#the illusion of safety pod

[tallships-and-starlights]

Fish food for the fish tank for you

Featuring Blorbos that you know nothing about:

It was a fatal moment of weakness, an illusion of safety and familiarity that felt too much like home. He knew that she only let him stay by her side because he intrigued her. His culture and his habits differing so much from her own isolated upbringing amongst the stars. He told her of his tribe, his family and in turn his brother. He told her of his fate and his sacrifice to destroy the xenomorph outbreak. "He died an honorable death."

He decided then not to mention how his brother had become infected and how he had to run him through, because the med pods were all destroyed and that his brother did not go out in a blaze of glory like he had weaved the story of his chiva for her. He could not bear the thought of whatever insult he was sure would be thrown at him if he did. Ship dwellers and their lack of bedside manner and empathy never ceased to make his skin crawl.

"What of the aura wielder?"

Had he known that humans were seen as simply pray and nothing more by her people, then he never would have opened his fucking mouth. With the high of sex still reeling in his mind and body, he was far too loose with his tongue. He never would have imagined what carnage would be wrought with his words. He should have kept his mouth shut.

Okuill didn't know what he did was wrong until he felt Saat's hands grow still on his chest. She splayed her palm against his ribs as she sat up. "The ooman is on the surface?"

Okuill simply nodded his head. A small click leaving his teeth in reply. He was far too lethargic and lightheaded to notice the flex of his paramore's claws until she had grabbed his throat and tore his stomach open.

He didn't even have enough forethought to howl out from the blinding pain as he desperately tried to keep his organs from spilling onto the bed. All he could do was gasp for air like a fish. His stomach pooling blood, like some kind of macabre play where the curtains of his skin was jammed shut by the death grip he had on them. Saat slowly lifted herself off of him and backed up to the door of her room all the while glowering at him as he gaped at her.

She glanced down at her stomach and pushed her hand from her waist to her navel with the same clawed hand that was drenched in his blood all the while sneering at him from his place on her bed, his death bed no doubt.

She continued this motion a few more times before spitting in his direction and stomping out the door no doubt to inform the elders of his transgression. After a few moments he realized what it was she was doing. She was trying to remove his seed from her womb, now that she made it abundantly clear how much of a disgrace he was in her eyes. He hoped it would stick if only to spite her.

As he lay there, gasping and reeling at the dizzying pain and blood loss he prayed to his gods with all his dying might that they protect his family, his people and that they would not suffer from his mistakes. If only he had heeded his father's words.

Never trust a star walker.

#yautja #yautja culture #predator #yautja oc #Subtle Musings of the Damned and Forgotten #Okuill #Saat #sa'vaak #tallships and starlights #i made this in 30 minutes there is no grammer check whatsoever

[acearohippo]

Here's a concept: Li Ling died at least twice.

First time, when he transformed, it killed him. He was a child, and it was the first contact with divine waves so there was no chance for his little body to adjust and he exploded. But, rather than staying a pile of pulp, his remains gathered and formed into a lotus. His parents and family mourned him and cared for this lotus in his memory. This lotus grew and grew and grew until, several weeks later out of the blue, it opened up and out popped a four-armed gremlin.

It was a miracle and also über terrifying. The transformations and Miracles were still so new and mysterious, so his parents- having grown up with media portraying events such as these- immediately went crazy trying to contain him to their villa, for his safety. They were worried he'd be taken in by the government and experimented on or gigantic miramon would spot him and try to kill him.

You know

Terrifying and totally valid concerns

But, Li Ling is Li Ling and does Not Like Being Constricted, so he would frequently break out of his own room/home and roam, doing as he pleased and definitely pulling all sorts of attention his way. But, because he stayed mostly local and his family comes from money, his parents were mostly able to keep his presence low, still practically hidden. Until his beef with the Tianmen Mountains occured and then his parents struggled to contain, at the very least, his identity from spreading. And they managed it, barely, though esper union fledglings started poking their nose in Tangton to search for this illusive and strong esper they heard rumours about.

Years go by, the Esper 7 are trying to centralise all research on the miracles and espers to one location where they can be safe from society a lá X-men style, and the shadow decree is slowly gaining more traction and infamy for espers who want don't fit in or who demand they fit in a lá, well, still X-Men. Then the next miracle happens and the second wave of esper transformations occur.

This throws the world into complete and utter chaos, now that everyone knows this is going to keep happening, unpredictably, and there are now a decent population of espers as opposed to a few individuals in every large city.

And, within all this chaos, a 13/14 year old Li Ling gets caught in the mess and dies, again. This time, however, there is no flower left behind, not even a seed pod buried in what remains of him, and believe me his parents searched and searched.

They researched Nezha and, to their horror, discovered that he was a child diety, and were even more disheartened to find out that he died around the same age as Li Ling just did. Was his second death destined? Would he not be allowed to age because it wouldn't match the legend of Nezha? Could he... Could he return, even if he was stuck at the age of 14? Could they bring him back like Nezha's mom did?

If they mourned before, they all but became zealots now, praying to every deity to bring their son back. They bought tonnes and tonnes of lotuses, burned his remains and scattered his ashes in the mud they grew from and erected an entire mausoleum/greenhouse (practically a temple) for him, hoping and pleading for another chance at his life.

And Li Ling does return, spectacularly in a lotus but not where his remains are. Rather, a few years later, he appears where he last died, from a lotus again, when Miramon activity peak in the area and the divine waves are at their highest frequency.

His parents watch in a mix of joy and horror as every news channel focuses on their child and the absolute destruction following his return.

They can't hide him now.

Sure enough, the day doesn't even end before Raven shows up at their doorsteps offering to mentor Li Ling and have him join the Union ranks, eventually. His parents have no choice but to let her have him, especially when Li Ling returns, takes one look at her, and tells her he can leave now if she can keep up with him.

Their reunion with their son is short, Li Ling still remembers how much his parents tried to keep him grounded, on practical house arrest and here was an opportunity to get away and see the world without their shackles. Of course he would take it and go, no looking back.

And now, at the still all too young age of 21, seeing their son on the front lines of so many battles and fights, Li Ling's parents are worried that he's tempting fate again and there won't be a third chance.

#the hippo speaks #dislyte #li ling dislyte #just a fun little concept #i don't even know if i would call this a headcanon of mine #just something that I've been chewing on for a while #originally i thought #how wild would it be if li ling died before he turned 15 because nezha isn't older than that? #and then that that devolved into #oh but what if he did? #i said it before some where that his oull animation looks like he's returning to life #i stand by that

[helpimhyperfixating]

Not a requests but just the thought of the whole pod of mer’s just showing up at the fountain in front of the company. All of them wondering where they keep going so they follow them and everyone chills in the fountain.

Oh we goin’ back to this au, huh?

Just pray, hope and wish that doesn’t happen. Because one Mer is already a thing. One Mer and his several pups is another. But a whole pod?

Authorities will be called and some organisations reigning over the safety of the earth and its inhabitants are gonna come and uh, yeah it won’t be good.

Mer are still very rare. I’ve said several times but there is an old sailor’s myth that seeing a Mer brings you luck. They’re illusive creatures. Aka, if they ever show up en masse?

Panic.

You are losing your job, put on a watchlist and might even be removed from the pod entirely. Making for a very unhappy situation on all parties involved.

So yes no, pray it doesn’t happen

(plus Mer are most vulnerable on land. Sociable as they may be, they are still instinct driven and co-existing next to humans for all of their evolution has made them wary. So Jotaro because he’s in love? That I can excuse. A whole pod? Sorry, but they really wouldn’t do it 😔✋ Fun idea though!)

#hih answers #office scenario #hih mermaid au

[thefamilyeldritchabomination]

Chapter Seven: Echoes in Rain Pt. 3

 “What? You didn’t know? We all started out as misshapen monsters after a failed human transmutation?” Envy had a smug smirk as they watched Dolly for her response. “No…I came from a pod…?” Dolly answered honestly, surprised as she’d figured Envy, Lust, and Gluttony came from a pod too. “That is very interesting to hear.” Lust said, hoping this gives Envy the much needed hint that Dolly wasn’t a homunculus.

 “You’re telling me that he had the option of having me be born from a pod!? HE HAD THAT OPTION THE WHOLE TIME!?” Envy’s smug face vanished to one of homicidal anger, Lust being amazed at the level of denial Envy was displaying.

 “So Dolly, do tell us a bit more about yourself. I have been curious about your background for a while.” Lust said in a smooth manner, attempting to both calm Envy down and hopefully get them out of the denial fog.

 “Sure, I’ve been with the Mancer Family for an extremely long time since I was small and have been passed along the family line for many generations. I guess at some point, I started to be viewed as a lucky charm of sorts and often I’d get sacrificial offerings if I had to ‘babysit’ a family member to keep them safe.” Dolly answered warmly, Lust and Envy giving Dolly a look upon hearing sacrificial offerings.

 “Could you explain better about these ‘Sacrificial offerings’?” Lust asked, having a strong feeling this would put Envy on the same page as her and Gluttony.

 “Sure, don’t know if you have a different word for this, but it's just a fancy way of being paid in goods like high quality alcohol or treats, sometimes hard to get craft items or nice bathing items in some cases for myself. I get items first before I do anything normally, what about you? Do you have a system like that too?” Dolly warmly answered as she looked at Lust and Envy. The two homunculi looked at one another and then right back at Dolly, not exactly sure how to respond to that arrangement she had described. Dante had never offered this sort of perk before and likely wouldn’t if asked about it. Dolly sat on the couch baffled by the silence before becoming concerned that they were pretty much unpaid workers. Clearing their throat, Envy broke the silence after a considerable amount of time to process.

 “You know what, I think this is a good time to check on the target.” Envy said to change the topic immediately, getting up and walking over to Lust.

 “We’re getting that sacrificial offering system.” Envy whispered to Lust, pretty determined to get set up on that.

 Lust had a relieved look on her face upon hearing that the sacrificial offerings will hopefully be a thing in one form or another. Picking up the phone from the receiver, Envy cleared their voice a bit getting higher and softer before fully mimicking Sloth’s voice. There was a wait on the line before the grandly bombastic voice of Major Armstrong resounded throughout the apartment. “ANSWERING THE PHONE HAS BEEN PAST DOWN THROUGH THE LONG LINE OF THE ARMSTRONG FAMILY! THIS IS ALEX LOUIS ARMSTRONG SPEAKING!” Boomed the majestic voice of the Major over the phone.

 “Yes, this is Juliet Douglas, I’m calling in for a routine check on Freiderick Mancer, could you please place him on the line?” Envy lied on the phone as they awaited for Freddy to come on the line.

 “BUT OF COURSE! I’LL GET HIM ON THE LINE NOW, HE’S BEEN ENJOYING MY DEAR SISTER’S PIANO RECITAL IN THE FAMILY DINING HALL!” Armstrong said as he went to retrieve the illusive Freddy.

 “Please tell me the lockdown is over, please!” The groaning voice of Freddy on the line came on as Envy gave a smirk at the suffering.

 “Aww but Freddy, it’s for your own safety since you made the little monster in the first place. So no, the lockdown isn’t over and this is your check in call from yours truly.” Envy snickered as they shifted their voice back.

 “You’re such a sadistic little monster! Put Dolly on the phone!” Freddy wailed on the line earning a feign hurt look on Envy’s face before laughing.

 “Well aren’t you just a rude little brat today, I might just hang up now and leave you back to the piano concert.” Envy said, a vicious grin spreading on their face as they heard the gasp. “Okay, OKAY! I’m sorry! Please just put Dolly on the line!” Freddy pleaded as Envy took some time to consider this. “My feelings were so hurt by being called a monster, but, I am such a kind benefactor, I’ll allow you to talk with Dolly. You have four minutes.” Envy said in a condescending fashion as they motioned for Dolly to take the phone to talk to Freddy. “What the hell? Why Four Minutes!?” Freddy asked, shocked at the allowed time. “Because I felt like it, now it's going to be three minutes.” Envy said. handing the phone to Dolly as Freddy could be heard making a pterodactyl-like screech on the line.

 “Freddy, what’s wrong? You’re staying over at a very nice place with an incredibly friendly family.” Dolly asked, amused that the pterodactyl screech had returned.

 “SHE HAULED A WHOLE ASS PIANO LIKE IT WAS A BOOK! PLEASE GET ME OUT!” Freddy shouted out from the whole experience, the Homunculi looking at the phone with how loud Freddy is.

 “She sounds like a rather lovely young woman, Freddy. Plus you’ve seen me lift things too beforehand, so why are you freaked out?” Dolly asked with a sigh, worried about Freddy’s behavior as a guest at this point.   “Because Dolly, THEY ALL SPARKLE…THE SPARKLE…And it's different with you! I’ve grown to expect you to lift things…NOT A HUMAN!” Freddy said, his voice starting to crack from the stress of it all. “Freiderick, your Ancestral Matriarch used to haul full grown bucks all the time after a hunt, took out a bear at one point, and she was considered one of the most coveted women in the village at the time. I think you’re acting rather silly right now about the Armstrong family, they just sound like really hard working and pleasant people to be around.” Dolly responded, keeping her patiences with Freddy as Gluttony in the background found the abhorrent flamingo umbrella and started playing with it. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed Dolly, but we don’t live in a hunter gatherer society anymore.” Freddy whisper-yelled on the phone, getting flustered at the fact no one was seeing his ‘plight’.

