with Cloud just sitting on the couch by himself, thinking about something.

Upon noticing the female leaning against the wall again, the male let out a quiet gasp before helping her over to the couch.

"What are you doing up right now?" the male asked as he frowned down at the female with his arms crossed.

"I was going to get some water so I could take some painkillers," she replied, shaking the pill bottle she held for emphasis.

The blond sighed before walking to the kitchen and coming back with a glass of water for the ravenette.

Silence lingers in the air as the female tipped out two of the pills into her hand, popping them into her mouth before swallowing them with water.

Cloud let out another sigh,eyes panning down to the ravenette before asking, "What does that execution form actually do to you? You looked like you were on the brink of death."

The female's eyes widened slightly as he continued, "And why did it only happen to you and not Kerstin?"

"Cloud, I'll answer you questions when we get back to the Abyss," Rhamina spoke with a sad smile, "here isn't the place to discuss this."

The female then took the male's hand and wrapped her pinky around his before touching their thumbs together.

"I promise."

~~~Fin. Chapter 5~~~

Masterlist

[emilx311]

So, enough of you asked about it I decided to write it. It did not go according to plan at all! It was supposed to be funny and fluffy with ridiculous Uchiha and then I started writing and we got well....this. Hope you all enjoy anyways. Also, the twigs used later on in the chapter are from Mokuton plants. The Uchiha gather them after battles from things Hashirama has grown to use for some religious rituals. 

Read it on AO3 or below the cut. Also, donate to my Ko-fi

Tobirama had been rather nervous about returning to his new clan compound with his husband. Madara had taken his drunken marriage and Tobirama’s subsequent reveal of his true identity and motivations amazingly well, but he’d had little hope the rest of the Uchiha would be as open-minded. He’d been fully prepared to deal with anger, suspicion, and even hate being tossed his way. The reality he was currently encountering was vastly different from his expectations. Really, Tobirama reflected, he should probably just stop expecting things when it came to the Uchiha.

He’d entered the compound at Madara’s side with the clan head’s arm wrapped around his waist. He held himself loosely and kept his head up high, as though he had every right to be there. No matter how the Uchiha reacted he refused to act ashamed. He had done nothing wrong (okay, agreeing to marry a drunk man after plying him with drinks was maybe a bit wrong, but Madara had been fine with it once he sobered up so the rest of the Uchiha could deal). He’d been braced for cutting words, demanding questions about who he was, hell, he’d half-expected at least one person to try to physically pull him away from their clan head. There was none of that.

There was shock and confusion from the Uchiha within view of the gate, certainly, but there was also awe, admiration, and even a faint amount of jealousy directed towards Madara. Said clan head was practically radiating smugness as he clutched the albino to himself even more tightly, sending a firm message of ‘mine’ to his gaping clansmen.

Tobirama was confused by the seemingly defensive gesture. No one had made any hostile moves or suggestions. Hell, no one had even said anything insulting or indicative of concern. The Uchiha in no way seemed about to attack them, but maybe Madara knew something he didn’t? Either way, he did feel safer closer to the one Uchiha he trusted not to harm him in any way, so he allowed the gesture without complaint.

“Hey, Aniki, I heard you were about to get home! How was the tri-WHAT THE HELL!” An Uchiha who must be Izuna shrieked upon catching sight of Tobirama, or more specifically the arm around Tobirama’s waist. He flailed for a moment before managing to gather himself. “Who’s this aniki and where did you find such a lovely creature?” He demanded. Tobirama blinked, slightly taken aback. He’d been expecting demands to get away from Izuna’s brother not…flirting. Also, lovely? He wasn’t, he knew very well that his colouring was strange and off-putting

“Hello to you too Otouto” Madara replied dryly, before smirking, full of pride. “This is Tobirama, my husband” he said tugging the albino even more firmly into his side. The Uchiha, who had almost recovered from their surprise, were back to gaping. Tobirama wanted to join them. He had expected Madara to break the news slowly, perhaps even hide it entirely for a time, not just announce it casually in public. He couldn’t help blushing at all the renewed stares he was getting.

“WHAT! ANIKI NO FAIR!” Izuna quacked, “you just snatched him up?!?! Without letting the rest of the clan have a chance to court him?” Izuna was panting by the end of his rant while Tobirama wasn’t doing much of anything, frozen with shock and disbelief as he was. That was the Uchiha’s issue with this? Not that his elder brother and clan head had married and brought home an unknown person after a short-term mission, not that he could be a soy, not that he might be there to hurt them, not even that he might be from an enemy clan (which he was even), no, he had an issue with the fact the rest of the clan hadn’t had a chance to marry him themselves. Tobirama had always known the Uchiha were rather irrational (see kidnapping people with red eyes), but now he was fairly convinced that they were all just insane.

“Too bad, so sad brat! I’m the clan head which means I get first priority and he said yes when I asked. We went to the temple that night, before you start getting any ideas, so out marriage is signed, sealed, and witnessed by the Gods” Madara taunted his brother. Izuna grumbled a bit before finally giving in.

“Still unfair, but fine, whatever. Congratulations on your marriage and all that. May it be long and blessed, yada yada” he said. He sounded flippant, but Madara could see the sincerity in his brother’s eyes. He was just opening his mouth to thank Izuna when Tobirama finally managed to shake off his shock.

“What the hell?” Came out of his mouth without him really meaning to. The surrounding Uchiha blinked and looked at him in questioningly.

“Tobi?” Madara asked his husband, concerned.

“None of you have any issues with this? At all?” He glanced around, the Uchiha all looked confused. “your clan head came back and declared he’d married some random person none of you have ever met and you’re all just okay with it???” His disbelief was clearly audible. The Uchiha had to admit their clan head’s new spouse had a point (pretty, blessed, and smart…Madara-sama was so lucky!), but he was missing a rather vital point.

“Of course, you’re one of Amaterasu’s blessed! She works her will through you. If you were to do anything to Madara then he deserved it for angering her” Izuna explained blithely. Tobirama opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally deciding not to bother with that, for now. It was working in his favour, and he would have the rest of his life to try and pound some sense into his new clan.

“Oh…” was all he said for the moment, truly surprised. “I knew the Uchiha collected those with red eyes for religious reasons, but I had no idea you held them, us, in such high regard” he confessed, careful not to use the word kidnap. The Uchiha as a whole seemed rater taken aback by that. It was Madara who finally spoke up, asking the question the whole clan was wondering about.

“If you didn’t think we took them to treasure them why did you think we went to all the trouble, and what did you think happened to them here” the clan head wondered. Tobirama pinked a bit.

“Other than religious reasons, no clue. As far as anyone outside the Uchiha are concerned they basically vanish off the face of the earth once they pass the compound door” the albino shrugged helplessly. Having some tact, no matter what his brothers said, he avoided mentioning the theories other clans had about how the red-eyed were treated. Kept as concubines was one of the nicer suggestions he’d heard after all. He was pleased to see that quite a few of the Uchiha, including Madara and Izuna, were looking a bit sheepish. A few seemed to be able to tell from his face some of the things he was not saying.

“It might help if the, what do you refer to us as, blessed? It might help if the blessed were permitted to visit or at least write their families and friends” he mentioned. He carefully modulated his tone so that he didn’t sound accusatory, just hesitant and helpful. He even lowered his eyes and leaned towards Madara in order to sell the act. Thankfully, the clan looked thoughtful instead of angry that he’s suggested something contrary to their traditions.

At that point there was a commotion at the end of the street. Tobirama turned to see six men and women hurrying towards them. Based on their ages and attire he assumed they were the Uchiha elders. The groan the Uchiha brothers gave upon seeing them all but confirmed that theory. Hashirama and Kawarama acted similarly when confronted by the Senju elders (he and Itama were bothered by them far less often since they were not next in line or clan head). Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself mentally for the unpleasantness ahead. Madara, probably feeling similarly, lets go of his waist only to grab his hand. Tobirama’s not sure who the gesture is for, but appreciates it none the less.

“Madara-sama!” The first elder cries, finally reaching them, “what have you done?!?” Madara stiffens.

“I have gotten wed” Madara replies honestly, daring them to find fault in him for it. Sadly, for them and their continued health, it seems they do.

