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wishitweresummer · 1 year

Text

Elevator Instigator (GeorgeNotFound x Sapnap)

Word count: 1982

Warning: Intense tickling. Being trapped in an elevator.

Sapnap threw a sideways look over to George as they walked. He was still running his mouth. He shook his head and tried to just block him out. A few words slipped past his invisible defense and dug straight into his waning patience.

"Shut up bro.", he tried. George only laughed and elbowed him, continuing on. Something about his height, Sapnap tried not to listen.

He flinched when George smacked the rim of his hat down for the third time that day, pulling it back up on his head. "Dude!", he huffed,

Dream Team was at Vidcon together. Dream was still at one of his panels, but George and Sapnap were done for the day. Sapnap had agreed to grab lunch with the other, but was regretting it with every step. George was in his mean arc today. No matter how much he begged the other to quit, he only seemed to be egged on by his increasingly worse mood. Sapnap wasn't even responding at this point. George was just barreling on laughing to himself as he tore through a mental list of his insecurities.

Sapnap gave him a rough shove as they got into the elevator.

"Seriously dude. Shut up.". George only scoffed and pulled out his phone, leaving Sapnap to push the buttons to the next floor with an eye roll. At least they were alone and no one else would be forced to listen to George being an idiot.

The elevator jerked to a halt and both of them stumbled.

"What the hell?".

They waited a few beats before looking at each other. The elevator had stopped between floors, the button of their floor still lit up.

"It stopped.", Sapnap said nervously.

"Obviously, idiot. What are we supposed to do?". Sapnap scowled at the name.

"Clearly you're the idiot. We hit the call button and tell the hotel. Idiot.".

George crossed his arms and left Sapnap, again, to hit the button.

"Um, hi? Sorry! We think we might be stuck in the elevator? It's between floors, pretty much.", Sapnap flushed in embarrassment as he stumbled over the words. He was already nervous about the situation and being trapped with a sharp-tongued George while he was eyeing him down was making things so much worse. He longed for Dream.

The hotel informed them that the fire department was on the way.

"Why did you turn into a flustered mess during that call? Are you scared? Do you think we are going to plummet to our deaths?". Sapnap whipped around to see George smirking as he typed away on his phone. "I mean, we probably will. I'm telling Dream our final goodbyes right now. He's so upset we are stuck, his panel just ended.". George was all too happy to continue his negging.

"Stop trying to freak me out, you're such a fucking dick today.".

"I mean.", George sighed, slipped his phone in his back pocket, and looked Sapnap up and down. "You're like. Pocket-sized. What if I just lift you up and you crawl out through the shaft. You're tiny enough, stinknap,", he finished his insult off by smacking down the bill of his hat,

That was enough. Sapnap was done.

Sapnap pulled his hat off his head and slapped it down onto George's. The older huffed in protest, but Sapnap quickly tugged it down over his eyes and backed him against the wall of the elevator hard enough to shake the entire thing.

"Fucking. Shut. Up. George.", he growled.

George gasped as Sapnap collected his hands in one of his.

"Hey!". He thrashed, trying to shake the hat blocking his vision and rip his hands from the stronger boy's grip. He didn't budge. Sapnap knuckled into ribs, startling a scream out of the other. George knocked his head against the wall painfully and sharp cackles tore out of him as he struggled. "Sapnap!", he cried.

Sapnap used a rougher touch to tickle him then he ever had before. His knuckles jumped around the sensitive bones of the squirmy boy's rib cage. George went limp against his hold as he was thrown instantly into completely hysterical laughter. Screams echoed in the small metal jail they found themselves in.

Immediately, George lost his ability to speak. While he desperately wanted to beg Sapnap for mercy and take back everything he said, he couldn't. He could only laugh himself silly as Sapnap took his anger out on him. As the knuckling turned into a clawed hand vibrating and jabbing at his rib cage, he twisted violently. He crumbled against it, his limp body held firmly to the wall as he shrieked with laughter.

"You've been such a dick all day. You're going to learn how to be nice, you got that Gogy?", Sapnap growled the words. George could only squeak in response. They had lived with each other for months now and had plenty of fights. Unfortunately for George, Sapnap was a little stronger, knew exactly how to tickle him to pieces, and mad.

Sapnap dragged up the captured wrists and pressed them to the cold wall above George's head. The brief break from the torture had the boy gasping dramatically for air.

"Don't! Sap don't!", he demanded, all too knowing of why his arms were being pulled up. His worst spots suddenly exposed.

"Even now, you're not even saying please! Just telling me what to do!". George sputtered.

Sapnap held him firmly to the wall and drilled carefully into a wide open underarm. George lost his mind. Sapnap’s practiced fingers knew just the right amount of pressure to apply to drive him crazy. Strangled screams of laughter exploded out of him as he jumped and thrashed in place. The sound was nearly deafening as it echoed back at them.

George was completely sure he would die under this torture. All he could see was the bill of the hat Sapnap had put on his head and yanked down. Electricity shot through his body and his wild squirming brought no relief. Sapnap was determined to keep him in place so he could take him apart for his attitude. He regretted it. He just wanted to apologize, but he couldn't get any words out. While it was absolute torture, his laughter sounded gleeful. His entire face burned at the thought. How could he get Sapnap to stop?

Sapnap experimented exactly where to drill into George's hypersensitive underarm. Every spot seemed just as killer. George could only wail with laughter and writhe helplessly against him.

It was beyond satisfying, for Sapnap. Better than if he would have just smacked him like he wanted to. Underneath the hat he could see glimpses of dark red embarrassment on George's face. He knew the Brit would think twice before picking on him again.

His laugh was pretty cute too, it was cheering Sapnap up. Like, look at this weak little ticklish goofball. Sapnap could barely even remember what mean things he had been saying. He was just too precious squealing and jumping in place.

Sapnap let his hands crawl back down and tease new spots. Poking across his collarbone had the boy trying to curl up, making things for himself worse. He tested pokes along his chest and found a few spots that pulled precious squeaks and squeals from him.

"Please! Sapnap!!", he cried. Sapnap ignored him. He focused on the underarm he had neglected before to throw George back into his screeching laughter. He wanted to make sure the ticklish little menace got the message; no more making fun of Sapnap.

Eventually, the desperate laughter was starting to cut out into silence. George thrashed frantically as he tried and failed to avoid the evil fingers. Sapnap dropped his hand all the way down to attack his waist with tickles to startle a shriek from the boy. George shook his head as he whined through his laughter.

They both nearly fell as the elevator jerked back to life. Sapnap released him and stepped back quickly. George pushed up the bill of the hat, wiped the tears from his face, and balled his hands into the bottom of his shirt to ground himself as he tried to catch his breath.

They faced the doors as they were slowly pried open by a firefighter.

Sapnap and George looked at each other and then away, blushes blooming as they both realized the state they were about to be found in.

-•-•-

Dream bounced on the balls of his feet while a firefighter pried open the doors separating him from his trapped best friends. On his phone, just one text from George fifteen minutes ago.

-Me and stinknap are trapped in an elevator-

And nothing since then.

Dream was terrified. Every text and call he gave each of them had gone unanswered. He had reminded the firefighters that every minute or so as they worked on the elevator. Why weren't they responding to him? Dream could only think of worst case scenarios. He couldn't actually think of any reason besides the worsts of why they wouldn't be responding.

He wrung his hands nervously and stepped close as the doors were finally pried apart to reveal the two.

It was quite a scene.

Sapnap stood with both his hands in his pockets, cheeks beet-red. His hair was a little ruffled and his head was missing a hat, but he seemed okay.

George was a different story. George's appearance actually brought heat to Dream's cheeks.

He was flushed a deep dark blush that crawled down his neck and out to the tips of his ears. His eyes stuck to the floor. He seemed out of breath and nervous, tugging at the end of his shirt with both hands. His hair was ruffled and out of sorts...underneath Sapnap's hat.

Even the firefighters seemed taken aback from the state of the two boys. Dream couldn't help his jaw from dropping at the ideas running through his head. He recovered quickly, but it didn't go unnoticed by everyone. The two boys climbed out of the elevator and thanked the firefighters. Quietly, they joined Dream on either side and started walking together.

Both boys seemed like they wanted to speak, but the embarrassment from the shocked expressions on Dream and the firefighters faces had stolen their words.

"So?", Dream tried. They both huffed in sync and instantly tried saying their piece at the same time.

"George was-".

"Sapnap is-".

They both cut off at the same time as they interrupted each other.

"Give me back my hat.", Sapnap demanded, leaning forward a bit to glare at George as they all walked.

"No! Now my hair is all fucked! Wait until we get into the room so I can fix it.". George caught a glimpse of Dream's increasingly darkening blush and groaned. "Dream please chill out you're stressing me out. Me and Sapnap were just, like fighting in the elevator.". The wording made Sapnap huff in amusement, really not helping things.

"None of my buisness, don't worry.", Dream said quickly. George groaned again, louder this time.

They reached the room eventually and everyone had mostly calmed down. Dream and Sapnap sat on the edge of one of the beds as George tossed off the hat and fixed his hair in the wall mirror. Dream couldn't help but look between his best friends again.

"Okay okay okay. Let me tell you what happened so you can stop panicking thinking I made a move on your boy or something.", Sapnap said and clapped his hands together. Dream and George both cried out at the wording, but Sapnap only laughed before launching into the story.

~•~

When Dream was done giggling, he threatened to tell the story on his next panel. Sapnap slapped his hat back over his head, confident George wouldn't be messing with it again.

And for the rest of Vidcon, George refrained from picking on Sapnap.

(Art by @kazenomegaminowanpisu )

#lee!georgenotfound #ler!sapnap #georgenotfound tickle #dream team tickle #mcyt tickle #snf tickle #guys it’s the perfect way to deal with gogy when he’s in his menace arc

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maxwell-grant · 3 years

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The idea of the Shadow co-existing with Superheroes brings the question: How does the Shadow react when events escalate beyond the point where he can have an impact? How does he feel when the entire world is at risk, and he can't help?

Basically the above panel. By refusing to acknowledge the possibility that he can’t help, even if just to save one person, one life, at the end.

By doing whatever he can, even if he can’t save everyone or finish those causing it. Even if he is taken aback by it (and he definitely would, because he is rarely if ever out of his depth to such an extent), there is rarely, if ever, a time where nothing can be done to help someone, even if it can’t be done by addressing or fixing the problem, even if a lot of the times, we don’t know what to do to help.

There’s a particular passage that came to mind when I read your question, from a story called The Living Joss, where The Shadow stops to mourn a man, a total stranger, whom he failed to protect in time. We rarely ever get to see scenes like this as usually The Shadow expresses thoughts and feelings through non-verbal gestures and laughter (sometimes he almost laughs more often than he talks), and this moment always stuck out to me.

Amid the misty drizzle, The Shadow lowered himself from the side of the bridge, and dropped to the craggy side of the ravine. He reached the smashed car. Blaine Goodall, in a mad effort to escape death, had opened the door of the failing coupe. Caught beneath the rolling body of the car, Goodall had met his doom.

The Shadow stood in silence. Again, fate had contrived against his surpassing skill. He had arrived in time to shoot down one squad of blocking enemies. He had turned and driven back to deliver death to another corps of skulking assassins. But in the midst of conflict, the man whom he had come to save had hurtled to his own destruction.

Long minutes followed The Shadow's sad discovery; then a figure clambered into the speedster, and the powerful motor roared as it started along the road that led back to New York.

The Shadow had another score to settle. Never again would Koy Shan slay. Death would strike him before he had the new opportunity.

Here, after he manages to stave off the assassins and finds the guy, he takes a moment to mourn, to reflect, to think, and then he immediately gets back on track to pursue vengeance against the ones responsible for said death to stop them from killing others.

Obviously The Shadow outright failing is a very rare occurance, unless it’s by narrative design heroes very rarely botch rescues so badly that people die or don’t manage to get at least one victory at the end of the story. But The Shadow failing or miscalculating, failing to protect people, failing to calculate certain factors and so on, was nowhere near as unthinkable of an occurance in the pulps as people seem to think.

No matter how unshakeable his confidence in himself is, how prepared he is for everything, or how his willpower is so strong than in the radio show it allowed him to protect himself and Margo from a literal time loop through willlpower alone, he’s not the omniscient demigod he pretends to be, and he’s aware of it. He has to be, because arrogance is the downfall of every villain he’s ever fought, and third-person speaking black-clad cackling ghoul he is, he is all too aware of his proximity to them.

I...have concerns about my clarity, and my mental focus. I’m not one to suffer doubt...nor to take the scope of my actions lightly.

Yet of late, I’ve felt...untethered. And subject to foul emotions I’d long since thought buried.

But I am a commander in a war. There are people who risk their very lives under my authority.

But no matter how badly it got in the stories, how hopeless circumstances got or how many people had already been killed by the villains he fought, The Shadow never appeared close to giving up protecting others, no matter the cost to himself.

It’s one of the things that runs contrary to the common idea that he’s an unfeeling sadist murder machine, how often he completely disregards everything to go and throw himself in danger to rescue anyone who’s in any danger. Creeping Death has one such sequence where he jumps out of cover to the middle of a gunfight, and gets shot in the process, to literally throw Vic Marquette into safety (Marquette, who is not an agent, or an especially likeable character for that matter), and then sticks around after the bad guys are dispatched to ensure that help is on the way. Or in Invincible Shiwan Khan, when he gets injured throwing himself on the path of a flying Moe Shrevnitz to cushion his fall, and because of it, gets beaten so brutally by Khan’s minion that he staggers barely conscious out of the fight, even though by this point he’s racing against the clock to stop Khan from acquiring his doomsday devices. At these moments, all he really could do, regardless of the odds, was to try and stop people from being hurt or killed, no matter the personal cost to himself or the mission, and so he did.

Throw a superhero apocalypse his way, and he’s going to be doing whatever he can to recruit the right people, obtain the right resources, anything he can to stop as much bloodshed as he can. And if he can’t? He’s going to be there to rescue people caught in the crossfire. If a zombie apocalypse hits town, he puts all of his agents to work on containing it as much as they can or finding a cure. If a giant monster’s rampaging downtown, he’s going to hitch a ride in a train and fire at it so it chases him and gives others time to run. If there’s an earthquake or tsunami, he gathers as many agents as he can and starts finding ways to ferry people to safety. If everyone he knows is dead, his greatest enemies have been winning for decades, and he’s stuck in a world that hates him and has no use for him, and he has no idea anymore what he even used to be? Still not gonna stop him. The Twilight Zone traps him in constantly shifting dimensions that break down his identity until he learns he’s nothing more than a fictional character, and he walks out of it having learned a lesson in humility.

If he’s thrown, alone, in a full on dystopia setting completely unlike his own, where he has to learn single-handedly to fight alien hordes to save Earth?

It's not that he never fails, can never fail or become emotionally distressed at it, it's that it ultimately does not stop him from doing whatever he can, whatever needs to be done, as The Shadow. His whole thing is knowing what to do above all else, and when he doesn’t know, he learns, studies, does whatever he can to remedy that as soon as possible.

#pulp heroes #the shadow #pulp fiction #replies tag

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himbowelsh · 4 years

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imagine dick winters the same but with extreme horny energy throughout the series. terrifying.

the sheer power of thot!winters... i can’t even

Nixon has never enjoyed personal meetings with Colonel Sink. It reminds him too keenly of being called into the headmaster’s office as a boy. Sure, the gilt-carved walls and massive oak-paneled desk might be absent; he’s no longer a sulky twelve year old, wearing knee-high socks and a bow tie; but the feeling is still there. Sink never throws his weight around just to be intimidating --- a trait in a leader Nixon can actually respect --- but when he wants to, Sink can be the tallest man in the room. Everyone else looks, and feels, tiny in his shadow.

This meeting could be about a dozen things. Hopefully Sink doesn’t know about the footlocker.

“Captain Nixon.” He doesn’t look angry, which is a great start. Sink just looks tired --- not surprising, for a man with the entire 506th to look after. Nixon just has to deal with battalion staff, and he felt himself going grey at the temples after a week. Sink leans forward, bracing himself standing against the desk. Nixon straightens his back and makes himself attentive, ever the headmaster’s favorite student. “Now, I called you here to discuss something delicate. You intelligence men know how to keep things confidential.”