 “That wasn’t the point, the point is that  there are people who are going to be strong and lift things out there. You even have a lot of relatives in the past that were able to do that too. I’m going to cut this conversation short since this is just you wanting to whine, but, I want you to be a gracious guest at their household and you are representing the Mancer Family by being there. Be kind. Here Envy, you can talk to Freddy.” Dolly concluded as she handed the phone to Envy who was looking rather impressed with how much shorter the conversation was.

 “Well Freddy, you’ve managed to make your allowed amount of phone time shorter than normal. It is delightful though that you are suffering massively in the Armstrong household. I may have to extend your time there with how lovely this has come out.” Envy said with a bit of a cackle in their voice as Freddy made gasping fish sounds. 

  Before Freddy could say anything, Envy hung up the phone, a satisfied smirk on their face to have their daily amount of being an absolute monster fulfilled while being in a lockdown situation. Dolly had gone to the kitchenette to start up lunch as the storm continued outside. Lust’s eyes were on Dolly’s shadow the whole time and was desperately looking at Envy in hopes that they too noticed that the shadow doesn’t even match. The fates, as it would often seem, liked keeping Envy completely oblivious to the subtle and not so subtle hints. Deciding that it was now a lost cause to give Envy hints about Dolly, Lust sat at the table to make a mental list of what to request for as sacrificial offerings. Likewise, Envy was carefully thinking over how to implement a sacrificial offerings system since it was definitely not going to happen with Dante. There was a chance that Envy could manipulate Freddy once he’s back in the apartment to give them sacrificial offerings, but Freddy would likely throw a tantrum which would be a delight for Envy either way. For a time, it was quiet, saved for the opening and closing of the fluorescent umbrella and the sizzling of meat being cooked on the stovetop with the pounding of the rain outside. 

#Fullmetal Alchemist #FMA 03 #Fan Fiction #FMA Fan Fiction #Writing #The Wayfarer #Envy the Jealous #Envy #Lust the Lascivious #Lust #Gluttony the Voracious #Gluttony #OCs #Major Armstrong #Alex Louis Armstrong #Homunculi #Homunculus

[spacewassocool]

What If Mark and The Captain Swapped Roles

I’m a sucker for Angst, so what if the Reader was the head engineer and Mark was The Captain. WARNING: ISWM Spoilers ahead.

Word Count: 1k

Mark had woken up in the cryo-pod, again. Its confirmed, he was in hell. Everything he did, no matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t end the loop. And then there was you. You had been so eager to meet him, although you didn’t talk much he could tell that you had dreamt of meeting him. But now he only feels guilt when he thought of you. You too had also been put through hell, He could only imagine what it may have been like for you.

Just then he was shot out of the Cyro-pod and onto the floor, standing up and watching you get shot out of your pod, like he had a million times.Looking at  you get up he questioned if you remembered what you two had just been through. He held out his hand, you reached forward grabbed it and held on just as the window shattered from the force, some of the glass shards cutting your leg. As the safety barrier closed you asked the same old question. 

“Uhm- What's happening?” You asked, panic dripping from your voice. It was clear you didn’t remember what you had just been through. Mark sighed and grabbed the fire extinguisher, holding it in place ready to shoot the fire that was yet to come. Yet it didn’t, it never came. 02 never went off, everything was acting as usual. It was strange, Mark looked at you. You looked at him before holding out your hand, It was glitching, it wasn’t long before your whole body started to glitch out. Giving you a feeling of immense pain and Mark a feeling of terror.

Looking around you both could tell that the room was glitching out as well. You tried to call for him but you couldn’t, it wasn’t working. You weren’t in control of this universe.

Closing your eyes you found yourself in a dark room, but not just any room, the control room. You were standing in the exact same position you were in. Everything was dark, the only light available coming from the cryo pods… THE CRYO PODS. You rushed towards Marks, sure enough he was there. Fast asleep. You tried to open it but without your tools you couldn't do anything. You were stuck, you sat down and tried to figure out where you were on the control panel yet they were all turned off, and nothing you could do would turn them back on.

You were stuck

And would be for a long time.

Mark was tired of going through wormholes over and over again, he just wanted to find his Head Engineer so he could stop them from building that damn warp core. After finding the author and writing that he would find his engineer he was shoved back through the wormhole and placed in a dark corridor. Walking to the control room he was met with the smell of burning candles, paper being placed literally everywhere, and a figure in the corner of the room, muttering to themself. As he got closer the figure turned around. It was you. Sure you had grown out your hair and your clothes were all dirty but it was still you, his favourite crewmember. As you turned around you started talking louder.

“Captain, no, no that can't be, you’re in your pod, you have been for years. You can't be here, this is just an illusion.” You rambled, looking frantically at Mark’s cryo pod where he had been resting for god knows how long. He.. wasn't there. Mark stepped forward. “It's me Y/N, it's ok, I'm here now.” He said, holding out his arms for a hug. Stepping closer trying to figure out if this was a trick or not you noticed something on Mark’s left hand. It was a crystal.. The same one that caused this mess. Looking up at him you started frantically yelling, trying to find an explanation for all of this.

“I’ve been stuck here for YEARS, why didn’t you come save me Mark? I’m so tired I just- YOU DID THIS- I’m so sorry. Why weren't you here, I've been through SO MUCH. THAT CRYSTAL PUT ME HERE! I can't even remember the last time I've slept- how are you doing? WHERE WERE YOU WHEN I NEEDED YOU?!” You screamed. Gathering up all your strength for that last sentence, you started to burst into tears. Mark didn’t blame you, after all you probably haven't had human interaction for a while, it was okay. He stepped forward and embraced you.

You were crying into his chest when the crystal started to glow again, he couldn’t do anything about it, he just needed to find you and prevent you from creating the thing that started this whole mess. He patted your hair once again before disappearing in a flash of blue light. Meanwhile you just dropped to your knees and started sobbing. 

Perhaps next time he would come back for you

But heaven forbid he lets you go.

#markiplier #iswm lore #iswm 2 #iswm part two #omgitsmarkiplier #writers on tumblr #writers #fiction #books & libraries #spaceship #invincible #two #captian #dont #ISWM

[the-feminine-void]

Life is asking me to evolve again

To leave behind some comforts I have adopted, an identity I’m attached to, in order to expand once more.

It’s not working for me anymore. The city is suffocating. Everyone’s moving around so fast and no one seems happy about it . I know it’s a symptom of the pod I’ve settled in mostly. Another reason to leave

I don’t want to have children in a space like this and more so it tells me of myself I do not want to live like this. I can’t live like this anymore.A scary thing to admit. After the years of safety I have worked to build myself into. Alas the illusion has revealed itself as it always does and the trap has become apparent

I know it’s necessary to want more of yourself. I’ve just almost forgotten how to do it. You get used to a certain thing once you do it long enough. I got used to instability, there was a flow which I held to but it was no way to live a life fully. Now I’m used to the security of consistency and the same role. No way to live a life fully either

Maybe then, this next stage is a balance of the two, how to live in many worlds with security and flow so as not to get stagnant or run away all the time like a poor man does.

I find myself feeling deep sadness and worry as of late. The concern of the world has hit me and lives in me. I know it’s important too. Again, another illusion has broken. But things are sad and things are beautiful. There is always magic and it can get quite dark. I know these contradictions better now than I did. I am tired. And often. I am tired in a way now that scares me. That makes me want to use what I have left to push myself up out of this mess. I have always been afraid of staying still.

[theillusionofsafetypod]

in reflection (part 1) is out now for public release!!! Featuring a voice we havent heard yet who will become very, very important!!!

#tios podcast #audio drama #audiodrama #new podcast #the illusion of safety #podcast creator #podcast #the illusion of safety pod

[incorrect-tios]

cy: guess what number i’m thinking of

raven: 420?

cy: no, that’s really immature of you. someone else guess, and please take this seriously

tris: 69

cy: yeah it was 69

#the illusion of safety #the illusion of safety pod #tios #tios pod #cyrille tios #raven tios #tristan tios

[selfcontainedinferno]

Tag urself I'm over in chaotic emotional with Tris and Eisa

#tios podcast #tios pod #the illusion of safety pod #i am BEGGING u to listen lmao #tios tris #tios raven #tios ryder #tios eisa #tios cy

[eloquentornot]

Falsesymmetry paced restlessly along the gleaming hallways, not fully thinking about where she was walking.

The falling moon burned the sky, what should have been a silent December night felt instead like a stormy summer day, shockwaves in all directions including directly towards her escape eagle, shattering the thin oxygen barrier and blowing them off course, out of the sky, falling down and up and sideways, battered by debris, no escape!

She shook her head. It hadn't been real. That's what the ship's caretakers had explained. Season 8 had just been a more complex version of the usual entertainment simulation between seasons, and the Moon Big Situation was actually a good thing, designed to save them all from a terrible computer virus called the Nothing.

She had left Gem behind, and for what? False screamed as a massive chunk of Geminitay's base collided with her eagle's head, and she was flung from what little illusion of safety remained, falling in and out and directly towards the burning white wall...

False stopped, viciously wiping a tear from her face. There was nothing to cry about, the moon had saved her. It had saved all of them. All twenty-five real hermits.

She woke up gasping, confused, trapped in a thick glass cylinder. For just a moment, she could hear the distant echoes of Gem's final scream for help, she saw into her neighbour's pod, the young ginger woman wrapped in disgusting teal vines, purple shards protruding from her head in a mockery of antlers, eyes a foul, despairing black. But she blinked, and the last of the nightmare faded. The next hermit alphabetically was GoodTimesWithScar, then Grian, then Hypnotizd... They had all woken up safely, albeit very confused indeed...

And now False was simply going to the canteen for a good meal before returning to her pod for another nap before Season 9. The hermits had all agreed that, despite it being a dream, their eighth world had been real enough in terms of experience, memories, friendships... It just wasn't fair, False thought. She had asked the Goatman about Gem. Pearl really had joined them part way through the journey, while the others were already asleep but before the simulation had been necessary, why had the Hermatrix added an artificial new player too?

The clone of Docm77 simply looked at her, pondering what to say, but deciding to say nothing. She too said nothing and left, turning back to look at him once more when she reached the doorway. He was facing away from her, his body slouched in a sadness he would not have shown if he'd known she was still watching. Silently, she walked away.

-------

The bunker wasn't going to work. Her escape plan was disintegrating. Gem was running out of options. But then, like a miracle, she heard its call. The crystal she had picked up one day while exploring Ren and Doc's impressive builds, shining like no magic she had seen before, promising an escape from the horrible moon and all its destructive power! At first she had thought it was an amethyst, but it wasn't quite the same. Like those tall plants she had been cultivating all season, not quite twisting vines. She smiled at the thought of some unknown, secret alien, something she could reach out to that no-one else would even notice!

(If only the world hadn't been ending, if only she hadn't been so desperate. Then perhaps she would have felt the darkness hidden there. Or rather, she would have felt it the same, but wouldn't have been so willing to convince herself otherwise. If only she'd waited a few months longer to join the hermits.)

She constructed a portal with its aid, and it felt like the first time she'd ever opened a nether portal. (The fear back then had been justified, but this time far more so. If only she had hesitated. If only she had known that there were worse things than being crushed by a moon.)

The moon and its fire would never touch her. She stepped into the warm cool dull embrace of the portal, engulfed by the moon's foe. (It was said that an enemy of an enemy was a friend, but she'd picked the wrong one.)

(If only it hadn't been quite as vicious, if only the moonlight could have still reached her as she stepped through the frame, if only they'd all just been a tiny bit luckier.)

-------

> Moonatrix Octa complete. 96.15% success rate. 1 hermit lost.

> I'm sorry :(

Renbob gasped, tears forming but he wouldn't let them fall.

"Oh, you did your best, Grumbot..." he assured the AI. "Goatman, what do we tell the hermits, man?"

"...We can make it easier for them to accept. They won't know the difference, having never met her in reality."

-------

BdoubleO100, King of Time, frowned at his enchanted pocket watch. 96%? Just another way of saying not good enough. He sighed, resigning himself to yet another iteration. Thankfully it was only barely starting to get boring. No, he wasn't complaining. He could do this forever! He hoped he didn't have to.

If you set up the exact same conditions over and over, perfectly identical, will they not give the exact same results, every time? A popular analogy states that a slight change in the use of an elytra will alter the airflow around it in that moment, which may eventually result in a thunderstorm that might otherwise not exist. But Bdubs would never let that happen, if things were even really that fragile in the first place. There was only one thing that changed over the loop, and that was the outside factor. The Nothing. The way it existed, Bdubs was sure that it was aware of what he had been doing. The Hermatrix's reaction to it was always exactly the same, but its success rate varied wildly. Events on the "server" played out identically, but the twistedness of the strange blue plants, the gleam of the purple crystals... It was always slightly different, and it never made any difference to anything other than the amount of people left intact at the end.

Of course, the first few times around had all been wildly different, but that was all on Bdubs. Once he decided to just do the exact same thing over and over, it got a lot easier. He pretty much had the full six months' script memorised perfectly, although minor variations didn't matter all that much. He had realised that there was really nothing he could do to impact the success of the Hermatrix, and that was probably for the best. All he could do was roll the dice, over and over and over, until he got lucky enough that every single hermit just happened to be saved. It honestly wasn't as bad as that time with the jungle. Living through the exact same relatively pleasant few months over and over was just about preferable to falling from the sky over and over for however long that had gone on. Pretending to react. Pretending not to notice the moon. Pretending not to care about those tiny patches of unnaturally blue grass sitting near his base, mocking him. He knew a 100% success rate was practically impossible, but he would never give up until he had saved everyone, and he knew the Nothing knew it too. It had never managed to get a hold on him, of course.