“You have wed without consulting the counsel first? And to a male, who cannot provide you with heirs to lead the clan upon their passing!” The same elder exclaims, looking at Tobirama like he is less than the dirt beneath his feet. Madara’s chakra churns angrily while Izuna and the other Uchiha around are all but gaping in disbelief that the elder would dare say something like that. Even a couple of the other elders seem taken aback.

“Excuse me?” Madara bites out stiffly, but the elder doesn’t seem to notice the warning signs (or the way those nearby are trying to subtly inch away from him).

“You are the clan head; you have responsibilities to the clan. That you would ignore those for some pretty face is inconceivable! Your father must be rolling over in his grave! Stop this foolishness Madara-sama, set the whore aside and take a bride who can contribute something to the clan!” Izuna facepalms at the sheet stupidity of what this supposed “wise advisor” was saying and decides to intervene, if only to spare his aniki’s blood pressure.

“They wed in front of the Gods as is proper, which I’m sure you already knew, so my brother can hardly just ignore him and declare someone else his spouse. Multiple marriages are not permitted by the Gods. But since this is another thing you must already know; you must mean that my brother should ger rid of his new bride entirely.” It was a trap, that much was clear even if Tobirama didn’t know what Izuna was trying to do. However, if seems the elder is too blinded by rage and his own importance to see the danger.

“yes, exactly! He and his taint must be removed entirely from the clan and especially from Madara-sama himself!” The elder seemed ecstatic that Izuna was listening to him, however the Uchiha heir looked like the cat that got the canary.

“So, you would have the clan anger Amaterasu-sama by killing one of her chosen vessels and denying him the rights and place due to him by birth, an action that would, of course, call the Goddess’ wrath down upon us?” Izuna kept his enquiry toneless. The elder, who had been beaming at Izuna, suddenly froze as what Izuna had said seemed to sink in. The other elders had gone pale at the beginning of their heir’s question and were sneaking glances at Tobirama’s face. He glared at them defiantly. Clearly, whoever had alerted them to the situation had neglected to mention a few details, not that that was going to help them if Madara’s expression was anything to go by.

“Amaterasu-sama? Why would she care about-“ the elder cut himself off as he truly looked at Tobirama for the first time and blanched. It was clear he’d finally realized how badly he’d fucked up.

“please, Madara-sama, I didn’t know” the elder tried to defend himself, but Tobirama would tell that even he knew it was in vain.

“Silence!” Madara bellowed, allowing all the anger that had been in his chakra to show on his face. “You have disrespected my chosen bride, questioned my leadership and my devotion to this clan. You have also insulted and threated the life of a being kissed by Amaterasu-sama herself. You have committed blasphemy and treason and the penalty for those is death. Is there any here who find this sentence unfair?” He paused to look around at all those gathered nearby. They were all silent and he saw many shaking their heads at the question. “Good, Izuna” Madara nodded to his brother who quickly and cleanly beheaded the man. Tobirama shook slightly.

“You didn’t have to do that. He was simply worried about you marrying someone unknown and the future of the clan” Tobirama murmured to his husband. Madara was unrepentant, but surprisingly, it was another elder who answered, this one garbed as a miko.

“Madara-sama did exactly what he should have. To insult one of her blessed is to insult Amaterasu-sama herself. Had he allowed the one to do so to live her anger at the insult may have spread to the whole clan. Madara-sama was fulfilling the Uchiha’s duty to protect those she has blessed and the clan head’s duty to protect his clan” she stated calmly. Those around her nodded.

“Uchiha are all crazy” managed to escape from Tobirama’s mouth as he took in the scene. He winced as soon as it registered that he’d spoken aloud and was about to apologize for his words when the miko began to chuckle.

“perhaps so” she agreed, “but a life without any crazy would be rather boring, don’t you think?” Tobirama snorted and couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“Perhaps so” he admitted. Besides, it wasn’t like the Senju were totally sane either (they had produced Hashirama after all).

“So, does anyone else wish to protest the gift Amaterasu-sama has seen fit to bestow upon Madara-sama?” The miko asked. The clan was silent. “So be it, on behalf of the Gods I welcome Tobirama-sama to the Uchiha clan as the spouse and partner of Madara-sama, may their union and leadership be long and fruitful!” Tobirama was surprised how loudly the Uchiha cheered at her declaration, and at how genuine their happiness and welcome seemed. He was also surprised how touched by this he was.

“Thank you” he said quietly but sincerely, blushing fiercely. Madara pulled him back into his side, wrapping his arm securely around his husband once again. He’d hoped to have more time to talk with those members of the clan he trusted most and figure out how to present things to the clan as a whole, but he was also unlikely to get a better opening than this.

“Since everyone is here, I have something else to announce” Madara started, getting the attention of the clan. “When Amaterasu-sama blessed me with Tobirama she also graced me with a revelation. She wishes for our war with the Senju to end, for us to make peace with them. I have been hesitant to accept Hashirama’s offers, but with Amaterasu-sama’s approval I will proceed with an alliance”. There was a moment of deep, dead, silence as the clan processed his declaration, red and black eyes widening in surprise. No one seemed to know how to react.

“Uh” one of the other elders finally spoke up hesitantly, “I mean no disrespect Madara-sama, but are you quite sure you properly understood Amaterasu-sama’s message? That she did not bless you with Tobirama-sama as a sign of our approaching victory?” She asked.

“No, she made her wishes very clear” Madara responded. Most of the clan still seemed unsure about how to react, whispering to each other and eyeing the corpse still on the ground. They were all tired of war, but could they truly make peace with the clan that had killed so many of their kin?

“Madara-sama” the miko finally spoke up once again, “would you allow me to read the portents to verify Amaterasu-sama’s will?” She inquired. Madara inclined his head to her in acceptance.

The miko led them towards a temple near the middle of the compound. Outside, a few feet away from the entrance, was a circle of stones filled with ashes. Quickly and efficiently, with the air of someone who had done this many times before, she took some firewood from another miko and built a small pyre in the pit. Absently, Tobirama noticed that most of the clan had followed them here. He wasn’t sure how to feel about this, except to hope that it would work out in his and Madara’s favour.

Once the pyre had been built the elder intoned a prayer to Amaterasu for guidance and then lit it on fire using the traditional Uchiha fireball, though a very small one. The elder waited a few moments, ensuring that the flames had caught to her satisfaction before she nodded. This must have been a signal of some sort for the other miko from earlier came forward once again and handed the older miko a small bundle. As she lifted it high and allowed the contents to fall into the flame Tobirama saw that it was a mixture of herbs and small twigs.

When the herbs and twigs hit the flame, they caused it to flare in size and shoot off several sparks. Thick smoke drifted mostly upwards except for a small tendril that seemed to almost curl around Tobirama and Madara. The elder was nodding thoughtfully as the fire burnt quickly down to embers. When there were only ashes left, Tobirama was shocked to see that one of the small twigs had remained untouched and was now sticking straight up out of the ground in the center of the circle.

“It seems Madara-sama was correct about the Goddess’ will” the miko mused. “Amaterasu-sama calls for us to make peace with the Senju” she announces grandly. The Uchiha once again erupt into noise as Madara puffs up smugly and Tobirama looks on in bewilderment.

[cuthie]

Omru: Talk Talk Talk

Dripping.

  Vul’dun was a hot desert often frequented by raging sandstorms. The heat could be downright oppressive and water a scarce resource. So when Omru came to, the sound of dripping water was almost alien to his large vulpine ears. Slowly he brought his hands to his eyes, wiping the crud sleep had gathered along his lashes.

Drip, drip-drip, drip.

  Om groaned as he sat up, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. Beneath him was a thin blanket atop a smooth stone. The air was relatively warm and along the walls were torches being held by small earthen sconces. He was inside a cave, that much was certain, though not one he was familiar with. In the corner was a very small shallow pool, and what was interesting was that water seemed to drip down only above the puddle and nowhere else. Near the water was an odd red metal object, drilled into the stone itself. The drill had a flickering blue light that seemed to match the rhythm of the dripping droplets.

Blink blink blink, drip drip drip.

  Light flickered at the opposite end of the cave as a hooded figure passed before a torch, revealing an exit Om hadn’t initially seen. A trick of the stone, it only looked to be a solid room, the far cavern wall blending into what looked like a stone hallway. This hooded figure began to sing in the most off key croaking sounds Omru had ever heard.