Nixon’s mind flashes through a montage --- humming La Marseilles in Dick’s earshot before Normandy, leaving a coffee stain right over Holland on the map on Dick’s desk, the Dutch-to-English dictionary he placed on Dick’s nightstand for safekeeping.

“Part of the job description, sir,” he replies, smiling.

Sink looks uncomfortable. “It’s… a delicate situation. You understand.”

Oh Christ, it’s definitely about the footlocker. Nixon’s shoulders tense, though his face doesn’t change. If he’s about to get demoted, he’s going to look respectable doing it.

“About Captain Winters.”

Oh.

Oh?

“The man’s a damn good soldier. Gets all the work done, is excellent with the men… you see, they respect him. These men need officers they can look up to.”

Oh.

“Not ones who get caught naked in a henhouse with the mayor of Aldbourne’s damn daughter on top of him!”

Nixon recalls that day in vivid detail — mostly because it was last weekend, but also because of the vivid red Dick blushed— presumably all over— even though he was grinning while telling it. The man has the patience of a saint, and double the virtues that come along with it. You could fill a new testament with the exploits of Dick Winters… except at least half of the pages would be torn straight from a bodice-ripper novel.

“Now, I try to make allowances for good officers, but this is the third time it’s happened... this month. When I talk to Winters about it, he says ‘yes sir, it’ll never happen again’. Then you know what he goes and does?”

It takes Nixon a second to realize Sink’s pointing at him because he expects an answer. “He does it again,” he volunteers.

Sink smacks the desk. “He does it again!”

He does plenty more that Sink doesn’t hear about, too, but Nixon’s not about to admit that to the man’s face.

“Now, you know how to handle him. If anyone in the army can wrangle the damn man, it’s you! From here on out, your job is to keep Winters out of trouble. I hate to demote a good officer, but he’s about to leave me no choice. Take care of it, Nixon.”

Buried deep down, a part of Nixon feels like cackling. Him, official Dick Winters babysitter? Christ, it’s like putting the death row inmates in charge of the electric chair, or letting a mouse run the whole kitchen! Rather than be written up for insubordination this early in the morning, Nixon just bows his head rising smoothly from his chair. “Yes, sir. I’ll look after him, sir.”

Sink sighs, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “A model officer. A damn good man. All I ask is for him to keep it inside his pants. Is that too much to ask?”

It’s probably a rhetorical question. Nixon smiles pleasantly, and answers anyway. “Nothing’s too much for Captain Winters, sir.”

Sink waves him off with a shake of his head, settling down to focus on his next pressing issue. Nixon knows when he’s been dismissed; frankly, he can’t get out of the colonel’s office fast enough.

By the time he makes it back to the billet he and Dick are sharing, the story is burning his tongue like a sparkler. Jesus, what will Dick think? You never know what you’re going to get in a one-on-one with the brass, but babysitting duty’s something else. If Nixon’s suddenly the responsible one…

“Hey, Dick!” he calls, slamming the door to their shared house open. “Wait ‘til you get a load of —“

Nixon stops dead in the doorway, mouth hanging open. Suddenly, his mind is nothing but radio static. Dead air. A complete blank. Jesus Christ, he should learn to knock.

“Hiya, Nix,” Dick greets amiably, popping his head out from under his lady friend’s skirt. His flushed lips are almost more obscene than her wanton moaning. “Give me a few minutes, I’m just finishing up here.”

“Right.” Nixon snaps his fingers, then points a thumb over his shoulder, out the door. “I’ll just be — yeah, okay. You kids have fun.”

Yet another room he can’t escape from fast enough. This is turning into a day of uncomfortable meetings, and he’d kind of like to go into hibernation just to avoid any more.

Dick’s companion leaves first, a couple minutes after Nixon makes himself scarce. Her blouse is buttoned unevenly; she walks out on unsteady legs, face still flushed. Nixon waits a moment, just to make sure no more girls are following — he still remembers the night he got caught in a tragic jam, at least six girls filing out of their rooms as he tried to go in — but when no one else follows, he steps inside.

This time, he has the grace to rap lightly on the door. Dick turns, sparing him a close-lipped smile as he steps inside. By this point, Nixon knows he shouldn’t be surprised… still, Dick has a talent for it. “You know, I step out for an hour…”

“Veronica was just passing by.” Dick studies his reflection in the mirror, and splashed a bit of water on his face. “We’re old acquaintances. I invited her in because it’s the nice thing to do.”

“‘Old acquaintances?’” Nixon echoes, putting up a valiant effort not to laugh. “How far do you go back? All the way to last week?”

“Three weeks ago, actually,” Dick replies. By now, Nixon knows him well enough to catch the humor in his dry tone.

“Right, right.” He unbuttons his officer’s coat, surreptitiously scanning the room; Dick’s extracurriculars often leave evidence behind, and Nixon would prefer not to step on an earring again. “Well, that was nice of you. Seemed like she was enjoying herself.”

“Seemed like it,” Dick agrees, tone mild. When Nixon turns, he’s sprawled out in an armchair, head tilted back. Such exploits take a lot out of a guy… and Dick never gives himself a break. It’s not enough to be up with the sun sorting paperwork; he also puts in a different kind of work, so often that it’s amazing he hasn’t sprained anything. Burning the candle at both ends, indeed; Dick’s candle gets so much use, Nixon’s shocked it even lights anymore.

“I was going to tell you,” he says, draping his coat over the back of Dick’s desk chair, “about my meeting with Sink.” Dick makes a noncommittal noise of agreement, but at least Nixon knows he’s listening. “Got it into his head that I’m the responsible party here. Poor man. Couldn’t bring myself to prove him wrong just yet.”

Dick is quiet for a few moments; long enough to sit forward, elbows braced against his knees, watching his friend solemnly. Nixon might be the intelligence officer, but Dick’s always had a stare that can unwravel people without trying. “What did he say?” he asks, solemn.

Nixon rolls his shoulders in an easy shrug. “He asked me to keep an eye on you.” He lingers on the contents atop the dresser for a moment, pretending they’re more interesting than they are. Sure enough — a pair of ruby earrings sit forgotten. Nixon’s lips twist as he plucks them up, placing them inside a clean ashtray. Someone’s going to come looking for them eventually. “Sink’s talking about demotion, Dick. It’s crossed his mind.”

“Demotion? For what?” Dick doesn’t even sound outraged — only surprised.

“Well, the mayor’s daughter came up.”

Dick’s mouth drops open in protest; he closes it just as quickly. “Fair. Why else?”

Nixon can think of… at least twenty more reasons. Lieutenant Baldassari of the Nurses’ Corps… the baker’s wife… the waitress with the bright lipstick… that farm girl who left Dick pulling hay out of his clothes for a week… hell, when Kathy was visiting, Nixon even made the mistake of inviting Dick to dine with them. Never again. If any man ought to have it out for Dick Winters, it’s him.

(At least Dick had the courtesy to invite him. Nixon turned the offer down — like hell if Kathy wanted him in the middle, anyways.)

The thing is… Dick’s character makes him otherwise unimpeachable. He’s so damned good. Hardworking, determined, coolheaded, sober as a judge… and filled with tireless energy towards his duty. So much energy. A frightening amount of energy, all the time, ready to lead the men in anything.

It took Nixon a while to figure out where he generates it all.

“All I can tell you is, be careful. Chrissakes, lock your doors, at least, so innocent people can’t just walk in.” Nixon turns, leaning against the dresser and crossing his arms. “I don’t have to remind you about the Sobel incident.”

“I remember,” Dick replies, lips quirking in a dry half-grin.

“Great! So you remember Sobel’s sister. And why the man was dead-set on driving you out of the damn army.”

“It was nice of his family to visit from Chicago,” is all Dick says. When Nixon just stares at him, Dick sighs and rises from his chair, turning to the desk. “I’ve got some paperwork, Nix.”

“Right.” Nixon waits for a moment, weighing the likelihood of Dick giving in and continuing the conversation. It’s not high. Shaking his head, he pushes off of the dresser and starts across the room. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Have fun. Oh, and Dick —“

As Nixon turns in the doorway, Dick looks up.

“You want me to believe you’re going to stay in and be good all night, you might wanna put some clothes on.”

Standing buck-naked in the middle of their shared room, Dick shrugs his lean shoulders, and smiles. “Will do, Nix.”

#this is the most cursed thing ive ever written #dick winters #lewis nixon #my writing #band of brothers

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getters-blog-index · 4 years

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It was a cold, cloudy day, light fog hung over the landscape, not obscuring the landscape, but still visible to the eye. There was utter silence as the wind stayed soft and still. The pointy-eared mags wondered why she felt such great unease. Since the departure of the Knight of the Wind, there had been peace in the land. The knights were able to protect that peace as just warriors. However, something ominous looms over the horizon. A sensation of dread washed over her.

“The Doom of Britain is at hand...we must make haste if we are to prevent its destruction.” She turned to her companion, a warrior from another time. The man’s face was completely hidden and obscured behind bandages beneath a red hood. He seemed cold and detached, but there seemed to be a gentle warmth to him that was hidden away. The mage knew she had summoned a noble warrior from a far off time.

She recalled how she did the same with the Knight of the Wind, and how he stood up to the Knights of the Round Table and slew the false King Arthur, and how he defeated her when she had lost her way and tried to preserve the kingdom as it was forever. She took the lesson to heart. No kingdom would last forever. However, even so, if the kingdom were to fall, she would prefer a peaceful passing as opposed to the darkness that she senses.

The pair would head back to Camelot to see if there was anything they could do about the rising tide of Darkness. Unfortunately, only Sir Galahad lives to defend Camelot from its enemies. The rest had passed on, save for the Knight of the Lake. In fact, it was the fault of the Knight of the Lake that all the others had been slain. His mad roars can still be heard from the castle.....

The mage wondered what hope they had of victory. Two warriors and a mage were hardly enough to fight an army.

“You’re having doubts?” The masked figure asks, picking up on her feelings.

“No, I just....” The mage trailed off as her thoughts scattered. His voice had broken the silence and she didn’t have time to think of a response.

“Don’t worry, Master. Just supply me with enough Mana and I’ll handle the rest.” He spoke with...a cold confidence that shook the mage. There was no enthusiasm or pride. Just a man stating facts. She wondered if he had emotions. She knows there’s a warm and kind heart in him, but this mask he puts on....it seems as though he wishes to separate what he does from who he is. She wished to know more, but she was, honestly frightened of what he might do if she tried to ask.

Perhaps, for now, it would be best to focus on reaching Camelot. “Right, very well. We can’t waste any more time.” The pair would pick up speed as they hurried back to the castle.

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In a far flung future, a chase down a long metal corridor ensues between an evil scientist in his flying machine and a blue creature of incredible speed. The scientist cursed his luck. He had been so close to getting away scott free, yet his nemesis had appeared just in time. “You miserable rodent. How many times must you interfere with my work!?”

“As many times as it takes to make sure you give up, Eggman!” The creature responded with his go to nickname for the evil scientist. He bounced off the wall of the corridor to try and reach the scientist, only to get repelled by a shield. The creature landed on his feet and resumed the chase with a quick recovery time.

Eggman tapped furiously against the console of his machine. “Looks like your Time has run out, Sonic! AHAHAHAHA!” The scientist gloated as the corridor lit up. Traps of all kinds came out of the walls. Spikes, turrets, and lasers littered the hall to an extreme degree. With such confidence in his assured victory, the scientist pushed his machine to speed up, cackling the entire way.

The creature, Sonic, smirked, enjoying a challenge. He used the closed space to bounce off the walls, avoiding spikes and crashing into turrets and lasers. The creature curled into a ball, spinning faster and faster until he launched, crashing through the remaining traps to catch up with his quarry.

The hallway ends, reaching a large open room with an enormous machine. Sonic uncurled and walked into the room with swagger. “Nice try, Eggman, but it’s going to take more than that to....beat this.....hog?” Usually, he’d see the scientist in the room, or at the very least, there’d be some hint of the doctor. This is strange. He’d have retorted by now.... “Did he just, disappear?” Sonic wondered as he traversed the room.

He was able to get a better view of what was here. The middle of the room had a large gyroscope-like thing, with what looked like a mini Mobius, his planet, inside. It shined a dull blue as the rings of the gyroscope rotated around it. Something seemed strange. None of the continents on the mini planet looked familiar to him. There wasn’t really anything else in the room. No hatches, no secret entrance, nothing. “He couldn’t have just....vanished....I need to get Tails. Maybe he can figure it out.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

With the scientist missing, it was much easier to return to the large strange room with his friends. Sonic paced around the room as a yellow fox creature with two tails accessed a panel at the bottom of the gyroscopic machine. They were both accompanied by a pink hedgehog who was watching Sonic pace.

“And he just....vanished?” The pink hedgehog asked, with clear confusion in her voice. “You don’t think this might be some kind of portal machine or something? We’ve dealt with all kinds of things like that before.”

Sonic nodded as he continued, never breaking his stride as he responded. “That’s what I was thinking. There’s no exits to this place, so it makes no sense for him not to be here unless he used Chaos Control like Shadow, or if he used something like a Time Stone or that...Time Eaty thing from a year ago.”

“Don’t remind me of that. Being stuck in this weird space between time was, so cold and unsettling. I don’t think I want to know what would’ve happened if I was stuck there for any longer.” The pink hedgehog answered back, clearly unsettled by that event of the past. “Any luck, Tails?”

The fox smiled as he looked at his device’s screen, plugged into the larger gyroscope. “You’re not going to believe this. This is a machine from back before Mobius!”

The two hedgehogs stopped and stared. “BEFORE Mobius?”

Tails was beaming as he accessed the records. “Not just that, but this has access to almost the ENTIRE human history before the Xorda invasion! All that lost knowledge and history, here in one place! Okeanos, London, Rome, China, America. I don’t know ANY of these places, but they’re all mapped out on the continents almost like ours. We can even see how Plate Tectonics changed between then and now. Kinda weird though, for the continents to change like that in 3000 years.”

Sonic interrupted. “Ok, ok, so we got a nice new history textbook. Is there anything else?”

“Oh, Absolutely! It says that this thing is called Chaldeas. It’s a device used to observe all of human history. It’s supposed to be used with other devices called Sheba and Laplace. I’m gonna see if I can find them, but basically, this thing can Time Travel people into parts of human history.” Tails looks like an excited child as he discovered so much new technology in such a short amount of time.

Sonic on the other hand looks frustrated. “Great, so he time traveled, again, for the third time. Has he not learned about not messing with time by now?”

The pink hedgehog looks more concerned than frustrated. “Not just that, but now he went to a time we don’t even know, and in another era by all accounts. Before Mobians, before Mobius. We can’t even begin to predict where he would go!”

“Not to worry, Amy. The beauty of technology is I can just repeat the last command.” Tails reassured the pink hedgehog. “I just need to keep a connection with Chaldea and I’m sure we can get back no problem. Buuuuuuuuuuuuuut, just in case, I am going to call a few people to secure this facility and make sure that they can track us.” Tails holds up the device screen to show old security footage. “It seems like people who went back in time had people that were still here to help manage them and provide logistical support. All the more reason for us to be more prepared than Eggman.”

That got the two hedgehogs in better spirits. “So now, all we need to do is follow Eggman, kick his can and his badniks to the scrapyard, and back in time for lunch.” Sonic emphasized with some kicks to the air.

The pink hedgehog, Amy shook her head but with a smile. “I’m just glad we’re not absolutely clueless about what we’re doing this time. So, how does this work?”

“That’s easy. I just need to begin the Rayshift process. The destination is sometime in the Human Middle Ages. It’s going to be a bit intense so brace yourselves. I’ll leave instructions for our back up for when they get here. Are we ready?” Tails was eager to try this out. Considering all the research and how successful it seemed to be, all his worries were put to rest. They were going to get to do controlled Time Travel! This was revolutionary technology!

He began tapping the commands, and the three mobians watched as the machine activated. They were all pumped up as they got ready to go.

