Hello! This is my side blog for story content, and where I post a lot of my extra little blurbs and such.
Clicking the title will take you to that story's specific Master Post, including the TOC and any extra content specific to that story.
O Brother Where Art Thou- It has been four years since the attack on Seattle. Four years since Augustine was taken into custody. Four years since... Reggie. Delsin has tried to move forward, make the world a better place for conduits. With the help of Fetch and Eugene, he had emptied Curdun Cay and was helping conduits reintegrate into society. But trouble is brewing on the horizon. When it is revealed that over a hundred conduits disappeared from the facility before it closed, and more still have been kidnapped, the trio finds themselves in France, dealing with a brutal scientist who claims conduits are only useful as weapons.
Between assassination plots and brainwashing, Delsin has his hands full. But he's in for an even darker surprise. One that will require the help of his friends and his tribe to get through. In the end, will he be able to keep his head above water?
NOTE: O Brother is very M-rated. While it doesn't contain any sexual content, it does have other strong content and violence. If you choose to read it, please heed the tags.
Dim Ignition- When Sammie's caravan is nabbed by Gatherers, only he and his brother Dakota manage to escape. With few options and the clock ticking, they seek out aid in the form of Alessia Jay Donovan. The problem is that this journey will take them into direct contact with the one person they don't want to meet: Delsin Rowe.
Fire and Smoke Extra Content- From the world of my AU Fire and Smoke, this will include pieces that I haven't posted on AO3!
Ocean Eyes Extras- Content for my snow OC Jack Dixon. Most of this will be from the Ocean Eyes universe/timeline, but not all of it.
Bathe the World Extras- From my Fallout AU! Delsin and Co get stuck in the apocalypse.
Misc. Content- Content for my other OCs or anything that isn't part of the major stories listed.
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“Oh my God, I can’t wait to shower,” Delsin groans, making a face and pulling a mud-covered weed out of his hair.
“Need I remind you that this entire endeavor was your idea?” Fetch points out helpfully. Her boots and knees are caked in dirt, and she can feel more of it beneath her fingernails even though she’d scrubbed her hands.
“I thought it was kinda nice,” Eugene mumbles quietly, hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts. He’s sans hoodie for once, the day far too humid and warm for anything beyond a light t-shirt. Even with a healthy coating of sunscreen, his cheeks are noticeably red. “And Betty seemed pretty happy.”
“She did,” Delsin agrees, plucking at his sweat-soaked and soil-streaked tank-top. “Knowing her, she would’ve done those flowerbeds whether we’d been there to help or not.”
“I hope when I get to her age I have that kind of energy. She puts conduits to shame,” Fetch teases as they walk up the gravel drive toward the Rowe house.
“If it weren’t for her leg, she probably could’ve pushed the DUP out of Seattle in two days. A week, tops.”
“I believe it.”
“Hey, how come Reggie didn’t come help?” Eugene asks as they pass the older Rowe’s truck. There’s no accusation in his tone, merely curiosity.
“Yea, Copman’s normally the one voluntelling us, not you, D.” Not that Fetch minds helping out, especially with how welcoming the community has been, but she did find it odd that Reggie was absent from their planting adventure.
Delsin hums. “We have a couple dairy farmers in the northeast part of the county. He goes and helps out with the new calves every year. That was one of our major sources of income after Mom and Dad died, and nowadays he just does it because he’s good at it and they need the help.”
Eugene opens the screen door and Fetch steps inside the cool, dim living room with a relieved sigh. “I mean, that sounds like a pretty great gig. If I could cuddle baby cows instead of pulling up weeds, I’d do it in a heartbe– Mmph!”
She’s cut off by Delsin’s hand clamping down over her mouth, accompanied by a harsh “Shh!”
Fetch frowns behind his hand and manages to yank it down. “What?”
“Be quiet!” Delsin hisses, eyes darting to her for a split second and then back to the other side of the living room. Fetch follows his gaze to find Reggie sprawled out on the couch, fast asleep. Huh. Come to think of it, she’s not sure she’s ever actually seen the older of the Rowe brothers sleep before. He’s always awake by the time she gets up, and she has no idea when he goes to bed.
“Figured with all the coffee he’d never need a nap,” Fetch snickers, earning a panicked glare from Delsin.
“Fetch, I love you, but if you value your life as much as I do, zip it until we get upstairs.”
The neon conduit’s eyebrow darts up towards her hairline (she really needs to redye it). “D, seriously? It’s Reggie.”
“I don’t think you get it, the man is an absolute bear if you wake him up from a nap.”
“Fetch, maybe we should listen to Delsin-”
“Oh come on, what’s he gonna do? And bear? Yea right, like a freaking teddy bear-”
“The bear is about to get real fucking creative if yall don’t shut the hell up.”
Today is a day of firsts, apparently, because she has also never heard Reggie growl like that before. It sends a cold chill up her spine and the three conduits turn in unison to find the older Rowe glowering at them from the couch, propped up on his elbow.
Delsin herds them towards the stairs while talking at lightning speed, a nervous smile on his face. “Eh heh heh, we’re just um, just came back from helping Betty with the gardens. We’re going upstairs now and you won’t hear a peep from us the rest of the day okay? Okay cool love you big brother go back to sleep now BYE!”
Fetch doesn’t expect to be grabbed around the waist and carried up the stairs in a blaze of neon, Eugene letting out a surprised squeak. They’re deposited in Delsin’s room, the door shut tight behind them. Spinning to face them, Delsin blows out a breath. “So! That went well. Who wants to shower first?”
000000
Reggie watches Delsin zip upstairs with the other two and shakes his head. “Sometimes I miss when he was who-knows-where doing God-knows-what at all hours of the day so I could take a nap in peace.”
He’s lying, of course, but Delsin doesn’t need to know that. Rolling over, Reggie tugs the blanket off the back of the couch and closes his eyes. He’s got a little more time before they’ll come down looking for dinner, so he can sleep a bit longer.
Life is always exciting when you share a house with three idiots conduits.
TW: mild burns, brief mention of non-sexual nudity (it's just a shower)
“Reggie!”
The older Rowe groans silently at the sound of his little brother yelling. Maybe if he ignores him, Delsin will go away.
The bathroom door bursts open. “Reggie, hey, I need to ask you something.”
Heaving an irritated sigh, Reggie draws the shower curtain back enough to glare at the blurry shape of his brother. The intimidation factor is unfortunately lessened by his hair plastered to his forehead and the need to squint, having taken his contacts out right before he jumped in. “I literally just jumped in the shower. Can this not wait ten minutes?”
“It'll be super quick, I promise.”
Another sigh and Reggie pinches the bridge of his nose. He'll waste more hot water and precious seconds to himself if he doesn't just answer whatever question Delsin has. “What?”
“K grade fire extinguishers are used for grease and oil fires, yea?”
Reggie stares at him, blinking, the question catching him off guard. “Yes, K for Kitchen, ABC is for general purpose and D is for special metal fires.”
“Okay, okay cool. Follow up question, do we have one?”
“Do we have what?”
“A K grade fire extinguisher.”
“What?! WHY?!”
“The kitchen’s on fire.”
“You couldn't have led with that?” By some miracle, Reggie manages to not slip and crack his head while scrambling out of the shower (though granted, maybe that would’ve been a blessing). Snagging a towel, he swipes his glasses off the sink and sprints out the door, Delsin running after him.
Eugene and Fetch are standing in the kitchen, both staring in panic at the angry pot on the stove spewing fire and oil. Grabbing the nearest lid, Reggie slams it down on the pot and makes sure the stove is turned off. Searching hurriedly through the spice cabinet, he manages to find the salt and open it one-handed, dumping it on the few smaller flames around the pot.
For a moment, no one moves.
“Well, that could've gone better.”
Reggie tosses Fetch a withering look.
“Shit, Reggie.” Delsin's suddenly next to him, face awash with concern, fingers carefully lifting his elbow.
His arm and side are peppered with oil splatters, his hand having taken the brunt of it. He'd been so focused on the fire he hadn't really felt it. And it's on his glasses, which is going to be a bitch to clean off. At least it didn’t hit anything lower, considering the tenuous hold he has on the towel wrapped around his hips.
“Well, I guess I'm taking a cold shower,” Reggie sighs, withdrawing his arm from Delsin's hold and running the faucet over his hand. “Can one of you grab the aloe? I think it's in your bathroom.”
“You don't think we need to go to the ER?”
“Doesn't look bad enough to warrant that at the moment. I'll tell you if it does. In the meantime, leave the oil to cool off while you clean everything else. And the next time you get the bright idea to fry something, please, for the love of God, warn me first. You have no idea how embarrassing it'd be for the Sheriff to have to call the Fire Department.” Davis would never let me live it down.”
Delsin and Eugene get to work cleaning while Fetch runs upstairs to find the aloe. There’s water on the floor from Reggie’s rush to get downstairs, and he really hopes they’ll get it before it soaks into the hardwood.
“I’m sorry for the mess, Reggie,” Eugene speaks up after a minute, scrubbing oil off one of the cabinets.
“The kitchen is still standing, and no one got severely hurt, so all in all it could’ve been a lot worse.” The older Rowe tilts his head curiously. “What were you trying to make?”
“Fried ice cream.”
Scanning the counter, Reggie frowns. “What batter did you use?”