“Oh wella wella wella woop, tell me mo’, tell me mo’, how much dough did he spend?”

  Omru snarled his muzzle, “If you’re gonna kill me, then kill me quickly. I can’t bare this kinda torture a moment longer.” The hooded figure stepped into the torchlight, revealing himself to be an odd furless bipedal creature.. Like a troll but not quite, Vulperine in size,and ugly as sin.

“Ey, I been nurturin’ yous back ta life with these songs. Fuggin kids today don’t appreciate nothin, I tell ya. Anyways, welcome back to tha land of tha livin’. We diden getta meet proper last time, on account of yous was seducin’ rocks with them pipes. I’m jelly, ta tell ya true. At’s a gift, kid, but damn if I ain’t all befuddled tryin ta figure out what that’s gotta do wit’ shamanism. And I’m sure you gots questions too, so let’s have a nice chat. Whaddaya say? Tha name’s Pazaz. Pazaz Nunya Bidniz, proud member of the Earthen Ring and.. Kindy sorta semi ashamed member of the notorious Horde. Heh.”

  Omru’s big bright orange eyes blinked in mild disbelief. He wasn’t really up and up on his history, but Horde sounded like a familiar word. What really struck his interest was this green ball of hot air’s funky way of talking. Of course, trading tales and exchanging information was a way of life out in the desert, often a profitable one. Still, this guy had saved his life, so Om wasn’t withholding. “Omru. I kind of remember you. I’ll be honest, waking up, I kind of thought I had just dreamt you into creation. Sooo, what happened and where are we?”

“Omru what? No last name?”

“Nah. Having more than one name just sounds complicated. I’ve heard of a few, though.”

  Paz shrugged, “Cool. Okay, so, I came here ta Sargeras’s butthole on a super secret mission. Recruitin good guys to fix the world’s problems. Ain’t secret no mo’s, is it? Aha! Along the way, I saw that a buncha you fox folks was all chained up and/or enslaved. Slavery is uh.. We had it back in Kezan, former island paradise of my peoples the Goblins. I had a few myself, but I done learnt the errors of my ways, yeah? So I went about settin yous all free. Ain’t that sweet’a me? You remember that bit, for sure. I smashed them shackles right offa yous, then ya summoned an elemental to smash them slavers into snake dust. You passed out, ya babysitter picked ya up, and I lead you and about a dozen more Vulpera out ta safety. The Horde’s got the rest of your friends.. Or family or whatever. I kept you, though. Even built up these lil digs. I ain’t the best healer, but it got the job done. Your turn, tell me about the rock monster you employed.”

  Omru’s eyes darted from corner to corner in the room as he absorbed the story. Sargeras? Probably a religious figure. Goblins. That sounded familiar, right? He had heard of them before. Probably. He scratched at the back of his neck, his shoulders feeling stiff as he did. In response, he hopped up off the ‘table’ and stretched out. For a moment he just patted himself down, checking that all of his parts were there, then curled his tail to his arm for inspection. Everything seemed fine. Better than when he was chained up for sure. Hm. “So. You saved me, thanks, I owe you. Rock monster, huh? Yeah, she came in handy. I’ll be honest, not too sure how it all works. Just something I found a few months ago. Not Rocky, but the totem on the rawhide. That was my second time using it, glad it worked. Now, you said you kept me here instead of leaving me with the rest at the Horde camp. Why?”

  Pazaz picked at his nose with his pinky finger, then flicked the booger towards a wall to let it stick. “Found it. That don’t sound right.”

  Omru cringed. Ugh, what a dirty little bastard. He took a second to shake the image from his head, “Well, that’s the truth. I find lots of things. Not all of them summon stone guardians though. That’s why it’s my most prized possession.”

Paz exhaled, “So you don’t know nothin ‘bout shamanism?”

“I know it’s a thing that a couple troll tribes do to talk to ghosts, trees and bugs.”

Paz rolled his eyes, “That ain’t right, ya numb skull. Ghosts? Sure. Trees? Nah-uh. Bugs? No way. The elements kid. We commune with the whole flippin’ world.”  Shaking his head, he pointed towards the red metal machine dug into the stone near the pool, “That’s my water totem. I’m a shammy extree-fuggin-ordinaire. And that’s why you’re with me instead of the goof troop back in the sand bunker. Horde is uh.. Horde is good people sometimes, but bad people to they’s enemies. I diden want’cha involved with them until I talked to yous first. The Earthen Ring, remember I told ya I work for’em? They’re all shaman. They all got different ways of talkin to the elements, maybe even some of them sing, heh. Me, personally? I write contracts, with a small exception for my favorite breath of fresh air. Anyways, yeah, I’m kinda hopin to recruit yous. You got talent, kid. Not just singin, which was great. Like, dream big, you could make it as an entertainer. But communin’ with the earth the way ya did? It was casual, natural even, right? Folks don’t just pick up a totem and use it. Magic don’t work that way, the elements don’t work that way. So the way I sees it? You got shamanism in ya blood. Or mayhap ya just an elemental bard or some shit and you’s singin is all magickal and whatnot. I dunno, but I think with a couple of years learnin from the Earthen Ring, yous could help repair the planet. Maybe. Shamanism is hard as fel. Anyways, Azeroth needs all the repairs she can get. Whether you know this or not, this bitch is about to flip on it’s back and flat out die. Dead. D.E.D. Dead. You unnastand the words what’re comin outta my mouth?”

  Omru folded his arms over his chest as he stared at the metal totem. It was nothing like his own mystical treasure. His was a small wooden vulpine carving attached to rawhide. This thing was ten to twenty times bigger, metal and blinking. Weird. Shamanism wasn’t a foreign concept, he had seen a shaman or two. Some of the Vulpera even. Honestly though? He had no idea where he would even start with such an offer, but, he did owe this guy. “Uh. I’m getting like every other word. Cultural differences and all that. You want me to be a shaman and meet your friends? That’s- Not in the stars, my friend. Sorry, I just don’t see myself putting on religious garb and becoming best friends with the clouds. I can help in other ways, though. I mean, I owe you my life. Oh and where are we? You didn’t say. Not many sources of water out here.”

  Paz grinned, his sharpened goblin teeth akin to a baby shark’s, do doo do doo do doo, “Shame. It ain’t for everyone, and for all I know, yous got lucky with the necklace. Anyways, far as where we is? We’re only a hop skip anna jump from where I snuck into the Slitherfucks nest to save yous. The pool comes from ocean water, my friend. I got it flowin through the ground, donatin it’s salts to the earth. This shit is clean as a night elf’s moonwell. It’s purity yous can taste. I oughtta bottle it up and write that on tha label, yeah?”

Omru’s eyes widened further, “You can do that?”

“Kid, stick with me and you’ll see that ain’t much ole Paz can’t do.”

“Okay, how? I’m listening, I’m curious to learn.”

  Paz interlocked his fingers together, pushing his hands out until the bones made a light popping noise, “Alright, first one’s free, aha.” Grinning, he walked over to a small leather backpack, taking just a minute to open it and rummage about to eventually pull out a glowing golden scroll, “This here is a contract. They ain’t always so pretty, but I like ta get all fancy. You can’t read it, don’t ask, but I’ll give yous tha jist of it. I made peace witta Water Elemental over in Stranglethorn once upon a when. The Elements, you see, can grant folks boons. Make us all magickal an shit. The mo betta ya elemental friend is, the stronger you get an all that. But they always ask for somethin’ in turn. Some folks take it by force. We call them fat heads and punch’em in tha junk. Anyways, sometimes the elementals want somethin specific, sometimes it’s just a code to follow or a pledged oath. This contract was written up, enchanted and I got that there totem to really help me harness her watery goodness. Like, I could mend some minor flesh wounds wit just a little stream nearby or somethin’. But out here in the desert, I needed to pull out the totem to get a good source flowin. It won’t last forever, but trust me, that’s powerful magic to make that lil puddle. Speakin’ of powerful totems, iffens you ain’t intressed’ in shammin it up in the maelstrom, how bouts you offer me that thing around ya neck and we’ll call us square”

  At the mention of his own totem, Omru pinched the wooden figurine between two furry fingers, “Oh. You, uh, don’t have enough of your own?”

  Paz changed to a more sombering expression, “I can’t just eyeball a totem an know it’s history. I dunno where ya found this thing, but if that elemental is bound to it, that ain’t right. What is you doin for her? Nothin cause ya don’t speak tha lingo. She’s a prisoner, bud. Just like you was.”