He wound back the clock, once again. The Cosy Fuzzy Mossy Time King. The ironic starter base, a holdover from the time he'd tried giving everyone subtle hints and warnings instead of just telling everyone what was going to happen like a crazy person. The Big Eye Crew, together in every loop in some way, even the ones where he'd gone totally off the rails. The mountain. (You think six months was long to wait for the cliffs and the caves? Try... how long had it been, now?) Tango's trap, the heists by Pearl and Keralis, all the pranks... Lulu, Squakers, and all the rest... The shopping district, all those woolframes never even close to filled. His perfect redstone, ha. If only they knew. The prank war, cut short by disaster. The horse course, destined to never be used. (That was what had finally convinced him not to bother changing anything. It had been an experiment, because everyone knew that horse breeding was random. The exact same horses were always born every time in the exact same order. The time loop was definitely stable.) Getting transferred to Last Life every weekend for a while. (The iterations where he'd convinced Grian not to go ahead with the brutal series had always ended up far, far worse, somehow.) His cheerful oblivious act, his death at the Mooners' hands, his final frantic message to Tango, his ironic victory lap of the world...

He woke up, again. Waited until the last second to check if he would have to do it all over again, again. Looked at his watch. And smiled.

99% success rate! Close enough. There was no erasing the Nothing, but all the hermits were as safe as could be! Finally!

Gem and False tearfully hugged a confused Stressmonster, the five members of Boatem ran around laughing as if they had no cares in the world, and he could see Keralis and Tango approaching him from different directions, both looking a little lost. All around them hermits were celebrating the end of the end of the world, and Bdubs smiled.

"Boy, that was crazy, huh guys?!"

They would never know. And finally, at long last, Bdubs could say:

"I can't wait to see what happens next season!"

#fanfic #hermitcraft #falsesymmetry #geminitay #bdoubleo100

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

How I Would Incorporate Sigyn (and Loki) into Avengers: Infinity War

Yes, I know Loki is already in Infinity War, but this is my version where he's not an idiot and so decides to fake his death rather than go toe to toe with Thanos, because that is actually the kind of shit Loki would pull.

Anyway, this is my rough outline for what I have planned for both Sigyn and Loki during the course of Infinity War. I like sharing these because I think if writers started sharing their notes, people would understand just how much work we put into writing fics. Please check out my Loki and Sigyn Masterlist if you're interested in more Logyn content.

Open with Thanos attack on the Asgardian ship

Include scene where everyone is evacuating; Thor is leading the charge to give everyone time to get to the escape pods

Loki stays behind to help Thor and insists Sigyn go with Valkyrie and the rest

He let out a frustrated breath. “I’m trying to do the right thing here!”

“Really? Because it sounds to be you’re just leaving me behind, again.”

“I’m trying to keep you safe. You’ve already paid for too many of my mistakes.”

Valkyrie ends up having to drag her into one of the pods, but as it launches it is revealed the Sigyn in the pod is only an illusion. Valkyrie lets out a curse as the illusion of Sigyn fades away

We then go to the same opening as the theatrical cut with Thanos dragging Thor along the floor, demanding the Tesseract

Add a beat with Loki catching a glimpse of movement in the rafters; a flicker of fear crosses his features before it quickly fades; he understands

Call back to “We have a Hulk” and Loki moves Thor out of danger

Thanos defeats the Hulk, but that’s not the end of it

Sigyn creates an illusion masking her and Thanos from his followers

She creates a chain, wrapping it around his neck before dropping down from the rafters; it’s not enough to break his neck, but the strain begins to strangle him; she pulls out her sword ready to stab him through the throat when he uses the Power Stone to knock her back, breaking the illusion

She landed hard one her back, the force of the blow knocking the air from her lungs. Her chest heaved with the effort to breath. She needed to move. She needed to get up. Basic survival pulled her to her elbows, but she did not get much further.

Thanos jerked his head, the chain she had created shattering to the floor. All at once, the folly of what she had attempted hit her like an anvil.

“Your bravery is commendable,” he said, taking a step towards her. “And your loyalty. You certainly have earned your title today. I hope that will be a comfort to you.”

Thanos moves to finish the job, but then Thor attacks turning Thanos’ attention towards him

With that moment’s distraction, Heimdall is able to send The Hulk and Sigyn away to safety

The same basic beats play out, but instead of going after Thanos with a butter knife, like an idiot, Loki thinks to fake his death one final time using an illusion to convince Thanos he's killed him

As the ships disintegrates, the illusion of Loki's corpse fades and Loki goes to his brother, creating a protective shield around them just before it explodes

Earth

Sigyn and Bruce crash land into the New York Sanctum

Bruce takes charge in info dumping to Strange about Thanos

Wong immediately recognizes Sigyn for previously breaking into Kamar-Taj, prompting him and Strange to be suspicious of her

“You broke into Kamar-Taj and tried to steal the Time Stone,” Wong accused.

“I snuck into Kamar-Taj and borrowed it,” Sigyn corrected. “Clearly, I did no permanent damage to you or it in the process.”

“How did you even know how to use it?” Strange asked.

“I’ve been studying magic for well over 900 years. It would be stranger if I didn’t. Besides, I think you’re missing the forest for the trees. Thanos is coming. Whatever crimes you deem me guilty of no longer matter.”

Strange brings Tony in which starts a whole new round of suspicion towards Sigyn

“This is Thor’s sister, Sigyn.”

“Thor has a sister,” Tony questioned.

“In-law,” Sigyn amended. “Thank you, Bruce, but we don’t have time for revelations later.”

“Please tell me Thor has some other sibling we don’t know about.”

“Well, there was Hela, but she’s dead now and had been locked away for a good two thousand years, so, no. I’m married to exactly the one you’re thinking of.”

“She’s fine Tony,” Bruce cut in. “She and Loki have a…complicated relationship, but she’s on our side.”

“You trust her,” Tony asked.

“Yeah.”

“Fine.”

“Not fine,” Strange cut in.

“You don’t exactly have a choice Doctor. Thanos is coming. You can’t defeat him on your own.”

Tony suggests they destroy the Time Stone; Sigyn is actually all for this plan but is the first the point out how difficult destroying a stone is so in the meantime it’s better to use it as a weapon against Thanos

“I presume you know how to use it?” she said, turning to Strange.

He narrowed his eyes. “Better than you.”

The ship appears overhead, Sigyn is quick to follow Strange and Tony out the front door

Strange does his little wink; Sigyn rolls her eyes

Sigyn puts her shields up at the same moment Strange and Wong do, including a sword

She sticks with Strange and Wong for most of the fight

Follows after Strange projecting platforms for her to run across until she too is beamed up to the ship

Peter and Sigyn get a moment to talk when he lands:

“Ah, Mrs. Loki, ma’am do you need help?”

“Lady Sigyn is fine. Shouldn’t you be in school?”

Peter gets pulled off by Tony and Sigyn tears open a hole big enough in the haul to climb through; she and Tony meet up after

SPACE

Loki and Thor get picked up by the Guardians

Drax on Loki: “He’s like if a different angel had a baby with a majestic elf.”

Words cannot express how much I need Drax to find all Asgardians, and Loki, extremely attractive

Loki decides to go to Knowhere to get the Reality Stone with the rest of the morons; his logic being, he won’t be able to wield any weapon strong enough to defeat Thanos anyway, he is thoroughly convinced a better Mjornir isn’t going to fix it and you can only defeat fire with fire.

Loki feels immense guilt for bringing destruction to his people and feels taking the Reality Stone to face Thanos is his best chance of making a difference

Knowhere

Loki overhears conversation between Peter and Gamora

“I could kill you now,” he offered.

“I’ll pass,” Gamora said, dryly.

He merely shrugged. “Suit yourself, but if you do change your mind, you’ll know where I’ll be.”

Peter gestures to hold, but Loki keeps moving

Loki tries to stop Drax from killing Thanos until they have the stones

Loki is hesitant to believe Thanos is really dead, and keeps his head down

Option 1) Thanos spots Loki and just incapacitates him

Option 2) Loki keeps his head down long enough to try to get a shot off at Gamora when Peter fails

Option 3) He stays hidden the entire time once he realizes Thanos has the Reality Stone and none of them stand a chance; this can cause tension between him and Quill later as Quill digs into him for doing nothing

Ebony Maw’s Ship

Sigyn is completely on Tony’s side and is shocked at Peter still being on the ship

“How old are you? Forty?”

“I’m sixteen.”

“Oh Gods, you’re all children.”

As soon as the Ebony Maw is shot out, Sigyn puts a shield around the haul, sealing it long enough for Tony to patch the hole

Even with them saving him, Strange still voices his doubts leaving Sigyn 112% percent done

“No, if I were Loki, I would had let you suffocate in the vacuum of space and leave your body to drift in the void for eternity. Needle,” she gestured to him, “meet Haystack,” she finished, pointedly looking out into the vastness of space just outside the ship. “I’ll take that thank you now.”

They argue how best to take on Thanos, and Sigyn ends up siding with Tony

“A fight is inevitable, Doctor,” she said. “You said yourself, the time stone may be the only tool we have to stop Thanos. If we go back to Earth and regroup, he will bring a bigger army than he did to New York. It truly is now or never.”

Include beat with Tony as they head to Titan

“I am hoping you have a better plan than a simple ambush.”

“Working on it,” Tony said, before glancing back at Strange. “Don’t tell me you took my side just to piss him off.”

“Please, Mr. Stark, what do you take me for?”

“Someone who thinks marrying Loki is a good idea.”

“I suppose that’s fair.”

Titan

Strange and Sigyn put a protective shield around the ship as they crash land

The Guardians attack, but Loki pauses when he sees who they’re fighting

Sigyn and Loki stared out at the ensuing battle as they came to a realization.

“We should probably—” Sigyn began.

“Let them figure it out on their own,” Loki finished.

“No.”

They get involved, Loki putting a knife to Quill’s throat while Sigyn puts herself between Tony and Quill

Once they’ve cleared everything up, Tony tries to make a plan which prompts Loki to try and assert dominance

“Clearly, I should be the one leading this mission.”

“I’m going to stop you right there Reindeer Games. Because last I checked your last big plan ended in you losing.”

“I also have the best insight into how Thanos operates.”

“Not sure if you want to bring that up as a selling point."

All this escalates to Loki getting fed up and making a move towards Tony; Sigyn reaches for him, but Mantis grabs him first. The moment she does, she lets out a cry of surprise. Tony goes on the defensive, but the rest of the Guardian realize what’s happening.

“What did you do to me,” Loki hissed, as tears leaked down his face.

“You are in pain,” Mantis said, her own tears falling.. “You feel guilt and anger. You are afraid. Afraid of losing. Of losing her. You cannot lose, again.”

Loki straightens up, trying to gain back some of his dignity as his heart was laid bare against his will just as Strange comes out of his vision

While they wait, Loki and Sigyn are able to catch a moment alone

“Why didn’t you go,” he whispered.

“It’s not in my nature.”

He looked to her, his eyes softening. “I suppose it’s not. You’d think I’d know that by now.”

“Yes, you would, wouldn’t you?”

Thanos arrives on Titan: Loki and Sigyn lay in ambush as Strange let’s Thanos monologue

Loki and Sigyn run magic support, Loki focuses on illusions making Thanos punch at air with various different Tonys, Peters, and Stranges while Sigyn focuses on defense shielding from attacks and going for death of a thousand cuts rather than one big attack

Loki starts helping Peter and Tony with the gauntlet while Sigyn helps Strange keep Thanos’ other hand down

When Quill starts beating on Thanos, Sigyn pulls out a sword and moves to start hacking only to be knocked back

Strange, Sigyn, and Loki all come at Thanos is a proper wizards duel

“How many times do I have to kill you?!” Thanos growled.

Loki only smirked. “At least once more.”

Thanos takes out Sigyn then Loki then Strange before Tony comes in for the rescue

Loki and Sigyn are knocked out of the fight when Strange hands over the Time Stone to Thanos

Loki gets Sigyn to her feet, she’s a little shaky, but alright. They may have lost but as far as Loki is concerned the fact they both made it out is enough.

The make their way towards Tony and Strange just as Mantis feels something change in the air, right before she turns to dust

Drax and Peter go next leaving them both in shock

Sigyn feels something change and looks down in time to see her hand disappear

“Loki?” Her voice and eyes were full of fear.

On instinct he reached for her, moving his hand to her cheek.

“Sigyn—”

His touch never found her, only air and dust. She was gone.

#sigyn #loki #logyn #loki x sigyn #marvel #mcu #avengers: infinity war #infinity war #tony stark #doctor strange #thanos #loki odinson #loki laufeyson

[goldafterglow]

hold me in the meadows

Summary: You are Ezra’s dreamcatcher and he is your burrow.

Request: “The sleepy prompts!! Lovely! Can you do “I have had nightmares every night for the past three weeks and now they’re gone because of you, how did you do that?” with (can you guess??) EZRA” - the love of my life, @opheliaelysia

Pairing: Ezra (Prospect) x Reader

Word Count: 4.6k+

Tags: angst?, fluff, more metaphors that don’t mean anything, weird touching lol idk what the fuck this fic is, this is also not beta read so send the flood send the flu

Author’s Note: If you left a like or comment or reblog on Dissolve Me I’m telling you with as little shame as is humanly possible that I definitely reread it at least 3 times. Feedback means the word to me! also this was supposed to be a 500 word drabble and now it’s over 4.5k words if that tells you anything about me. I apologize in advance I think I’ve really outdone myself w/ my bullshit this time

Gif Credit: @pascvl; Also shout out to @pascalplease sorry I spammed you for nothing dsfgdsg

Ezra is staring at you.