[Unsummon Program Start] [Spiritron Conversion Start]

“Hey, uh, Tails? What does that mean?” Sonic asks with....notable concern at these odd terms.

“I think they’re part of the normal process.”

“You THINK?”

[Rayshift commencing in 3, 2, 1.....] Amy notices, red marks forming on her forearm. It didn’t hurt, but she couldn’t wipe it off. “What is this? What the heck?”

[All Procedures Cleared]

[Grand Order Commencing Operation.]

And in a flash of light, the three mobians were gone, leaving the room empty and silent once more.

#Story #No Title #Crossover #Fate #Sonic the Hedgehog

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jakkosisle · 6 years

Text

The Battle For Lordaeron: Part V - Momentum

By the time Jakko and Spritzie made it to the Southern Courtyard, there were plenty of Horde, but no Alliance. Jakko tapped a random dreadguard on the shoulder. “Yo - where’s the Alliance?” he asked.

“They haven’t reached us yet.” the dreadguard replied. “Last I heard, Windseeker Durja and his forces managed to intercept them. They’re buying us time to prepare.

Jakko nodded and jogged over to where Spritzie was - chatting up with Soozee as the latter powered up her void-buster mech.

“There you are.” Spritzie said as she twirled her rifle. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” Jakko said as he withdrew his swords. He spied Johriah riding up and down the line atop his deathcharger, addressing his troops.

“Stand ready! The Alliance will be here any minute now!” he shouted.

It was then that a pair of large bats flew towards Johriah on the battle lines, morphing back into troll druids. “Da Alliance be comin’!” one of them shouted.

“Where’s Durja?” Johriah asked.

“Dead. His entire force got wiped out.” the druid said. “We da only ones who got away.”

“He held ‘em back as long as he could.” the other druid said. “But…Lady Proudmoore is wit’ dem! She be powerful and she be pissed and she be comin’ our way!” the other druid panicked. The death knight slapped him with the flat of his sword.

“Get a hold of yourself, man!” Johriah barked. He turned to the rest of his platoon. “Do not lose heart! We still have the advantage here! This is where we shall stand our ground! For the Horde!”

“FOR THE HORDE!” the crowd echoed.

The Horde army waited nervously for the Alliance to arrive, checking and rechecking their weapons. Then, the Alliance poured into the courtyard, charging into the Horde lines. The Horde charged right back. The two armies clashed hard in the middle of the courtyard.

Spritzie was in the thick of it, cutting down Alliance troops with her shotgun, howling in fury. Her riverbeast, Bruce, was impaled by Alliance pikes - a death that did not go unavenged. She spared the animal’s body a brief glance before whirling around on the Alliance and firing more. Sorry, Bruce, but I don’t have time to grieve you. Right now, mama’s got a battle to win…

Elsewhere along the front, Soozee laughed maniacally as her void buster decimated the Alliance soldiers. Humans and dwarves fled before her as the mech hounded them with bullets and void bolts. Soozee paused in her megalomania to check her mech’s readings - the Void Buster had never been pushed this far before, so she worried it might overload. But according to the readings, everything was operating within acceptable parameters. Satisfied that there was no immediate danger of that, she resumed her maniacal cackling.

As Jakko disemboweled a particularly unlucky kaldorei ranger, he paused and looked around, taking stock of the battle. He could see massive explosions of fire and ice on the other side of the courtyard - Jaina Proudmoore, no doubt. Jakko had no intention of getting that close to the legendary mage - she was someone else’s problem as far as he was concerned. Despite Proudmoore’s presence, the Horde was holding the line surprisingly well. Maybe this battle could still be won, but Jakko remembered what happened last time he got his hopes up. He was still ready to grab his sisters and make a break for it the moment things go tits up.

And it seemed that moment was upon them, as a large, dark portal suddenly appeared on the Alliance’s side of the battle, elves leaping out and joining the fray, along with several gnomish war machines. “Oh fuck, are those what I think they are…?” he muttered to himself. And sure enough, the way they ‘glowed’ black, as oxymoronic as that sounds, made it impossible to mistake the newcomers for anything else.

“Void elves…” Soozee growled as her mech stomped up to Jakko’s side, confirming the druid’s fear. Her machine’s wrists twirled and its claws flexed, ready to grab something. “The Alliance must be getting desperate if they’re calling in THEM. Damn the High King, he doesn’t realize he’s playing with fire!”

This was bad - between the gnomish ordinance and the void elves’ unnatural powers, the Horde forces were getting torn to shreds. If somebody didn’t do something about them and soon, it wouldn’t be long before the Alliance breaks through the defenses and wins.

Jakko had to do something.

“Keep those void suckers away from Spritzie! I got an idea!” Jakko said as he morphed into a bat and flew off.

“Roger that!” Soozee said as her void-buster’s engines revved up. She’d been meaning to study the ren’dorei for months now, and this was the perfect opportunity to ‘collect some samples.’

“Peekaboo!” Tendalel shouted as he appeared behind a tauren that Marbelma had been locked in melee with, thrusting both daggers into the massive creature’s spine before it fell over like a great felled tree. “Hey kid - miss me?”

“Tendalel?” Marbelma asked. “What are you doin’ here? I thought SI:7 was done with this battle.”

“SI:7 was, but not the ren’dorei.” Ten answered. “After you guys started assaulting the main gate, Alleria herself rallied the void elves together to form a cavalry force, should things go tits up.” He then looked around the courtyard. “Which evidently, they have.”

Indeed, even with Proudmoore by their side, the Horde wasn’t budging an inch. The Alliance was beginning to run out of steam and the attack would’ve failed. But with the timely arrival of the ren’dorei, the Alliance forces had been granted a second wind. They’ll yet win this fight!

It was then that Tendalel noticed a large, modified goblin shredder charing into the ren’dorei forces, trying to grab someone in its claws. He patted the young dwarf on the head. “Keep your head down, kid.” he said as he disappeared into shadow - he’d always had a talent for stealth as a blood elf, but the talent was taken to new heights by his recently-granted powers over darkness.

He leapt onto the mech’s back and ripped off a panel, looking inside at all the internal circuitry. “Okay, uh…..This looks important!” he said as he grabbed a red wire and ripped it out. The mech didn’t cease its assault, but the canopy DID open to reveal its goblin pilot. Awesome, now he just needed to climb inside, kill the pilot, and presto - no more mech. He climbed up the mech’s back…

Only to get hit by a void bolt its pilot had somehow conjured. The force of the impact knocked him off the mech and tumbling across the ground, but the rogue was quick to recover. The goblin turned her mech around to stare him down.

“You, my friend, have just volunteered to be my new test subject!” the pilot shouted. Tendalel didn’t know what that meant, but it probably wasn’t anything good. This was confirmed by the machine gun on the mech’s wrist unloading on him - he ripped open a spatial rift to get out of the way and into cover behind a fallen pillar.

“You think your void powers will save you?!” the goblin shrieked. “Well, you void elves aren’t the only ones with power over the Void!” she fired a round of missiles at the pillar, obliterating it. Ten leapt just before the missiles detonated, but he felt the blast area tinged with an energy that he was, by now, intimately familiar with.

“Were those VOID missiles?” he shouted back.

“Yes!” the goblin replied.

“I didn’t even know you could MAKE missiles with Void!” Tendalel shouted.

“Of course you don’t!” the goblin replied. “I’ve been studying the Void for YEARS! I had to WORK for my power over it, while you were just HANDED your power on a SILVER PLATTER!”

“I sense a bit of jealousy.” Tendalel said.

“You void elves are like children with guns!” Soozee replied. “You’ve no true RESPECT for the Void’s powers!”

“I respect it enough to know how to do this.” Ten quipped before disappearing into another spatial rift.

“Hey! Stop doing that!” the goblin demanded.

While Soozee was keeping the void elves busy, Jakko flew up to the bastion where Stoneheart landed. The hippogryph was still there, and even still had those five bombs attached! Perfect! He morphed back into his troll form and mounted the beast and snapped the reigns. The feathermane cried before hopping off his perch and flying back to the courtyard.

Jakko flew over a crowd of void elves firing void bolts at the Horde forces where he dropped one of the bombs. The bomb detonated in a shower of fire, shrapnel, and bits of purple goo that used to be ren’dorei. The druid cheered. “Take that, shadow-suckers!”

Satisfied with having taken a good chunk out of the ren’dorei’s numbers, Jakko flew over to rest of the Alliance front, dropping another bomb, this time on the regular Alliance infantry that were coming in Spritzie’s direction. Another detonation and bits of armor and gore erupted into the air. “Spritzie! Get outta there!” Jakko shouted.

“No!” Spritzie shouted back. “If I run now, they all died for nothing! I’m seeing this through to the end!”

The ground shook with the force of the explosions that killed the ren’dorei and Stormwind footmen. “Up there!” someone shouted, pointing to a hippogryph up above them. It dropped a third bomb on top of a dwarven steam tank, destroying it. “Is that friendly fire from one of the Teldrassil riders?”

“That’s no night elf…” Marbelma growled. It was that troll that escaped her during the bombing run. The one that killed Cinderwing. Seems like he decided to finish what he started. She looked around, looking for an elevated position - she spotted a wall that was partially collapsed. Perfect!

She ran for the collapsed wall and started hopping up. One wouldn’t think of dwarves as being particularly agile climbers, but one doesn’t survive long in the mountains without being sure-footed. The dwarf hopped, skipped, and jumped her way up the pile of rubble onto the battlements, where a squadron of undead archers were giving the Horde covering fire.

Marbelma swung her hammer in a wide, horizontal arc, blasting a wave of fiery light at the archers, reducing them to ash before they even realized she was there. She stood on top of the bastions and watched the hippogryph. “Come on…come on…” she muttered as she conjured a hammer of light in her hand.

…Now!

She tossed the hammer at the hippogryph.

Jakko’s little bombing campaign was going well enough. He only had two bombs left though, so he had to choose his targets-

CLANG!

A glowing hammer flew out of nowhere and struck Stoneheart right on the head. The unconscious hippogryph began falling like a brick, towards one of the walls that separated the southern courtyard from the rest of the city. The hippogryph landed on the wall with a crash, skidding across the floor until finally slowing to a stop halfway along the wall.

Jakko growled out a few choice curses in goblin. He took he landing hard and nearly everything hurt. He rolled sat up and rolled his shoulders trying to soothe his aching muscles. He checked on his hippogryph. “Stoneheart?” he asked. “You okay?”

He wasn’t okay.

Stoneheart’s beak hung open while his eyes fogged. He checked his neck for a pulse, only to find the neck was broken. The flying hammer didn’t knock him out. It killed him. It killed a noble beast that had been serving him since the Cataclysm.

“Sorry, buddy.” he said as he closed the beast’s eyes.

Piksap. Marbelma heard that word before. The first time she heard this troll said it, she thought it couldn’t possibly be him. But after hearing it again, clearer this time without the din of battle to drown it out, it was unmistakable.

For the first time in years, her blood ran cold.

The troll stood up and looked over his shoulder, staring down the dwarf paladin, who now had her hammer out. “…Okay.” the troll said in decent common In a goblin accent, no less. No doubts now, he was definitely the one. “I get it. I kill your hippogryph, you kill mine. So, we even?”

“Not even close!” Marbelma shouted. “Ten years ago, you ruined my life! And now, as a reward for my faithful service to honor and duty, the Light has blessed me with this - my chance for revenge.”

“…The fuck are you talking about?” the troll asked.

Marbelma forcefully removed her helmet and tossed it aside, staring down the troll with a hate-filled glare.

As soon as the dwarf removed her helmet and revealed her face, his mind suddenly flooded with memories. Memories of a far more evil life.

It was back when he was a rogue, long before he heard Shirvallah’s call. He’d been hired to assassinate a captain of the Ironforge Mountaineers. He infiltrated his cabin in Dun Morogh and killed him. Two more dwarves bore witness though, so Jakko had to kill them too.

…And there was one more dwarf. A girl. Couldn’t have been older than twelve years old. Scared out of her mind, seeing the big scary troll standing over the corpses of her family. Paladin came in out of fucking nowhere, and Jakko bailed. It was one of his messier jobs.

…It was her. That same girl. Ten years older and clad in armor, but there she was.

“Just my luck.” Jakko commented aloud. He pulled down his hood and face mask, figuring that he should return the dwarf’s courtesy and reveal his own face. “I always figured one of my previous mistakes would come back to bite my ass one day. Gotta admit though, this isn’t quite how I pictured it.”

“Funny, because it’s exactly how I pictured it.” the dwarf replied. “You and I, meeting on the field of battle where you and your damned Horde finally meet your end by MY hands…”

“…Have you been practicing that speech in front of a mirror?” Jakko asked as he pulled out his swords.

“I’ve been practicin’ it for ten damn years…” the dwarf snarled before charging.

#Jakko #Marbelma #Spritzie #Roniaar #Soozee #Tendalel #World of Warcraft #Wyrmrest Accord

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yakumtsaki · 7 years

Photo

Well, well, well, look who’s back with the most morally repugnant update in Union history. Me. It’s been a very productive summer of Netflix, chill and giving wrong directions to tourists but all good things must come to an end. Also coming to an end is my ill-fated attempt to kill Max, who, after refusing to eat the cake FOR 2 FUCKING DAYS is finally released from the cage of death. Honestly, I’m impressed, Max, you’re definitely not as stupid as you look.

-Yea, I get that a lot.

I doubt that but whatever, now gtfo and I better not see your Komei-clone ass around Jojo ever again or it’s back in prison for you!

-So, Jojo, not that we’re not all extremely invested in the excruciating selection process of your husband, but are you any closer to picking one?? I mean I love this whole commune thing we have going but the constant food delivery for 8 is killing us.

-We’re afraid not, dear brother, it’s starting to look like no one in this world is worthy of our majesty.

Ugh are we really doing royal ‘we’ now? Is this what this has come to?

-Yes, college has really helped develop our sense of self-worth.

How can it be self-worth if you’re ‘we’?

-This is exactly the kind of idiotic questioning that would get you eliminated from the suitor process.

Oh, perish the thought! And miss out on this classical-music-dick-measuring-contest you have them doing?

-Ew seriously, Francis, Vivaldi? Why don’t you turn up to Justin Bieber while you’re at it.

Man, what a zinger! Good times. JOJO PICK A FUCKING DUDE ALREADY SO I CAN MOVE THE OTHERS OUT THE LOT IS LAGGY AS SHIT

-I lost the dick measuring contest and my punishment is sleeping on the couch.

KILL HIM IN HIS SLEEP MELODY

-Maybe later, Real Housewives of Pleasantview is on, Cassandra is getting dragged for the pigtails!!

-Ha, look at this Vivaldi-listening losér! Point at him and laugh, everyone!

-Who’s laughing now, bitch? Not you with that hoof right in your French-whore mouth!

-Ugh, aren’t you late for the beans-on-toast feast, you limey piece of merde?

Not since the 100 Years War have French-British tensions ran this high. Of course that one was for a throne, while this one..

-Is for something far more important.. Our heart.

LMAO Jojo please be serious, you don’t have a heart.

-We absolutely do and it’s made out of pure gold.

Yea I guess, I mean gold is a metal after all!

-Do you really think you should be eating decaying Chinese food, mon cheri? You’re going to need a soda to digest it and you know it’s too cold for your teeth!

-Wyatt, I don’t pay you to think, I pay you to sit across from me and look pretty, and occasionally to scooch down next to me so I look taller.

-You actually don’t pay me at all.

-Yes and obviously I’m getting my money’s worth.

Wow Jojo tone it down, your gold heart is shinning so brightly I’m gonna go blind!

Precious Gunther has added three new addictions to his existing sex one! A) working out in this atrocious outfit.

B) blowing bubbles from dawn to dusk.

and c) and the most disturbing one, constantly being alone in enclosed spaces with his brother’s intended, Brit Brit. At first I wasn’t too worried about it, thinking Brit is a popularity sim so it’s only natural..but then..

I SEE THIS. GODDAMMIT GUNTHER WHY MUST YOU HAVE CHEMISTRY WITH EVERYONE

-Man idk, it’s almost supernatural. Blame it on God ;)

UGH I don’t even know who I hate more, your whore ass-

-or this fucking llama that hasn’t gone home in 3 days and is eating all our pizza.