  Om slipped the little strap of rawhide over his head, momentarily getting it caught on a large fuzzy ear. “I didn’t know that, sorry. Just.. found a magic item and put it on. Can’t blame a guy for his love of loot, right?” Sighing, he handed the necklace over. He hadn’t had the thing for too long, but twice now that elemental had saved his bacon.

  With no flash or incantation, Paz simply twirled the totem between his fingertips, summoning the earth elemental to his side. The rocky creature was large enough to almost fill the entire little nook, ducking it’s head and forcing the fox boy to take a few steps back. “Heya girl. You’re a good egg, okay? Ya diden hafta save this boy, but ya did. Want me to see yins free?”

  Omru watched as the elemental moved about slowly, as if fidgeting. He couldn’t hear a damn thing, but apparently Paz did.

“Is that so? Yo, Omen, did you find this necklace on somebody’s dead corpse?”

Om’s eyes widened, “What, no! And it’s Omru.”

“Chill, I’m just makin sure tha owner ain’t died. This lady right here belongs to someone named Keyi. Ring any bells?”

Om nodded once, “Yeah, I know a Keyi. She’s a bit of an odd bird.”

  “Good, take me to her when you’re back on ya feet, kay? We’ll get these two reunited.” Paz extended four little greeny wigglying fingers towards the Elemental, who in turn extended a few floating pebbles from what might be a limb? Hands were touched, for the briefest moment, before the elemental was taken back to her home plane.

  Omru just watched the whole scenario, fascinated. “Uh.. Yeah, I can think of a few spots she might be. We don’t exactly have permanent addresses, ya know?”

  Paz shoved his hands in his pockets, “Yeah, I heard that about yous all. Kindy like the Tauren that ways. Oh and you’ll get a kick outta this. Ole gal thought you -was- Keyi. Says all you Vulpera look the same to her. Plus she thought ya singin’ was perty. Cute, huh?”

  Omru smiled at that. It wasn’t the first time he had accidentally wooed someone through song, likely wouldn’t be the last. Heh. “Cute.”

--

[laurelsofhighever]

The Falcon and the Rose Ch. 31 - Arrival

Chapter 1 on AO3 This chapter on AO3 Masterpost here

Fifteenth day of Justinian, 9:32 Dragon 

It took the Siren’s Call another two days to sail around the northern points of the Storm Islands and reach Dunedyn, stronghold of the Clayne. The weather had stayed clear, with stiff winds that pushed the ship onwards through waters that grew ever busier with foreign ships, traders and humble fishing vessels alike that gave them a wide berth or yelled cheery halloos across the white-tipped waves. Now, anchored south of the hold in the deep, sheltered waters of the Lee, the settlement’s brightly painted buildings stood out like jewels against an emerald hillside, the rope of a rich necklace draped over contours of rock leading down towards the harbour. That would be the ship’s final destination, but only once the most important members of the delegation went ashore and made their formal greetings to the Storm Giant and his retainers. 

Already dressed in her finery, Rosslyn stood by the bowsprit, her eyes cast out over a trio of fishing trawlers closing their nets around a shoal of mackerel, and the birds above them taking advantage of the easy meal. Lilac and gold, the morning sky warmed her face, wrapping her in isolation from the commotion on the deck as the longboats were loosed from their moorings and lowered over the side. Somewhere close by, Cuno, roused from his torpor by the activity, was barking at a seagull that had had the audacity to perch on one of the port lanterns. She paid him no heed. In less than an hour she would be face to face with her grandfather again, would have to look him in the eye and remember she was the one who had gone chasing glory and left the Seawolf to die. 

“Guess that answers my question,” said a voice at her elbow. She blinked and turned to see Tabris, her hair braided and clothes washed, but still with bare feet stained by streaks of tar. ”No one with a face that puckered like an arsehole ain’t nervous.” 

Rosslyn scowled at the description, but shrugged it off and turned away. 

“Riiiiight,” the elf huffed. ”Reassuring, that is.” 

Rosslyn’s mouth quirked in a humourless smile. “I wouldn’t have thought I’d be your first choice for reassurance.” 

“You know what they say about beggars,” came the tart reply. 

“What’s on your mind?” 

There was a pause as Tabris clambered onto the rail, chewing her lips in a rare show of deliberation as she decided her answer. Even despite the added height, she came in almost a head shorter than the human woman. 

“See, I’ve been tryin’ to figure,” she said once she was settled. “You shems have got enough fancy words and blood ties between you, you don’t need me to get your ships. So what am I doin’ here? You got me out of baldy-whatshisface’s clutches, and I heard the tellin’-off you gave the princeling, but don’t go thinking I’m fooled that you’re doing this for the elves.” 

“You’re right, I’m not,” Rosslyn answered bluntly. “I’m doing this to get revenge on the cur that murdered my family, and to stop Loghain bringing in reinforcements that he can use to win the war, so that I won’t be hanged at the end of it.” She tilted a wry look at over her shoulder when the elf opened her mouth to speak and closed it again just as quickly. ”Was that not the response you expected?”

“Got the arrogance about right.”

“What does it matter if I care, so long as our goals align?” she asked. “You care, and that’s why you’re here – it’s why you tried to rescue your kin and then ran all the way to Redcliffe, through a war-torn country, on the off-chance the king would help you when you couldn’t do it alone. The Clayne will listen to you, don’t worry about that.” 

“I’m worried about after,” Tabris sneered when Rosslyn once more turned her attention to the sea. “What happens to me after I’ve cheeped like a sparrow for you to get your soldiers? I killed a shem lordling.”  

“The king has pardoned you.” 

The elf scoffed and tossed her hair out of her eyes. “And of course that makes all this –” she gestured vaguely to her ears “– magically disappear. You lot have no clue – and don’t think I didn’t notice about not being invited to this little beach party you’re having. What are you even looking at out there?” 

With a sigh, Rosslyn raised her hand and pointed to a speck above the circling gulls, which grew out of the glare of the sun like an after-image. “It’s a gwyrling – they’re like griffons, but smaller. It’s rare to see one, especially at this time of day. It must have hatchlings in the cliffs.” 

The speck solidified into a creature with narrow, barred wings and a wickedly curved beak. In the space of a heartbeat, it swerved on a point and dived among the flock of gulls and they scattered, screaming in alarm. One, weighed down with the prize of a fish between its claws, dodged too slowly, and didn’t even have time to cry out as the gwyrling punched down and struck it across the back of the neck. The bird went limp, the fish wriggled free and splashed back into the water, and the gwyrling beat back up into the air with a flick of its long, leonine tail. 

“That was really something,” Tabris drawled. 

“The Clayne have augurs who would certainly think so,” Rosslyn replied, betraying a hint of impatience. “They read patterns in the flight of birds and use it to interpret the will of the Lady of the Skies.” 

“You believe in that tosh? What future gets predicted by that?” 

“That would depend.” She smirked. “Are you the gull, the gwyrling, or the fish?” 

“Your Ladyship!” Morrence hopped up to the deck, looking small in the light leather armour she and the others had adopted for the journey. Her hair too, was braided out of her eyes, a far cry from the practical tail she usually wore. “We’re almost ready to go, but His Highness is still below.” She spared a cool glance for Tabris and back to wait for orders. 

Rosslyn glanced to see the first of the boats being lowered over the side. “I’ll see what’s keeping him. And as for you,” she added, lowering her voice as she turned back to Tabris. “The sea doesn’t care what you are, and the gods don’t care if you believe in them or not. They help those who help themselves, and out here, there aren’t any alienage walls to hold you back.” 

“Surprised you managed to get all those fancy words out around that silver spoon stuck in your gob.” 

Alistair stood in front of the mirror borrowed from the captain’s quarters, trying not to sweat in his new clothes. The stuffy cabin didn’t help, but it was Brantis fussing with the lay of his sleeves, shooting questions about what he should do in increasingly specific and unlikely situations, that really had him agitated. With the outcome of the war hanging on the success of the mission, and Rosslyn’s grandfather being the person he had to impress, anything shy of tripping over his own boots and falling flat on his face would be reason to celebrate.  

“And with which hand should you give an item on the table, should you be asked for it?” Brantis asked in his reedy voice. 