Eugene glances briefly at Delsin, who looks just as puzzled. “Batter?”
“Yea, you’re supposed to dip the ice cream in batter. Did- did you just dump ice cream in hot oil?!”
“And a popsicle,” Fetch adds helpfully when she returns to the kitchen.
“...I love you guys, but is there a single braincell amongst the three of you?”
“Nope.”
“Nada.”
“Um…”
“Right….” Shaking his head, Reggie turns off the sink. “I’m going upstairs to finish my shower. You can try the ice cream again tomorrow, okay? With supervision.”
The three make various noises of agreement and he heads back upstairs with aloe in hand.
“Thank you, Reggie!”
Delsin’s voice follows him up to his room, cheeky in a way that has Reggie very tempted to return to the kitchen just to smack him. Closing the door, he sighs. He’s definitely going to be hurting tomorrow. Maybe he should consider putting a K extinguisher in the kitchen if his three housemates are going to insist on cooking. And make them all go through a fire safety course.
…The prospect of fried chocolate ice cream is hard to resist though.
So.. there is this one picture near Betty’s bed that did attrack my attention a few days ago. I never saw it before but photomode gives you something to play around with.
I’m sure there are more people who noticed this.
I guess the two are supposed to Reggie and Delsin - the right one does wear a beanie. Throughout the game it seemed that Betty knows them since a long time. Given that their parents are dead and we don’t know a thing about it, Betty might have raised them after their parents death. She seemed like the worried grandma type whenever she called. :)
From now on I just pretend those kids are indeed Reggie and Delsin in younger years and I will simply gush over how cute they were back then.
I will find you, and I will love you, in every lifetime.
I have never done a soulmate AU but we're giving it a try.
Word Count: 2,211
TW/Tags: forbidden love, aftermath of battle/war, character death, mild blood/gore
The first time the god of ice saw the god of night, he was certain that the wind god must have been playing a cruel trick. Nothing else could have possibly stolen the breath from his lungs that swiftly. Yet there he was, frozen in place with flurries in his belly.
“Are you alright?”
Concern lingered in eyes that shone every shade of brown the night god’s mother had to offer, and somehow the ice god found his tongue.
“I am, my apologies. I do not recall seeing you in this part of the realm before.”
While he saw the earth goddess on a frequent basis, given that this was her domain, her husband and sons rarely left the sky. He had heard rumor that her younger son, the day god, had snuck down to visit one of the light goddesses, but none dared to breathe a word of it in polite company.
The night god smiled wryly. “Father doesn’t like me coming down here, but I needed a change of scenery. My brother shirks his duties on a regular basis to come and see his lovers, a simple walk shouldn't be a problem.”
Lovers? Plural? The ice god files away that tasty tidbit for later and bows. “I will not keep you then. I hope you enjoy your walk.”
He's only just begun to walk away when a voice stops him in his tracks.
“Wait!”
The ice god glances over his shoulder, pale brow raised. The night god hesitates, chewing his lip.
“Yes?”
“You don't have to leave immediately, if you do not wish to. I would not mind the company, or a guide.”
Flourishing a grand bow, the ice god grins. “Then I would be delighted to act as such.”
In truth, he had expected the other god to be more intimidating. As the god of night, one of his duties included bringing to light the crimes of gods and demons alike, and his broad build and commanding presence only added to that image. But as they spoke, the ice god discovered something else.
Loneliness.
They met again the next night, and the night after that. By the fourth night, they had relaxed into an easy sort of companionship, enough to loose the other god’s tongue.
“Most of the other gods sleep while I work, so there are few I can speak to. My brother is often accompanying my mother, and my father is… strict.”
His face twisted when he said it, and the ice god knew he should not ask. The affairs of the elder gods were none of his concern, and meddling in them was dangerous.
He asked anyway. “Strict? In what way?”
“...It is better you do not know.”
The other god looked so forlorn that the ice god simply could not bear it another moment. Smiling, he led the night god to a nearby pond. “Have you perchance danced on ice before?”
“I cannot say that I have.”
“Give me your hand.”
They started out slow, and a little wobbly, and the ice god had to constantly remind himself to focus on his task instead of the way the other god’s hand felt in his. Soon, they were skating in circles around the pond, and the little smile on the night god’s face made his icy heart skip a beat.
And for the first time in his life, his element betrayed him.
His foot hit a crack and they both went down, the ice god landing squarely on top of the night god’s chest. Their faces were a hair's breadth apart, and the ice god’s eyes flickered down to lips he would love to taste. Cheeks burning, he sat up quickly and cursed. Normally he wasn't one to care for propriety, but this was a son of the sky god! “Forgive me, I was not watching my footing.”
The night god sat up slowly, expression strangely disappointed. “I did not mind. It takes quite a lot to hurt me.”
“Ah.”
The awkward silence stretched for a time, and to the ice god's surprise, the other spoke first. “If you wanted to kiss me, I would not stop you.” Their eyes locked, and the ice god was left breathless once more. “In fact, I would welcome it.”
The ice god needed little further prompting. After all, who was he to refuse the request of an elder god? Many more such nights followed, stolen moments of passion and quiet conversation. When the sky god became suspicious, they dared to meet in the day, when the night god's duties would not interfere.
They were discovered all too soon by the clever day god, who thankfully was all too eager to keep his brother's secret. Meeting his lovers, both light deities, had been interesting to say the least. For a time, they were happy, and all was right with the world.
But all good things must end.
The ice god knew their relationship could have been discovered at any moment, but he had held onto some small glimmer of hope that the sky god would be understanding. The elder god’s fury rang throughout the realms, and the ice god had been surprised to find his lover standing in his forest, dressed for war.
“I came to say goodbye.”
The ice god’s eyes narrowed, thin lips pressed together. “You are dressed for battle.”
“I am. My brother and I aim to stand together against my father.”
“I will join you then.”
“No. Stay here, where it is safe.”
The ice god barked out a laugh. “You think me safe here? I will put myself in an early grave fearing for your life, and should you fail, your father will execute me. What’s more, my place will always be at your side.”
“I cannot ask that of you.”
“You need not ask. It is my choice.” He had not summoned his blade in an age, but its weight was a comfort in his hands. He held it out to the night god and bowed his head, speaking a tongue he had not spoken since his own mother’s passing. “I swear fealty to you, and none other. Where you go, so will I follow. In this life…”
…and the next.
The ice god stared at the dark sky, blinking slowly. He did not feel the flakes of ash alighting upon his pale cheeks, the glow of dying flames visible out of the corner of his eye. As well as a familiar figure. With the last of his strength, he rolled onto his front, crawling the last few feet to where his love lay far too still. Gripping his hand, the ice god kissed his cheek with trembling lips, frost painting trails down his cheeks.
“Why?” he whispered. “I swore to protect you, why would you not let me?”
A ghost of a smile, the last spark of life gleaming in the eyes that proved to be his undoing. “Did you not think I would do everything to protect you too?”
The war had raged on for what felt like an eternity, and maybe it was. They had discovered far too late the hand the stone goddess had had in poisoning the sky god’s mind, turning him against all he knew and loved. She lay amongst the dead, and the ice god felt no grief for her, only bitterness.
She had died too quickly.
“I will not fail you again,” he promised, though he could feel his own tether to this life, this realm, fading fast.
“You did not fail me now. But I look forward to the chance to fall in love with you all over again.” A shaky brush of fingers against his temple, and the night god was gone. Closing his eyes, the ice god lay his head down to wait.
I will search for you in every lifetime until I find you again.
“Oof!”
Jack hits the ground, notebook and textbook going one way, his backpack going another.
“Crap, I’m sorry, man.”
“It’s okay, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was-” he looks up into warm brown eyes “-going…”
The other teen smiles sheepishly. “I wasn’t either.” They finish picking up their stuff and sorting out what goes to who and the other teen holds out his hand. “I’m Reggie.”
Jack shakes it, returning the smile. “Jacob, but you can call me Jack.”
Even if I cannot love you the same way, my life and loyalty will remain yours.
Jack manages to drive back the rest of the rogue dupes and breathes a sigh of relief, rounding the corner of the alley to find two heads peeking out from behind a dumpster, watching him with owlish eyes. “You boys okay?”
They nod in unison. “Thanks for helping us,” the braver boy pipes up.
“You’re welcome. Are your parents around? Do you know their phone number?”
“Sammie! Kody!”
“DAD!” The two streak past him, crashing into the tall figure running to meet them.
“Are you two okay? What happened? Where’s Mac?”
“We got separated from them cause of the dupes! But he helped us!”
The boy points at Jack, who gives a tiny wave. The man gets to his feet warily, expression guarded. “Guess I owe you a thank-you, stranger. Not a lot of people rushing to intervene where the DUP are concerned.”
Jack’s smile is a touch bitter at the edges. “I’ve had run-ins with them before. Besides, us freaks need to stick together.” He wiggles his fingers, creating a small cloud of snow, the boys’ eyes widening in awe.
The tension in their dad’s shoulders loosens, the display enough to set him at ease. “True enough. Would you like to join us for dinner? It’s nothing fancy, just hamburger helper and rolls.”
One of the twins waves his hand. “Oh! And apples!”
“Sounds delicious, I’d love to.”