-I just feel so accepted here, like I’m part of the family, you know?

GET OUT

Speaking of furries, not even the cow will approach the fucking cowplant, jfc. I mean you’d expect some kind of kinship there but nop. Great job Jojo, you killed a dozen secret society members for a defective cowplant.

-Mooo :(

I don’t know which one of you did that but stfu, I can’t anymore with this flop ass household!!!1

ANYWAY back to Brit and Daniel, it seems like my Gunther concerns were baseless, since these two remain eternally into each other, always autonomously doing cute crap.

-Oh Daniel, let me serenade you with the song of your people!

The kings made us drunk with fumes, peace among us, war to the tyrants! Let the armies go on strike, stocks in the air, and break ranks. If they insist, these cannibals on making heroes of us, they will know soon that our bullets are for our own generals ♪

ROMANCE ISN’T DEAD

In other news, allow me to present you all with Melody’s personality panel. I was under the false impression that being the child of Wanda and Stephen she was.. nice?? But nop, total Union freak material! We hit the jackpot once again. Now her best friendship with bitch Brit makes total sense.

-Honestly girl, this janky ass house is such a step down from the sorority, I spend half the day thinking of ways to peace out.

-Ugh I know, I was on the fence at first but can you really put a price on good d?

-Aw, what are my beautiful hens cackling about? May I join?

-No.

-I was about to make a math joke but I doubt you gals would get it, amirite? As Barbie said, math is hard!

- I’m a literal math major.

-Oh I know, Mel, good for you! Affirmative action works wonders!

KILL HIM AND HIS HAREM WE DON’T NEED THE LAG

It’s another day in paradise. Daniel has finally cracked and gone full Komei, autonomously cleaning shit even though we have a maid..

Melody ate a ton of burnt grilled cheese and is non-stop throwing up..

AND THIS BULLSHIT IS STILL GOING ON. STOP IN THE NAME OF LOVE

-What?? We’re just talking, GAWD

No you’re not “””just talking””” you’re gossiping and doing sexy whispers, I KNOW YOUR TRICKS GUNTHER-

-I don’t mean to interrupt but I think you’re focusing on the wrong issue here?

OH AM I?? DO TELL

-LOOK OUTSIDE BITCH

Nice try whores, nothing is happening outside-

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMM WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK. WHAT.

-That’s right, Ti-Ning and I are in love now!

............................FRAN THIS BETTER BE SOME DRY ASS BRITISH HUMOR

-Nop! We got tired of waiting for Jojo and we decided the best way to handle it was to suddenly make out in front of him even tho we have never even flirted before!

THIS LITERALLY CANNOT BE HAPPENING

-Well it is, so best accept it and we can all move on :)

Oh yea certainly, I mean if anything Jojo is known for his ability to forgive and forget!

See the ghost of Ti-Ning indeed! Finally a wish Jojo and I share.

TI-NING OMFG THIS LACK OF SHAME

-Haha!!! Finally I’m free to be as gross as I want >:)

Well.. enjoy it while it lasts.

-The hell does that mean??

Nothing, just you know, none of us know when our time will come.. only that it will. The curse of human existence, one might say. Only we among the animal world know that we will die. Memento mori, Ti-Ning. And we will memento you.

-..Yea, maybe it’s time I move out?

I mean, you can try..

..but like the curse from It Follows, it follows. It being Jojo. How you holding up boo?

-Oh, I’m great, can’t you tell?

You know what might help? Some of your beloved homework! Do something useful, get your mind off this stuff..

“Sending The First Human to Mercury and Leaving Him There: A Very Specific Space Exploration Proposal”

-Jojό!! I’m writing about how I finally won your heart but please don’t look, I’m gonna read this at our wedding!

-Yea I literally couldn’t care less about you and your thoughts/feelings/etc, what was left of my heart is dead and gone and now there’s only a black hole there.. Oh we could also send Ti-Ning to a black hole if Mercury doesn’t work. Nice.

-UGH how are you even still alive and breathing the same air as me and not dead from shame like you should be, you vile adulteress???

-OH PLEASE you’re just mad cause Fran and I realized we can do better than your mega-jaw ass. If not for the endless supply of bubbles around here blurring our vision this would have happened weeks ago!

-I’m going to strangle you in your sleep and my jaw will be the last thing you see.

-Your jaw would be the last thing I saw even if I died on the moon.

-MAYBE YOU WILL

.....................well I guess it’s official then. And if the above didn’t seal it..

..this definitely did. God have mercy on me, what a shitshow.

While Tin and Fran are woohooing, Jojo attempts to end his troubles once and for all by running out of the house and into a thunder fire. Thankfully the rain puts it out quickly and all we’re left with is critically low hygiene.

Man, serving Penguin teas! You have the entire look down, Jo. I’d tell you to audition for Gotham but that’s extremely bad career advice

-Oh god, I almost died!!!!

Aw I know, but don’t worry you’re safe now <3

-No I mean I came so close but didn’t make it.. :(

Jojo please, if anything, live to kill Ti-Ning and Francis. You owe it to yourself.

As soon as Fran and Tin are done, guess who rushes in to gossip next to the bed. ISTG YOU ASSHOLES, BREAK IT THE FUCK UP BEFORE I THROW YOU OUT THAT WINDOW

-Whatever, we’d just land on Jojo trying to set himself on fire.

-LOL oh Brit you’re so funny!

I HATE THIS HOUSE

-HAD FUN, DID WE YOU SLUT

-Get him, Jojό!

Honestly Wyatt, I get being supportive but I’m really starting to worry about you, even demeaning yourself has its limits..

..especially since Jojo continues to be a massive freakshow. Good lord.

-Oh Francis, don’t tell Wyatt cause you know how he gets, but your total disregard for my existence is making me see you in a whole new, hot, light..

Man, good thing Wyatt isn’t standing 3 steps away from you!

Oh yes, loving this dinner. An ocean between us..

-I wouldn’t eat that third slice if I was you, Ti-Ning. Your funeral day is fast approaching, don’t you want to look nice for it?

-Well you’ll be there so it doesn’t matter, everyone will be looking at your jaw.

Yes, what a wonderful night. Now let’s all go to bed and hopefully everyone will have calmed down a little by tomorrow!

LMAO yea idk what I was thinking.

-Strangle me in my sleep? How about I strangle you in broad daylight???

I can’t believe I’m saying this, but.. poor Jojo. Not only did he get his ass beat, but to literally add insult to the injury-

-everyone is lusting after Gunther during his defeat. Jfc, I’d want to set myself on fire too.

Oh here we go, Gunther to the rescue!

-How dare you beat up my brother even though he attacked you first? Prepare to die!

-Whatever, I’ve been preparing for that for the last couple days!

Aw, Gunther is such a good brother/giant loser depending on the outcome of this fight.

VINDICATION. Bravo, Gunther, defending our non-existent family honor!

Daniel, in true Daniel fashion, slept through this entire shitshow, which might be the smartest thing he’s ever done.

Oop, spoke too soon. Say what you want about Gunther and Daniel but man do they both love Jojo! Truly god knows why.

-So Brit, you’re studying poli-sci, can you think of a peaceful resolution to this? Haha!

-YOU STFU TI-NING MY FINALS ARE TODAY MY GPA IS ALREADY IN THE TOILET AND NOW IM GONNA FLOP CAUSE YOU ASSHOLES SPENT THE WHOLE NIGHT FUCKING AND THE WHOLE DAY FIGHTING AND I HAVEN’T SLEPT AT ALL DAMN YOU ALL TO HELL I’M GONNA BURN THIS PLACE TO THE FUCKING GROUND IF YOU TRY ME

Well, you might not need to Brit! WHAT IS UP WITH THIS HYPER-FLAMMABLE CACTUS

Brit returns from her finals with a free pizza! How’d you do, Brit?

-Saved by the nightie again!

NOICE. Got a freebie pizza from it too?

-No, I found it in the garbage. My gift to Francis and Ti-Ning for their 3 day anniversary!

Jojo’s official greek house portrait coming along nicely! Wow he looks very majestic..

..Instagram vs Real Life.

-Bowling is so satisfying if you pretend the pins are your former lovers’ genitals!

Whatever coping method works for you boo!

Gunther and Ti-Ning are officially enemies which is hilarious because not even Jojo is enemies with him?? Follow your bliss, Guns!

In an impressive display of brotherly synchronicity we have double slapping across the room. Double the slapping for half the time, Jojo is as always a true capitalist.

JOJO!! I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU WON! So proud of my baby <3 I’m ofc kidding, this shit has gotten old really fast and I extremely feel Brit watching uninterested. ENOUGH

HARD MOOD. Brit is honestly on another level than the rest of us basics. What an icon.

For some reason I bothered to fulfill Ti-Ning’s want to learn that relationship maintenance or w/e lifetime skill (talk about money down the drain) and the irony of this pop up text almost sent me to an early grave. And we know who’s going to an early grave today..

IT’S CAKE TIME. REACH OUT, TI-NING. YOU KNOW YOU WANT IT

FINALLY. GOODBYE FIGHTING AND INSANE LAG

JESUS JOJO. STONE. COLD.

Ice Cube would like to say, that I'm a crazy muthafucka from around the way, since I was a youth, I smoked weed out, now I'm the muthafucka that ya read about, takin' a life or two, that's what the hell I do, you don't like how I'm livin well fuck you ♪

Wyatt and Brit were on their way to react to Ti-Ning’s little accident but somehow got sidetracked and are now randomly arguing on the porch. Honestly I don’t even know what’s going on anymore, I’ve lost all control of this household.

Jojo rushes over to celebrate Ti-Ning’s demise by immediately slapping the shit out of his grieving lover! Whenever you think we can’t possibly sink any lower, think again. Like right now, after the slapping, are you thinking we can’t sink any lower?????????????????????????????

THINK. AGAIN.

ARE YOU SCREAMING? CAUSE I DID

YUP THIS IS HAPPENING

IT’S REAL

IT’S. REAL. THERE ARE NOT ENOUGH CURSE WORDS IN ANY LANGUAGE TO EXPRESS MY FEELINGS

FUCK YOU FRANCIS. FUCK. YOU. YOU’RE GETTING MURDERED SO FUCKING HARD YOU UNBELIEVABLE ASSHOLE. I’M FUCKING DONE. JOJO YOU’RE GONNA DIE ALONE TIME FOR ALL OF US TO ACCEPT THAT REALITY. WE STARTED OUT WITH 3 CANDIDATES AND ENDED UP HERE. HOW THE EVERLOVING FUCK DID THIS HAPPEN FRANCIS AND WYATT HAVE. 1 BOLT. ONE. WYATT IS A FAMILY SIM I’M SO PISSED OFF I NEED TO TAKE A MOMENT

OK. In my 10 years of playing I have never wanted to quit without saving more than with this bullshit. Look at fucking Fran’s smug ass face and moron Wyatt putting on an Oscar worthy performance of shock and regret. YOU SHOULD HAVE SAID NO, YOU SHOULD HAVE GONE HOME WYATT. What the FUCK are we gonna do now???? I guess good thing Max Flexor survived the cage of death. GOD.DAMMIT

#ts2 #union legacy

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prussianknight9 · 7 years

Note

Hey kakuzu what do u do if hidan woke up crying from a nightmare?would you comfort him or no?

Choices

They had to leave at dawn, for their client’s ship pushed off the docks when the clock struck six. Their inn was close enough that the air tasted of salt and the gulls could be heard in the muffled distance.

Kakuzu opened the metal briefcase. Under the dimness of a single incandescent bulb, he checked that all three scrolls were fastened and secure. After clicking the locks into place, he pasted a paper seal over each of them for extra precautions.

He met Hidan down at the empty front yard. It had taken him five minutes longer and Kakuzu had been on the verge of marching back to pull the Jashinist out of bed himself, when a silver head poked out of the doors to the entrance.

Hidan shot him a glare, as if he knew what he’d been about to do. They started on the road without exchanging a word, but Kakuzu didn’t need to hear his voice to know something wasn’t quite right.

His usually pale face was gaunt, cheeks looking hollow in the first glow of daylight. The beginnings of purple shadows were smudged beneath his eyes. His lips were dry and cracked.

Their client was waiting for them in the bathroom of a local gift shop down by the coast. They exchanged briefcases, and Kakuzu made sure the trade was fair by counting the money down to every last sum. After making sure the scrolls were safely boarded, for the contents within were strictly illegal and Kakuzu wasn’t about to rely on slack item checking, they began their trek back to base. During the entire exchange, Hidan didn’t speak a word.

Their second mission was on the opposite side of the country atop a steep, crumbling mountain. Neither of them, despite their capabilities, had the desire to take the shortcut and scale the whole thing.

“Stairs,” grunted Kakuzu after they circled the base for any alternative. They were roughly cut and uneven, but they were stable and held their weight, which was all that mattered.

“You gotta be shitting me,” Hidan moaned. “Can you even see where it ends? No, we’re walking straight into Hell.”

“That’s the other way,” Kakuzu pointed out, glancing down at their feet. “Let’s go, we’re wasting time.”

“Fuck off,” Hidan snapped. “You’re not gonna hear the end of this.”

And it was true, for the Jashinist complained and griped the entire time. Kakuzu had to resort to fuming silently because one wrong move and they might both go tumbling and they’d have to start the climb all over again.

When the sun began to set behind them, they were about a third of the way up. There was no point in trying to feel their way up the precarious steps in the dark, so Kakuzu found stable ground not far from the path and settled there. It was a very narrow platform of stone and fallen wood, and they had to compress and stay absolutely still. Though autumn was around the corner, the days were still too warm for comfort. Kakuzu wondered if the stark movements made by taking off their cloaks were worth the risk of falling off the mountain and quite frankly, it wasn’t. He told Hidan so and they both fell silent against the fading light.

It was just before dawn when Kakuzu snapped awake. Decades of vigilance had taught his body to stir at the smallest of sounds. At first, the only things he could see were the shadows and outlines of trees and more trees, getting thinner at a steep decline below his feet. He felt Hidan’s weight pressed tightly against his right.

He closed his eyes again. All was as it should be.

There was that noise again.

This time Kakuzu frowned, pouring all of his concentration into locating its source. It had been very quiet and barely noticeable, but it had also seemed very close. It couldn’t have been the mountain collapsing, because rocks didn’t make that kind of sound. It was almost as if…

Crying.

His partner was crying.

For a good moment or two, Kakuzu actually wondered if his age was finally catching up to him and he was going senile. Then he heard the noise again and no, he was entirely sane and something had just gone utterly wrong somehow because Hidan did not cry. It went beyond the debate of immaturity; it was simply something Kakuzu had thought both of them incapable of, considering their occupation and life history. Of course, what did he know about Hidan’s life. It hadn’t crossed his mind once throughout the entire duration of their partnership since stuff like that simply didn’t matter.

Hidan didn’t weep openly, like he’d seen many do in the face of death or the loss of some loved one or prized possession. Every once in a while, he sniffled, very quietly. Kakuzu could feel the tempo of his breaths against him and knew that he was still asleep. They still had time before the sun rose, so the older man, feeling strangely off kilter, let him sleep.

When the sky grew light enough, he felt Hidan stir beside him. With minimal movement on both ends, their eyes finally met. The Jashinist seemed slightly alarmed to see Kakuzu already awake and looking at him. His eyes were slightly red, nose pink and slightly puffy, but his surprise morphed quickly into anger.

“What the hell?”

“I could ask you the same,” Kakuzu said evenly. Hidan’s lips thinned. “Is this going to affect your performance?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” growled the Jashinist, tendons in his neck rising in agitation.

“You know exactly what,” Kakuzu replied. “I’ll ask again: is this going to affect your performance?”

A muscle jumped in Hidan’s jaw. “No,” he said stonily.

“Then that’s all that matters. Let’s keep going.”

The rest of the trek was in silence. Kakuzu watched the way Hidan climb ahead with more vigor than necessary. Though he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious, he knew not to push. They had joined the organization on very different circumstances, and the older man knew when to mind his business. Unfortunately, the Jashinist did not.