“Is that a likely scenario?” How many people just casually asked royalty to pass the salt? 

“It does to prepare for all eventualities, Highness,” came the officious reply. 

 Sighing, Alistair turned his attention back to his outfit, to the contemplation of whether the rose pattern stitched into his jerkin was too much. As far as he could tell in the dim light, the red and gold suited the tone of his skin, and set off well against the bright cream of his shirt. He had already tested the practicality of the ensemble. Given that it lacked the ostentation favoured by those like Franderel, he still had enough range of movement to be able to fight without tearing a seam if the situation called for it, though the heavy, fur-trimmed mantle he had been forced into might make him choke with the heat first. 

He paused on his reflection, letting his eyes drift over the snarling shapes tooled into the rich leather. He never thought to sport the War Dogs, the symbol of the bloodline that had once discarded him, and yet there they were, one on each shoulder, offering a legitimacy that for the first time felt like something lighter than a curse. 

Brantis was still fussing. 

“Surely I’m ready now? I’m really not sure how much more preparation I can take. Surely it would be better to… uh…” 

Rosslyn stood in the doorway. His eyes dragged up and down her form, drinking in every detail. 

“How are things proceeding?” she asked as she glided into the room. A varnished box canted against her hip, tucked under her arm. 

“Quite well, Your Ladyship,” Brantis replied. “Quite well. His Highness will do us proud, if he will remember his manners.” 

Alistair blinked. “What?” 

He had been too busy staring to listen. The grey shimmer of her light coat brought out the sharp colour of her eyes, the cut of the material flared out from swaying hips, the deep blue inner lining a backdrop for white doeskin breeches that clung to deep curves and lithe, strong legs. When he managed to pull his gaze from that sight, it caught instead on the set of her shoulders and the way the open collar accentuated the fine tendons of her throat. She turned her head and her hair, pouring artfully over one shoulder, gleamed gold where a wreath of aurum leaves curled around from a knot at the nape of her neck. The whole effect was understated but striking, a casual display of power leagues away from the ill-fitting dress she had worn on Summerday.  

“… and your esteemed grandfather will of course have the final word.” 

They had carried on an entire conversation without him. Glancing between Brantis’ sidelong, exasperated looks and Rosslyn’s dry amusement, he felt heat flare all the way to the tips of his ears. 

“Will you leave us?” she asked the chamberlain, with a touch of pink in her own pale cheeks. 

Brantis bowed and hobbled away, and the two of them were alone. She crossed to a bulkhead and set down the box she had brought with her, which had completely slipped his attention in his ogling. Curious, he made out her personal sigil on the lid – a Falcon gripping a Laurel branch in its talons – but she had already crossed the space to stand in front of him and his throat dried up too much to ask about it. 

“How are you feeling?” she asked. 

He tried to laugh. “Well, right now I’m not quite sure whether the eels rolling around in my stomach are there because of seasickness or nerves…” Or how stunning you look. He swallowed. To cover the treacherous line of his thoughts, he turned back to the mirror and brushed his hands down his front. “This lot could feed a family for a month – I feel like such a fool in it.” 

“Ah, but you don’t look like one,” she pointed out, grinning. “That’s the important thing.” 

“Ha-ha.” 

Fighting back her smirk, she appraised his attire with a critical eye, then came forward to readjust the seams Brantis had been playing with for half an hour, loosening them enough to give him room to breathe again. In theory. 

“It suits you.” Her hand lingered on his chest, the heat of her palm seeping through the fabric. 

He coughed. “There’s, uh, not as much gilt as I was expecting.” 

“Only merchants and Rivaini aristocrats weight themselves down with gold,” she chided gently. “Nobility should be seen in how you carry yourself, and there’s more besides – patronage of the arts, appreciation of craftsmanship, the cultivation of taste… actually, on that note, I have something for you – a gift.” Her glance darted away to the box on the bulkhead and he found himself following her as she went to retrieve it. 

“Rosslyn…” 

“I meant to give it to you later, on the island, but I thought… it might give you some extra confidence.” She chuckled, the smooth certainty of a moment before faltering as she held it out to him. “It seems silly to say that out loud.” 

“Not at all! This – this is for me?” he checked. “Really? I – wow, I don’t – I mean…” He could count on one hand the number of gifts he had received in his life, and the number that had come unprompted… well, that required significantly fewer fingers. 

She shrugged, flustered. “It’s nothing too grand, but it’s a tradition for vassals of the realm to give a gift to the heir apparent once their status is made official, and when we were delayed in Invermathy, I realised it completely slipped my mind. There’s an artisan there who used to work for my family and –”  

He reached out to touch her shoulder, to snap her out of her sudden nervousness, and the edge of his thumb accidentally brushed her neck – he never expected the skin there to be so smooth. 

“You still need to open it,” she said in a small voice.  

He started, cleared his throat, snapped his gaze to the box resting on his palm and bit his lip as he flicked the catch on the lid. A gift, entirely for him. 

He stared. Nestled in a cushion of blue velvet was a pair of leather vambraces embossed with intertwining shapes dyed in a multitude of colours. He recognised dragons, and eagles, and forefront of them all a red War Dog rampant with a gold-petalled rose caught in its snarling teeth. The workmanship was exquisite, almost too perfect to wear for fear of damage, the tooling so precise it seemed as if the figures had been persuaded rather than worked into the leather. 

“These must have been expensive,” he blurted.  

Rosslyn’s face, an instant before so open and anxious waiting for his approval, closed off, a sour line pulling at her mouth. 

“A gift is worth more than its base value, don’t you think?” she asked.  

He shook his head. “I didn’t mean to imply – I mean, I know with the war and everything you’ve had to –” 

“The condition of my finances is none of your concern,” she snapped. “I wasn’t thinking of the expense.”

“No, I know - Rosslyn…” He sighed, staring across the chasm of space that had suddenly risen between them, without her moving a muscle. “I’m sorry I offended you. So much for the start of an illustrious diplomatic career, don’t you think?”  

She searched his face, stung pride warring with doubt and something else that flitted by too quickly for him to name. 

“What did you mean to say?” The question was teased out slowly, deliberately. 

“Only that…” Maker, let him get the right words this time. “Nobody’s ever thought of me enough to – to do something like this for me. I only ever got things that were practical before – I used to go to bed at night and pray to the Maker to make me grow taller so the housekeeper would be forced to make me a new shirt, but it didn’t work nearly as often as I hoped.” He chuckled, but the tale only made her brows contract. “This… I am truly grateful – truly – I don’t know how else to express my gratitude, I…”  

“You like them, then?”  

He nodded. “They’re… Would you help me put them on?” 

She smiled, the tension disappeared from her shoulders, and everything was alright again as she raised her hands to take the box from him. The vambraces lifted easily out of the velvet pile, stiff and polished and smelling of beeswax, with just the right amount of give in the straps. Rosslyn returned and brushed his hands away so she could do up the knots for him, working the laces through the eyeholes with a deftness that had Alistair transfixed. When the first one was fitted to her satisfaction, she turned to the other, and his free hand settled on her waist, supple leather and samite warm under his fingertips. 

“What is that?” he asked. 

She glanced up. “What?” 

“That smell, some kind of flowers – in your hair.” 

“Oh.” She tucked a phantom strand behind her ear, biting her lip. “It’s jasmine.” 

“Jasmine,” he repeated as she went back to her task. “It’s nice.” 

“Thanks… All done.” 

He held up his hand to view her handiwork. The knots were neat, the vambrace itself well-fitted - not long enough to impede his movement but not so short that it made his arm look overly brawny. Rosslyn was smiling at him, patient, bemused by the childish enthusiasm he betrayed in his admiration of the War Dog snarling on his arm. 

“I know you didn’t expect anything,” he admitted, swallowing past the lump in his throat, “but I think I’m a little bit sorry I don’t have anything for you in return.” 

She chuckled and rolled her eyes. “You don’t owe me anything for this.” 

But her gaze flickered to his mouth, just a tiny movement of her eyes which he caught nevertheless, and he wondered if perhaps she was daring to ask for the return in a kiss. He wanted her to ask. They stood so close she had to tilt her head back to see him properly, so close his hand still on her waist felt the soft swell of her ribs as she breathed, the tension running like corded rope through her limbs. Beneath them, the ship pitched in the swell, tilting them further into each other’s space, and he realised if they did this now he wouldn’t want to stop. 