After dinner, he refuses the leftovers Dahlia offers. He knows the family doesn’t have much, and he can find food if he needs to. Actually, maybe he can breeze through the grocery store and grab some things for them.
Rowan walks him to his bike. “Thank you again for helping the boys.”
“I was happy to.” He holds out a piece of paper. “Here. If you all ever run into trouble with those assholes again, call me. I don’t have much going on these days, just kind of drifting.”
Rowan accepts the paper, fiddling with it for a second. “Weird question, but have we met? I feel like I know you from somewhere.”
Pulling his helmet on, Jack fixes his gloves and straddles the bike. “Think I just have one of those faces. But hey, it was good to meet you, Rowan.”
“You too.”
And if I am too late, I will avenge you.
Director Augustine’s cell is almost pitifully easy to break into. Jack strides inside, twirling a razor sharp icicle around his fingers.
“Hello, Director, I hope you don't mind a housecall.”
Augustine is seated on her bed, bulky yellow cuffs around her wrists. She eyes him suspiciously. “Jacob Dixon, I didn't expect to have the pleasure of your company today.”
She's the picture of calm, but the sweat beading on her forehead betrays her fear. Jack chuckles, leaning against the wall casually. “Oh, I happened to be in the neighborhood and wanted to pay you a visit. See, I heard you happened to be involved in the death of a very close friend of mine. More than friends, really. Love of my life, soulmate, take your pick of the words. Point is-” he leans forward and the temperature in the room drops about thirty degrees fahrenheit “-you killed him.”
“If you mean Sheriff Rowe, that was hardly my fault. He should never have gotten involved in my affairs. Maybe if he'd done the right thing and turned Delsin over to me, all of this unpleasantness would've been avoided.”
“Unpleasantness, huh?” Jack laughs softly, balancing the point of the icicle on the tip of his finger. “Tell me, Director. You ever read any good horror novels?”
Augustine blinks, taken off guard by the sudden change in topics. “I… cannot say that I have. I was too busy to have much free time.”
“Hm. There's this great phrase that horror authors love to use: ‘blood turned to ice in their veins’. Means the character’s terrified. Always made me wonder exactly how that feels though. I mean, ice is sharp, it's like glass, ya know? And humans have some very tiny, very fragile veins that would hurt like a motherfucker to have ice tearing through. Or imagine slushy, icy blood trying to pump through your heart. It'd feel like it's being shredded from the inside out.” Glacial blue pins her in place. “That still wouldn't come anywhere close to how I felt when I realized that the man I loved had died at your hands.”
“It wasn't my fault!” A note of desperation edges into Augustine’s voice.
Jack smiles, a feral, wild thing, and raises his hand, the icicle shattering into tiny shards as the temperature in the room continues to drop. “You keep saying that, but I don't believe you. There's fear in your eyes, Director. Is there ice in your veins yet? No? Then let's put some there!”
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In honor of 4/20, I'm bringing back this goofy little gem that I posted on AO3 ages ago
TW: Weed, Clowns, Furbies
Delsin leans back against the wall and stretches his legs out in front of him, watching white smoke curl towards the ceiling, the faint breeze from the open window making it twist and dance.
Eugene plucks the blunt from between his fingers. “So how pissed is Reggie gonna be in the morning that we’re smoking this inside?”
Giving a half-shrug, Delsin closes his eyes, letting the soft drizzle of rain and the croon of his speakers wash over him. Once he hit legal age, Reggie hadn’t cared what he did quite as much, so long as he wasn’t being stupid. The older Rowe had simply asked him not to smoke inside, something that normally Delsin didn’t have a problem with. He isn’t huge on the house smelling like weed or cigarettes either, but the last few days have been stressful and he really didn’t feel like going to sit on the porch to avoid the rain. “Eh, we kept the window open at least. I’ll offer to pick up groceries or something to make up for it.”
He’s been trying to do better about contributing around the house, and an offer to do chores is usually a surefire way to get back on his big brother’s good side. Popping a pretzel into his mouth, he unsteadily gets to his feet and walks to his closet, flicking the light on.
“What are you doing?” Eugene asks, puzzled.
“Looking for an old sketchbook.” He’d been struck by the sudden desire to find it again, wanting to redraw some of the contents now that he has good supplies. A couple boxes fall, but he ignores them. He can deal with them tomorrow.
Ah! There it is. He scoops up the sketchbook and turns to go back to his bed, but ends up tripping over one of the boxes, hitting the floor with a yelp. The sound of footsteps a moment later makes him wince. Shit.
The door opens and Reggie stands in the doorway, still half-asleep and dressed in just his boxers. “Del? You good?”
“Fine Reg,” Delsin reassures him with a sheepish grin, sitting up. “Conduit, remember? It’ll take more than tripping over a box to hurt me.”
Reggie glances over at Eugene, who drops his hand behind his leg in a futile attempt to hide their blunt. Rolling his eyes, the sheriff heads back to bed. “We’ll talk in the morning,” he tosses over his shoulder before closing his bedroom door.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Delsin scoops everything up that spilled out of the boxes and sets it all back inside. The sight of a patch of charred fake fur causes him to pause, and he lifts the burnt furby out of the box. “Holy shit, I totally forgot about this thing.”
“Is.. Is that a furby?” Eugene asks, a laugh bubbling up. “Why is it burnt?”
“It was a birthday present when I was like nine? Ten? It turned on by itself one night and scared the shit outta me and Reggie, so we tried setting it on fire. Got in so much trouble.” He sits down on the bed and tosses it in the air, catching it when it comes back down. “God, these things are so fucking creepy.”
“No shit, dude.” Eugene leans over and sticks the blunt in its beak. “Poor guy’s seen some shit, he needs to relax.” They both dissolve into a fit of giggles, leaning into each other to stay upright, wheezing for air.
“A new definition of blazed,” Delsin snickers, setting them off again. “Dude, dude we should totally prank someone with this!”
“With what, a burnt furby?”
“Yes! You can control him with your phone! And you can make an army of little construct furbies to go with it!” He glances at Reggie’s door, an evil grin spreading across his face. “Duuuuuude!”
“Yea, but Fetch actually can, so I can’t do it to her.”
“Good point.” Eugene taps his chin. “Yea okay.”
“Sweet! Oh! Oh and you can put one of your cameras in the eyes! Keep it for posterity,” Delsin says with a wink.
“....this is going to end so badly.”
“Worth.”
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An hour later (he thinks, Delsin has no grasp of time when he’s high), he’s smoke-dashing into his brother’s room, altered furby in hand. Reggie’s fast asleep, sprawled across the bed with the blanket half-off. Biting back a grin, Delsin carefully sets the furby on the edge of the bed and leaves the same way he came in. Sitting on the bed next to Eugene, he peers over the video conduit’s shoulder at his laptop, the screen showing the camera feed from their evil burnt fuzzball’s eyes. Even high, Eugene can work his magic like a pro, and several little glowing furby constructs appear next to the regular one.
“You ready?” Eugene asks Delsin.
“Fuck yea, do it.”
Smirking, the video conduit presses a button, and the real furby starts to waddle slowly forward. “Reeeeeggie. Reggiiiiiie.”
Its voice is grated, stuttering, and Delsin has to stifle a snicker when his brother picks his head up, blinking groggily. “What the- Shit!” Reggie spots the animatronic and scrambles back with a scream, falling off the bed and out of view of the camera with a Thud! that Delsin can hear from his room. Reggie reappears in view, a metal bat in hand, and the feed cuts out when he swings, accompanied by the sound of various banging and crashing.
Delsin squeals, kicking his feet, sporting a shit-eating grin. “Oh my God, did you see his face?!”
Fetch appears in a blaze of neon, hair a wild mess, and bursts through Reggie’s door. “Reg! Holy shit, you okay?!”
Meanwhile, Eugene and Delsin are howling like a pair of hyenas, practically falling off the bed as Reggie stalks out of his room, a scowl on his face and bat held tightly in his grip. He points it straight at Delsin. “You motherfucker.”
Delsin’s face hurts from grinning so much, and he wiggles his eyebrows at his brother. “Whatsa matter, Reg? Can’t stand a little blast from the past?”
“I’m about to blast your ass into the next county. C’mere!”
Reggie lunges for him, and Delsin yelps as he skitters off the bed, smoke-dashing around his brother and vaulting down the stairs, Eugene’s cackling following him downstairs.
Fetch takes a look around, sighs, and heads back to her room. “I need new roommates.”
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TeenAngel: Hey, I’m sorry about last night
TeenAngel: I shouldn’t have let Delsin talk me into it
RoweYourBoat: Help me get back at him and I’ll forgive you
TeenAngel: Deal
TeenAngel: What do you have in mind?
RoweYourBoat: 🤡
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Delsin wakes to the sound of movement in his room. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he squints into the dark, able to make out a large shape a few feet away. “Reg?”
The shape doesn't answer, and he reaches for his lamp.
Click.
Nothing happens. Huh, weird, he just put a new bulb in. He's reaching for his phone when the sound of giggling reaches his ears. Odd, distorted giggling.
Very familiar giggling that haunts his nightmares.
Neon swirls around his hand, illuminating the giant alien clowns standing in the middle of his room.
If anyone asks, the scream he lets out was not girly in any way whatsoever. He runs for the door, wildly firing bolts of neon as he goes, and throws it open. Reggie’s standing in the doorway to his room, leaning on the frame with his arms crossed over his chest, an evil smile on his face. Behind him, the clowns disappear in a shower of pixels.