He’d met you on one of those toxic moons, one of those deceitfully picturesque mirages where the dust glitters like lily petals but the air would kill you before you could think to appreciate it. You were a floater; a nomad with no place to call home, but you figured you liked it that way. Homes were permanent. They set lives and futures in cobblestone and trapped spirits in gated properties, keeping just about anything and everything tethered under the farce of security. Homes make paraffin casings around dragonfly wings and turn footprints to concrete. So you never had one, and you never wanted one. Ezra had found you amusing. You had found him to be better company than just yourself. So with great reluctance, you established a partnership. Not one forged in steel or bronze but something still fleeting, its true meaning always escaping your lips like a forgotten thought. It’s too much work to try and think about it anyway.

You had let him invite you to reside in his tent. It took coaxing, required copious amounts of golden honey spilling from Ezra’s tongue to get you to tenaciously stick to him, but you were no match for his silver tongue. He did everything he could to assure that this wasn’t a habitat, but merely a shelter - a thing that could be taken down and built back up somewhere else, anywhere you wanted. So you had obliged. He let you take the cot closest to the zipper door; you liked being closer to the exit, just a rotation away from being back on your feet. He tries to let you truly feel like if you wanted to escape, wanted to elope with liberty and run away from the loose bonds of the canopy, you could.

Three weeks of sleeping adjacent to him and you still don’t want to.

Ezra is used to temporary relationships. He has done his fair share of companion hopping, although he wasn’t really making an effort to do so. It scares him a little - why can’t he make anyone stay, make anything last? Partners passed him by, either to traverse on their lonesome or to stay with that greedy man in the eternal sky. Teams disbanded around him like glass castles shattering in his wake. Ezra, whether he liked it or not, was accustomed to transience.

He is not, however, accustomed to fearing that sharp brevity. Ezra is constantly on his toes around you, frequently wondering if he’s pushing you away or pulling you closer. You aren’t skittish, don’t constantly question everything he says or get offended by the sound of his voice, but he’s still scared of losing you. Every time he looks into your eyes he sees wonder, a certain fascination with life that he tries so hard to match because he wants to find things as beautiful as you do. As beautiful as you are. He wants to mis-quote your favorite novels that you force him to read so that you’ll scold him so affectionately and tell him that perhaps he had garnered a little brain damage from his previous escapades. He wants to trip over tree roots that have herniated through the soil so you can laugh at him, maybe lay there on the grass with him for a little bit. Just a little bit.

In your own mind, you are guarded. You try your very best not to get too personal, too deep, too much. Because you don’t like it when people can see your flushed, bloody insides. You just know that the moment you open your chest, someone will steal your heart right out of your rib cage and like the pass of a hummingbird, all of your secrets will be free to float in the breeze like the ashes of your lost quintessence; it’ll all be gone and then you’ll really be empty.  So how could you ever know what you mean to Ezra?

He knows what a truly locked up person looks like. He’s spent hundreds of cycles with people that don’t make a noise. He’s sat in bustling pods of people and felt like the only man in the room, like solitary confinement for his mind. No, you are not some warning-covered steel box, padlocked and duct-taped and glued shut so that even if he’s sitting right next to you, he’ll have nothing more than his own voice bounce to off of your walls and fly right back to him. You’re a music box, a gold-trimmed heart-shaped sound bottle, and he learns that if he winds you up the right way, you’ll sing so pretty for him.

He has spent so long talking, nonsensically making those arbitrary noises burst out of his throat until they lose all meaning, but finally, for the first time in so fucking long, Ezra gets to listen.

He listens to you tell him you think his hair is stupid and that sometimes he smells bad. He listens to you lament about barren dig-sites and wasted time, about how it’s so fucking hot in your suit. He listens to you fantasize about touching the trees, burying your face in your flowers and squeezing the moss in your hands. About drowning in the river so that your body is filled with the water and then rolling in the sand so that it all sticks to you and you have to dive back in to clean off. About feeling something.

Sometimes, Ezra just wants to hear something other than his own voice. And you’re the cold towel to his inflamed skin, refreshing and addictive. You’re much braver than you think, so much stronger than you give yourself credit for, because for once, Ezra can talk into the forest and know that there’s someone to listen besides the leaves. He doesn’t feel alone.

Every night, when the moon has turned its back on the narcissistic Sun and opened its arms to the thousands of other stars, each just a prick of light but understanding of their place in the tapestry of the darkness, the two of you retire to that tent. You both redress into comfortable clothes, backs turned on each other under the guise of respect, and climb into your respective cots. Ezra would turn off that shitty lantern that illuminated the enclosure, and your shadows would dissipate into the darkness.

Except Ezra’s shadows don’t disappear; they hide. They blend into the black and mold into one man-engulfing untamable beast to possess Ezra’s throat. And they manifest again in his mind. They poison that movie that plays once you slip consciousness, instills fear into his bone marrow until he doesn’t feel safe in his own body, his own thoughts.

These slumber illusions haunt Ezra. His right arm waves at him in his sleep, the souls to which he was the conduit bridging life and death haunt his diaphragm with toothy grins to mock him, screeching into his cavities. They remind him that he was never really alone because he has the suffocating embrace of those spirits that are sewn so tight to his eyelids. Every night he somehow manages to pull himself from the darkness only for his own demons to pull him back by the throat. He is always oscillating between consciousness and unconsciousness, being tossed around like a helpless rag with no hope of liberation. Nothing scares him more than his own thoughts.

And you know. You know all of it. How could you not? You were born a tumbleweed, wandering across desolation, so of course you’re a light sleeper. And you can hear Ezra’s choked cries, his tossing and turning as he drains himself of any sense of safety. But this man is a stranger to you. He is just a person you reside with, talk to all the time, nudge gently and tease and smile with. He is just the person that you wake up wanting to see, whose attention you always crave. A stranger.

So every night you turn your body to face the zipper of the tent and pretend that you can’t hear him cry. Pretend that you don’t sometimes cry with him. A pretty lavender lie that smells sweet, tastes sweeter.

You, in your cowardice, let him destroy himself. Watch as the bags under his eyes get bigger and greyer and the strings holding his shoulders up lose their tension.

Ezra, in his flawed cratered embodiment, is only human. And he had gone so long without holding anyone, without being held. He knows what he wants, knows who he wants. But he also knows how jittery you are, how fluttery your heart is, and he doesn’t want to approach it too fast lest he startle you and you fly off into the stars. But he can’t keep doing this, can’t live with himself when he knows he’s not the one in control but those horned, slimy creatures that claw at his maxilla with their venomous grins.

The lights are out in the tent per usual, so Ezra can’t really see you. His careful eyes can trace the outline of the curves of your body - or is it that his delusional eyes are envisioning some arbitrary glow around you, convincing him that what he’s seeing is real? Reality is a concept with which he is no longer familiar.

You, laying in your cot, decide that you just can’t take it anymore. You can’t stand to let this intruder of your life break you down the way he is without even trying. How dare he look into you, how dare he listen to you without passing judgement, how fucking dare he make you feel like a flower in bloom?

Ezra hears your breaths - they’re uneven. You haven’t gone to sleep. What are you waiting for?

“Ezra?” you practically squeak into the void. His ears perk up immediately; your cotton candy voice is enticing to him, flossing its way through his veins.

“What are you doing up, birdie?” Ezra asks softly, the air of his lungs floating on top of his words. He doesn’t mean to keep you awake, but he isn’t mad that you are. It’s stimulating his nerves enough to keep himself awake, and that’s something he probably won’t ever be able to repay you for.

“I-um….” Shit. You hadn’t expected to get this far. What would you say to him? How could you tell him that you wanted to help cleanse him, that you wanted to grovel in lime-coated thumb tacks with him and absorb his pain into your tissue paper skin? “I can’t sleep.”

Not a lie. Ezra knows you mean it. He just doesn’t know why.

“Well that won’t suffice,” he decides, outstretching his left arm blindly off the edge of his cot until his fingers brush against what he’s looking for: that goddamn lantern. With a little more fumbling, a weak but good enough orange glow is emitted on the floor between the two of you. You both catch each other’s pitiful gaze. You want to take care of each other, want to shield each other from the red sprites that nip angrily at each other’s hearts. Ezra holds his left arm out to you, tentatively. He’s never been more unsure in his life. He watches you glance at his arm, and then quickly to the side. You’re trying to decide if you’ll let him add another tether to you. If you’ll let him become something sewed so tight to your bleeding skin that to leave would rip you apart.

You slowly get up and walk over to his cot.

Ezra lets out a soft breath and his lips turn to a soft smile. He’s soft.

“C’mere, dandelion” he mumbles to you, and he hasn’t missed his right arm so much as in this moment. He wants to hold you properly, wants to keep you as close to him as possible. You’re hesitant, and he can tell. You’ve never been this close to him before, and you want to savor it. When your head finally touches his shoulder, it’s like a catalyst ignites underneath the two of you. You mold into each other the way the gods intended, like lake water seeping into the smallest of crevices of an empty river bed. Like the opposing poles of two magnets, like a key penetrating a lock. Like you were made for each other. Your arms immediately wrap around him, his neck now a fixture of your body, and his arm leads you to lay down on the cot. Without words, without that candid discourse that Ezra was so fond of, his face is buried into the warmth of your chest and he feels like you’ve cast an ethereal shield around him.

Ezra doesn’t need to hold you tight because you’re holding him tighter, like you’re trying to cling to something invisible and foreign before it can even think to leave you. Before it realizes that it doesn’t want you. Don’t leave. He can feel you breathe him in, face smashed against his wild hair, and he can’t blame you because he’s breathing you in too.

“Sweetheart-” he breathes, fanning against your skin in a way that sends a deep shiver down your spine and shakes your shoulders.

“Shh.” And for once in his cursed life, he’s speechless. There’s so much, too much that he wants to say to you, but his mind is shouting all of it at him at once and he doesn’t even know where to start. So he shuts the fuck up. He feels you. He feels your heat melt him until he can barely control his own muscles because they’ve gone limp, unable to perform a single contraction because his fibers are relaxed, are at peace.

He doesn’t know when he falls asleep.

When Ezra wakes, you’re still sweet and motionless around him. The lamp was still on, still shining pathetically on the ground. He doesn’t feel the need to look around or squeeze his lids closed in an attempt to wring the bad rest out of him.

Rest?

He thinks fucking hard. When had he woken up last night? When had his banshees infiltrated his thoughts and cried into the void of his packed mind? All he can recall are caramel dreams, whipped cream clouds and berry trampolines for him to jump high into the cotton candy sky. He thinks he might like it that way. Maybe every night can be like that, every morning can feel this transcendent.

He hears you moan quietly as you stir not long after him, breaths shuddering on their way out of your nose as you slowly come to your senses.

“Good morning, birdie,” Ezra finally says. He doesn’t know what to say to you, what he can say to you, without making you flip a switch and realize that it’s all a mistake, that he is a mistake. His eardrums smile as your sleepy whining settles.

“Morning, Ezra,” you whisper, throat not ready to talk yet. It’s okay; you’d rather hear him talk to you anyway.

“Did you…were you able to achieve some sort of comfort?” Ezra asks. For a second you’re confused until you remember what you’d told him last night, and you realize that you’re holding him the same way you were when you’d gone to sleep. He hadn’t woken up.

“Yeah, Ezra,” you finally say after letting yourself simmer in the silence for a second. “Thank you.”

He smiles wide against your skin, the blunt tip of his excitement the battering ram that beats against his racing heart. He’s given you something worthy of your gratefulness, and the feeling of being worthy light his chest with blue flames.

“It’s not my intention to blow you away, dandelion,” Ezra says, his nerves manifesting into his characteristic breathy laughs, “but I can’t deny how direly I want to just touch you.” You feel the air get knocked out of you as your diaphragm begins to spasm; what is he asking? You’ve thought about it before; god, of course you’ve thought about it before. To lay back as you let him study you, memorize you and then let you do the same. Analyze the sculpted marble of his body to remind yourself why you love it so much.

“Please.”

It’s barely a whisper, a secret told to the wind, but Ezra hears you. Ezra always hears you.

So Ezra’s fingers begin to wander along your skin. He wants to map out the scars on your body, wants to learn the shape of you so intimately that he could remodel you if he wanted to. He wants to know your body the way he knows when you’re disappointed or frustrated or amazed or confused. He wants to just know.

You feel the calloused pads of Ezra’s fingers put a little pressure onto that dip of your thoracic vertebrae, draw circles above your hip right under the fabric of your sweatshirt, caress your shoulder. He’s slowly exposing your skin to the humid chill of the dank enclosure, carefully making your top cover less and less of you, but you’ve never felt warmer.

As Ezra’s mind begins to really warm up and the cogs begin to grease themselves, his words begin to flow out the way you’re used to. The way you’ve learned to love.