“We – we should go,” he managed, to keep himself from staring. 

She loosed a breath – relief? disappointment? – and stepped back. “We – yes. The tide will turn soon. It wouldn’t be a very good first impression to keep the Storm Giant waiting seven hours for it to turn back.” 

“Right. Yes, of course, just let me…” He reached past her for his sword belt and buckled it while she waited, and then followed her out of the cabin. They kept a careful distance as they strode up into the light and bustle of the deck, to Isabela barking orders so she could be heard over the noise of the dog, and Morrence already setting Connor into the first longboat next to Wynne.  

“Your turn next, Your Highness,” she said as they approached, offering a hand to help him over the rail. “Don’t think about the drop.” 

“You could have told me that before I looked,” he replied, and peered dubiously over the side. The longboat floated fifteen feet below, still lashed to the hull of the ship but rolling against the moorings like a horse tossing its head at flies. One false step on the frankly perilous ladder and he could easily fall between the two barks and be trapped underneath, dragged down into the depths by the weight of his fancy clothes. 

“There’s nothing to it,” Rosslyn reassured him with a squeeze of his shoulder. “I’ll go ahead and guide you down.” 

The tails of her coat flared behind her as she swung over the side, almost as nimble as one of the sailors. Only Alistair saw the white grip of her knuckles on the ropes, and the careful frown as she judged the last step between the ladder and the boat, but she smiled encouragement up at him. 

“Move one limb at a time,” she instructed. “Like you’re a lizard.” 

“Am I a handsome lizard at least?” 

She only rolled her eyes.

“Is the Storm Giant scary?” Connor asked, when Alistair had finally inched the last few steps into the boat. “I heard he can kill someone he doesn’t like just by looking at them.” 

“What nonsense,” Wynne chided next to him. “Not even a basilisk can do that.” 

Rosslyn shifted in her seat and winked at the arl’s son. “The Storm Giant isn’t a basilisk.” 

A shout came from above and the lines holding them to the Siren’s Call went slack, gathered in by two of the crew, who scrambled down the ladder and took their places, one in the rowing seat and one by the tiller. With a final salute to the captain, the rower pushed off from the side with the butt of an oar, with enough force to drive them out into open water. The second boat with their guard-captains and herald followed shortly after, two motes of dust on a clear blue slate. Though the water was mostly calm, spray curled back at them from the oars, and once a rogue wave slapped against the hull, rocking them all sideways. Rosslyn flinched, a muttered curse hissing under her breath, but gentle fingers wrapped around hers where they clung to the board, and she shot a grateful smile to Alistair next to her. 

 They made it through the breakers mostly unsoaked, though the moment they touched solid ground jarred hard enough to make Alistair fall forward and smack his knee against the hull. Rubbing out the tingles, he straightened and stepped out onto a beach of black pebbles, unable to help craning his neck at the sheer basalt cliffs warding back the sea. The ground swayed beneath him, but no, it was just his balance reasserting itself after so long on the water. 

“Is landsickness a thing?” he asked Rosslyn. “Because I think I have it. This feels weird.” 

“You’ll get used to dry land again, just in time to make the crossing back,” she laughed as she stepped out next to him. 

“Who’s that on the path?” Connor called from the boat.  

The rest of the party turned to where he was pointing. A set of rough stairs had been cut into the rock, commanding a view over the whole bay as it carved down from the emerald cliffs above. There was no other way up, at least not that Alistair could see, and he tried not to think about the potential consequences of a bad first impression; the tidemark stained the rock a full armspan above his head, and with no other shelter from the waves, the defenders would only have to wait.   

And there was the Storm Giant himself, Lord Fearchar Mac Eanraig, bearing down on them. Tall, with a shock of flyaway white hair and broad shoulders wrapped in dyed plaidweave, he marched at the head of his retinue with the pride of a full-crown hart, an enormous spiked mace girded at his hip. Without quite thinking about it, Alistair drew closer to Rosslyn’s side as their host descended the last few strides towards them. She noticed, and brushed her hand along his thumb in a brief show of reassurance. But when he caught her eye, she wasn’t smiling.  

[sasuhinasno1fan]

Inviting my crushes home for Christmas

@theshibacat, I’m your gifter for the @shklance-exchange. One of the mods know you personally and they gave me your Instagram since you don’t really use your Tumblr and I saw that you liked Percy Jackson, so I should at least sprinkle a bit of one of the best series in this. I hope you enjoy and happy holidays.

“You are coming home aren’t you mijo?”

Lance controlled the urge to roll his eyes. He loved his mother, he really did, but she needed to stop assuming that he willingly wanted to stay at Camp Half-Blood. The only reason he was even there instead of school was because his goddess mother, Aphrodite had pissed someone off in Olympus and decided to take it out on him. He knew Poseidon had to also be involved because there weren’t many creatures that went looking for half-bloods out of spite, screaming about the child of Poseidon and Aphrodite would pay. He was gonna have to have a talk with his uncle the next time he visited Camp.

“Mama, I swear, I’ll be taking the Fates Taxi home.”

“I don’t trust them. Don’t they all share an eye?”

Lance sighed, “they might share an eye, but they can actually drive. I mean, they are in charge of my life. I doubt ending it in a car crash they were responsible for is how they’d want to go.”

“Alright. Is anyone else at Camp?”

“I mean, a few of the Roman kids are here and…” Lance looks from the Iris rainbow he was using to talk to his mom in front of the Aphrodite Cabin down to where Cabin 13 stood. There was one demigod who was living there, and he was one of the reasons Lance’s heart would flutter.

“Oh, sweetheart, is he there? You should invite him and that other boy home.”

“What? Mom, no! Are you insane? You want me to bring my two crushes home, to you guys, where I’m bound to be embarrassed and never come back to camp again, let alone face them?”

“Oh sweetheart, it won’t be that bad.”

“Um, I was there when Veronica brought her girlfriend. Do you really think I’ll subject them to that?” Lance demanded to know.

“I’ll tell Luis to behave. Come on sweetie, I want to meet these guys. I can put in a good word.”

“Mom, no. Absolutely not.” He loved his family, but he was not ready for the utter embarrassment he was going to feel if they met his crushes.

One of which who was walking down the hill.

“I gotta go. Love you mom, bye!” Not even waiting for a response, Lance kicked the handle for the water he was using to make his rainbow off, so the stream of light died, and the rainbow faded. Just in time too, because Shiro, the demigod son of Bellona came up to him.

“Hi Shiro.” Lance said, trying not to look guilty.

“Lance, hi. Busy?” Shiro asked, pushing his white fringe away from his sweaty face. Lance guessed he had been training with the Ares kids again, if the sweat soaked purple shirt was anything to go by.

“Not really. I was just calling my mom. She’s really excited to have me home now that the issue with those monsters got dealt with.”

“I’m sure your mother is happy with your godmother, making you stay here longer.” Shiro joked.

“Yeah. Unfortunately, Aphrodite’s been known for some nasty curses and such so I told my mom to lay off.”

“Usually a good idea. Godly moms are about 10 times worse than dads. Trust me, I know.”

“I’m sure having the goddess of war as your mom makes thing really interesting.” Lance teased, patting himself on the back when Shiro laughed.

“Can’t argue with that. You enjoy your time home in case I don’t see you before you leave.”

“Are you going home too?”

Shiro shook his head, looking a bit embarrassed. “Um, my step-mom’s still a bit upset from when I took off to Camp Jupiter earlier to avoid telling my dad I didn’t want to go to the college he choose for me. She told me I’d have to come tell him eventually, but I wanted to keep away from his anger for a bit longer. I’ve already missed a whole semester and I’m not sure who wants to kill me more. Probably my step-mom for leaving her to deal with my dad for so long.”

“So…you’re gonna be here?”

Shiro nodded. “It’s ok. A few of the other college demigods are coming here for break and not all the Camp Jupiter kids are heading back soon so I won’t be alone.”

Lance could hear his mother’s words resounding in his head. Lance should have just stuck to his word, saved himself from any embarrassment but Lance was a weak man. “Um, if you wanted, you could come over to my place. I mean, it’s me, my family and any other member of our family tree not out on their own vacation. It’ll be a little crowded and loud but at least you won’t be here alone.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

Lance shook his head, his smile welcoming, “it’ll be fine. My mom’ll dote on you and everything.”