Straightening, Delsin heaves a sigh, hanging his head. “You motherfuckers.”
“I'm sorry, what was that? I couldn't hear you over the sweet sound of revenge.”
“Okay, okay, you got me.” Delsin throws his hands up. “That was clever. Can we call a truce? Stop dragging poor Eugene and Fetch into our shit?”
Reggie nods, holding out a hand. “Truce.” He leans toward the stairs. “Thanks, Gene!”
“Anytime!”
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Delsin lays in bed, staring at the ceiling. He's tired, but he can't sleep. The creepy giggle hasn't left his head yet, and even though it's been almost 20 years, he still wishes he'd never snuck downstairs to watch that stupid movie.
Something scrapes against his window and he sits bolt upright, heart hammering in his chest. It's just a branch, probably cause of the storm. He glances at his door, chewing on his lip. “Fuck it.”
Smoke dashing across the hall, he lightly shakes his brother. “Hey, you awake Reg?”
“No,” comes the irritated grumble. “What do you want?”
“Um… could I… maybe sleep in here tonight?” Delsin asks quietly, cheeks heating with embarrassment. He used to crawl into Reggie’s bed all the time when he got scared as a kid, but he's almost twenty-five now, he’s too big to be running to big brother every time he has a bad dream. Fuck, this was a stupid idea. Shaking his head, he takes a few shuffling steps backwards towards the door. “Sorry, nevermind, I shouldn't have-”
“Delsin.”
The smoke conduit stops as Reggie props himself up on his elbow and pulls back the comforter. Relieved, Delsin dives under the covers and snuggles up to his big brother, his worries vanishing like smoke. A strong arm wraps around him, a soft chuckle reverberating against his chest. “I dunno why you're wanting to sleep with me when you get scared when you're the one with powers. You can protect yourself a lot better than I can.”
And yet somehow, he's always coming to Delsin's rescue. Has been since they were little kids, and Delsin has no idea what he’d do without him. “Nah, you’ve got the whole ‘I am Batman’ grouchy vibe thing going on, you can scare people with a look. Not as well as Betty, of course.”
Reggie snorts out a laugh. “Go to sleep, dingus.”
“Dork.”
“Dipshit.”
“Dumbass.”
“I will kick you out, Delsin.”
“No need to get hostile,” the younger Rowe jokes, closing his eyes. His brother’s heartbeat is right next to his ear, strong and steady as always, and Delsin feels tendrils of sleep weaving over his mind like a dark blanket. “Reg?” he murmurs, so quiet that’s he’s certain the older Rowe feels it more than he hears it.
“Hm?”
“Love you.”
The arm around his torso pulls him just a little closer. “Love you too, Delsin. Now sleep.”
In which we meet some new faces and learn some lore!
TW: past character death, police procedures
2248 words
Delsin keeps his gaze glued to the lockup monitor and the two teens sitting inside, the screen tinged blue with the light of the conduit suppression system. A frown is affixed to his face, arms folded over his chest and fingers tapping out a rhythm on his elbow. The clanging of the door to lockup opening and closing brings back so many memories, and Delsin is struck by a pang of grief that even after so many years, he still expects to see Reggie standing in Ash’s place. A few moments later, Ash joins them in the office, closing the door behind him.
“Alright, let’s go over everything.” He runs a hand over his face and blows out a breath. Having known the Sheriff as long as he has, Delsin recognizes the man’s frustration with ease. “Two teenage boys, more than likely both conduits.”
“How do you figure? I didn’t think we had a scanner at the Station,” Fetch remarks, propping her hip against the edge of his desk.
“I’m fairly certain they’re twins, and the chances of twins both being conduits is very high. They also share an unnatural eye color, and mutations like that have been found to be linked with conduit gene expression.”
Delsin finally drags his attention away from the screen. “So where did they come from? Do you think they’re runaways?”
Instead of answering, Ash sets two beat-up backpacks down on top of the desk. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who they belong to. “The only things these kids stole were essentials: off-brand toiletries, some canned goods, bottled water, protein bars. Nothing expensive, no electronics or cigarettes. Their phones are burners, no numbers saved in them, no personal info, no pictures or identifying items in their bags.”
“Do you think they might be hiding something in their clothes?” Fetch asks, frowning.
“Possibly. We did a pat down and didn’t find anything. I haven't done a strip search yet and frankly I’d rather hold off on doing so if I can, especially if my hunch is right.”
Delsin exchanges a look with Fetch. One thing he’s learned is that nine times out of ten, Ash’s hunches are right. “What’s your hunch?”
“I’m getting to that. They look like they’ve spent a few weeks roughing it, but I don’t think they’re victims of any long-term neglect. The thing that did strike me is that they have no fingerprints.”
Delsin shares his wife’s frown now, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “What, like they’re not in the system? That’s a good thing, right?”
“No, I mean those two boys don’t have fingerprints. Their fingertips are scarred, like they were exposed to acid or hot metal, to erase any identifying marks.” Ash pauses and takes a breath, sinking into his chair. “I think they’re from a caravan.”
Both Delsin and Fetch go rigid. Not long after the emptying of Curdun Cay, nomadic groups of conduits started popping up all over the country. Some were freed inmates, while others were recently activated conduits who didn’t feel safe under the current government. Despite the new pro-conduit legistlation that has developed in the twenty years since Augustine’s defeat, the caravans remain. Eugene and Billy have been working to try and bridge the gap with varying success.
“This poses a new concern,” Ash continues, “Most caravans are made up of adult conduits with a few non-conduits here or there. There are two exceptions, gang caravans and family caravans, the latter of which is somewhat rare. The gangs will pick up runaways and kids that have been kicked out, and are usually found closer to the Empire City ruins. Family caravans are exactly what they sound like, families grouped together for safety and well-being, and they are extremely protective of their children.”
“How are we supposed to know which type they came from?”
“Given that they didn’t go for any major property damage and were only trying to escape, I’m leaning towards family. Which then begs the question of where the rest of their caravan is, and whether or not they’ll come looking for these two.”
If a group of conduits come roaring in, guns blazing, to find their missing kids, someone is bound to get hurt. Delsin wants to avoid that at all costs, both to protect the people of Salmon Bay and the other conduits. “Not to mention why the kids left in the first place.”
“Precisely. Unfortunately, neither one of them will talk. They haven’t spoken a word to us since their arrest, and I doubt they’ll open up to either of you since you came in with us. As such, I’ve called in an outside source.”
“Who?” Fetch questions. They’ve all been doing this a long time, so Delsin trusts Ash’s judgement, but he’s still as curious as his wife.
A knock at the door answers their question for them. Talk about timing. Ash hops up from his desk and peeks out, swinging the door open wide to let Billy step into the office, Bear close to his heels.
“Hi Billy, thanks again for coming in. Sorry, I know it’s late.”
The former deputy waves off the apology with a grin. “Please, I might not be part of the crew here anymore but the Center has me up at all hours of the night.”
A handful of years after Reggie’s disappearance, Billy had stepped down as Sheriff to let Ash take over, and in the process had left police work behind entirely. Instead, he’d taken to helping Eugene and Alessia with changing conduit legislation and building Project Sanctuary further. Eventually, Sanctuary Centers began to pop up all over the country, and now he runs the one in Salmon Bay. It makes perfect sense to Delsin why Ash would call him.
“Either way, I appreciate it.” Returning to his seat, Ash gestures to the security monitor. “Pretty sure we have a pair of caravan kids on our hands.”
He brings Billy up to speed on the situation, recounting everything that's happened so far. Billy listens attentively, absently scratching Bear’s head. “Have they said anything to each other since you put them in lockup?”
“Let me check.”
Ash brings up the previous feed and cranks up the volume, fiddling with the recording some. “Ah, here.”
The braver teen peers up at the camera, frowning, then drops his head low and leans closer to his brother. “We've got at least three lions and two hyenas, but could be more. No skunks.”
The other teen glances at the camera too, chewing on the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “Any wraiths?”
“Not yet.”
Ash pauses the video and swaps back to the live feed. “That's all they've said.”
“Any idea what any of that means?” Fetch asks, the question directed at Billy.
“Yep. Lion in latin is Leo, in this case referring to L-E-O, the acronym for law enforcement officer. Hyenas refer to conduits who work with cops, picking through the ‘spoils’ after a caravan conduit gets arrested, and skunks refer to social workers from CPS.”
“Hm, wraiths are a type of ghost, right? A spook,” Delsin muses, gears in his head turning. “The Feds?”
Billy clicks his tongue and winks. “Bingo, you’re getting it. Caravaners are very careful with communication, but Eugene and I have picked up some of it when we've met with a few of the groups that have come through the coast.”
“Think they'll talk to you?”
“They might. Depends on what they need, and why they're here. I won't lie, it's really odd that they've come this way. Far as I know, there aren't any lighthouses in this area.”
Fetch looks at him like he’s suddenly grown a second head. “There’s a lighthouse right off the shore, but what the hell does that have to do with anything?”
Billy bursts out laughing. “Sorry, sorry, I should’ve explained. A lighthouse is a caravan safehouse.”