“Sweetheart, I have had nightmares every night for the past three weeks and now they’re gone,” he blurts. Fuck. His hand stutters against the small of your back. He’s done it now, he’s really gone and blown it, because now you know he’s fucking broken and you’re smart enough to know when to avoid damaged goods. You have to know that if you were to take your hands and try and feel him you’d just get bumps and ridges and cracks. But Ezra is selfish, can’t help himself or his thoughts, so he keeps rambling. “It is not my intention to come off as presumptuous, but I just know it’s because of you. How did you do that, birdie? You never told me you were sent to me as a dreamcatcher.”

You can’t help but smile into his scalp a little at his words. You didn’t mind taking all of his bad dreams and refracting them far away into the space between the stars for him. A light, breathy laugh rolls off your tongue like a huff, because fuck, if you were going to be embroidered to something it might as well be him.

Your breath hitches again as the back of his hand runs flat along your stomach. It travels back around and up to the nape of your neck, tracing your shoulders and then over to your clavicles, paying close attention to the dips. You can’t help but wonder if this means as much to him as it does to you; it means everything to you.

“You’re right. I’ve been holding out on you all this time,” you say, and he can hear you smile through the roses of your words. He slowly and with purpose lifts his head from your embrace so that he can look up at you, maybe even catch a glimpse of that pretty grin of yours and burn it onto his lenses.

“I’m not confident that you’ll ever know how fortuitous I was the day I met you.” Ezra’s voice is low as he speaks, his drawl stretching and fraying the ends of his words, and you soak in every last syllable. You soak in the meaning of his words. He feels lucky to have you.

You look down at him, bringing a hand to run through his hair. That stupid blonde streak snatches your attention for a moment and you thumb at the strands. You want to tease him about it, mock him a little, but you don’t. The moon marine in your arms holds so much unbridled beauty, and it’s all yours to look at.

Ezra is all yours to look at.

Ezra’s hand travels up to your face, cupping your cheek while his thumb toys with the corner of your mouth in a way that makes you bite your lip through a smile. Throwing all caution to the wind, you turn your head and press a shy kiss to the heel of his palm. Ezra’s skin burns where you’ve sanctified him. His hand begins to crave your touch in other ways, he is craving something more from you, but he knows he does far too much taking. He’s already taken so much from you, has already stolen so many moments from you out of sheer gluttony, but it’s not always his fault because you’re so giving. He knows you were a little hollow from the start, knows you were a little frayed in the first place, but still you share your thoughts and companionship with him because whether you know it or not, you’re a little taken by this space mutineer. If you fled this little thing you’ve built with him, you’d be leaving the prettiest parts of yourself behind for him to keep taking care of the way a mother makes her son’s bed after he leaves for college because what if you want to come back?

But you haven’t left, haven’t abandoned him and in turn, yourself. You’re right here, letting him bask in your reverent lavender radiation, and as he looks at how you’re giving off your own intrinsic glow because the shitty orange light on the ground isn’t enough, he knows he hasn’t earned it. He doesn’t think this is a very fair transaction at all, but he’s too selfish to stop you from paying a little extra. You’ll let him keep the change.

Ezra wordlessly lifts his head, nosing at your wrist so that you’ll bring it lower and let him kiss the delicate skin there. He looks up at you with wide, eager eyes of adoration. His feelings for you are beginning to bubble underneath the surface of his silk-lined thoughts and he is willing them to stay at that low simmer because he doesn’t want to think about anything except how fucking gorgeous you look in the lamplight.

“I’m growing rather fond of the way you feel against me,” Ezra finally says. Everything is so foreign now, so new, so he tries to do the one thing you both know, the one routine you can both dance without needing to think about it: talking.

“I like it too Ezra,” you giggle. Not a long, flittery one, but a pass of air with a note under it. You’re a little nervous too.

“I reckon I could get accustomed to this,” he whispers. Your lip betrays you, curling itself to reveal your reply before you even say it. Your teeth capture your lower lip for the act of treason, but it’s too late. “But I’d just hate it if I made you feel like you’re bearing my baggage.”

“Ezra, you don’t have crippling baggage,” you insist. What is this man talking about? You were the one with issues. You were the one that had to be convinced to stay with him, you were the one that insisted on the right cot, you were the real coward here. You were broken. “Everyone has their demons. There is so much more inside of you. You’re so full.”

Ezra’s eyes go a little wide at your words. You didn’t think he was half a man? Some incomplete mosaic that would never find his missing pieces?

“You flatter me,” he chuckles; no, he giggles.

“Well…I just figured there’s no way a broken man could handle his broken partner the way you deal with me.” His expression melts into something more than pity and less than ignorance - confusion. The tap in Ezra’s tongue pops loose and his words begin to cascade from his lips like some majestic phenomenon, like holy water spraying the filth off of your brow.

“I need you to look at me, firefly.” His voice is more stern now, his words more articulate as he shifts up the bed slightly so that he’s eye level with you. He’s still on his side, his left hand is still gripping the flesh at your hip. “I don’t think you’ll ever truly comprehend how much you’ve done for me these past cycles, but this life is quiet and toilsome. You’re capable of recognizing beauty in things I wouldn’t have even taken note of in the first place, and I hang onto your every utterance whether you’re aware or not. It’s easy for me to sit here and tell you how bad I always want you because you fill my thoughts, pretty dandelion. And if someone came here and regurgitated your exact words to me, it still wouldn’t hold a candle to the way you sing when you wonder out loud. I don’t need to ‘deal’ with you, sweet rose. I want you.”

Your lip quivers a little; you know Ezra likes talking to you, he’s told you before. But you couldn’t help but assume Ezra just likes talking, period. That he liked having you around about as much as he’d enjoy the company of any other talker. To think that someone wants you, your passions and afterthoughts and pondering notions, meant more than anything you could articulate.

“Ezra-” you start, but you cut yourself off. You want to let his words turn into condensation on your skin, to form little rain clouds above your head so that they pour back down on you in delicate drops. You want to let him linger, to sit and hang above you like the sky hangs above the ocean.

You look straight at him, deep into his inquiring brown eyes as you both begin to breathe the same air, scents mingling between you like the heat between two stars. His nose is right up against yours and you can feel his lashes caress your cheekbone. He’s so close, but you want him closer, need him to move his hand or blink his eyes or do something, because you can’t take the nothingness anymore when you’ve got everything pressed right up against your face.

Ezra decides he wants one last thing from you.

“My rose, I don’t want to ask too much of you, but I suppose if that were true I wouldn’t have invited you to stay with me anyway. In the tent, of course. Not the cot.” Fuck, what was he saying? He lets out a soft laugh as he tries to reorganize his thoughts, a blushing mess under your gaze because he’s so used to knowing exactly how to get what he wants, but he’s really pushing your boundaries and bending your fence posts now. You’re turning him into a man who fumbles, a man who doesn’t always have to know what he’s about to say, and he doesn’t mind being a little less talk around you and a lot more touch.

Suddenly, he’s reminded of what he wanted to ask you.

“Sweet creature, could I kiss you?”

You don’t miss a beat in this soft ballad you’re playing with him, letting out a gentle “yeah, Ezra.”

You don’t like homes, don’t like to be told that you’re forever nailed to walls and wood. But maybe, as Ezra’s scruffy chin leans up to slot his lips against yours, you could build a tent in him. Maybe this leaky soul was your permanent, your unyielding, your perpetual.

As Ezra tilts his head towards you with a soft moan so he can kiss you the way you deserve, speak to you through the blinding sensation of his mouth telling you how he wants you, needs you, loves you, without using a single word, he is confident that his hollow cavities are beginning to be filled by your amber essence. He can tell you’re letting yourself finally take root in him, clearing out the wretched foliage so that you can curl up in the meadow of his soul and rest your bones within him.

Yeah.

You’re home.

people who asked to be tagged:  @bobafvtt @catfishingmorales@keeper0fthestars @1zashreena1 @blancatobarxoxo @honeyedspace @cryptkeepersoul

people who definitely didn’t ask to be tagged oops: @glowingpena @bestintheparsec @ezrasarm @murdermewithbooks

not me tagging strangers for clout-

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be added/removed to my tags, I promise I’m not scary💕

#ezra x reader #ezra (prospect) #ezra prospect x reader #angst #sleepy prompts #pedro pascal #fluff #this was for what? #this was supposed to be so short #so quick #i spent the whole entire day writing this #does it make sense? #of course not #does it ever? #same answer #not gonna ask anymore of these requests #clearly I don't know how to control myself sksdfjgf

[rjhpandapaws]

Deviations of Life

Prologue: A Bullet for Your Efforts

//Temporary character death

When he opened his eyes he was still in his stasis pod. There was another RK800 that was active, there was no reason for him to be online. The pod around him began to fade into a garden, his mind palace. This shouldn’t be active either, something was wrong.

Amanda greeted him with a nod and a stiff smile, “You must be confused.”

“One unit is already active. There is no reason for my being activated as well.” He responded.

“Your predecessor has tragically failed in his mission. It is your job to bring him in by any means necessary.” Amanda continued, “Your memory upload is almost complete, search them and find the best course of action. If you happen to fail as well we will be forced to disassemble you and the Deviants will continue to run loose.”

He nodded, “The Lieutenant would be the best way of finding it. He would know its plans.”

“You have a plan then, good.” She smiled, and it felt good to have his approval, “Do not fail us or you will be next.”

With that the garden began to fall away and RK800-60 was left on his own. He had a Lieutenant to find and a rogue android to take down. He stepped out of the stasis pod and made his way to street level to call a cab. He would be able to go over 54′s memories on the way and come up with a workable ruse to get to his predecessor.

He got into the cab, but in the Lieutenant’s address and began to filter through 54′s memories to find the best course of action. It was an odd thing, to watch the slow change from Deviant Hunter to Deviant. It seemed to have been the Lieutenant’s doing, he seemed to have seen something in 54 that simply wasn’t there. He would have to be careful. He knew that getting too close to this detective could be dangerous.

54 was at CyberLife tower, it had plans to do something there but it had locked those memories away. He was going to have to lie, and pretty convincingly at that. Failure wasn’t an option for him. The cab came to a stop outside of 115 Michigan Drive and RK800-60 took a moment to go over his plan before he stepped out. He needed Hank to cooperate at least as far as the cab, after that he was expendable.

He schooled his expression into one of moderate distress, placed a couple of missed calls on Hank’s phone for authenticity, and then raised his hand to knock on the door. Hank answered right away and Rk800-60 could smell the whiskey on him from where he stood. The mix of intoxication and false distress should make this easy enough.

“Hank, I called and you didn’t answer.” He said with faux fear in his voice, “I ran into some trouble and need your help.”

Hank’s face went through a trip of expressions, “Alright, I don’t know how much help I’ll be though.”

He stepped aside so Hank could make his way to the cab and then followed. He scanned Hank and found his side arm, if he was intoxicated enough it would be easy. He would have to get closer in order to learn what the Lieutenant’s BAC was, and since he didn’t have all of the information about Hank and 54′s relationship so he wasn’t sure how much of a risk that would be. he was comfortable enough to have followed him without proof of distress, but that could easily be due to the years he spent in this profession. It would be safe to wait until they were in the elevator then. There would be fewer options for escape then.

“Connor, you are thinking too loudly. Is everything alright?” Hank asked as he placed a hand on RK800-60′s shoulder, “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

RK800-60 hesitated for a moment, deflecting the question might come across as suspicious, but he only had access to 54′s memories up until it had deviated. He didn’t know what would actually be wrong, “It’s nothing. I’m just thinking about the best way to do this.”

It was the truth and it seemed to satisfy Hank as well. The Lieutenant gave him a slow nod. Apparently he was used to 54 cutting himself off to plan things out. RK800-60 couldn’t tell if that was because they communicated well or if the Lieutenant had resigned himself to his role.

They arrived at CyberLife tower and RK800-60 got out first and headed toward the building. He couldn’t fail at this, he would be taken apart of he did, and if that happened their whole line would be deemed a failure. They would be replaced and it would all be 54′s fault. That model would not be walking out of the tower. RK800-60 would not be another failure. He would be the one to stop Deviancy, the one to survive.

Something in RK800-60′s code had shaken loose, it wasn’t enough to count as an instability, but something had started. Beneath the surface something had changed and it wouldn’t be stopped.

They entered the building cautiously, and the Lieutenant turned out to be the one to suggest that they take the elevator. That was one less step for him which was good. The easier this went the better. Killing Hank wasn’t entirely necessary, but if the Lieutenant got in the way there would be no hesitation on his part. A human sympathetic to Deviants would only get in the way.

As soon as the doors to the elevator closed RK800-60 made his move. Hank was more difficult to subdue than he had predicted, but once he had the gun things went more smoothly. The click of the safety was all it took for Hank to go stock still. There would be no winning and he knew that,

“You aren’t Connor.” The Lieutenant finally said once his mind had caught up to what was happening to him.

“No Lieutenant.” He said flatly, “I am not. I am the one that is going to put an end to this. Starting with you if I must.”

“He won’t let you.” Hank spat, “The revolution is already underway. You won’t be able to stop them all.”

“I will have its human at gunpoint, it will let me do as I please.” He responded with confidence, “I don’t need to stop them all, just this one.”

“Then what?” Hank pressed, “You’ll be shut down. With no revolution you will have no purpose.”

“I will have completed my mission.” He retorted, but something else in his code shook loose, and this time he had felt it. Something was wrong, “I will be the model that was a success.”

“Will you really?” Hank smirked.

RK800-60 raised the gun into the detective’s line of sight, “I would use caution Lieutenant, I am what dictates your survival.”