“Well, I guess if it’s ok with your family, I’d love to.”

Lance could melt with the smile Shiro gave him. how could one man be so perfect? Well, there was someone else Lance thought was just as perfect but only when he wasn’t being an ass.

“Cool. I’m leaving tomorrow after breakfast for Miami, so pack your warm clothes.”

“I will. Thanks Lance. You didn’t have to do this.” Shiro said.

“I wanted to. No one should be alone on Christmas.”

They shared one last smile before Shiro left to go take a shower and Lance needed a moment to slow his heartbeat. He had done exactly what he told his mother he wouldn’t do but he couldn’t help it. Shiro would be at the camp just to avoid his parents. Granted he couldn’t do it forever but no one wanted to deal with family drama during the holidays. It just…didn’t seem right for Shiro to be at the Camp by himself. Besides, it would only be one of his crushes, so it wouldn’t be horrible.

At least, that’s what Lance thought.

He’d been packing his bag, making sure everything was there when he heard an all too familiar sound of dirt being dug. He flew from his bed and ran outside, wishing he’d grabbed his bow as well because a certain hellhound was digging up the flowers in front of the Aphrodite Cabin, again.

“Bad hellhound! Kosmo, get away from the flowers!” the black and blue furred hellhound looked ashamed with his dirt covered snout and paws. “Bad hellhound! You know better! You had better-”

He didn’t get a change to finish his order as Kosmo disappeared into the shadow of the Cabin, leaving Lance with ruined flowers and a need to nag a certain owner. He took the treck over to Cabin 13, the oobsidian walls looming over him, but he wasn’t scared.

“Keith! Open the door! Your dog was digging up our flowers again.” Lance swore he’d be even more ticked off if it was anyone else’s animal companion but somehow because it was Keith, his anger would dim. Only some though; Lance still had to replant all the flowers.

The door opened revealing the Hades child, who looked ticked off Lance was pounding at his door with the age old excuse.

“What?”

“I love Kosmo, I really do, but you need to control him. Romelle isn’t going to be happy when she comes back and sees the mess he made.”

“I can’t constantly keep an eye on him.”

Lance frowned and opened his mouth to say something but stopped. Something about Keith was different. Having the allure of his godly mother, Lance had gotten good at reading people and he could tell something was bothering Keith. For one, he had snapped that Kosmo didn’t do anything wrong like he usually would when the Aphrodite kids would come to complain about Kosmo. He also seemed a bit more reserved than usual just from his body language. Plus, his usual frown seemed more pronounced than usual.

“Are you ok? You seem…off.”

“I’m fine.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. Plus, his ability to read people pretty well, his actual ability of emotion reading from Aphrodite told him Keith was lying.

“Keith, seriously, what’s wrong?”

Keith was pretty silent before he let out a huff. “My mom isn’t gonna be here for Christmas.”

“Your mom?”

“You’ve heard of her right? She’s a demigod too, daughter of Ares and is part of the demigod group that protects younger demigods who can’t come to Camp yet.” Lance nodded. The Blade of Mamora they were called, after a rare weapon of Ares according to stories. “She got called on a mission and couldn’t get out of it, so I’ll be here over the holidays since I’m in no mood to spend it with my dad or Persephone.”

“I thought Persephone liked you?” Lanced asked.

“Only cause my mom found her during the summer after I was claimed and told her she wanted nothing to do with Hades. She tolerates me at most. We didn’t really get to spend a ton of time together this past summer because of the quest I got called on. I feel like I’ve been here long enough.”

Lance bit his lip. Shiro was one of his crushes and Keith was the other. Keith and Shiro were already really close and as much as Keith would push his buttons, when he was actually being nice to Lance, he felt good about it. He’d been secretly crushing on them both and slowly was trying to make his feelings known. The fact that Keith was really upset with his mom not being able to be with him, it pulled at his heartstrings. It seemed Lance wouldn’t be able to keep the promise he made to himself, of not having his crushes anywhere near his family.

“Um, you don’t have to say yes but…I’m going home for Christmas tomorrow and Shiro’s avoiding his parents, so I offered for him to come with. If you want, you can come to. I’ve got a huge family and I know you’re not the best with large groups but at least you won’t be alone.”

“You don’t have to pity me.”

“I’m not.” Lance quickly said. “It’s just…I get it. Thanks to my godly mom and my dear uncle I came here instead of being able to go see my mom after school every day. I get it, wanting to be with your parents. My mom will totally dote on you. Who knows, she might even try and talk with whoever is in charge of the Blade just to get your mom here. I want you to come, if you want to.”

Keith looked slightly uncomfortable, but he nodded slowly, giving Lance a shy smile. “Sure. If you’re sure it’s ok, I’ll come. Thanks Lance. I’ll talk to Persephone and see if she doesn’t have anything to deter Kosmo away from the flowers next time.”

“No problem. We’re leaving after breakfast tomorrow, so I’ll see you then?”

“Sure. Thanks, again.”

“No problem.” Except now he had to figure out a way to keep his family away from his crushes with any blackmail they’d have on him.

“I thought you weren’t planning on bringing them here.” Rachel whispered as she followed Lance, staring at the two dark haired demigods who were playing with their niece and nephew.

“I wasn’t but after I got off the phone, well rainbow, with mom, I found out Shiro’s been avoiding his dad because he doesn’t want to go to the school he wants, and Keith’s mom is on a mission and won’t be around for Christmas. You can’t tell me that if you found out the person you like was gonna be sad over the holidays, you wouldn’t try and make it better.” Lance defended.

“Of course, I would. I just didn’t think you’d bring them to blackmail central. The whole family is here Lance, they’re gonna say something. You know mama doesn’t keep her mouth shut.”

“Trust me, I know. But what choice do I have?”

“Leave the country and never come back?”

Lance rolled his eyes at his sister. “Bit hard to do with a godly mother like Aphrodite.”

“Fair point but hey, compared to what’ll happen? Paradise.”

“Tio! Hurry up!” Nadia called from where she sat on top of Shiro’s shoulders. Why was is it the sight of good looking guys with kids made Lance melt?

The pier near their house was having their annual Christmas festival and Marco’s kids begged Shiro and Keith to take them, hence why they were all there now.

Sylvio was holding tight to Keith’s hand but he grabbed onto Lance once he moved closer. “Tio, you’re gonna win something for me, again right?”

“Of course, though is that the only reason you like me? Because I can win you toys?” Lance teased, Sylvio sticking his tongue out at his uncle.

“Swing me!” he demanded, tugging on Keith and Lance’s hands.

“Swing?” Keith asked confused.

“He wants us to pick him up by his hands, so he can swing.” Lance explained, laughing a bit at how utterly confused Keith seemed to look. “Just pull you hand up on 3 ok? 1, 2,3!” Sylvio went up, laughing as he came down, begging for it again.

“So what games do you win? You don’t charmspeak anyone do you?” Keith asked.

“Keith, don’t automatically assume every Venus kid has charmspeak.” Shiro said from in front of them.

“It’s Aphrodite and last time I didn’t, one of his siblings sent me walking straight into the lake.”

“Oh yeah, that was funny.” Lance laughed. “That was also Allura, head of the Hunters of Artemis. You had insulted her.”

“She insulted Kosmo first, they tried to attack them.”

“Yeah, a hellhound. No offense to the big goof, but you can’t really blame them. Your dad isn’t exactly the nicest. It was really funny watching you stomp away soaking wet after Allura apologized.”

Keith pouted, looking away, causing Lance and Shiro to laugh at him.

“Why is Keith pouting?” Nadia asked.

“Because he’s mad.” Lance answered.

“Didn’t you tell abuela that you thought-” Nadia started but was stopped when Rachel put her hand over her mouth and pulled her off Shiro’s shoulders.

“Nadi, why don’t you, me and your brother go get something to eat for your Tio so he has tons of energy to win you toys?”

“But?” Nadia started.

“You can get cotton candy.” She tempted.

“I wanna go!” Sylvio said, pulling away from Keith to go over to his aunt.