So many questions, and none of them easily answered. It’s giving Delsin a lovely tension headache, but he understands why the two boys are being so careful. He only wishes he knew how to reassure them that he and Fetch want to help, that they’re safe here. “Well, either way, will you try talking to them?”
“Of course. I’ll see what I can find out.”
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Two pairs of violet eyes snap to him the moment Billy steps into lockup. Setting a folding chair down, he takes a seat and a moment, studying the pair. The one closer to him, sporting bleached, springy curls, facial piercings, and a wary frown, shifts closer to his brother, angling himself slightly so he’s further between Billy and the second teen. The other boy is a little leaner than his brother and seems far more nervous, tugging at close-cropped curls and repeatedly pushing his glasses up his nose. They both bear the same strong features and an array of scars that allude to more than just teenaged mischief. Something about their features is forming an itch in the back of Billy’s mind, some needling feeling that he should recognize them, but for the moment he brushes the feeling aside.
“Bit of a rough night?”
“We have nothing to say to you,” the braver teen says stiffly, crossing his arms over his chest.
“That’s okay, I can talk for both of us,” Billy replies calmly. Loosening his hold on Bear’s leash, he gestures to the golden retriever. “If you’d like to pet the dog though, you’re more than welcome to.”
The kid with the glasses perks up a little at that, his hand already rising off his knee, but his brother grabs his wrist and shakes his head. The long-haired teen definitely seems to be the one in charge, the other deferring to his judgement without question.
“Ignore the police dog,” the brave one hisses.
“He’s a therapy dog, actually” Billy says with a shrug. In his experience, caravaners can smell lies a mile away, and attempting to do so anyway only makes them more guarded. “You both seem extremely nervous, understandably so, and I want us all to have calm, level heads. You look like you’ve been through a lot.”
As expected, the one teen just scowls, but the nervous kid pipes up with a timid “What’s his name?”
“Bear, and I’m Billy. If you guys don’t want to tell me your names, that’s fine, I’m not going to make you. But eventually, you’ll have to talk if you don’t want to end up going to a juvenile detention center. And if you go there, you’ll most likely be separated.” Leaning forward, Belly rests his elbows on his knees and laces his fingers together. “I can’t be the light in the harbor to welcome you in, but I can offer sanctuary. There are saints among these sinners, if you know where to look.”
The tension leaks out of them both like balloons deflating and Billy silently cheers. Seconds tick by, and the braver teen gives a tiny nod to his brother, who immediately holds out a hand for Bear to sniff. Bear crosses the space between them and sits down, tail wagging and head in the teen’s lap. The kid strokes his fur gently, and even the defiant one can’t resist the allure of the golden retriever’s fluff. Hope, tiny and desperate, replaces his scowl. “You’re from Sanctuary?”
“I am, I run the Sanctuary Center here in Salmon Bay. That’s why Sheriff Nelson called me. Hard as it might be to believe, you got very lucky that you picked this town to get arrested in.” Maybe now he can get some answers. “Why don’t I bring Delsin and Fetch in and the five of us can-”
“No.” And they’re back to the scowl. Shit. “We don’t want to talk to Delsin.”
Hm. Interesting. Filing that information away for later, Billy holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m here for you, so if Delsin makes you uncomfortable, you don’t have to talk to him. It can just be us. Why don’t we start with something simple, like your names?”
“...I’m Samuel, and this is Dakota.”
Dakota offers a tiny wave when Samuel gestures to him and Billy smiles. “Good to meet you both. Can I ask why you’re here in Salmon Bay? Do you have family we can get ahold of for you?”
He waits with bated breath while Samuel thinks it over, idly scratching Bear’s back. Dakota nudges him with an elbow. “She’s from Sanctuary too, right? He can help us find her.”
That peaks his interest. “Find who?”
“We’re looking for another saint. The Patron.”
Billy’s smile disappears faster than a candle being snuffed out, his chest giving a painful squeeze. “You’re… looking for Alessia?” She had always attempted to dissuade that particular nickname when it had cropped up amongst a handful of conduits.
“Yes, we need her help. Our dad said if we were ever in trouble to find her.”
Which means their dad is most likely someone Alessia helped in the past. “What kind of trouble?”
“Please, we need to talk to her.”
Samuel noticeably avoids the question and Billy exhales heavily, pressing his fist to his lips. “Sia can't help you. You need to tell me what kind of trouble you're in and I'll do the best I can to help.”
“No, we'll only talk to her.”
“Well you can't.” Billy’s voice comes out sharper than he intends, making Dakota shrink against the wall. Samuel is unfazed.
It's Delsin's birthday, but he doesn't feel much like celebrating. (TW: grief/mourning)
Delsin stared out at the water, nursing the same lukewarm beer Fetch had handed him over an hour ago. The muffled sounds of the party continued below, but he wasn’t feeling particularly festive at that moment.
Twenty-nine years old. One year away from thirty and he didn’t feel ready in any way. But that’s not why he was hiding out on the Longhouse roof.
“Thought I’d find you up here.”
James appeared next to him, holding another beer. Delsin didn’t hear him approach, so he must’ve used his powers to sneak up here. Sitting by Delsin’s side, he knocked their knees together.
“You seem pretty dour for the man of the hour. Skipping your own party feels out of character, why not come back inside and relish in waving your youth goodbye?”
“Not in the mood for a party, James,” Delsin mumbled, finishing off the last of his beer. It tasted bitter going down.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see James studying him. “What’s wrong, Del?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
Swallowing thickly, he pulled something out of the chest pocket of his flannel and wordlessly handed it to James.
James turned the object over in his hands, a frown marring his handsome features. “This is Reggie’s spare badge.”
“I carry it around with me,” Delsin admitted, sniffing in a futile attempt to push back the burn in his eyes. “I know it’s stupid, I mean he’s been gone five years, but… I dunno, carrying it helps me feel better, like he’s still close by.”
“It’s not stupid at all,” James replied gently, setting it in Delsin’s palm and curling his fingers over it. “I did the same thing with one of Macy’s picks for years. That doesn't explain why you’re upset though.”
“It’s just-” Delsin paused, chewing his lip, unable to stop the tears any longer “-I’m twenty-nine today. I’m older than Reggie now, and I’m only going to keep getting older than him. He’ll be twenty-eight forever and I’m stuck moving on.”
“I know how you feel. When I turned twenty-six, I begged my mom not to celebrate. How could I be happy when I was leaving her behind?”
“Exactly.” He was leaving his brother behind, and the thought terrified him. “I don’t want to forget him.”
“You really think you will?”
“The moment I stop thinking about him all the time, he stops existing.”
“You’re not the only one who thinks about him, you know that right?”
“I-” Delsin stopped short. He knew, but what if the others stopped? He couldn't take that risk.
James sighed and wrapped an arm around Delsin's shoulders. “I can't tell you how to grieve, or how to move on. But I don't think Reg would want you to be hurting so much for him.”
“He should be here, James. He should be thirty-three and complaining about the World Series and telling me to ease up on the beers for my birthday. It's not fair.” His voice cracked on the final syllable and he bit his lip so hard it bled, trying to keep it together.
“No. No, it's not fair.” James hugged him, and Delsin desperately wished the hug were strong enough to fix all the little cracks Reggie's death left behind. Next year he would turn thirty, and the trench between himself, his youth, and his brother would continue to grow.
“Copman’s married?!”
Delsin rolled his eyes in amusement at Fetch's surprise. “They’re not actually married. They started making that joke a couple years ago, I dunno why."
Otherwise known as the time Delsin finds out his brother has been 'secretly' married for three years.
There's a knock at the door to Reggie’s hospital room. Delsin looks over in time to spot a familiar head peek inside.
“Ash?”
“Hope this is a good time,” Ash says as he steps inside, closing the door behind him.
Reggie picks his head up and gives the deputy a dopey smile. “Heeeey it's my husband!”
“Hi Reggie,” Ash replies, an amused smile on his face. “They gave you the good stuff, huh?”
“Mhmmm.”
Fetch's eyebrows dart up and she gives Delsin a curious look but otherwise doesn't say a word. Hopping out of his seat, Delsin goes to give the shorter man a hug.
“Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing here? Scratch that, how'd you even get here?”
“Sea turtles, mate.”
Delsin draws back and gives him a flat look. “You’ve been hanging out with James too much.”
“Probably,” Ash agrees with a laugh. He turns to Fetch and waves. “Hi, I’m Ash. You must be Fetch, yea?”
Fetch appears surprised at being addressed and simply nods.
“Nice to meet you.”
Ash takes the vacant chair by the bed and Delsin nudges the dumbfounded neon conduit’s arm. “Want to come with me to grab some food? Give these two a chance to catch up?”
“Sure.”
Once they’re outside, Delsin notices Fetch shaking herself out of her stupor. “Copman’s married to a guy?”
He rolls his eyes in amusement. “They’re not actually married. They started making that joke a couple years ago, I dunno why. He is into men though. I think. I mean he’s never really had a boyfriend or girlfriend as far as I know but I have caught him-”
“I’m going to stop you right there.”
“...Party-pooper.”
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TWO MONTHS LATER
Delsin flops dramatically into one of the chairs in front of Reggies’ desk and sighs. “Do you ever do anything fun at work?”
Reggie gives him a withering look before returning his attention to his computer. “No, hence why it’s called work. And I have a lot to catch up on after being gone for so long. Ya know, because I was in Seattle helping you?”