“Keep staring at me and you might just burn a hole right through my ass,” Hidan snarled without turning around. “What the hell is your problem today, anyway?”

“I haven’t done anything out of the ordinary,” Kakuzu said.

“Yes you have. I know you’re wondering what the fuck happened back there. Quit trying to act all saint-like by pulling that ‘not-asking’ bullshit.”

“Did you want me to ask, then?” said Kakuzu, annoyed.

“Fuck no. Just stop thinking about it. It doesn’t matter to you or anyone else.”

The silence fell around them again, and Kakuzu, irked at having acted so transparently, actively worked to keep it off his mind.

That night, thanks to both of their stubborn perseverance, they finally reached the top of the mountain. Like they were informed, a small shrine was situated at the edge of the precipice. Battered and rickety from the wind and rain, it creaked dangerously under their weights as Hidan pried open the floor panels. Kakuzu kept his eyes on the horizon while his partner worked.

“Here it is.” Kicking aside the loose floorboards, the older man peered down to see what they were after. It was a small, clear box wherein a pearl necklace lay. “Did we seriously just come all this way for that?”

“We’re being paid ten million for it,” Kakuzu reminded him. “And supposedly, it’s cursed.”

Hidan cackled, swiping the box and shoving it in his pocket. “Yeah, sure. Come on, let’s go. I’m starving.”

“I’m not skidding down this entire mountain,” Kakuzu growled. “We leave at first light tomorrow.”

“No fucking way! I haven’t eaten in a day, you asshole.”

“We have our water skins. Food can wait until tomorrow.”

“Then take me to the rib house we passed back there.”

“You’re getting paid from this, so go buy your own.”

“I’ll pay you back, for fuck’s sake! Just get me ribs and I won’t jump off right now.” Hidan hovered a warning foot over the cliff.

Kakuzu rubbed at his eyes. “Fine.”

~*o*~

That night, Kakuzu was forced into alertness once again by a noise, but this time it was the creaking of the decrepit shrine in the wind. Tired and angry, he had half a mind to just shove the whole thing off the cliff. He was pacing around the perimeter of the thing when he heard a cry.

Kakuzu whipped around, crouching into a defensive position as he loosened the stitching on his arms. There was nothing on this tiny, barren stretch of land miles up into the cloud except for a few skeletal shrubs. Under the white wash of moonlight, the older man’s eyes were drawn to a figure currently thrashing dangerously close to the edge.

He lunged forward and grabbed Hidan’s ankle before he could tumble off into the void. Strangled noises were fighting their way out of his throat and he was clutching at his head as if he were hellbent on ripping his hair out. The Jashinist’s muscles were rock hard, locked into place. Kakuzu would have to break his arms if he wanted to pull them away.

“Hidan!” Kakuzu shouted, clamping down on his thrashing partner while trying to inch them away to the center of the mountaintop. He allowed his threads to erupt from his back to anchor deeply into the rock, in case he was pulled over as well.

“Don’ want it,” Hidan grunted through clenched teeth, almost bucking the older man off with a particularly violent shove. “Never wanted… never…”

“Hidan, look at me,” Kakuzu demanded, dodging a flying elbow by a hair’s breadth. “You’re dreaming. Open your eyes!”

“No,” Hidan screamed, clawing at his chest and arms. His nails tore through skin and blood spurted from each streak. “…don’t wanna… serve!”

The older man finally managed to straddle his partner and delivered a forceful punch to the Jashinist’s face, then another, and another. The third impact broke his nose, and the pain had been enough. Hidan’s eyes snapped open, and for a split second they were seeing something else, terrified and lonely. The haze quickly cleared and the two men were left heaving for breath while the wind howled around them.

“Kakuzu?” Hidan whispered. “W-what th–”

“What,” Kakuzu cut in with a snarl, “the ever-living fuck was that?” He backed away to let the Jashinist sit up and gape at the claw marks over his own body. The threads were pulled out and retracted; the rocks beneath them gave an ominous groan.

Hidan’s face was nearly translucent; tear tracks ran through the blood and gathered at his chin. He looked up at his partner. “I dunno,” he muttered, still seemingly caught up in the raw emotion that his subconscious had wrought. “I thought I was back at–”

He never got to finish the sentence. Without warning, the ground beneath Hidan cracked and shattered, giving away. Kakuzu threw himself at his partner without thinking. A deafening roar fill his ears as part of the mountain crumbled down in a landslide of trees, boulder, and dust. They clung low to the remaining flat ground and listened to the tumultuous rumble of rocks fading into a mere whisper.

“Yer crushin’ me,” Hidan groaned into the ground, coughing as he inhaled the dirt. “Can’t breathe.”

“Turn your head to the side, then.” He could still feel the vibrations through the mountain, wondered if this entire thing was going to collapse along with the first wave.

“Why can’t we jus’ ride yer masks down to the bottom?” Hidan asked weakly.

“I only have two,” Kakuzu reminded him.

“So?”

“Only one of them is airborne. It can’t support both our weights.”

Hidan didn’t answer. They just lay there like that, with Kakuzu pressing more than half of his weight over Hidan’s sprawled, bloodied form. He kept one ear close to the ground, listening.

It wasn’t long before a tiny sniffle escaped from his partner again. Kakuzu watched as Hidan trembled for precisely three seconds, before stilling. He sniffled again.

“S’not gonna affect my performance,” Hidan choked, although from this close Kakuzu could see that the dirt was wet where the Jashinist’s eyes were pressed into.

“What was it?” Kakuzu couldn’t help but ask.

“Ain’t nothing.”

“You said you never wanted to serve.” A cloud drifted over the moon, so that they were plunged into darkness. “Did you mean your precious–”

“Shut up.” Hidan’s voice was icy.

“You’ve acted like you wanted it. Since the beginning.”

The silence that followed stretched on for so long the older man was beginning to think Hidan had fallen asleep. Then a huff of laughter, devoid of mirth, sent grains of dust blowing away from under them. “It doesn’t matter now, does it?”

Kakuzu pondered that for a minute. “Perhaps,” he said.

Hidan sniffled again.

They waited until the mountain was absolutely still again. Very slowly, Kakuzu folded himself into a sitting position, and the Jashinist did the same. There was dried blood and tears smudged with dirt caking his face. He wordlessly reached out, and Hidan leaned in automatically. The older man grabbed the broken nose and reset it with a sharp crack.

Hidan screwed up his face. “Owww,” he groaned, wiping furiously at his eyes and chin.

In the near complete darkness, Kakuzu stared at a point of nothing, wondering how to phrase his next words. His partner continued to shuffle around next to him, a small flurry of movement and curses.

“You live with it,” he said finally, making Hidan pause, “and it doesn’t ever go away, I think.”

“Huh?” Back to pretending like nothing happened. “What the hell are you on about?”

“Your choices,” Kakuzu specified. “Even when you didn’t have any, because having no choice is still your decision, in a way.”

The Jashinist scoffed. “You’re not making any sense, old man.” He continued to scuffle about.

“In our lifestyle, when you’re left with no choice…” Kakuzu began unbuttoning his cloak. “You can either choose to live with it, or die. It’s ironic how the latter is impossible given our particular circumstances, but there was still a moment where it could’ve been done.” The movements had stopped again, but this time there were no scathing remarks.

“Idiot,” Hidan muttered after a while. “Of course I had to go with it. I’d have died otherwise.”

“But you didn’t. You’re here now, because you chose to live. There is a strength in that.”

“Well I wasn’t just gonna off myself, was I?” Hidan snapped.

“You could’ve,” Kakuzu said, shrugging. “I’ve seen countless shinobi take a knife to their throats, unable to live with themselves. Unable to live with the fact that they had no choice. So they chose to die.”

“The hell is your point?”

“You’re not weak. Shut up, Hidan, don’t take me for a fool. I know you think so. I could see it in your face yesterday, and twenty minutes ago. You’re not weak for them taking your decisions away from you. You chose to live with it and make it your own. You’ve risen above them.”

The wind died down from a high pitched whistle to a mere whisper. They both remained motionless for a long time.

“You can cry all you like,” Kakuzu said. “It doesn’t make you any less strong.”

“As if,” Hidan said at last, and his voice was thick. “I ain’t no pussy.” But he was sniffling again, like he couldn’t stop himself. “I was doing so well, forgetting about it all. And now you’ve gone and fucked it all up. Fuck you, Kakuzu.”

“Well, thought I’d help.” With a grunt and heave, Kakuzu released his masks from his back and they staggered out with disjointed whines. “Can’t have you ruining our performance over such a thing, can I?”

The trip down the mountain was long and arduous. But after that night, Hidan never had nightmares again.

#underfellsans568 #ask #kakuzu #hidan #akatsuki #fanfic #naruto #goodness this turned out way too long #i wanted to draw a mini comic for this ask but i thought i could make it better with a story instead! hope you don't mind :P

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tarisilmarwen · 7 years

Text

Cracks In The Mirror: Exctracted

(Chapter One. Chapter Two.

You know the drill, also on FFNet here.)

---

There was an old story, in which a hero was tasked with destroying a cursed tapestry, without setting blade or tool to it. The clever protagonist of the tale had examined the tapestry closely, finding among the thousands of strands a single loose thread that, when pulled, unraveled the fabric at its seams.

Thrawn had the tale hovering idly at the back of his mind as his crimson eyes perused his kaleidoscope of holographic displays. Ezra's information was projected on one side, a portion of Kallus's data on the other.

Bridger was beginning to awaken. Thrawn had dispatched a few of his people to the room with... special instructions. He had remained in his office, looking over the files that Pryce had brought him.

People were almost as fascinating a study as art. Almost. Each snippet of information told him some new aspect and facet of the man who had become Agent Kallus, rebel spy.

Thrawn pulled up a new hologram. After perusing it a moment or two, he straightened, and leaned forward in his seat.

Here was something. Whenever he was stationed above Lothal, Kallus appeared to make frequent, unannounced trips to the planet's surface. From the shuttle logs, always to Capital City.

Now what was down there that he had to keep visiting without telling anyone?

Remembering something, Thrawn shifted his focus back to Ezra's files. The one he was looking for wasn't currently projected, so he had to rifle through them on the console to find it first.

A cold smile touched his lips.

He'd found his thread.

***

The guard station on Level 5 was smaller than the others, crewed by only two people. Both of which, after getting over the excitement of having a Rebel spy and an infamous Lothal troublemaker in the brig, were now once again... very bored.

One of them sat slumped forward in his chair, flicking bits of crumpled durasheet off the panel with his fingers. The other paced back and forth idly.

"So when do you think they're gonna junk the old BTL-A4s?"

The one seated shrugged. "Hopefully soon, if they keep getting stolen."

THUMP!

"Oh, what now?" he groaned, shooting a glare towards the closed door.

The man pacing lifted his sidearm, heading for the exit. "If that Nikto in Cell B-138 is banging on the walls again I'm just gonna—"

He didn't get to finish, for as soon as he punched the button to open the door he was assaulted at knee level by a powerful shock.

He let out a rather undignified shriek before toppling backwards, out like a light.

The other guard snapped his head around and had just enough time to take in the black and red metal dome and think, A droid? before an arc of electricity shot across the room to hit him square in the chest.

He twitched in his seat, comically wide-eyed, before slumping over and not moving.

Chopper rolled into the room, cackling maniacally. He smugly shimmied up to the plug-in port, extending his arm.

"No, no, no, no!" AP-5 scolded sharply, strutting in and grabbing the astromech by the dome, sliding him back. "Do not just bludgeon your way into the system! You'll set off every alarm on the ship."

Chopper buzzed irritably at him, demanding to know how then he should proceed.

"Most binary programs are reasonable. Try asking nicely," AP-5 told him, waving towards the port.

The C1 droid chirped skeptically, but slowly rolled back towards the port, hesitantly plugging in. The system registered him, querying his intentions.

"WWWwww-WUB?" Chopper tried awkwardly.

The system responded politely, asking for his authentication code. Chopper dug it up from his memory files and passed it on.

After a moment or two, he was permitted access, and suddenly found the entire network open to him. He beeped in pleasant surprise, turning his head around to compliment his counterpart.

"Thank me later," AP-5 dismissed. "Let's see about getting those camera feeds to display on the screen."

***

Kallus paced back and forth in his cell, wearing a hole in the floor. His ears strained anxiously for any sound of movement, any hint that they were bringing Ezra down to a cell.

There'd been nothing for almost two hours. So they still had him in Interrogation.

He could still hear the boy's screams as echoes in his mind. Was that why no one had been down to confront him yet? So he could go mad worrying about what they were doing to him?

Well it was working.

Kallus forced himself to stand still a moment and take a deep breath. This wasn't helping. He needed to think.

All that kept running through his head was Ezra's face, twisted in pain. It was his fault the boy was here. The Rebels had come for him. To save him. Ezra had made his dislike of him and the plan to extract him vehemently apparent and he had still come, still put himself in danger in order to get Kallus out. Absurd, but after so many encounters with Bridger, no longer surprising.

And now he was suffering for it.

And more would follow, if Kallus couldn't figure out an escape. Kallus knew the crew of the Ghost too well—Jarrus would not continue to sit out in space fretting forever. The Jedi was... reckless when it came to his padawan.

He didn't realize he'd resumed pacing until the sound of footsteps out in the hallway made him stop in his tracks. Kallus froze, listening hard.

Several pairs, heavy-booted. They were coming from the wrong end. It wasn't Ezra. They were here for him.

Fear prickled in his heart, but he steeled himself, turning to face the door. Every limb tensed, ready to jump the guard the minute the door was open.

Borrowing tricks from Bridger, he thought, shaking his head. What have I come to?

The first trooper would be standing left of the door, at the access panel. There would be a second just behind him waiting to enter the cell, and possibly a third hovering to the right. If protocol was followed, he'd have approximately two seconds between when the door opened and when the guards proceeded into the cell. His timing would have to be precise down to the millisecond.

Lunge forward, grab the wrist of the facing trooper, get inside his firing arc, stun with blow to the diaphragm. Swing him around and smash him into the guard by the panel. Retrieve sidearm, shoot all guards before they're able to sound the alarm.

Several variations of the scenario were already rehearsed and perfected in his mind when the stray thought came to him suddenly—What if the Grand Admiral or Governor Pryce is out there?—and he scrambled, adrenaline sounding stressful alarms inside him, but the code cylinder was already clicking in the lock, no time, every muscle strained, ready to move—

There was a white uniform in-between the Stormtroopers. But the man wearing it was not Thrawn.

"Yularen!"

He couldn't help the surprise—and relief—in his voice. His body relaxed involuntarily, the planned action he'd intended fading fast. He had no chance with Thrawn or Pryce. Even Lyste would probably show him no sympathy now. But Yularen...

Yularen could be... persuaded.

There was a look on his old mentor's face, a bald, betrayed sort of disbelief. "Is it true?" he asked, and Kallus's relief slowly began to morph into guilt. "You," Yularen strained, emotion clogging his voice as the door closed behind him, "are Fulcrum?"

Kallus lowered his head and said nothing.

"Are you?" Yularen pressed.

He considered the merits of denying it, running through a few different excuses in his head. But by now Yularen would know of Bridger's capture, would know Kallus had concealed the boy's presence. There was no point in hiding it anymore. Not now.

He sighed in defeat. "I am," he answered.

Kallus lifted his eyes, and almost regretted it upon seeing his superior's expression.

"Why?" Yularen asked, shaking his head like he still couldn't believe it.

Kallus gave a short, bitter laugh. "I've asked myself that same question," he drawled. "Why would I defy the Empire? Why would anyone?" he asked rhetorically. His shoulders rolled in a half-shrug, his voice lowering. "Maybe I was just tired of yelling over my conscience," he muttered.

It had been all too easy to drown out the sound of his doubts before. He still couldn't quite tell when he had begun to listen. Certainly not at Lasan, though the guilt from that day had prickled him like a festering needle even then. Perhaps it had started at Tarkin's arrival. When the Governor callously had Aresko and Grint executed right there in the office—good men, not very bright or particularly competent but eager and loyal to the Empire—it had stunned Kallus to his core. Massacring the Empire's enemies was one thing. Thoughtlessly killing their own... shook him.