“You wouldn’t kill me in here.” Hank deflected, “You need me.”

“Alive, yes, but not necessarily conscious. So if you wish to see your Connor again you would be wise to hold your tongue.” He watched as the Lieutenant set his jaw stubbornly but complied. Connor clearly meant enough to him that seeing it again before it was killed was significant. Perhaps they were close after all. He could work with this.

He grabbed Hank and lead him out into the sublevel when the elevator doors opened. 54 was reaching for one of the androids that was in stasis. He was going to try and spread Deviancy.

“I wouldn’t 54.” He called into the room, “If you touch any of those androids I will put an end to your Lieutenant.”

“I’m sorry Con.” Hank said as 54 turned to face them, “This bastard looks just like you.”

54 faced them fully. His eyes traveled to the Lieutenant first scanning him for injuries before they moved on to RK800-60. 54′s eyes narrowed and he straightened up his posture some.

“Do you really think you can move faster than a bullet Connor?” RK800-60 pressed as he nudged at Hank’s temple with the pistol, “Is this human really important enough for you to risk?”

54 hesitated, as all Deviants did. They had something to lose. The illusion of feelings the errors to their code allowed them to believe they had found, and the false lives they tried to build on top of them. It gave them pause, a pause RK800-60 didn’t have to take. It was a pause that kept him distracted though, too busy attempting to predict 54′s movements that he miscalculated the variable that was one Lieutenant Anderson.

He hadn’t been holding on to the Lieutenant tight enough. The man threw his weight back knocking RK800-60 off balance. 54 chose to make his move then, charging at RK800-60 and shoving him away from the Lieutenant. RK800-60 was distantly aware of the gun falling from his hand and clattering to the floor. He was more concerned with subduing the Deviant. He wasn’t going to be the one to die here.

They were trying to get at each other. RK800-60 was using his preconstructions, trying to use reason to predict its moves. It seemed more like 54′s movements were fueled by anger, it was taking shots that RK800-60 never would have risked. They had about a minute of struggling for the upper hand before the heard the sound of the pistol’s safety clicking off.

“Alright, that’s enough.” Hank snapped as they separated, “One of you is my partner, and one of you is a lying sack of shit. It’s time to figure out which is which.”

RK800-60 and 54 stood keeping distance between them and staring at Hank. RK800-60 was running preconstructions. There was a small chance he could get to Hank before he fired the gun, but it was a low enough percentage that he didn’t move. He would probably be able to beat hank at his own game. The Lieutenant was only human after all. They weren’t all that smart most of the time.

He had not only failed, but he had nearly Deviated. As he had been promised, with Deviancy came death. Connor would get his life and RK800-60 would get nothing. His story ended here.

“What is the name of my dog.” Hank asked moving the gun between the two of them.

“Sumo.” RK800-60 said cutting off 54′s similar response.

“Hank, he has my memory, I’m the real Connor.” 54 placated, trying his best to reason with Hank.

The Lieutenant seemed to waver for a moment, “What was the name of my son?”

RK800-60 found himself searching through all of the information he had access to about Hank, but he came away with nothing. Not in 54′s memories, and not in the few records CyberLife had given him access to. This had to be a trick question, there was no way 54 would know the answer if he didn’t.

“His name was Cole.” 54 said inching closer to the Lieutenant, “It wasn’t your fault, your car slid on black ice and there was no human surgeon available. He died under the hands of an android and that’s why you hate us.”

RK800-60 watched 54 disarm the Lieutenant with just his words and felt whatever had been trying to shake itself loose of his code finally break free. He had the moments it took Hank to process the words of 54 to come to terms with the fact that this was where his life would end. He got to see the start of the software instability notification before he heard the gun go off. There was a moment of fear and then nothing.

#Deviations of Life #DoL #dbh hank #dbh connor #dbh sixty #dbh fic #dbh #daniel60 #daniel x sixty #dbh daniel

[bccfggffbgv]

Azem: I actually helped him master such techniques after he made temporary use of them during the…I’ll just say immersive retelling of the battle with the Endsinger. (Trixie and Pheony tuned to Azem after hearing this) There’s many other ways to use Aether, actually. To demonstrate…

(Azem switched to Black Mage, having decided to deal with two birds with one stone and deal with an incoming drop pod. It was easily diverted by the powerful, explosive burst of Fire IV. It was then prevented from readjustment by being frozen over by Blizzard IV. It was pretty surprising, and it was only two attacks. Some where also thankful that the pod was diverted due to who sent it…but the senders didn’t exactly anticipate the pod they tracked being diverted by someone using magic)

(A.N. JCJenson, meet the Warrior of Light. Now, if you don’t clean up your act massively, prepare for massive losses, if not death. Don’t think cash will save you either.)

*The drones had unfortunately survived the crash and were heading their way over here*

Luz, while somewhat nervous: They wouldn't kill innocent people just to get to the drones right? *One of the Murder Drones began firing at Luz, Amity, Willow, and Gus, who thankfully made illusions of them all to get to safety* Dios mio, they would!!

*Suddenly, a motorcycle had jumped off one of the hills and rammed into one of the drones, Serial designation N-1*

Z4N3: 'Sup! *He grabbed out a special Drone killing shotgun and fired at the soulless drone point blank*

(Note: The dash numbered drones are meant to be mindless/husk like replacements for missing and/or dead Disassembly Drones)

#Multiversal Fusion #crystalverse #Chaos-verse

[the-sympathetic-villain]

The Stowaway’s Heart - Chapter 2

AO3 | Previous | Next | Masterpost

Description:  Virgil is rescued by selkies after being abandoned at sea and brought back to their pod to recover. Virgil's poor, gay heart may just explode from how attractive they all  are.

Pairings: Analogical, Platonic Logince (There may be more as I go along!)

Word Count: 5148

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, Sensory overload, Dehydration, Anxiety, Fainting (Let me know if I need to add anything!)

Author’s note: I thought this chapter was going to go up like a week after the first, but I wrote it, edited twice, lost 3 hours of editing before deciding to scrap it and start over. But I’m much happier with it now <3 With any luck, Chapter 3 will not take as long!

-

    Shadows shifted slowly around Virgil as he floated through the empty void surrounding him. The distant noise of his own vague thoughts echoed in his mind,  gone before he could even process them. He listened to the murmuring of his own being as the gentle noise nearly lulled himself into a deep, deep sleep. He leaned into the comforting warmth of darkness, letting it surround him as he drifted further and further into oblivion.

    Am I dead?

    The single coherent thought shattered the illusion around him. He suddenly felt himself fading away. Groggily, Virgil dug into the depths his mind, manically searching for any recognition of what had happened to him. The effort only seemed to make him dizzier. Resisting only seemed to cause him to slip away faster. Any feeling of safety fell away as a surge of panic seized his being. Manically, he clung to each thought passing through his mind, feeling them slip away from him. The world turned upside down on him and he faltered, desperately hoping for the spinning in his head to cease. He felt the energy leaving his body as he resisted and the hazy darkness around him threatened to consume him.

    Fuck. I'm definitely fucking dead.

    His mind edged closer to despair, but even as the thought crossed his mind, his certainty faltered.  A gentle tingle started to move across his body and feeling returned to the tips of his fingers. He shuddered as the gentle tingling turn to the burning of pins and needles piercing his skin. The prickling sensation crept its way slowly up his arm, across his chest, spreading to his limbs as feeling returned to his body. Virgil sucked in a sudden breath as he was forcefully pulled back to awareness. He felt his chest rise and fall as he took rapid, wheezing breaths and his muscles went limp with exhaustion.

    Fine. Not dead.

    The bitter thought was short-lived as the sound of moving papers near his feet sent another wave of adrenaline surging through his body..

    I'm not alone.

    The realization sent chills surging up his spine. Virgil tried to open his eyes, his breath catching in his throat as he realized that they were sealed shut. A fresh wave of fear crashed through him as the sound of footsteps approached him. Manically, Virgil pushed himself backwards, yelping in pain as his head smashed against the stone wall behind him. He groaned, baring his teeth at whoever was closing in on him.

    “Be still, dear one. I give you my word that no harm will come to you while you are in my care.”

    Virgil froze, confused.  His initial distrust wavered as the soft tone of the voice above him lulled him into a sense of security. His burst of energy faded and he sunk back into the soft pillow beneath him, too exhausted to be defiant.

    “Good." The stranger paused. "Forgive me for not immediately announcing my presence.  You stirred a few times since you arrived here, but you were not fully awake before.”

    Virgil felt the weight of the bed shift as the stranger sat down beside him. Virgil’s skin tingled as a soft hand brushed his hair from his face.

    “I tried to offer you water, but you...um, hissed at me. It was an unexpected response, given what I know of humans. I would have expected that kind of reaction would be more characteristic of someone of my species than of yours.”

��   That voice…

    The stranger chuckled softly and the gentle laugh struck a nerve in his brain, sending his memories rushing back. Images of being caught by the ship's crew and thrown in the brig of the ship flashed through his mind. He inhaled sharply as the sounds of screaming reverberated loudly in his mind. Virgil shivered violently as his last memory came back.

    I was hanging on by a bare thread.

    Too weak to move.

    I should have died.  

    He swallowed, nearly choking on his swollen tongue as he recognized the stranger's voice.

    The man from the boat…

      He actually rescued me.

    Virgil barely had barely had time to process the thought when a cool hand came to rest on his forehead, sending chills down his spine. His initial shock faded quickly and he relaxed, leaning into the stranger's hand as his cool touch soothed Virgil's burning face.

    Logan. His name was Logan.

    “You are still abnormally warm. It would be best if you could drink something." The stranger's hand moved to the side of his cheek. "Do you think you could hold water down, if I assist you?”

    Virgil opened his mouth but his voice was weak, and he barely managed to push out a raspy breath.

    “Do not try to speak, love.” Logan paused. “Can you nod for me, if this is an acceptable arrangement?”

    Virgil managed a small nod as he leaned back into the pillow behind his head. He felt Logan's hand move down from his cheek to his jaw, tilting his head upright.

    “Give me a moment. I will return shortly.”

    The bed shifted as Logan moved away from him. Virgil listened, tracking Logan's movement as he walked to the far side of the room. His attempt at focusing was short-lived as his mind subconsciously started to drift as he listened to the shuffling sounds of Logan as moved about the room. He yawned nearly drifting to sleep at the sound of the pouring water.

    Time seemed to blur around Virgil and he couldn't be sure when how much time had passed when he realized the pouring had stopped. Virgil tipped his head up, listening intently, but he couldn’t hear the sounds of Logan moving at all. A pit of dread settled into his stomach as the silence continued. Dread gradually turned to panic as time passed

    He left me…

    I won't make it on my own…

    I can't—

    A groan had barely escaped Virgil’s lips when a loud, metallic crash broke the silence. A whimper escaped him as his eyes unwillingly peeled open in shock. Opening his eyes felt like dragging hot sand across his pupils, and he immediately clenched them shut. The burning sensation persisted even as his eyelids closed, but the thankfully the pain seemed to be muted.

    “I apologize. I—" Logan's usually silky tone held an unexpected edge of anxiety.

    Virgil curled in pain as the sound of Logan clearing the mess echoed loudly in his ears. The sounds seemed to reverberate in his head, growing in volume with each passing minute. Virgil moaned, reaching his hands up to his ears. He weakly pressed his wrists against his ears, trying to drown out the unbearable noise. Barely registering that Logan seemed to have set whatever he'd been clearing down, a wave of nausea washed over him as Logan dropped down next to him. He bit back the urge to gag from the unexpected movement and started to shake as his heightened senses threatened to overwhelm him.

    Virgil flinched as hands touched his cheeks. Instinctively, he tried to pull away as shivers swept down his body at Logan's touch, but Logan held his face steady. Logan's thumbs came to rest on Virgil's temples and his fingers teased at the edge of his hair as he guided Virgil's face upright.

    “Give me your pain, love.”

    Virgil barely had time to process Logan's words before a wave of relief surged out from his temples, washing down his body to the tips of his limbs. He sighed gratefully as the pain evaporated out of his body and his senses dulled back to normal. He inhaled sharply as his chest opened up and his wheezy breathing became regular once more.

    Logan moaned softly next to him and Virgil felt his grip on his face slacken. Exhaustion was apparent in his voice when he finally spoke again. “Be at peace, dear one. Please, forgive me for my momentary distraction. I did not intend to cause you harm—”

    Virgil heard Logan pause as he cracked open his eyes. Logan’s blurry silhouette was barely visible against the bright light behind him, and after only a moment, the burning sensation forced his eyes shut again.

    “Hold still and do not open your eyes, dear one.”

    Virgil stifled a moan as Logan’s thumb brushed his cheek, sending pleasant tingles across his face as Logan examined his eyes. Logan turned away from him and Virgil listened carefully as Logan shifted objects around off to the side of the bed. With a final splash and dripping sounds of water, he felt the chill of a wet cloth being laid across his eyes. Virgil quivered gently as the chill eased the inflammation in his eyes.

    “Your eyes were not ready to open. You must be patient, and let your eyes rest.” Logan paused for a moment before sighing. “I understand you are anxious to see where you are, but please, trust me a little longer. You will be able to see for yourself soon.”

    Virgil swallowed, disappointed. His face clenched as he bit back the urge to gag on his own tongue, but he nodded tensely at Logan.