Letting out another dramatic sigh, Delsin props his feet up on the back of the chair, looking at Reggie upside down. “Well yea, but you’re still on desk duty cause of the cast. Can’t you do this at home?”
“I came into the office for peace and quiet so I could focus without little brothers.”
“And how’s that working out for you?” Delsin asks innocently.
“I hate you so much right now.”
Ash chooses that moment to walk into Reggie’s office, raising an eyebrow at Delsin but otherwise not concerning himself with the younger Rowe’s antics. “How’s it going, boss?”
“Ash, save me, I beg you.”
“Really feelin’ the love, Reg,” Delsin jokes, sitting up and peeking into the bag in Ash’s hand. “What’d you bring me?”
Ash rolls his eyes and moves the bag away. “Nope, not for you. Husband privileges, sorry.” He pulls out a couple of tupperware containers and hands them over.
Reggie peeks in the first one and lights up. “Ohhhh is this Mike’s spam fried rice?”
Ash grins and sets a travel mug on the desk as well, pointing at the other container. “It is indeed. And Lucy’s been getting into baking, so I brought you her newest creation: dark chocolate raspberry brownies.”
“Marry me.”
“Again? Okay, if you insist.”
“You two are so weird,” Delsin mutters under his breath, though admittedly he’s happy his brother has people to take care of him. Lord knows how both of them are about taking care of themselves.
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SIX MONTHS AFTER SEATTLE
“Hey, Delsin? Got a sec?”
Delsin looks up from his sketchbook to find Reggie hovering by the arm of the couch, a folder in hand. “Yea, sure. Everything okay?”
“Yea, everything’s fine, I just wanted to give you this.”
Reggie holds out the folder. Setting his sketchbook aside, Delsin takes it and flips it open, giving the documents he finds inside a cursory glance. Stops. Scans it again more thoroughly. “This is the deed to the house.”
“And all the other documents that go along with it. A couple of them need your signature before I can get everything notarized.”
Delsin looks up at his brother in a panic. “Why the hell are you giving me these?”
Reggie blinks at him, eyebrow rising towards his hairline. “So I can give you the house?”
“Why are you giving me the house?! Oh my god, are you dying?!” They just survived Augustine less than a year ago, and he already nearly lost his brother once, he can’t handle it a second time.
Delsin doesn’t even realize he’s started panicking until strong hands are suddenly gripping his biceps, Reggie’s expression awash with concern as he crouches in front of the younger Rowe. “Whoa, Del, calm down. I’m not dying, I’m fine.”
“THEN WHY ARE YOU GIVING ME THE HOUSE?!”
“Breathe,” Reggie orders firmly. Delsin takes a shaky breath, and another, the dizziness clearing a little. “I’m giving you the house because I’m moving out.”
Delsin’s jaw drops and he gapes at his big brother. “And going where?”
“Like ten minutes down the road? I’m moving in with Ash.”
…What. Delsin sets the folder down and holds his hands in a T. “Timeout. Why are you moving in with Ash? Is it cause of Fetch and Eugene? I thought we were over the whole ‘bioterrorist’ thing.”
“We are over it,” Reggie reassures him, “Ash and I have been planning to move in together since we got married, but shit kept happening and we were still figuring out which house we wanted to keep and which one we wanted to sell, and I didn’t want to just put you out on the street. Since you all have incomes now you can manage without me and I figured you guys would like having your own space.”
Delsin stares. "You're married to Ash? Since when?”
“I… have been for almost three years?”
“....OH MY GOD.”
Now it’s Reggie’s turn to stare. “How did you not know? We haven’t exactly kept it a secret. We literally call each other ‘husband’ in front of you on a regular basis. I even invited you to go to the courthouse with us, but I think you were hungover.”
Delsin doesn’t remember that at all. “But you don’t act like you’re married? You never kiss, or hold hands, or do any romantic shit.” He pauses, frowns, then squints at his brother. “Wait, three years? But I caught you and that one dude with the blue hair a few months before the shit went down with Augustine. Are you seriously telling me you were fucking cheating?”
“No.”
Delsin is so confused. “Huh?”
Reggie pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath. “Okay, let me start over. And let’s take this to the table so I know I have your attention. That and my knees are killing me.”
For once, Delsin doesn’t make a wise-crack or joke at his brother’s expense, he simply follows him to the table and sits across from Reggie.
“Yes, Ash and I are married. Our anniversary is in May. We’ve been married almost three years, and like I said we were planning to move in together at the start but shit happened. No, I was not cheating on him. He always knows who I’m sleeping with, that was part of our agreement.”
“Agreement?” Delsin echoes, tilting his head. “So you guys have an open marriage?” That’s admittedly not something he ever expected from his brother.
“Sort of? I think James called it a ‘queerplatonic semi-open marriage’ but I never really tried to put a label on it. Ash doesn’t do sex, so we agreed I could do occasional hookups. I’m not getting into the logistics of that cause frankly it isn’t any of your business, but I’m not cheating on Ash.”
“I mean, as long as you’re both cool with it, that’s what matters.” He takes a moment to ruminate on this new information, tapping his hand on the table. “So… why marry Ash? I figured if you were going to marry your best friend, you’d marry Billy.”
Reggie shrugs. “‘Ash’ best friend is different from ‘Billy’ best friend. Billy’s straight, for another thing. And there are a lot of things in a relationship that I couldn’t give him. He wants a romantic partner, and maybe kids.”
“You… don’t want a romantic partner?” Delsin asks carefully, gears working in his mind.
“Nope. I have what I want, and that's what I have with Ash, and I’m very happy with it.”
“Huh. Wow, this is… a lot to take in. When are you moving out?”
“Not for a few more months. I wanted to make sure you guys were good to go on your own before I left. Plus Ash is having some work done on the house so we have more office space. Then we’re finally going on our honeymoon! I think we’re doing a trip to Europe? Ash has it planned out.” Reggie waves a hand nonchalantly as though Delsin’s brain hasn’t suddenly been tossed out the window.
Nevertheless, Delsin smiles. “Well awesome then, I’m glad you guys are happy. Guess I should probably change Ash’s name in my phone to something more fitting for my new brother-in-law.”
Reggie rolls his eyes, but he's smiling too. “He's going to change yours to ‘oblivious idiot’. Actually, come to think of it, that might be your name in there already.”
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Fetch is finally free, with a whole new life, but she doesn't want to forget the past, forget Brent. A memorial tattoo seems like a good place to start.
A little interaction between Fetch and my OC James (note: this is before he finds out he's a conduit)
TW: past drug use/abuse, grief/mourning, angst
Fetch scrolls through her phone, eyes flicking rapidly over the photos streaming past. A faint breeze, followed closely by the smell of smoke, clues her in to Delsin’s arrival.
“Sup, lasergirl?” he asks, flopping onto the couch next to her and leaning over to sneak a peek at her phone. “You thinking of getting a tattoo?”
“Have been for a while, actually,” she replies with a shrug, hoping to sound casual. “Now that I've got some steady income, I want to get something for Brent. Just to remember him, you know?”
Delsin's eyes are far too keen. “Yea, I understand. Got an artist picked out yet? Or still deciding on ideas?”
“Still looking. I kind of want to get something like this.”
She holds out her phone and Delsin studies the image. Tapping his knee thoughtfully, he pops back up off the couch. “Come with me, we're going on a field trip!”
“Uh, okay.”
“You trust me, right?”
“Yes.” He's earned it, several times over.
“Then let's go!”
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Ten minutes later, they're standing in front of the Sheriff's Department and Fetch is rethinking her earlier declaration. “Why are we here?”
“You'll see!”
He strolls inside like he owns the place, a pep in his step. She's found that this usually translates to ‘I’m about to ruin my big brother's day’ and wonders why the hell he brought her along. The weirdest part is, Reggie isn't even working right now. He and Billy are on an overnight camping trip, leaving the other two deputies to hold down the fort.
It's been just over six months since they beat Augustine, and though her relationship with the Sheriff himself has improved drastically, his deputies are still a bit of an enigma. Billy is wary of her, but civil. Ash is polite, and doesn't seem afraid of her, but she gets the feeling he isn't much of a people person. She hasn't spent much time with James, the lanky third shift deputy, mostly on account of his hours. That being said, he's been the most welcoming and friendly of the three, seemingly unbothered by them being conduits.
He's in the Station now, perched on a desk and chattering away at Ash who appears to have tuned him out forever ago.
“Hey guys!” Delsin greets them, leaning onto the desk too and making Ash even more annoyed. “How's it hanging with the boss gone?”
“I can play Fergie full blast without getting yelled at, how do you think it's going?” James teases, letting out a squeak when Ash unceremoniously shoves him off. “Wow, rude. Anyway, what can I do ya for, D?”
“Tattoo advice.”
James perks up and snags what Fetch assumes is his desk chair, sitting down and cracking his knuckles. “Hit me.”
Delsin motions Fetch over. The neon conduit slowly approaches, feeling very confused. “Why are we asking him for help?” Fetch blurts out before she can stop herself. “No offense, but I figured if we were going to ask for advice, it'd be from someone who has tattoos.”
James and Delsin exchange a look, then James wordlessly rolls up the sleeves of his undershirt and his pant legs. Fetch stares. And stares. And keep staring.