But then he had turned around and done the exact same thing to poor Tua, so perhaps that had not been the true start of his turn at all, just the crack through which the seed could be planted.

Yularen spoke again, pulling Kallus out of his musings.

"But treason, Kallus? Spying for the Rebels, trading them Imperial secrets?" Yularen said, incredulously. "You knew the consequences for that."

"I did." Executed for treason, he'd screeched at Ezra, almost hysterically, just that morning. Kallus shook his head. "But I couldn't just do nothing. If that leads to my death, then..." Kallus had to swallow down the fear building up a lump in his throat. He didn't want to die. But it seemed inevitable now, so he had to at least accept the possibility. "...so be it," he finished.

He felt just a little lighter for having said it.

"But you were more determined than anyone to catch these Rebels, see them brought to justice," Yularen protested. Kallus held himself back from making a biting quip about the Empire's idea of 'justice'. Yularen gestured with agitated motions. "Now you'd die for them?" he demanded to know.

Kallus gave a grimace of chagrin. "That wasn't the ideal plan," he told Yularen. "But if that's what it takes to keep their location secret and get Ezra off this ship..."

Yularen shook his head. "I don't understand."

"I don't expect you to."

"You were a star pupil. You're one of the best ISB has to offer," Yularen reminded him, anger beginning to creep into his voice. "You would throw that all away? Throw away your life?" The stern rebuke held a touch of concern. Yularen still had some fondness for his former student, Kallus noted for reference. He could use that. The older man stilled, face still full of disbelief. "For the boy? For Bridger?" he repeated.

"Do you know what they're doing to him, right now?" Kallus interrupted, remembering Yularen had a grandson about Ezra's age.

"Questioning him, I suppose," Yularen shrugged with stiff indifference.

"They're using the Brisney-Favvin on him."

Kallus's words had their desired effect. Yularen stopped his ranting, his eyes growing ever so slightly wider. For a long time, the older man didn't speak, processing what Kallus had said.

The silence stretched out.

Finally Yularen spoke up, haltingly, sounding almost unsure of himself.

"...The Senate has strict regulations about—"

"I know," Kallus interrupted once again. "And if I were another man..." Kallus sighed as he shook his head. "...if I were the same man I was six months ago... I might have kept my mouth shut. Justified it in the name of order, of putting down the Empire's enemies, despite whatever... personal misgivings I had." He met Yularen's gaze, gesturing helplessly with his hands. "But I... I can't anymore, Yularen," he said. "I've seen... I know too much of the Empire's true face. And I can't stand proudly with it as I once did. I am... ashamed I ever did," he admitted, hanging his head, the weight of the confession pulling him down.

Yularen didn't speak for a long moment. Kallus was a little worried he'd pushed too far with the wrong tactic, as he peeked up from under his lids, measuring the frown lines on Yularen's face.

Or... maybe not? He'd known the man to react with disgust to most incidents of treason and he'd yet to hear any. Kallus chanced looking up again. Yularen looked deep in thought, eyes pinched from some internal conflict.

"How old is your grandson?" Kallus said abruptly.

Yularen stirred a bit, replying blankly, "Eighteen. Just graduated the Academy."

There was an undercurrent of somber emotion in the old man's voice. Kallus nodded soberly. "Ezra's just a little younger than him, then," he said. He stepped forward a bit, arms out, open-palmed. "Can you imagine? How you'd feel if it was him strapped to that table?"

A flash of pain in Yularen's eyes, good. Ezra was becoming less of a concept and more of a human to him, a person with feelings and people who cared about him. That was part of what had worked on Kallus—that glimpse of the Ghost crew on the Geonosian moon, out of combat, relating to each other like friends, like family. It would work here.

He hoped.

"You know it's wrong, Yularen. Please... help me save him," Kallus pleaded. He drew slightly closer, some of his own guilt and desperation rising to the surface. "It's my fault he's here. Help me make it right," he begged.

For a long time Yularen just stared at him, a private war waging behind his eyes. Kallus's body was tense with anticipation. He was just starting to run through ways to disable the man when Yularen broke eye contact with a sigh.

"...Make it look good," he instructed.

Kallus's legs buckled, and he very nearly staggered on his feet as the relief crashed over him like a pounding wave. Yularen still trusted him.

He might not understand his actions, or why he would turn on the Empire, but he trusted him.

That was good enough for now.

"Thank you," he breathed, reverently.

***

The two men on the screen appeared to be in some sort of argument. Chopper had been only paying half-attention, more focused on the camera feed that showed Interrogation. But when there was a sudden flurry of activity in the other room his motors jerked his head around, drawn to the motion.

Kallus was engaged in a pitched scuffle with a white-uniformed officer. It was intense, the ISB agent had the other man on the ropes quickly, though his opponent seemed to be giving as good as he got.

The skirmish ended when Kallus slammed his opponent into the wall, just in time for the cell door to open and a pair of Stormtroopers to come rushing in. As the officer crumbled Kallus whipped around to lunge at the first trooper, both hands grabbing hold of his weapon.

"Sir! We have—"

In the seconds it took for Chopper to cut off the comlink feed and prevent the general alert from being sent out, Kallus had pulled some trick that had disarmed the trooper he was wrestling with. Blaster in hand, the agent pulled back.

Three shots. Three bucketheads down. The last trooper banged his helmet against the console as he dropped.

Kallus stood alone, breathing hard, amidst the chaos.

"WOAH," Chopper beeped, stunned and... slightly impressed.

"Well. That was efficient," said AP-5, apparently sharing the sentiment. The inventory droid swiveled. "Chopper, see if you can patch in to the comlink in one of those troopers' helmets."

"WUB-WUB," the astromech acknowledged, his manipulator clicking in the port.

***

"Is he still awake?"

The head technician stepped back, squinting at the limp body of their prisoner. Ezra gave a low moan, turning his head a bit.

"Eh, barely," he dismissed. He waved over for an aide to bring the tray. "Better give him another dose anyway."

"We've already given him enough to knock out a man twice his size!" the first tech complained.

The head technician shrugged. "You heard the Grand Admiral's orders. Here, give me the syringe."

His subordinate sighed, but passed it over. The head tech took it, looking for a place to stick Ezra. There were plenty of older holes he could reopen.

He'd just taken hold of Ezra's left arm when there was a commotion from outside. The technicians looked up in confusion, hearing thumps, thuds, and a few shouts. There was silence a moment and then a code cylinder unlocked the door.

"Trooper, what's going—"

The Stormtrooper suddenly raised his blaster, firing a deadly red bolt directly into the head technician's chest. The other two barely even had time to yell before they, too, were shot dead.

Three more bodies fell at his feet.

Kallus yanked off the Stormtrooper helmet, muttering low curses. "Blasted optics," he complained, setting the helmet aside on the tray. How anyone expected them to see straight through those helmets was beyond him.

The agent turned towards the interrogation table, haltingly, pulse rapid.

Ezra was unnaturally pale and still as death, only the soft sound of his breathing a sign that he was still alive. Kallus bit his lip as he took in the boy's condition.

His head lolled, the movement sluggish. He was still very drugged, almost to the point of unconsciousness. His mercenary disguise was a bit worse for wear, needle holes and rips spotting it, and the fabric singed in places. Ezra's face was bruised and burned, his lip bloody, and... was that an allergy rash?

Shaking off his horror, Kallus reached for the restraints holding Ezra to the table, quickly beginning to unfasten them. Ezra stirred as he worked, bleary eyes unfocused, clouded.

"Shndn't've come..." he muttered. "...stupid..."

Kallus couldn't tell if Ezra was referring to him, or to himself. "We can scold each other later," he told Ezra, throwing off the final strap. "Can you walk?" He took hold of Ezra's left arm, slowly easing him away from the table.

The minute his feet found the floor Ezra's knees collapsed, the boy falling heavily against Kallus's side, Kallus scrambling to catch him.

He was heavier than Kallus expected. The man hefted Ezra upright by the armpits with a grunt. "I guess not," he concluded.

"'m okay... 'm..." Ezra insisted, rolling up to a wobbly stand. His shaky legs were slow to move, but he made a few stumbling steps towards the door, with Kallus's careful direction.

"Don't try so hard," the agent told him gently, slinging Ezra's arm over his shoulder to support him. It was amazing the boy could stand at all, with all the empty vials of sedatives littering the worktray next to them. "Come on," he urged.

He left the helmet behind. He couldn't see out of the blasted thing and he would've drawn suspicion dragging Ezra along either way. This part of the escape would be the most harrowing. He was counting on Chopper and AP-5 to direct him away from patrols, but even their eyes were limited to where the cameras were.

Luck would be his greatest ally here.

"Chopper, AP, I'm on my way down," he said into his comlink, as he yanked Lyste's code cylinder from the lock on their way out. Both devices had been shortly retrieved from the prisoner belongings locker. Kallus was grateful for the Stormtrooper's rigid adherence to protocol. And their assumption that the cylinder was his. His own code authorization would have been locked out of the system by now.

He hoped it caused Lyste no undue amounts of hassle.

"We are generating a general alert on Level Eight, Agent Kallus," AP-5 relayed. "That should draw a few patrols out of your path."

"Create one for Levels Three, Seven, and Nine as well," Kallus instructed. "Then cut off all comlink transmissions and internal communications for the whole ship and meet me outside the hanger bay."

"Acknowledged."

Kallus stowed the comlink. "Hopefully that'll cause enough chaos for us to slip through," he muttered to himself, half-leading, half-dragging Ezra beside him. He sighed in aggravation. "I wish you'd brought your lightsaber. We could've cut a shorter path." But then again, the boy was in no condition to wield it. They'd just have to make do.

Kallus led them away from Interrogation. Groggy, Ezra wasn't always able to keep up with the agent's frantic pace, and tripped often, slowing them both down. He lurched back upright each time, determinedly, even though the hallway rocked dizzily around his pounding head and his vision and hearing blurred in and out. His thoughts slogged through a thick hazy mire. There was something pulling at the back of his mind. Something... important. Ezra felt so certain he had something he needed to tell Kallus...

The agent pulled them back, sharply. He flattened them to the wall, holding in a breath as a pair of Stormtroopers trotted down the intersecting hallway.

They're heading for the aft turbolifts. Tube three was on Level Five. Thirty seconds to call it to this floor, then allow ten to fifteen seconds for them to board, Kallus calculated in his head.

He started counting, waiting for the Stormtroopers to be gone before he risked sprinting them towards the lifts.

Ten... eleven... twelve...

Ezra's fingers were pinching the corner of Kallus's breastplate armor, tugging insistently. Kallus ignored it.

Twenty-three... twenty-four... twenty-five..

"Kallus..." Ezra slurred.

"Not now, Ezra," Kallus hissed. Thirty-seven... thirty-eight... He pushed off from the wall and started moving them towards the lifts, gripping Ezra's arm tighter to keep a better hold of him. The boy's head drooped towards his chest, his feet leaden and sliding. His voice was barely a mumble.

"...put s'mthing... 'side me..."

That got Kallus's attention.

"What?" Kallus stopped dead in his tracks, alarm bells in his head, swinging Ezra around to face him. "What was it? What did they put inside you?" he asked. He was already scanning down the boy with his eyes, looking for anything unusual. He quickly spotted the long rip, too clean and precise, in Ezra's shirt. His fingers found the gash, felt underneath. His breath hitched, the ringing alarms in his head growing louder as he uncovered the wide, stitched-up surgical cut, running straight across Ezra's abdomen.

That's not from the interrogation, came the horrible realization.

Kallus gripped the boy's shoulders tightly, raising his eyes to Ezra's face.

"Ezra—" he called. Ezra's head started to fall forward, and Kallus turned his face to make him look back up. "Ezra, look at me! You have to concentrate! What did they put inside you?" he asked urgently, shaking him by the shoulders.

Ezra squinted in confusion, racking his brain. Trying to bring up the dull memory he had of the surgical blade and the hands poking under his skin. Pushing something in.

Dazed, he whispered all he could remember.

"...metal..."

Adrenaline kicked into overdrive for Kallus. He slung Ezra's arm over his shoulder once more and didn't wait for the boy to get his feet under him, pulling them both to the corridor in front of the turbolifts and pounding the button.

"That's not good," he said. As soon as the door opened he bustled them inside, casting worried glances at Ezra every few steps.

He pulled out his blaster. Four levels down, left turn, sharp right to bypass a guard station, a long hallway and then left again and he'd be at the hanger bay. If he was lucky, there were only about three patrols in his path. And an untold number of things that could go wrong.

The door opened and Kallus shot the man waiting outside before he'd even had time to cry out.

No time to waste. It was a long way still to the hanger, he could only shoot one-handed, and he had to keep Ezra off his feet as much as possible, so as not to aggravate his wound.

If they survived this, he was going to gray early, he just knew it.

***

Chopper rolled back and forth, swiveling every few paces, the droid equivalent of pacing. Alarms sounded dully through the ceiling above them, and muffled footsteps rattled down the hallways. His manipulators were itching to plug back into an outlet somewhere, get some kind of idea what was going on, but ever since disconnecting from the security system and leaving the guard room their eyes had been dark.

By his calculations, Agent Kallus was about five minutes late.

He beeped out his worry to AP-5.

"Bridger's condition may be slowing him down. He's still within the margin of error. Give him a little more time." AP-5's flat monotone sounded just a tad shriller, more anxious. Chopper was glad to know he wasn't the only one concerned.

Six minutes.

Chopper was about ready to find the nearest data port and demand an answer from the Chimera's computers, irregardless of how many alerts that sent out, when his sensors picked up the approaching footsteps.

He jerked around so fast his wheel skidded.

Kallus was rounding the corner, practically carrying Ezra as they rushed along. Chopper gave a worried noise as he rolled to meet them.

"What took you?" AP-5 asked, ambling along after Chopper.

Kallus grunted, leaning Ezra against the wall for a moment, setting him down gently. "We ran into some problems," he summarized, shedding the last pieces of the white outer shell of the Stormtrooper armor—which he'd already halfway taken off, trying to lighten their weight so they could move faster.

Once disposed of the armor, he reached down and raised Ezra's arm up, pulling it back over his shoulder, tugging him back up. Ezra moaned softly in protest, but didn't resist, his legs weak as he stood on them. Kallus swung around to face the C1 unit.

"Chopper, I need you to scan Bridger for foreign objects," he ordered.

Chopper grunted in surprise, but complied. After a moment or two he clicked, holographic display turning on, beaming out a wire-frame image of a small, cylindrical device.

Kallus thought several choice curse words, hissing aloud only Zeb Orrelios's favorite, "Karabast." His mouth twisted. "I was afraid of that," he said, shaking his head.

"What is that?" asked AP-5, recoiling.

"I'm not sure," Kallus replied. "But it resembles an incendiary device."

"Oh. Lovely," the inventory droid remarked flatly. "So what is the plan?"

The agent glanced towards the hanger door. "There should be two shuttles already docked. It's twenty meters to either one, a thirty-second dash if we're quick." He glanced at Ezra. "More realistically it will be fifty seconds. We'll make for the one on the left. Input the coordinates to the waypoint as soon as we're in." He sighed. "And if we're lucky, whatever they put in Ezra's stomach won't explode."

He motioned forward.

Silently, the trio struck for the hanger door, which opened almost soundlessly for them. Kallus was already scanning all around the room with his eyes, eyes and ears keened for signs of trouble.

Problem the first, there was a third shuttle just coming in for a landing directly ahead. Its ramp was already extending. Kallus hissed through his teeth, steering them towards the edge of the room.

"Stop!"

Problem the second. That was Governor Pryce's voice, right behind them.

Kallus doubled pace, trying to get them behind cover. Blaster fire singed his hair and he was forced to drop Ezra, turn and crouch to put both hands on his sidearm and return fire.

The trooper next to Pryce dropped backwards. The others came on, four of them at least, and further down the hall he could see several more. So his first few shots were aimed at the door controls.

The panel blew out in a shower of sparks, sealing the doors shut behind Pryce and her entourage.