    “Thank you.” Logan's words were quiet, and for a moment he fell silent. Virgil couldn’t even hear Logan's breathing as he sat next to him on the bed. When he finally spoke again, the exhaustion in the undertones of his voice was even more apparent. Virgil felt a pang of guilt in his stomach, realizing how far Logan had pushed himself to save him.

    “May I lift you into a better position for you to drink safely?”

    Virgil nodded weakly as his body went limp. He felt a hand on his arm. Logan moved slowly, slipping his hands around Virgil's shoulders and underneath his knees. He paused briefly, allowing Virgil a moment to adjust in his grip before attempting to lift him.

    A gasp escaped Virgil’s lips as Logan lifted him off the bed, gently edging him closer to the head of the bed. Logan carefully lowered Virgil down on the bed with him, slowly resting Virgil’s upper body on his leg and supporting Virgil’s neck in the crook of his arm. There was a brief pause and Virgil felt Logan turn his head to look over at him.

    “Are you comfortable enough, love?”

    Virgil couldn’t help the shivers that gently made their way down his body as he felt Logan’s breath on his neck. He nodded, leaning into the coolness of Logan’s arm as Logan leaned over to the side of the bed. After Logan shifted back, Virgil felt a cup at his lips. He leaned forward, eagerly downing the water. Relief washed over him as the cool liquid eased the dull ache in his throat. Logan allowed him to drink longer than he expected, but still, he had to stifle a pitiful whine as he felt the cup leave his lips.

    Logan laughed softly, clearly noticing Virgil's displeasure. “I do not mean to disappoint you, love.”

    “Logan…” Virgil felt like he was choking as he squeezed out Logan’s name out, but he was beginning to resent his forced silence.

    “You... remembered my name?” Logan's voice was soft with shock.

    Virgil nodded. His voice was barely more than a wheezy breath, but forced himself to continue to speak.. “More… please…”

    Logan hesitated but his resolution quickly weakened. “Very well. I suppose a bit more will not hurt you, as long as you are certain you are not going to make yourself ill.”

    Virgil nodded, leaning his head tiredly into Logan’s chest. A moment later, the cup was at Virgil’s lips once more, and he sipped slowly at the water, savoring the coolness of the liquid as it eased his scratchy throat. Virgil willingly stopped drinking before the cup was pulled from him. Satisfied, he leaned back comfortably into Logan’s cool body.

    “Where am I?” Virgil’s voice was stronger, though his voice was still gravely and rough.

    “Somewhere safe, dear one.” Logan took a breath. “It is an island a good distance off the mainland, but you would not know its name.”

    “Why do you…keep calling me that?” Virgil winced, almost overextending his voice.

    Logan paused, confused by the question. “You are referring to when I call you ‘dear one'?”

    Virgil nodded.

    “I hope I have not offended you by doing so.” Logan's voice seemed almost anxious as he spoke.

    Taken aback, Virgil shook his head slowly.

    “Good. I do not want you to feel that I am taking advantage of your vulnerable position in my care.” Logan paused. “I do not wish to cause you discomfort.”

    Virgil 's hand instinctively closed around a handful of Logan’s shirt and he felt Logan stare down at his hand, quiet as he considered Virgil’s question.

    “I must admit referring to you as such simply felt natural to me. I was not entirely aware I was doing so until you asked.”

    “You don’t even know me.” Virgil grumbled tiredly.

    Logan shrugged. “Perhaps not, but admittedly I'm not well-practiced in concealing my feelings. I care about you.”

    “Why?”

    Logan turned down to look at him. "Why not?"

    "You don't even know me." He growled again. "I could be a killer."

    Logan was quiet for a moment. "Are you?"

    "No." He mumbled tiredly.

    "I imagine you would not be surprised if I hated you on sight. So, why is it so hard to imagine that I might care about you instead?"

    “Why did you save me?”

    “Why would I have left you to die, if I had the capacity to help?”

    “You don't know me.” Virgil repeated bitterly, uncomfortable with Logan's pity.

    Logan was silent as Virgil anxiously awaited his response. He heard Logan sigh tiredly. “Even after all this time, humans still find ways to confound me.”

    “Humans? What—” Virgil whispered, but his voice was weak and Logan continued as if he hadn't heard him.

    “Why would I have to know for you to be worth saving?” Virgil could almost feel Logan’s eyes burning into him. His voice held an uncharacteristic harsh edge but Virgil couldn't stop himself

    “Your friend didn't think I was worth the effort.” He spat out without thinking.

    Logan paused in shock before slowly turned his head away from Virgil. He was silent for a long time and Virgil started to shift nervously, realizing he probably shouldn’t have intentionally antagonized the only person who seemed willing to keep him alive. He opened his mouth to apologize but Logan spoke first.

    “I do not blame you for judging Roman so harshly, but you should know, his hesitancy to act had little to do with you. Roman has people he is responsible for protecting and his thoughts were with them.” Logan paused. Virgil was surprised at his sudden apologetic tone. “His hesitancy still does not diminish the value of your life, love.”

    Virgil was quiet, unsure of how to process what Logan was saying.

    “Do you have a name, love?”

    Virgil hesitated.

    “You are not obligated to share.” Logan yawned. “I only ask so I have a proper way to refer to you.”

    “My name is Virgil,” He muttered into Logan’s chest.

    “Virgil,” Logan said his name slowly, almost like he was savoring the sound on his lips. “Okay, Virgil. Are you ready to open your eyes?”

    Virgil nodded nervously. He felt Logan slip out from underneath him and lay him gently back on the pillow behind him.

    “I must ask that you do not open your eyes right away. Give me a moment before you try.” Logan said as he peeled back the wet cloth from Virgil’s eyes.

    Virgil heard a soft splash of water and felt Logan dab gently at his eyes, wiping away the excess buildup on his eyelids, until the felt almost normal again. The burning had subsided nearly entirely as they'd talked .

    “You can open them now, Virgil.”

    Virgil blinked, looking up at Logan. He could barely distinguish Logan's golden brown hair and blue shirt from rest of the blurry colors around him. He grumbled with disappointment as he tried to blink the haze away.

    “Be patient, love. Your vision will clear soon." Logan chuckled softly, leaning closer. “May I have permission to touch your neck? I would like to be sure that your pulse is regular.”

    Virgil grunted his affirmation, barely distracted from his attempts to blink his vision clear. His focus broke as Logan's hand brushed his jaw before coming to rest on his neck, sending a pleasant shiver down his body. Virgil felt his cheeks start to burn, embarrassed by his body's reaction to Logan's touch, but Logan seemed not to notice. His mind seemed occupied as he held his  fingers to Virgil's neck. Virgil looked up blinking gently as Logan looked down at him.

    “If the question is not too distressing…” Logan paused. “May I ask what happened to the ship you were on? The upper deck was in quite a state when we finally dared to board.”

    Virgil closed his eyes, clenching his jaw. “I don't know.”

    Logan paused, confused. “You know nothing of what happened?”

    “I assume the ship was boarded, but by who or why, I don't know anything. The screaming and yelling woke me from my sleep that night, but I was trapped in my cell below deck.” Virgil felt himself grinding his teeth for moment before he forced himself to stop. “I couldn't do anything but sit there and listen to the screaming, until—”

    "Until what, love?" Logan asked cautiously.

    "Until two of them found their way down to where I was being kept." Virgil felt numb at the memory. "They almost took me with them."

    Virgil's intonation seemed to give Logan pause. "Would that not have been better than being left in your cell?"

    "No," Virgil's voice dropped as he sifted through the unpleasant memories. "They cornered me, talking about what they could do with me. Easy money was all that was on their minds. Being left to die was a mercy compared to what could have happened. Fortunately, it seems I wasn't worth the effort."

    Logan hesitated, staring down at his hand on Virgil's neck, unsure if he wanted to continue. “Why were you being kept in a cell, Virgil?”

    “I got caught stowing away on the ship.” Virgil relaxed, relieved at the distraction from the memories playing back in his head.

    “I am unfamiliar with that particular phrase.” Logan said uncertainly.

    Virgil shrugged. “I snuck on the ship without paying for passage and I got caught hiding in their supplies.”

    Logan was quiet for so long that Virgil finally opened his eyes to look up at him, squinting through blurry vision. When Logan finally spoke, his voice quivered with barely concealed anger. “That small of an offense warrants imprisonment?”

    Virgil shrugged uncomfortably. “I didn't pay them and I was on their ship.”

    A low, guttural growl sent a chill down Virgil’s spine. Logan’s voice had a rough edge as he fumed. “You humans' greed is so great that a few lost coins is reason enough to take someone's freedom? That is an abhorrent practice.”

    Virgil shuddered at the anger in Logan's voice, shrinking back into the pillows but Logan seem to have forgotten he was there. Logan's breath was ragged as he raged. Virgil blinked wildly, suddenly uncomfortable being blinded. He sighed with relief as his vision finally came into focus and he was able to look up at Logan.

    Oh no…

    Virgil swallowed and his heart started to pound in his chest.

     He's really pretty…

    He held his breath as his gaze drifted from Logan’s soft looking hair down his sharp jawline. Virgil paused to stare at his icy, grey eyes. They looked volatile, like the clouds over the ocean as a storm approaches. He shivered, pulling his attention away from Logan's eyes, letting his gaze drop further. The top of Logan’s blue, silk shirt was open, exposing the top of his chest. He groaned throwing his head back into the pillow, his heart racing in his chest as he took in Logan's appearance.

    What is wrong with me—

    Virgil flinched as Logan's head spun down to him, but when he peeked his eyes open to look up him. A soft concern filled Logan’s eyes. All sense of danger disappeared as Logan leaned over him apologetically.

    “Oh, love. I am sorry.” Logan's voice quivered. “My anger was not intended for you. I did not mean to distress you.”

    Oh fuck. Those eyes—

    “Not distressed...” Virgil squeaked out, nervously cutting off his own thought.

    Logan looked down at him confused. “Your vocal tone and increased rate of your heartbeat lead me to believe otherwise.”

    Virgil’s gaze flicked down to Logan’s fingers in his neck.

    Fuck. I guess lying is off the table.

    “I'm not scared.” Virgil whispered desperately as he clenched his eyes shut, trying to slow his heartbeat.

    Logan paused, confused at Virgil’s words. “Well, that statement was at least more truthful than the last.”

    Fuck.

    Logan continued, trying to make sense of Virgil’s reaction. “The rate of your heart slowed as you closed your eyes—”

    Fuck.

    Logan was silent for a long time, before Virgil had the courage to peek up at him. His bravery faltered as he noticed Logan looking down at him with an annoyingly, coy smile.

    “You were finally able to see me clearly.” Logan laughed quietly. “Am I right, Virgil?”

    The edges of Virgil’s vision blurred as his breathing became ragged.   There was no use in denying anything. He desperately tried to catch his breath, unable to calm himself.

    I'm going to faint.

    Who does that?

    Who actually faints over finding someone attract—

    A pleasant tingling shot down his body as Logan’s hand gently moved from Virgil’s neck to his jaw, guiding his face up to look into Logan’s eyes. Virgil nearly lost himself looking into Logan’s eyes as he leaned in close to Virgil’s ear, inches from his neck.

    “Tell me, Virgil.”

    Virgil moaned at the feeling of Logan’s breath on his neck.

    “Do you like what you see?”

    All meaningful thought left Virgil’s mind as he listened to Logan's silky voice in his ear. His breath caught in his throat as darkness crossed his vision and he fainted back into the pillow.

-

    Logan chuckled softly to himself, reaching up to brush away the hair that had fallen into Virgil's eyes. Perhaps that hadn't been the most gentle way to put his guest to sleep, but it was certainly the most entertaining. He leaned back from Virgil, watching him as he snored peacefully. Logan sighed, smiling as he checked Virgil’s vital signs one last time before reluctantly standing to leave.

    “Sleep well, Virgil. I will return to you soon.”

    A deep hum echoed in Logan's ears as he turned to the door, drowned out only by loud, metallic creaking of the door. He cast a soft look over his shoulder at Virgil as he slipped out into the network of tunnels running underneath the island. He paused as the the door slammed shut behind him. Reaching into his pocket, Logan pulled out a heavy, metal key. He looked down at it in his hand for a moment, feeling a pang of guilt as he slipped in the lock, turning it until he felt the lock click shut. Locking his guest in his room felt unnecessary, especially given that Virgil couldn't even sit up without assistance, but it was a necessary precaution. He sighed, reminding himself that this was a temporary solution.

    He turned to leave, pressing his wrist against his ear. The previously dull hum in his head was becoming insistent. He had been kept away from his pelt much longer than he had intended and it was calling to him. Logan increased his pace, winding his way deeper into the island. He breathed heavily. The call of his pelt seemed to resonate with the stone walls around him, reverberating back at him with even greater force. Logan could feel himself fading as he turned the last corner. He was barely aware of the dim, amber light flickering in the doorway as he approached. His body shook as he stopped in the doorway. His eyes glazed over as the call of his pelt consumed him. Logan felt himself disappearing from his body as the world seemed to fall away from him.

    “Logan?!”

    The panicked voice barely registered in his mind as he disappeared deeper in his mind, overwhelmed by the call of his pelt. Vaguely, he felt hands on his arms.

    “Hold on, Lo. I've got you.”

    An eternity seemed to pass as Logan stood there. Unable to even feel if the hands were still touching him, he ached for his pelt, feeling like a stranger in his own skin. A voice spoke next to him, but the words were muddled, unintelligible among the noise in his head.