A few moments pass and James clears his throat. “Now that you've had a look at my resume, what can I help you with?”
Fetch blinks, shaking herself out of her stupor, and shows him the ideas she had. She's amazed to see how focused he gets, eyes narrowed slightly while he studies each one, as well as her neon art.
“Didn't you have something like that a year or so ago?”
“Mhm, that's what I was just thinking.” Grabbing his own phone off the desk, James scrolls through for a minute and then holds it out to her. It's the touch she was looking for. “This is for your brother right? Brent? If so, I'd suggest red adonis for yours, maybe with marigolds. The Chrysanthemums are usually not a grief flower in the States, that's more European, and the roses are more for romantic love, whereas adonis can be more general and bittersweet.”
“How do you know that?” Fetch asks curiously.
“My sister Tanner is a florist. Obsessed with flower language,” he replies with a laugh, handing her back her phone.
“Oh, that's cool.” Putting her phone back in her pocket, she changes the subject. “Do you know if the guy who did that one is taking new clients? And if he's… cool with conduits?”
“Yes to both.”
Relieved, she smiles. “What's the best way to get ahold of him?”
“You're talking to him.”
And she's back to staring. “You're kidding.”
James smiles. “Serious as a heart attack. Been tattooing for almost twenty years. Started under my mom, she owns the parlor ‘Hazy Eights’ in Seattle, runs it with my older sister Charlie.”
“Well I don't exactly have a car to get all the way to Seattle.” Maybe Reggie would be willing to take her?
“No need, I work out of my own studio here in Salmon Bay. Now, if you decide you want something from Mom or Charlie, one of us could give you a ride. I will say, they're both booked out a year solid. I think Mom's a year and a half, actually.”
“No, this is fine. Sorry, didn't expect this to move quite so fast.” She was expecting to have to look for a while to find an artist willing to tattoo a conduit who also could do the style she wanted. But then Delsin popped in.
The smoke conduit offers a sheepish smile. “My bad, figured you'd be excited.”
“I am! Just, recalibrating, I guess.”
“Well, take whatever time you need to ‘recalibrate’,” James jokes, leaning back in his chair and tapping his keyboard to wake up his computer. “I can draw up a design and do a consult whenever you're ready. Sound good?”
“Sounds great.”
000000
It's a surprisingly painless process. James is easy to work with, and the design he sends her a week after her consult is perfect.
She's still a touch anxious when she stops in front of the cozy little ranch house a few miles out of town. Not nervous, she's Fetch Walker, she's never nervous (and she has conduit powers so what could he even do?). But anxious is okay.
There's a door off the porch, with a sign over it. ‘Jaybird’s Studio’ it reads, a bluebird in flight painted over the letters. Another smaller sign over the knob reads ‘please ring doorbell’. She does so, waiting with her hands in her pockets and shifting from foot to foot.
It feels like forever but can't be more than two minutes before the door opens. “Hey Fetch! Ready to get started?”
It takes Fetch a second to unglue her tongue enough to say yes. The man in front of her can't possibly be the same guy. A crop top puts his collection of tattoos on full display, and holy cow the piercings. A pair of sparkly blue framed glasses are perched on his nose, and his hair is out of its usual ponytail, instead brushed to one side to better show off the undercut. He’s got a surprising amount of rings, working them off each finger and setting them in a tray before pulling on a pair of gloves.
“Alright, go ahead and sit here.”
Fetch blinks, sitting down on the chair, and finally has a look around. This must have been the house’s garage, though it’s been converted into part art studio, part tattoo parlor. Shelves of supplies line the walls, and a covered easel stands a few yards away. It’s clean, tidy, and not at all what she’d expect from him.
“Were you able to follow all the instructions I gave you?” James asks, getting the stencil ready on her leg.
“Yes.” The list wasn’t very long, but Delsin told her it was important to follow to the letter.
“Good girl. Need a water or bathroom break before we get started?”
She shakes her head and holds up her new copy of Wuthering Heights. “No. I brought a book, is that okay?”
“Absolutely. I’ll keep my music turned down.”
Fetch gets comfortable and cracks open the cover, soon getting lost in the story. The background hum of the tattoo gun and James’ music is oddly peaceful, and before she knows it four hours have passed. James sits back and cracks his neck. “Alright, and that’s where we’re stopping today. Line work’s all done, next time we’ll do all the colors. Good job, you sat through that like a champ.”
She shrugs and lowers her book. “I have a high pain tolerance. And I do have two other tattoos. They’re just… not great.”
“Lemme see.”
Fetch moves her shirt to show the one on her hip, and the other on her shoulder. James’ eyes narrow. “These look like back alley work.”
“They were,” Fetch admits, fixing her clothes. “But I was young and stupid.” And high. She doesn’t even remember getting the second one.
“We all make mistakes, and I’ve made enough that I know I’m never going to be in a place to judge someone else for theirs. I’m just glad that you made it out without getting sick, and if you ever want a coverup, just let me know.” He leans over to strip his gloves off and she catches sight of the tattoo on his left side.
‘In a life filled with needles-’
She can’t see the bottom text, but what she can see, she is all too familiar with.
He doesn’t notice her staring, already in the process of cleaning up. “We have your next appointment scheduled, if you need anything before then or if you have any issues, feel free to text me or stop at the Station. Sound good?”
“Yea, thanks.” His tattoo sticks in Fetch’s mind all the way home, and for the entire two weeks leading up to her next appointment. She brings her book with her again, but the moment she sits down she knows that reading will be a futile endeavor thanks to her curiosity.
“Hey James?”
He pauses his shading and looks up at her, pushing his glasses back up with a knuckle. “Yea?”
“You don’t need to stop, I just…” She chews on her lip. “Can I ask a personal question?”
“Sure.”
“The tattoo about the needles? Is that just to look cool? Or..?” Fetch trails off, unsure how to ask. She and Delsin have talked a little about what happened before, about the memories he saw in her head, but not much more than that. He doesn’t get it, and she’s glad he doesn’t.
James turns his attention back to shading without answering, and Fetch worries she offended him.
“...No, no it’s not just to look cool. I’m actually a little surprised, I figured that was half the reason Delsin brought you to me. He didn’t say anything?” Fetch shakes her head silently and he continues. “My sister started using when I was in middle school and got me hooked too. She OD’ed when I was about eighteen.”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“Nah, it’s okay. I’m working on making my peace with it,” he reassures her, flashing her a wry smile. Fetch tilts her head, studying him. Eventually he catches her staring and raises an eyebrow. “What?”
“Just tryin’ to figure you out.”
“Oh?”
“Yea. I mean, former junkie, freelance tattoo artist, and a cop? One of those things is not like the others.”
He shrugs. “I was young and stupid once too. Well, okay, I’m still stupid, but you get what I mean. I avoided getting in big enough trouble to bar me from being a cop, and figured that since I was too dumb to be an EMT, I’d work on getting drugs off the streets. Went into Seattle PD, worked narcotics for several years. Kept getting in trouble, had a couple relapses, and was given the ultimatum to either transfer here or quit. Quitting felt too much like failure at the time, so I transferred. Now I’m just kind of coasting until retirement. Salmon Bay is nice though, quiet, and being here has helped me be in a much better place than I was.”
Fetch stares at her leg, at the nearly complete tattoo. “I think Brent would’ve loved it here. It was supposed to be one last job, just enough to get us out. He worked so hard to get us both clean and I fucked it up. It’s not fair, that I’m here and he’s-”
She can’t finish the sentence. Her teeth grind together, knuckles white where her fists press against her thighs.
“No, it’s not fair,” James agrees, not looking up from his work. “But we keep trucking along, one day at a time. Sometimes the best thing us stupid folks can do is survive, right?”
Something in Fetch’s chest eases. “Right.”
They don’t speak again until he’s finished. Setting aside the needle, James smiles. “Mirror’s right there, tell me what you think.”
Fetch hops down, looking at the finished tattoo in the mirror, turning this way and that. It’s perfect. “I love it. Thanks, James.”
She fishes in her pocket for the envelope where she’s been saving all of her cash to pay for the work, but when she tries to hand it to James, he shakes his head. “This one’s on me.”
“But this took like, seven, eight hours?”
“Fetch, honey, I wasn’t going to let you pay for it no matter how long it took me to do it.”
She frowns, crumpling the envelope in her fist and setting it on her hip. “I don’t need pity, okay? I’m able to pay for it, so let me.”
He tilts his head, unshakeably calm in a way that reminds her of Delsin. Maybe that’s where the smoke conduit picked it up. “It’s not pity. You’ve been through a lot of shit and deserve good things. If you really want to use the money, which I can understand, how about a compromise?”
She does. She needs to, for Brent, and for herself, to be able to prove that she’s good on her own, that she can take care of herself like any adult. “What kind of compromise?”
He brings up a website on his phone and shows it to her. “This is the website for my mom’s shop. She has links to a few different charities that we support and know are legit. You could always donate to one, and if you’d rather it be anonymous, Delsin or I could call them for you.”
She scrolls through curiously, surprised to see a couple regarding conduits on the list. “Yea, this works. Thanks again.”
“Anytime, Fetch. You ever need anything, gimme a call or come see me at the Station.”
“I will.” He’s an enigma, but she’s surprised to find that she doesn’t mind. She wonders if Brent would’ve liked him. “See you later.”