That won't hold them forever, he knew. He tried to reach for Ezra, but a rapid burst of blaster bolts forced him to dive around behind a supply crate.

He popped up, firing and felling another trooper. "AP, get Ezra out of here!" he shouted.

But the inventory droid was cut off too, flailing awkwardly out in the open, only avoiding being hit because he wasn't the Stormtroopers' target.

Where had Chopper gotten to?

Kallus spotted him, charging Pryce with his electro prod extended.

"What are you doing?!" he yelled at the astromech in frustration.

Pryce glared at the droid, leaning back and swiftly side-kicking Chopper in his barrel chest before he reached her. Chopper squawked, teetering and skidding, trying to slow his momentum.

Kallus grit his teeth, pressing his back to the supply crate. Blaster bolts pounded into his shelter, and hot sparks dropped across his shoulders. He looked over the edge.

AP had been driven behind the nearest docked TIE fighter by the firefight. Ezra hadn't moved from where he'd fallen. Pryce was yelling into her comlink for reinforcements. Loud thumps were coming from behind the locked hanger door. And there were two more troopers on the ramp of the recently-docked shuttle.

Wonderful.

There was a clattering sound as Pryce threw her comlink, apparently discovering the ship's lack of comm radio. Furious, she grabbed up a fallen blaster and joined the fray herself, pressing in with her two guards beside her.

Shots ripped through the crate, puncturing out the other side. Kallus scrambled away, fingers scratching at the floor to find enough purchase to get up.

Flushed from his cover, with the troopers rushing him, Kallus went on the offensive instead of remaining a sitting womp rat. He threw himself into the trio's midst, swinging for Pryce first.

She ducked under his fist and nailed him in the gut. Kallus felt the breath leave him and he stumbled back, holding his stomach.

Damn... He'd forgotten how strong she was.

The troopers had hold of him in moments, but Kallus twisted out of one's grip, slashed his arm in a hard chop to the man's neck. He went down, and Kallus turned his attention to the remaining guard.

He had to hurry; the other two from the shuttle were rushing across the room towards them, and the hanger door was starting to burn down the center from an electrosaw. Kallus could see Chopper and AP-5 teaming up to shove a large crate in front of it and block the opening.

He grappled with the Stormtrooper, jabbing sharply at the man's shins, knees, stomach, acutely aware all the while that Pryce wasn't fighting him and was heading for—

Ezra turned his head with a groan. The firefight was dull cacophony in his muted, ringing ears, sounds blurring together in an incoherent mess. His whole body ached, heavy and sluggish when he moved. He blinked up from where he lay, struggling to focus his eyes.

There was a dark shape in the center of his vision and he stiffened, the breath catching in his throat as he registered short-cropped black hair and ice blue eyes burning from a woman in Imperial gray.

Ezra's heels kicked weakly, his palms and elbows scraped against the floor as he tried to move, tried to scramble backwards away from her. His limbs were like straws, unresponsive, no strength in them. Ezra fought the mud in his brain and the drugs in his system as she closed in, heaving up his torso with a burst of effort, swinging an arm around, turning himself over. His arm reached out pitifully as he tried to drag himself forward.

"Nnngggghh..." he groaned, the movement igniting painful fire in his gut.

It was a futile attempt. Pryce swooped in like a predator hawk, seizing his hair by the roots and dragging him up.

"A-Aaah!" Ezra cried.

Kallus's head whipped around at the sound, dismay on his features. He slammed the Stormtrooper in the chest with his shoulder, knocking him to the floor, kicking him square in the helmet to keep him down, reaching out a hand as Pryce jabbed the barrel of her blaster into Ezra's neck.

"Stop, stop!" he yelled.

Pryce froze with a look of smug satisfaction on her face, Ezra squirming weakly in her grip.

"Don't..." Kallus said, breathing hard. He couldn't believe he was about to plead with Pryce. "...don't hurt him."

"My..." Pryce said, as the troopers from the shuttle came up to flank her from behind, "... we have gotten sentimental, haven't we?"

Kallus dropped his arms in defeat. He didn't voice his other fear—that the device in Ezra's stomach might be sensitive enough to—

"It was a valiant attempt, Agent Kallus," Pryce interrupted his thoughts. "But your escape ends now." Her fingers tightened in Ezra's hair, twisting, making him wince. "You are going right back to Interrogation," she hissed in the boy's ear.

A stun bolt suddenly hit her from behind, square in her back. Pryce's eyes widened in shock, her body stiffening, tilting as she fell senseless.

Kallus rushed forward to catch Ezra, looking at the Stormtrooper who'd fired the stun shot in bewilderment.

The trooper removed his helmet, revealing a bearded face with scarred eyes, and Kallus's relief could have powered a starfighter.

"Jarrus..." he breathed.

---

Chapter notes!

1. Kallus used the Persuasion Check "make Ezra out to be as innocent and helpless as possible". I mean, it would definitely work on me, so...

2. I always kind of appreciated the fact that just because Kallus switched sides he still wasn't a very nice character. He was still coldly calculating and manipulative and brutal. Hard to unlearn all his Imperial ways right off the bat. So some casual Stormtrooper murder because Kallus is ruthlessly effective like that.

3. ...Probably actually why Chopper likes him so much.

4. The tapestry myth Thrawn muses on is made up, but I tried to make it sound like something that could come out of Greek myth, a la the Gordian Knot, or Theseus in the labyrinth. The Chimera is also a creature from Greek myth. So yes, the parallels are deliberate.

5. Do not threaten Space Dad's kids. It will not end well.

Chapter Four is in the works, as I said, and will be finished soon.

#star wars #star wars rebels #spoilers #ezra bridger #agent kallus #grand admiral thrawn #prompt fics #fanfiction

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princevolker2788 · 7 years

Text

Mercy76 Week: Day 6

“Alternate Universe”

@xavirne

Warning: Heavy Angst and minor violence against my OC Cale ahoy!

This story is a combination of several ideas that have been kicking around my head and the fandom for a while now. It is also inspired by the work of @nikanono @mizuaoi and @asynca

This is what Lena and Amélie look like

More of Lena

The AU has a few points id like to lay out:

1. Lena isn’t recovered from the slipstream incident by Overwatch, but instead by Talon. They design the harness, and turn her against the organization.

2. Cale is born after Overwatch’s fall and when Talon goes underground.

3. Lena recruits Gabriel herself.

4. Amélie was never captured by Talon; her husband was instead killed by Tracer.

5. Ana lost her eye to Lena, though this was from a pulse bomb.

6. Jack is more of a loose cannon in this universe, its been a hard few years for the former Overwatch strike commander, and his favorite doctor.

“You really are thick aren’t ya?” Jeered the boy, “‘Child Prodigy’ my arse…”

There was something familiar about this child. His hair was tussled in a manner that looked as if he’d stuck his head out a moving vehicle after applying a thorough round of hairspray. His sea blue eyes seemed to spark with unbridled energy as he shifted from foot to foot, a familiar shuffle. Who was—

It was then she’d gotten the shock of her life as none other than Lena Oxton stepped forward with a dark chuckle and ruffled the boy’s hair. On her face was a pair of blood red goggles, matching the red light strapped to her chest and the glowing energy coming from her gauntlets. She still wore her leather flight jacket, though it was severely worn.

“Oh you clever, clever boy.” She cooed, “You were right, it worked.”

The child had practically beamed at that and leaned into her touch.

Angela refocused her attention onto Lena, licking her lips and tightening her grip on the staff.

“Lena… you’re dead.”

The young brit had cackled at that, a wild guffaw that chilled the Doctor’s blood. There was no warmth in that laugh, nothing of the wide-eyed optimistic pilot she once knew.

“Oh, not quite Doc, gave it a fair shake though.”

Angela felt Fareeha and Jesse tense next to her.

“Right then, here’s how its gonna go, you put down your weapons. And we don’t kill you.”

A small, almost inaudible, click reached her ears. Jesse had pulled the hammer back on his revolver.

Before she could so much as blink there was a whoosh of air by her ear and the sound of a crumpled body hitting the floor.

In a flash of red light Lena appeared before the Overwatch agents, spinning Jesse’s now empty revolver in one hand and dropping the bullets onto the floor with the other.

“Tsk Tsk, now, shall we try again?”

The sound of rifle slides being pulled back echoed through the small intersection. Angela turned to Fareeha, nodded, and slowly lowered her gear to the floor.

“Angela!”

“It’s the only way.”

“We can’t trust them!”

Lena giggled and spun the revolver once again.

“Well, you’re right about one thing…”

A scent not unlike anesthetic filled her nostrils, and soon her eyes began to droop. She didn’t realize that the boy and Lena had affixed masks to their noses until it was too late.

Jack paced back and forth, checking his watch for the third time in as many minutes. They’d been waiting for the door to open on the far end of the base for thirty minutes now. The guards were down, it all hinged on Angela’s team now.

“Would you stop? You’re making me nervous.” Said Amélie.

“They should have been here fifteen minutes ago, something’s up.”

The Frenchwoman scoffed as she adjusted her scope.

“Jack, patience is key here. Any number of things could be slowing them down.” Said Ana.

He turned to glare at his old comrade.

“This is Talon, they don’t make mistakes easily.”

“They left these oafs to guard the back entrance.” Quipped Amélie.

Jack was about to retort when a small beep entered his earpiece.

“Ang? Is that…”

A familiar giggle drifted across the channel.

“I’m afraid the doc can’t come to the phone right now, would you like to leave a message love?”

“Merde…”

“Lena…” whispered Jack.

“Ah, Ah, Tracer, soldier boy, Tracer!”

He grit his teeth.

“What do you want, Tracer?”

“Nothing much, just your unconditional surrender.”

Jack bit back a cutting remark and took a breath. This could be a bluff, an attempt to draw them into the open.

“Do you really think we’re just going to do that?”

“Oh you will, if you value dear Angie’s life.”

A scuffling noise was heard over the com unit. Labored breaths came next.

“Jack…”

He froze, listening to every detail in the call, straining his ears for the sound of machinery or other forms of equipment. None, so holding cell most likely.

“Better hurry, I’m getting bored.”

Jack severed the connection and rushed down the hill, ignoring his companion’s cries. He failed to notice how the doors opened without his input, or how the security camera’s tracked his movements.

“Angela!”

He fired into the halls, downing as many agents as he could. The map of the headquarters played out in his mind as he turned, left, right, gunning for the cells.

Jack’s heart leapt in his throat as he rounded a final corner. Angela was bound in a metal chair, set dead center of a glass room.

“Angela!”

A blinding blue light filled his vision, as did a wretched scream that seemed to reverberate through the concrete and sear itself into the soldier’s brain.

“NO!”

Jack fell to his knees, gaze fixed onto the still glowing room as the shutters snapped shut.

Its my fault, its my fault, its my fault…

All his failures came crashing down at once: the failure of Overwatch, Blackwatch, Gabriel, and now Angela.

A small hand gripped his shoulder. A child, no more than nine or ten stood next to him, a concerned look in his sea blue eyes.

“Wot’s the matter mister?”

His thoughts crystallized in that moment. A child? What was Talon doing here?

“Are you alright kid?” he managed to say.

The child looked frightened and shook his head.

“No, I’m scared, I’ve never been outside the-the cells.”

Jack frowned.

“Are there others?”

“I dunno! I-I just ran!”

With this, he began to cry, high-pitched sobs that wracked his entire body. Hesitantly, Jack reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s alright kid, just tell me where the cells are, my friends—”

He paused, holding back tears as he looked to the cell.

“They might be here too.”

The boy sniffed, looked up, and pointed towards a door at the back of the room.

“That way.”

“What’s your name son?”

“Cale.”

Angela’s eyes creaked open, wincing at the sudden streak of light that stabbed into her cornea. Her entire body ached and tingled from the electric shock she’d received.

“Comfortable?” quipped Lena.

The Doctor chose to say nothing, instead offering a fierce glare in the younger woman’s direction.

“Oh, now there’s a wicked look. Best save it luv, you’re gonna need it.”

Hydraulics hissed next to her ear as the chair moved towards a series of monitors, all viewing a hallway and another room full of holding cells. Jack was being led along by the same child from before.

“Jack!”

“That’s not gonna work.”

To her horror, the boy continued leading him down the maze of hallways. She struggled against her restraints, only to receive a violent shock for her trouble.

“Tsk Tsk, naughty.” Said Lena with a giggle.

“Why are you doing this?!”

This seemed to stun the brit into silence.

“What happened to you Lena?”

A sudden grip on the chair startled the doctor as she was spun around to face a set of hazel eyes ablaze with fury.

“You people left me alone in an endless void of… nothing! I was everywhere, and nowhere, I lived and died a thousand times in a thousand different places! I suffered in the cold, and the dark, and you never came…”

Angela could see tears forming in the corner of Lena’s eyes.

“Talon saved me, gave me purpose, and…”

“A son.”

The sorrow vanished, replaced with a depraved grin.

“That’s right, but, I’m afraid that’s all the time I have for you right now.”

Lena giggled and vanished in a blink of red light, leaving Angela to face the series of monitors before her. The child led Jack into the detention block, where… Oh God no!

Fareeha, Ana, Amelie, and Jesse were all in separate cells, restrained in much the same manner as her. The soldier slowed his pace to a crawl, eyes flicking between each of his comrades. What he failed to note was the small smile on the boy’s lips as he stepped back and reached for a panel on the wall. The door sealed in a second flat. Jack turned, leaving his back open for Lena to drop in from the vents.

This seemed to be the intended plan, because suddenly Jack’s hand was around the woman’s throat and she was pinned to the floor, struggling underneath his weight.

“You killed Angela: you’re dead!” He hissed.

The venom and hatred that seeped out of his voice kept the Doctor’s gaze fixed on him alone. One twist of his arms and Lena’s neck would snap like a twig.

“Mum!”

Jack twisted around, glaring at the child. He was holding what appeared to be a small caliber pistol in his hands, not enough to kill without a headshot, but enough to cause some serious damage.

“Back away from her!” he cried.

“Come on kid, put it down, you don’t what to do this.”

The boy fired, grazing his cheek by barely an inch.

“I never miss.”

The aging soldier looked between Lena and his new foe and slowly pried his hand away from her neck.

She took deep steadying breaths, trying in vain to regain some of her composure.

“Cale…” she rasped, “Go, mummy’s got this.”

He shook his head.

“No, he’ll hurt you again!”

Jack stood up, hands in the air.

“Come on, I’m not anywhere near her now.”

Angela took note of how he’d backed himself into a corner, hands still up.

“No one else has to get hurt.” He added.

“Bullshit,” spat Lena, “I can think of four more people who deserve it right now.”

Jack let a smirk grace his lips, an ugly thing that Angela did not care for. Where was the man she knew? The Strike Commander? Her love? Her Jack…

“I count one.”

With this, a small disk like object flew from his hand and directly at Lena’s feet. The resulting explosion took out two of the live cameras, leaving one facing down from the ceiling and another three at different angles around the room. Lena was on the ground once more, though this time she hadn’t had time to put up a proper defense. Jack laid punch after punch into her crumpled form, uncaring as she yelped and winced from the multiple broken ribs she’d no doubt sustained.

After his fourth hit, the harness seemed to flicker, which startled the brit more than anything Angela had seen thus far.

“No, no! Stop! I surrender, please stop!”

“Surrender?!” he howled, “You don’t get to surrender!”

He snatched up his nearby pulse rifle, aimed straight for the center of the device, and fired.

At first, nothing happened, but then, a red glow seemed to radiate from Lena’s body. She scrabbled at the ground, at anything that would serve as purchase, but to both her and Angela’s horror, she passed right through. A horrified scream left her lips as she appeared to fade out of existence. Is this what she meant before?

“Mum!”

Jack didn’t stop the boy as he rushed to grasp his mother by the waist. He only managed to find purchase on her leather flight jacket, which fell to the floor, leaving her clothed in a talon issue bodysuit only.

“Caaale?” she cried, voice echoing.

“Mum, don’t go, no you cant, you just cant!”

“I’lll fiiinnd you!” she cried.

“Mum!”

It was if someone had turned Lena off like a light, for in the span of a second, she was gone, leaving behind the jacket and goggles.