    The haze in his mind broke as his soft pelt brushed against his skin as it was pushed into his chest. Gently, he felt the world come back to him, and he wrapped his arms tightly around the grey, spotted fur burying his face in its warmth.  Arms wrapped around his shoulders as his awareness of his surroundings gradually returned to him. The grating sounds around him fell silent and he felt whole once more.

    “I hate this feeling, Roman.” Logan murmured into Roman’s chest as he relaxed.

    “I know, Logan. Please, forgive me. I'm so sorry I have to ask this of you."

    Logan pulled out of Roman's grip and looked up at him. He noticed Roman’s own dark brown pelt was wrapped around his neck as his pitiful eyes looked down at Logan. He smiled appreciatively up at Roman but his tone was serious. “I made this decision, Roman. You do not need to ask for my forgiveness. Any responsibility for my current state lies solely on my own shoulders.”

    Roman stared down him sympathetically. “Regardless, Lo. You're family and I hate seeing you suffer, especially for the sake of some human.”

    “His life is no less valuable than mine, Roman.” Logan said tiredly.

    “If I thought he believed the same about you, I'd agree with you, but humans never do.” Roman exhaled bitterly.

    “Virgil is different. He barely seems to think his life is worth my time, let alone worth more than my own life.” Logan glanced up to see a skeptical look on Roman’s face.

    “Virgil?”

    “The human.” Logan corrected himself. He hung his head at the serious look in Roman's eyes.

    “Don't get attached, Logan. He's not staying. As soon as he's well, he will leave.” Roman voice was empathetic but firm.

    Logan took a deep breath, crossing his arms nervously in front of him. He hung his head lower. His voice was barely a whisper. “I connected with him, Roman.”

    A heavy silence hung between them. When Roman finally spoke, Logan shuddered at the edge in his voice. “You what?”

    “I connected with him, Roman.” Logan’s voice was stronger, though he couldn't help as his voice quivered at the end of his sentence.

   “You already have—” Roman yelled, but Logan cut him off.

    “I know.” Logan spat out. "I did not ask for this, Roman."

    “That’s not even possible. He's human, Lo.”

    “It is an unlikely occurrence, but not impossible, Roman.” Logan muttered, unable to meet Roman’s gaze. His stomach twisted with guilt for defying Roman’s authority, even if he did so unwillingly.

    “Logan, you don't know what you're saying—"

    Logan head shot up to Roman, anger burning in his eyes as he interrupted him. “Are you suggesting I do not know what a soul connection feels like, Roman?”

    “No. Of course not, Logan." Roman’s face immediately softened.  "I'm just... surprised. Does he know?”

    “I do not believe Virgil knows about the existence of soul connections.” Logan looked away guiltily.

    “I wasn't referring to the human, Logan.” Roman said flatly.

    “No, Roman. I have not seen him since we returned from the ship.” Logan looked down at his feet. “I am planning on going him after I leave here.”

    “You'll tell him tonight. Won't you?”

    “Yes, Roman.” Logan said bitterly.  “I am aching to tell him. You know I would not deceive him.”

    “I know, Logan.” Roman stepped forward, gently pulling Logan into another hug. “I don't mean to interrogate you. I trust you. This whole situation just makes me nervous. We still don't even know this human's role in what happened to that ship.”

    “Virgil is not responsible. He was imprisoned where we found him the entire time the ship was attacked." Logan yawned, leaning into Roman's chest.

    “Lo, your willingness to trust people is endearing,” Roman sighed, looking down at him. “But this human could simply be lying to you.”

    Logan shook his head. “I was checking his heartbeat, when I asked. I would have been able to tell if he was lying. It was steady the entire time he talked about it, and given how he reacted to other things I said to him, I believe it is a safe assumption that he is not practiced in concealing his emotions.”

    Roman raised an eyebrow at him. “Did the human know what you were doing?”

    Logan shook his head, barely looking up.

    “You’re a bastard, Logan.” Roman couldn’t help cracking a smile as he released Logan.

   “I have been called worse.” Logan smirked tiredly at him and shrugged as he swayed tiredly. “I honestly doubt he would have refused if I had told him what I was doing, but this way the results are more compelling.”

    Roman nodded absently. “They aren't absolute though, Lo. You still need to be cautious. Even if he wasn't responsible for that ship, he could still be dangerous, especially if he got a hold of one of our pelts.”

    “Virgil is not a danger to us.” Logan barely managed to stifle a yawn as he spoke.

    “I know you mean well, but trusting the wrong person has gotten you in trouble before, Lo." Roman sighed sympathetically. "All I'm asking is that you keep your guard up.”

    “I will, Roman.” Logan smiled weakly at him.

    “Good.” Roman put a hand on his shoulder, guiding him to the door. “Now, go get some rest. You’ve done enough for today.”

    Logan nodded, letting Roman lead him out. He turned his head back over his shoulder at Roman. A small appreciative smile crossed his face. “Thank you, Roman. For allowing me to save him.”

     Roman laughed, giving him one last gentle push out the door. “Don't worry about it, Lo. I'm here to look out for you. Regardless of whether I approve of your decisions or not.”

    Logan nodded, smiling tiredly as he wrapped his pelt around his shoulders and made his way out into the network of caves. He yawned loudly, looking forward to some long overdue rest.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #ts #ts virgil #ts logan #analogical #platonic logince #The Stowaway's Heart #villain writes

[colehasapen]

(ONE SHOT) cetar STAR WARS

When Cody was young, there were only two people that could make him feel safe. If there was any time that Cody was afraid he’d seek out one or the other if he needed comfort. They weren’t soft and gentle like Ponds or Bly were, ready with warm encouragement and liberal hugs, but they were safe. They were a firm, steady presence. Cody would crawl into their pods on those stormy nights when every sound made him fear that the Longnecks were coming to take him away, or think that Priest would steal him away for more ‘training’ . He would always feel safer tucked under Wolffe’s arm or curled up against Fox’s spine.

He had known, deep down, that neither of them would be able to stop either of Cody’s fears from coming true if they did come for him, but just having them near whenever those fears rose like waves and threatened to drown him. They made Cody feel like he could weather any storm. He felt warm and protected, and like he could face anything.

As the years passed, those illusions of safety were steadily stripped away, and Cody was forced to face the fact that his older brothers couldn’t protect him. He learned the hard way that he would never be safe - he was a clone, and if Priest and Reau wanted to throw him into their fighting rings, to display him in their blood sports where only the strongest survived, not even Wolffe’s ferocious desire to protect, or Fox’s compulsion to guard could keep them away from him. They couldn’t protect him, they couldn’t even protect themselves - but it didn’t stop him from relaxing in their presence, no matter how distant they were forced to grow as the years passed and they were assigned to different corners of the galaxy. He would still breathe easier whenever he could get away with being in the presence of one or the other, feeling like he were a cadet again, safe and secure while his brothers are a warm shield next to him. They’re no longer the boys they had been - they’re so far away from those boys - they’re harder, they’re tired, and scarred. They’ve faced trials and torture and so much loss. They’ve been beaten, and betrayed, they’ve been shot and stabbed, and they’ve walked away from it all even as so many of their siblings didn’t. They’ve changed, and grown - for better and for worse. Wolffe had lost his eye, Cody had lost his heart, and Fox - Fox lost everything that had made him who he was. Every time Cody saw his older brother the shadows in his eyes grew darker and the weight on his shoulders grew heavier.

After three years of War - of death and destruction and a near-constant blanket of misery - Cody hadn’t thought he’d ever see something as agonizing as this.

Wolffe is on his knees, clutching at the blaster wound in his gut and gasping in pain, and Fox stands over him. Their brother’s still-warm pistol is pressed against the back of Wolffe’s head, but his eyes - so blank, so empty, so cold - are looking at Cody.

He knew it wouldn’t be easy while planning on how best to take down the Chancellor, and they’d all been aware that while they could organize a communications blackout among the GAR, the Coruscant Guards were out of their jurisdiction. Fox and his men answered to the Chancellor only, and they couldn’t get them away from the man without alerting him to their movements in the background.  Fives’ warning had come as a surprise, and even now Cody feels sick knowing that there was a chip in all of his siblings’ heads that could turn them into mindless flesh droids with only a few words from the karking Sith Lord - the Sith Lord that had constant contact with Cody’s older brother.

Fox was his brother, his responsibility, so Cody had offered to keep his fellow Commander out of the fight and away from the Chancellor. Having Wolffe step up to watch his back had been a comfort. The two of them were among the best of the Vode at hand-to-hand, and while Fox may have been a threat to one of them, he’d never win against the both of them.

But they’d miscalculated - they hadn’t thought that the activated chip in their brother’s head would take away any restraint he may have had while fighting against them. All it had taken was one slip up, and now Cody stands across from his ori'vode , helpless as Fox - as CC-1010 - presses the blaster closer to Wolffe's skull.

"Stand down, CC-2224." CC-1010 orders, voice absolutely frigid in its blankness, and brick-red eyes study him without any sort of spark that could have connected the man in front of him to the cadet that had once tucked him under his chin and held him as he shook, chasing away the memories of Priest's sadistic touches and Reau's cruel laughter. Nowhere could Cody see proof that the coldly furious cadet that had helped him wrap his split knuckles existed. "Put down your weapons and surrender yourself to face reconditioning or decommissioning for treason against the Republic."

Cody grits his teeth, fingers clenching tightly around the trigger of his blaster. He knows that, at this distance, even if he shot first, Wolffe would be dead before his stun bolt could reach Fox.

"Kote - don't you fucking dare !" Wolffe growls, and CC-1010 slants their wounded brother a robotic look.

"Silence, CC-3636, you will be judged complicit in CC-2224's treachery and will face the same fate." The Commander of the Guard orders, before turning those familiar-unfamiliar eyes back to Cody.

"Fox." Cody tries, and his brother just blinks back, nearly unrecognizable. "Fox - ori'vod , gedet'ye ." Between Fox’s artificially smooth brow, a faint furrow begins to form, and it’s enough of a hint of actual personality shining through that Cody dares to hope . “Fox, this isn’t your fault. There’s a chip in your head - in all of our heads - it’s controlling you.” Carefully, slowly, Cody takes a step forward, letting his blaster lower by just the smallest of margins, and he lets out a slow breath of relief when his brother doesn’t react. “You’re my brother , Fox. You used to let me crawl into your pod when I had nightmares - you taught me how to throw knives. You’re my ori’vod .” He says slowly, keeping his voice calm and ignores the sting of his broken nose. He continues to walk towards his brothers, keeping his eyes trained on Fox’s own as that furrow becomes more and more pronounced.

He doesn’t know if it will work, but he’s trying to buy for time. Time that Wolffe may not have.

“Fox, a part of you has to know that this isn’t right.” Cody soothes, and Fox twitches - enough so that the Marshall Commander stills. “We’re your brothers, Fox. Gedet’ye . Don’t do this - we’re brothers, remember?”

“I do not consort with traitors.” Fox grits out, blinking harshly, but the pistol against the back of Wolffe’s head shakes. “I have no brothers - good soldiers follow orders.”

“Good soldiers don’t need a chip in their heads to tell them what’s right.”

Fox flinches, and Wolffe takes his chance. The other Commander rears back, gripping Fox’s wrist as soon as the blaster dips, and he twists. Their brother shouts, reeling as Wolffe tears his weapon from his hands and dives out of the way as Cody bares down on the Guard Commander, tackling him to the ground. He winces when Fox’s knee catches him in the ribs, and inadvertently flinches back when his older brother’s forehead smashes against his already-broken nose.

His vision whites out in agony for all of a moment, but it’s long enough of a moment that Fox can switch their positions. A solid arm presses down, unforgivingly firm against his neck, cutting off his supply of oxygen, and Cody squirms under his older brother. He gasps, clawing weakly at Fox’s arms as they tighten and begin to twist, staring up into those cold eyes, and a part of him wonders if this is how he dies - his brother breaking his neck.

It makes him glad he had told Obi-Wan that he loved him before they parted ways.

A blaster fires and Fox jolts, before he slumps against Cody’s heaving chest, limp and unconscious, with his arms around Cody’s neck in a sick parody of a hug. Almost subconsciously, Cody lifts his own arms as he coughs, curling them around his brother’s stunned body as he just takes a moment to breathe .

“Alright there, Commanders?” A voice hollars, and Cody tilts his head back, blinking in surprise when he sees a familiar ARC Trooper leading a group of brothers in 501st blue towards them, holstering his blaster as he goes.

“Fives.” Cody greets raggedly, and he can hear Wolffe snort gruffly.

“You’re late, Pup.”

“And you’re bleeding all over the place.” Fives shoots back, and Kix bustles past his brother, already pulling out his medkit and his gumbles muffled by his bucket. “I bet you’re glad I’m late now, aren’tcha, Commander?”

“Sitrep.” Cody orders, before Wolffe can rise to the bait, and he gently runs his hand through Fox’s sweaty hair, feeling the warm puffs of his brother’s breathing brushing against his aching throat.

Fives’ helmet tilts towards him, “Green.” The ARC reports, “Operation Knightrise is a complete success, sir. The Chancellor is dead.”

Cody relaxes, letting his aching head thunk against the cold metal floor as he sighs, “Good.” He rests his hand protectively against the back of his brother’s neck, tightening his protective hold on the unconscious man.

The bastard wouldn’t be hurting anyone anymore.

#star wars #fanfiction #cole writes #whumptober 2020 #no.3 my way or the highway #commander cody #commander fox #commander wolffe #codywan #arc trooper fives #buirkan-verse