“Alright. Let’s go. We’ll meet you guys at the ornament tent mom goes to ok?” Rachel said, already shepherding the kids away.

“That was strange. Is everything ok?” Shiro asked.

“Oh yeah, totally fine. Hey, let’s go check out the gift tents. Maybe we can find some things for your family.” Lance said, trying to control his emotions. Naida almost said something. No doubt from overhearing when he’d call Keith cute on the rare occasions he’d pout. Gods, if she said anything about when Shiro smile, he’d just about die.

“I want to get something for your mom. She’s been very kind to let us stay over.” Shiro said.

“Oh, you don’t have to.”

“I want to. It’s the least I can do to repay her.”

“Me too.” Keith jumped in. “She’s been really nice. If you don’t my asking, how’d she react when she found out you were a demigod, or did she always know?”

“Well, for one, I don’t have charmspeak, but Aphrodite kids always have his allure right, that bring people to them. I guess mine was pretty high as a kid cause I’d get followed around a lot. It was pretty concerning, especially with a large family like mine, they got pretty worried. My dad finally admitted that he cheated on my mom with Aphrodite when my brother Marco, had to body slam some guy from shoving me in the back of his car. Still don’t know if that was my allure or if that guy was just a general creep but by that time, we needed answers. I remember I got really scared my mom would hate me when she found out I wasn’t hers, but she was more pissed off at my dad. She told me how she was the one who raised me the whole time without any help from Aphrodite, so how could she not be my mom?”

“That must have really meant a lot.” Shiro said.

“It did. It could have gone so much worse, but it didn’t.”

“All the more reason to get your mom something right?” Keith pointed out.

Lance sighed. He couldn’t argue with that. “My mom does love anything with peonies.”

“Peonies it is.”

As they walked by tents designated for gifts when Shiro asked a dreaded question.

“What was Nadia trying to point out earlier?”

“What do you mean?” Lance asked as they stopped by a jewellery stand.

“When she was saying you thought something. She said it right after you pointed out Keith pouting.”

“Oh, uh, nothing important. It doesn’t matter.”

“You’re lying.” Shiro said, pointing at Lance’s face.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. Bellona kids know how to read an opponent’s.”

“I could cream you in an archery competition.” Lance said, trying to get Shiro away from asking about his niece nearly revealing his massive crush on the two.

“Which is why I’m not stupid enough to challenge you to one and you know what I mean. You can read emotions and I can read body language.”

“It’s nothing.”

“I’m curious. You’re not one to keep secrets.” Keith said.

Gods, the two did not give up.

“Ok fine, she heard me tell my mom I thought someone’s pout was cute ok?”

“You have a crush on someone?” Keith asked.

“Someones.” At this rate, Lance wouldn’t have to worry about his family outing him. It’d be himself.

“Anyone we know?” Shiro curiously asked.

“Maybe.” Lance said starting to walk forward.

“Is it Nyma?” Keith quickly followed.

“The girl with the Ares boyfriend? Do I look like I’m insane?”

“Allura?”

“She’s the head of the Hunter of Artemis, they don’t date.”

“Hunk?”

Lance turned and look frustrated with Keith’s questions. “He’s dating Shay. Why the hell does it matter?”

Keith just crossed his arms and pouted some more.

“Sorry, it’s just, we’re a little curious.” Shiro said.

“It’s fine. It’s just embarrassing. I’m not at all ready to tell them how I feel and the last thing I want is my family saying anything.”

“You’re allowed to wait till you’re ready. Think we can at least know where these people are? Maybe we can keep an eye out.”

He should say no, but Shiro was understanding. If he did figure it out, he knew Shiro wouldn’t poke and prod him. Keith might but if anyone could stop him, it was Shiro.

“It’s two guys.”

“Ok. Anything else?”

“One is from Camp Half-Blood and the other is from Camp Jupiter.” Lance conveniently looked away for that admittance.

“And?” Keith asked, almost begging to know.

“One of the is a child of war.” He wasn’t going to make it too easy.

“Child of war and from either Camp Jupiter or Half-Blood?” Lance nodded. “Can’t you tell us anything else?” Keith begged.

“Come on Keith. Take it easy. He’ll tell us when he’s ready.” Lance didn’t know why, but he felt like there was a double meaning in the statement.

“Fine.” Again, with the pouting. The Child of Hades was trying to send him to an early grave.

“Presents, for my mom. Let’s go before all the good gifts get sold.”

Shiro was the first to find his gift. He found a pair of rose gold hair sticks with peonies painted on them. He started then going into a lecture on why they made good defence weapons, which scared the vendor into giving him a discount, so he could leave.

“I got these at such a bargain, I wonder why he lowered the price so much.”

“Gee, I wonder.” Lance said sarcastically.

“And they tell us the Ares kids are wild childs. What does Bellona teach her kids?” Keith whispered to Lance.

“I don’t think I want to know.”

Keith was able to find his gift in the form of a pressed flower shadowbox.

“My mom loves these.” Lance said once Keith picked one up. They didn’t have peonies, but he thought the hydrangeas were a good choice.

“So, does my mom. She looks like she can kick your ass but give her a bouquet of flowers and she melts. It’s a little strange.”

“Sounds almost like you, except we just have to give you Kosmo.” Lance teased.

Keith stuck his tongue out at Lance, causing Shiro to laugh at them.

Rachel found them easily after Lance won his nephew his first gift.

“I didn’t have enough hands to get drinks too, so we can go get them.”

“It’s ok. Keith and I’ll get them. You guys stay here.” Shiro offered, not allowing either of the siblings to deny him.

Once Lance saw the crowd swallow them, he turned to his sister. “so, I might have said something to them.”

Rachel looked surprised. “did you tell them?”

“No, well kinda. I told them I had crushes on someone and then Keith wouldn’t stop asking all these questions so said one of the guys I like was a child of war, which is Shiro.”

“What about Keith?”

“Well I couldn’t exactly say the other guy I liked was a child of death. There’s only Keith.” Lance reminded.

“Well technically isn’t Hades just the lord of the underworld, not the God of Death?”

“The actual god of death doesn’t have kids. It wouldn’t have worked. It’s just, Shiro stopped Keith from bugging me more about it, saying I’ll tell them when I’m ready and, I don’t know. It felt like he was trying to say something.”

“Maybe he knows and is telling you to take your time.”

“I doubt that.”

“How do they have this much energy?” Keith asked as Nadia and Sylvio climbed on Shiro’s back, not on moments after they woke up from their naps.

“Be very happy you have no siblings Keith. Though, they are good for endurance training.” Lance joked.

“Lanceito?”

“Si mama?”

“I think I might have left one of the dish towels on your bed. I drop off your laundry before coming down to the kitchen. Can you go check please?”

“Si. Hey kids, why don’t you ask Keith to lift you up?” Lance threw in before running upstairs leaving Keith to deal with the kids running straight at him.

He quickly went up to the third floor and opened the door to his room. In the pile of folded clothes, he spotted a red towel that belonged in the kitchen. Picking it up, he almost didn’t see the wrapped package on his desk. Lance dropped the towel on the desk and picked up the package. It was light. He knew it wasn’t from family because his grandmother didn’t allow any presents to be placed anywhere else but the Christmas tree. He pulled off the wrapping paper, eyes widening at a blue wrap and a seashell pin attached to it. Lance remembered seeing them at the fair. He’d been staring at them while Shiro had been picking his gift before getting distracted by the unwanted lesson on defence. He picked up the card tucked into one of the folds.

“I might have been pushy, but Shiro is right. Take your time and tell us when you’re ready. Those guys you like, aren’t going anywhere.” Lance read, the card signed by both Keith and Shiro. He felt his face getting very hot. They knew. They had to. But they weren’t pushing. Lance knew he still wasn’t ready to go up to them and say something and that, was fine. It was fine. If he went downstairs, they wouldn’t say anything, not until Lance did.

So, he did go back downstairs, with the wrap around his neck like a scarf, the pin on the side and handed the towel to his mother.

“Oh sweetie, where did you get that?”

“Um,” Lance looked over his shoulder and saw Keith and Shiro looking at him, both giving him a smile before turning back to the kids. “It was a gift.”

So, Lance wasn’t ready yet, but he knew they’d be there when he was.