Jack wasted no time in moving to the cells, firing away at the locks and releasing all four of their allies.

“Jesus Morrison.” Whispered Jesse.

“What? No mercy for murderers.”

“Like you’re any different?” countered the cowboy.

The old soldier fixed a glare onto the unfortunate man.

“I don’t kill unarmed prisoners.”

“Neither did she…”

All eyes turned to Cale, who clutched his mother’s coat with a savage fierceness that hurt Angela to see, despite his treachery. He rocked himself back and forth, stopping only when Ana came close.

“She’s still alive, but you killed my mum.”

The elder sniper almost missed him reaching for the pistol. Six shots fired into the concrete, punctuated by a wild scream of agonized fury. Ana soon had him pinned, but his eyes were entirely on Morrison.

“I’ll kill you! You ‘ere me?! I’m gonna rip you apart! You’ll wish you killed me too you son of a bitch! I’ll kill you!”

He thrashed and howled; screaming at the top of his lungs until all that was left was a ragged whisper and drying tears. Ana lifted herself off of the ragged form, but kept a firm grip on his shoulder.

“Where is she?”

“Piss off.”

Jack gave him a quick smack for his trouble.

“Where is she?” he growled.

“Tell us and we’ll get your mother back.” Added Amélie.

This got the boy’s attention immediately. He ceased struggling and turned as best he could to face the Frenchwoman.

“Can you do that?” he asked, timid hopefulness and wariness coloring his voice.

The French sniper shrugged.

“I seem to remember Winston working on something like the device on her chest, to capture her of course. I’m sure he could rig it to bring her back.”

“If Talon doesn’t get to her first. Remember, they brought her back to begin with.” Added Fareeha.

“That’s right, so what else have you got?” snarled Cale, fire returning to his eyes.

Jack cocked his rifle.

“We can still kill you.”

“Do it, big heroes you are eh? Kill an unarmed child, leave a little girl to die for your own selfish needs?”

“ENOUGH!” Jack fired a round close to the boy’s head and pressed the barrel to his head.

“Where. Is. She?”

The boy looked between Jack, Ana, and Fareeha who all stared back without so mush a twitch.

For the first time, Angela saw true fear enter the boy’s eyes, fear for his safety, his survival. He knew his mother could be recovered, but all that bravado would earn him no sympathy in his present company. With a shaky sigh, he lowered his head to the floor and whispered:

“D block, door five.”

After about ten minutes the door to her cell opened and she was free. She refused to look Jack in the eye the entire time, that was unnecessarily cruel, a far cry from the man she once knew. Her Jack would have stopped after the flashbang, he would have cuffed Lena and knocked Cale out, not made him watch. But this Jack, he’d enjoyed it, reveled in it.

“Are you alright?” he’d asked

She scoffed and pointed to the monitors.

“Why don’t you think about that, and ask me the morning?”

The trip back to base was made in relative silence; she’d decided to watch over the boy. It was the only thing she could think of to ensure she didn’t have to be in the same room as that… thing pretending to be Jack.

Focusing her attention back to her patient, she could see where Lena had passed on her genes. The hair, nose, and freckles were definitely hers. But who provided the eyes? The waviness in his curls?

She shook herself and introduced the second round of sedative. Whatever her gripe may have been for Ana’s tinkering, they certainly worked well. You could probably fire a gun in the ORCA and he wouldn’t have woken.

“Dr. Ziegler?”

Angela turned and found Fareeha standing at attention. Endeavoring to seem ‘normal’, she put on a small smile and let out a chuckle.

“Please Fareeha, just Angela. Were friends, a least I hope we are.”

The Egyptian nodded and looked over her shoulder, then back to the Swiss Doctor.

“What happened back there?”

She shrugged.

“I don’t know. Jack’s never been that… hostile. No matter who he was fighting.”

The soldier in question was in the middle of a heated debate between Jesse and Ana, who both seemed to have the same opinion. Form this angle Angela seemed to get the jist of it: What the hell were you thinking?

“And here I was hoping for a regular in an out.” Mumbled Fareeha, taking a seat next to the gurney. “All that trouble, for him? For her?

Angela brushed his bangs out of his eyes.

“They set a trap, but we got out. That’s all there is to it.”

Fareeha frowned at the unconscious form before her.

“Do you think he meant it? What he said he’d do to Morrison?”

The Doctor finally looked to her former lover.

“Yes.”

End of Chapter One

#Mercy76 week #Day 6 #Cale Oxton (Author's OC)#Cale's my OC #i promise there's going to be fluff in the next one!#I might continue this

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lady-divine-writes · 7 years

Text

Klaine Valentines Challenge - “Do You Feel the Same?” (Rated T)

Kurt is a little annoyed at the couple in the back seat of his car, drunk as skunks and singing off-key, pawing at each other in an ambiguous way. Kurt just hopes that when they sober up, they lose his number so he won't have to give some kind of awkward speech at their future wedding. But is it possible that Kurt has the wrong idea? (2196 words)

Written for the Klaine Valentines Challenge Day Six "Eternal Flame".

Read on AO3.

Close your eyes … give me your hand, darling … Do you feel my heart beating? … Do you understand? … Do you feel the same? Am I only dreaming? Is this burning an …

Kurt cringes as they nail the words eternal flame with gusto, their tequila-soaked voices modulating to pitches that animals would flee from. They were such a nice, normal couple when Kurt picked them up at the beginning of the night. The two passengers crooning in the back seat of Kurt’s Prius, who had introduced themselves as TinaandBlaine (as if they were a Country-Folk singing duo), are now sloppy drunk and belting out maudlin 80s hits. They’re also slightly all over each other. Kurt can’t figure out if that’s drunken first date all over each other or just touchy-feely friends all over each other.

Especially since Kurt had thought that Blaine was flirting with him on the way to the bar.

They repeat the chorus again, sustaining the final note on the word flame longer than necessary, and it turns into a competition. Tina strains to hold it longer than Blaine and fails, laughing and coughing till tears come out of her eyes, which causes Blaine to snort, struggling to breathe.

Kurt rolls his eyes. It’s like he’s chauffeuring the ghosts of high school show choir after parties past. Lightweights would get sloshed on wine coolers and monopolize the karaoke machine. Kurt contends that he has a ten percent hearing loss in his left ear from the amount of times some wannabe diva drank enough to think they could actually pull off ‘Let It Go’.

Regardless, TinaandBlaine’s Power Ballad Hour isn’t the most obnoxious thing that Kurt’s been subjected to. Thus is the life of an Uber driver. It isn’t as glamorous as Tumblr makes it out to be. God, he hopes one of them doesn’t vomit in his car. He so doesn’t need that right now. It’ll take their entire fare coming and going just to get the smell out.

Right before they get the chance to launch into their next number and destroy yet another song that Kurt once held dear, he pulls up to the curb outside the brownstone walkup where he originally picked them up. He puts the car into park but doesn’t kill the engine.

“Alrighty, folks,” Kurt says to the giddy, giggling twosome, “here’s your stop.” Now go. Kurt can’t help it if he’s a little bitter. It’s been a while since he’s been groped in the back of a Prius … or just gone out for a drink with a friend.

He wouldn’t mind doing one – or both – with Blaine. Aside from the public drunkenness and the off-key singing, he seems like a nice guy, fun to hang out with obviously, and the touchy-feely aside (which Kurt wouldn’t actually classify as groping, technically – just a lot of hugging and holding) he seems like a gentleman.

“Are you … are you going to spend the night?” Tina asks, looking up at Blaine with hopeful, moony-eyes.

“I’m really sorry, Tina,” Blaine replies. “I wish I could, but I can’t. I have an early day tomorrow … today.”

“Party pooper,” Tina pouts. “But I understand.”

Kurt watches Blaine reach past Tina to open her door while she snuggles into his chest, but it sticks a third of the way. Kurt’s Prius can be temperamental. He’s about to mention it when Tina says, “Walk me to the door, Blainey?” and kicks the car door the rest of the way open. Kurt bites his lip to stop from saying anything. He doesn’t need a bad Yelp review. Besides, she’s drunk. She doesn’t know better. To be honest, he’s not as fond of this boxy Prius as he was of his Lincoln Navigator, which he had to leave behind when he left Ohio, but this car has been his surrogate baby, and it’s a source of extra income. If there’s any damage, he’s going to have to send her a bill. (He’s thinking of sending her one anyway for that high note she butchered seconds ago. Kurt can hit that note in his sleep.)

“Sure, I will.” Blaine turns to Kurt, eyes shifting left and right like he’s seeing two of him. “Would you mind waiting? I need a ride to NYU.”

“As long as you’re paying,” Kurt says, more snappish than usual.

“Of course, handsome.” Blaine winks, then practically falls out of the car with Tina cackling on the sidewalk.

Kurt’s radio hasn’t worked right since he bought the car, so he beats out a rhythm on his steering wheel while he waits for Blaine to return, trying to find a song that will counteract ‘Eternal Flame’, snuff it out before it becomes an ear worm. Kurt doesn’t watch what he assumes is a long and puke-worthy goodnight kiss, though there’s too much giggling going on for it to be in any way passionate. Still, they’re taking forever.

Kurt hopes that they lose his number. He doesn’t want to be invited to the wedding and have to tell the story of how they fell in love in the back of his car.

“Now, you … you have to … call me in the morning,” Blaine slurs.

“No, no, no, you call me in the morning,” Tina volleys.

“Well, I can’t call you if you call me first.”

Kurt pulls a nauseated face. “How does that make any sense?” he mutters to himself. Drunk logic, he figures.

“Okay, okay, I’ll call you,” Tina promises.

More muttering follows, more giggling, and Kurt slams his head repeatedly on his head rest.

“Come on, Blaine,” Kurt grouses. “She promised she’d call, now let’s go!”

As if he somehow heard him, Blaine stumbles back to the car and, after a brief struggle with the door, gets in.

“Bye-bye, Blainey-days!” Tina yells from the window. “Bye-bye, uh, Kevin … Ken … uh … Uber driver!”

“Bye, Tina.” Blaine sticks his head out the window and blows her a dramatically over-the-top kiss while Kurt opts for a dignified wave. They pull away from the curb, Blaine waving with both hands out Kurt’s rear windshield down most of the block. As soon as they’re out of sight of Tina’s window, Blaine suddenly changes. He sits back in his seat, goofy smile gone, and no more singing.

“I’m sorry about that,” he says in a calm, sober voice. “I know we must have been annoying, but …” Puzzled, Kurt peeks at Blaine through his rear view mirror and sees him examining Tina’s footprint on the door panel. Blaine takes out a napkin from his pocket (or is that a handkerchief? An honest to God cloth handkerchief?) and wipes at it till the dirt and the mark disappear. “There. I don’t think she tore your upholstery, but if she did, please send me the bill.”

“Th-thank you,” Kurt stutters in disbelief.

“It’s the least I can do. You’ve been so accommodating.”

“You’re … you’re not drunk?”

“No.” Blaine chuckles. “I think I pulled it off convincingly enough though. She was pretty wasted. I don’t think she noticed.”

“You did good. You should go into acting.”

Blaine’s face brightens. “I am an actor … sort of. At least, I’m studying to be one.”

“Hey, you had me convinced, and I’m usually pretty good at telling the difference,” Kurt says. “It’s the tequila smell that clinched it.”

“I pulled a Coyote Ugly.” Blaine smiles, but it’s small. “Tequila with an empty beer bottle chaser.”

“That’s very clever, but … why pretend to be drunk, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“She needed to get drunk,” Blaine explains, “and she didn’t want to get drunk alone, so I volunteered. But she’s kind of an irresponsible drunk. I needed to keep an eye on her. Didn’t want her to go off and do something stupid like screw some guy in a bathroom. I mean, I’m all for comfort fucking, but I didn’t want her doing something she’d regret.”

Kurt knows he shouldn’t ask, it’s not his place to pry, but seeing as the first question on his mind was Why isn’t she just comfort fucking you then? he felt this one was more socially acceptable. “Comfort … I hope no one, you know, passed away or anything.”

“No, nothing like that.” Blaine sighs, staring at his hands, toying with his handkerchief. “She just found out that her high school boyfriend’s getting married.”

“Ah,” Kurt says. Been there, done that.

“He was her first love, they lost their virginity together, that sort of thing. She helped him get into college and they broke up when he left high school. Mutual decision, but they remained friends. She had asked him to marry her at one point a few years later and he turned her down. He’s a dancer with the Joffrey and he didn’t think that it was a good time for him. Apparently, now it is.”

“Well that sucks,” Kurt says, heading for the freeway.

“Yeah, it does. Unfortunately, ever since they broke up, she hasn’t made the greatest decisions when it comes to men.” Kurt glances into the rear view. Blaine, still focused on his handkerchief, folds it into a square, but a different small smile dimples Blaine’s cheeks. “She, uh, also has a tendency to fall for gay guys, which is how we became besties in the first place.”

“I see.” Kurt wonders if that was Blaine’s way of dropping a hint. He decides to play it like it was. “Small world. My best friend from high school and I got together for the same reason.”

Blaine’s small smile becomes a bigger one instantaneously. “I see. It is a small world.”

“Yup.” Kurt feels himself blushing, in danger of smiling so hard that his cheeks hurt. “So, actor, huh? Have you been in anything I’ve seen?”

“Not unless you’re slummin’ it watching the student productions at NYU,” Blaine reveals reluctantly. “I was in a short lived student produced play called Hats.”

“Hats?” Kurt sputters in an attempt not to laugh. “Is that an ironic title, or does it speak for itself?”

Blaine sits up to talk closer. When he’s done, he doesn’t sit back again. “It speaks for itself.”

“Ouch.” Kurt side-eyes Blaine, noting his new closeness, his cheek resting on the shoulder of the passenger seat, eyes fixed on Kurt, a smooth smile on his lips, such a departure from the man Kurt thought was slobbering over Tina a few minutes before. “Of course, I played Officer Krupke in West Side Story once, so I’m not sure I can judge.”

“Really? Where?” Blaine seems honestly intrigued. Probably trying to picture Kurt in the role, Kurt surmises. Even Kurt thought that it was an interesting casting decision at the time, especially since he had auditioned for the role of Tony.

“My senior year of high school. Right now I’m attending NYADA as a musical theater major, but I haven’t been in any productions yet.”

“NYADA?” Blaine nods solemnly. “I’m impressed. I applied there, but they wouldn’t take me.”

“Don’t feel bad. I had to kill someone to get my spot.”

“Oh. Then you definitely deserve it.” Blaine’s eyes dart away from Kurt’s face, smile fading as they drive past a sign announcing his exit. “I guess mine’s next.” He sighs.

“Yeah,” Kurt says just as miserably, changing lanes to prepare. “I guess so.

“You know, I had hoped that Tina would pass out on the way home,” Blaine confesses, “so you and I could talk a little.”

“That would have been nice.” Kurt knows that he could just give Blaine his number, ask Blaine for his, but this is relaxing, driving down the highway, getting to know one another. It reminds Kurt of when he first got his license. He looked for any excuse to go for a drive with his friends. There’s something to be said about occupying the same space as someone else, especially in a car. Cruising and road trips – that feeling of going somewhere and nowhere, the only real destination the journey they’re sharing. Kurt’s all for twelve hour phone conversations, getting to know someone that way, but this … he doesn’t know why. This is just better. “Well, lucky for us …” Kurt pauses as he drives past the off-ramp and continues down the highway “… I just missed your exit. We’re going to have to circle back, possibly take the long way …” Kurt shoots Blaine a quick glance “… if you don’t have any objections, that is. I heard you say something about an early morning.”

Blaine smirks, catching on to the fact that Kurt must now realize that was an excuse. Blaine hadn’t wanted to lead Tina on. They’d talked about this before. Blaine is gay, 100%, and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon. Still, when Tina feels vulnerable, she still tries. He didn’t want to be one more thing she’d regret if she came on to him and he turned her down.

He cozies closer to the seat in front of him. Kurt considers pulling over so Blaine can move up front. “None at all,” Blaine says. “Take the longest route you need.”

#klainevalentines2017 #Klaine fanfiction #Klaine fic #frankie writes

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