He waves and she steps outside into the warm sunny day, feeling lighter. Maybe she’ll grab a milkshake, see if she can find those peanut butter ones Brent always loved. Inhaling deeply, she smiles, and starts running, neon trailing after.
Wherever you are, big brother, I hope we’ve both found our peace.
After back to back tasks demanding his attention, Mesmyr is happy to have a chance to go home.
TW: old age, talks of death
The first rose of the season is blooming. It's healthy, vibrant, with petals of deep, rich red. Mesmyr tenderly strokes the velvety flower, a smile on his lips. Juliette will be very pleased to see it, she always takes such excellent care of them. Feels like only yesterday that he was helping her plant these very same bushes. Tiny things they were, scrawny, and yet after a few hundred years they have flourished into verdant shrubs.
“Mamá!”
Mesmyr's wings flash a bright, happy yellow. “Juliette, my flower, there you are!”
The young woman who rushes down the villa steps, dark curls bouncing wildly, at first glance seems human enough. But if one were to look closer, they would find sideways pupils and soft, rosey pink ears that are far more resemblant of a goat. A furred tail hides amongst her many skirts, and dainty claws painted pink adorn her fingers. She is taller than Mesmyr, her embrace tight and warm.
When they part, Mesmyr cups her cheeks with gentle hands searching her face. “You are well? I am sorry for my long absence.”
“There is no need to apologize, Mamá. I know you work hard, I am simply happy you are home.” They link arms as they walk together through the villa’s gardens. “Lucille is making Fabada for supper tonight.”
“I have desperately missed her cooking, so I am looking forward to it.”
Juliette smirks. “And how is our Nephalem? Staying out of trouble?”
Mesmyr sighs softly. “His brother discovered his secret. That is why I have been gone for more than a few days. It has been… difficult for them.”
The demon’s smirk morphs into a frown. “Would that he simply could have been raised here. You and Papa would have loved him, as you love us all.”
Shaking his head, Mesmyr gives her hands a gentle squeeze. “He deserved to be raised with his people, and with his brother. Parker and Roxanne loved him, of that I have no doubt. Parents sometimes make poor decisions, but hiding him here would have caused other problems.”
“I suppose you are right, as usual,” Juliette sighs, pouting at him.
They reach the main entrance to the villa and Juliette slows, gripping Mesmyr’s arm tighter. “Mamá!… I thought you should know, Papá had another episode yesterday. They are becoming more frequent.”
The touch of blue that colors his feathers lingers far longer than usual. “I see. Is he in the study?”
“I believe he’s on the veranda.”
“Thank you.”
Kissing her cheek, Mesmyr slips his arm from his daughter’s and laces his fingers together, walking the quiet halls of his home and missing the days when they were full of the noises of children playing. The doors to the veranda are open wide, the beautiful ocean breeze tinged with the sweetness of blooming hydrangeas.
“Marius?”
The man seated on the veranda looks up from his book, a bright smile crossing his dashing face. Mesmyr feels his heart swell at the sight, and he fears he may swoon. “Mesmyr, my love. I was about to beat down the doors to the Agency and demand that Mercury give you a day off.”
Mesmyr snorts, taking Marius’ hand. Fingers weathered with age lace with his, the matching bands of magic glowing as they get closer together. A lump forms in Mesmyr’s throat, and he presses his lips into a thin line. Once, both their hands were young, when time seemed meaningless and their lifetimes infinite. Mesmyr’s is still infinite, but Marius…
“Myr?”
Blinking, Mesmyr swiftly schools his features into a smile. “Forgive me, my love. I was lost in thought.”
Marius raises an amused eyebrow. “You may be an excellent liar to everyone else, Myr, but I have known you for eons. You cannot lie to me.”
The smile fades, and Mesmyr swallows thickly. “I am sorry, I just…”
“I know.” There is warmth on Marius’ face, and something so profoundly sad. “The day approaches, faster now than it ever seemed like it could.”
“I was selfish,” Mesmyr whispers, not realizing his grip has grown tight. “I should have taken the Morte ages ago, grown old with you.”
“I am glad that you did not,” Marius says bluntly. “You have so much love to give and the world needs you as much, if not more than I do. And it is a comfort to know that when I am gone, you will still be here for our children.”
Mesmyr leans into his side, inhaling the richness of his cologne, spices and caramel. “Do you ever regret loving someone who would not lay with you?”
“Never. I could not have asked for anyone better.”
Death is part of life. Since his birth, Mesmyr has known that things die. He has understood, and he has let go. But this time… “I don’t want you to go.”
Marius sighs, silver locks of hair falling as he tilts his head to rest it atop Mesmyr’s coppery curls. “It will be alright. One day, you will be human, and I hope that when that day comes, you will find another love to grow old with.”
It should have been this love. Mesmyr tries once more to swallow past the pain threatening to overwhelm him, when Marius struggles to rise to his feet. Mesmyr hurries to help him up, a steady arm on his side. “Juliette mentioned that the roses should be blooming any day now, shall we go see if any have opened?”
Mesmyr smiles, a genuine one. “Of course, my dear.”
The morning they leave the Manor, the weather is cold and grey, yet Delsin’s mood is oddly chipper. He finally gets the chance to travel the stars, be on a ship with his brother. A tiny, old dream, one that he’d hidden away many years prior. And now it’s happening.
“Be careful, aye? Listen to your brother, and the both of you had best come home to me or there will be hell to pay.” Betty’s voice doesn’t shake, but her eyes are suspiciously wet as she grips Delsin’s hands.
“I’ll take care of him, don’t worry,” Delsin promises with a cheeky grin. “And I’ll make you proud.”
Betty hugs him tight and Delsin inhales deeply the familiar smell of fireweed and Sirellian herbal tea. “You already have, little star.”
She waves to them from the front steps and Delsin waves back from the skiff. He doesn’t stop until her form is completely swallowed up by the curling mist, and that’s when it truly hits him. There’s no going back, only forward.
“So! What ship are we taking?” Delsin asks, popping up next to Reggie. “A merchant friend letting you commandeer one?”
“You’ll see.”
000000
“...Surely you jest,” Delsin deadpans, staring up at the fat merchant ship moored at the spaceport. “You intend to hunt Augustine in that?”
“Keep your voice down!” Billy hisses, glaring down the people in the crowd who dare look their way. He pulls Delsin along, herding the tense Procyons behind him. Fetch and Eugene are unrecognizable, long cloaks and scarves covering their features so no one can see what they are, but Delsin can still feel the fear radiating off of both of them. Not that he can blame them.
“Ah, Captain Rowe!” The booming voice makes Delsin jump. A robustly built silver Lamnid stands at the top of the gangplank, arms spread wide and a mouthful of pearly whites on display. “I was beginning to worry I had the wrong day.”
Reggie laughs as he makes his way up to clasp arms with the shark. “My apologies, Donovan. Poor winds on our way from Morefeld. Thank you for being willing to take us on such short notice.”
“Always happy to help my favorite, you know that.” Donovan fucking winks at him and Delsin feels like he’s missing some extremely important context as he makes his way up the gangplank too. “But let’s not delay! Have you the rest of your things?”
“Aye, thank you.”
Delsin steps foot onto the ship and realizes it’s almost entirely crewed by Lamnids. The sharks scurry about, occasionally glancing at the newcomers with curiosity. They're a rarity in this part of the galaxy, with a bit of an unsavory reputation, so Delsin is a bit surprised to see his straight-laced brother picking this particular crew. “Uh, Reg?”
“Come along, Delsin, we'd best be out of the way.” Reggie takes his arm and leads him to the upper deck, Fetch and Eugene right on their heels and Billy bringing up the rear. Once they’re out of the way of the hustle and bustle, Reggie tilts his head subtly in Donovan’s direction. “Master Carlisle is an old friend, and owes me a few favors. My other ship would draw too much attention if I were to make port here, so he is taking us to it.”
More attention than a merchant ship full of Lamnids? “Why would it draw too much attention?”
Reggie’s smile shows his teeth, a spark in his eyes that Delsin hasn’t seen in quite some time. “You’ll see.”
000000
By the time they reach their destination, a rocky, isolated moon called Blodwyn, Delsin is going out of his mind.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d suspect you planned to maroon us here while you went gallivanting off,” he grumbles as the Sapphire Sunset becomes a speck in the starry sky above.
“Tempting, but no,” Reggie hums, checking his pocketwatch. “Hm, should be arriving any moment now.”
As if on cue, Delsin’s ears pick up the subtle sound of solar engines from the canyon. The hum grows to a rumble, and a ship soars into view. Three masts, a high prow, a slim hull, and plenty of guns. One look at her and he can see she’s built for a fight. But having a brother in the Navy means Delsin knows a bit more than the average Morefeldian about ships, so when he sees her engines his suspicion is thoroughly aroused.
“A modified galleon with corventine engines? Isn’t that illegal? And where are her colors?”
Reggie simply shrugs. “Perhaps.”
Delsin is left gaping at his brother while the ship touches down nearby, ladders lowering and crew scampering down to snag the pile of supplies and belongings.
“Took you lot long enough!” James calls down, gripping the railing tight. Delsin has yet to spy the ship’s name, but she’s made of a dark, rich wood, accented with deep green and copper. Approaching the rope ladder, he catches a shock of red, and leans to the side enough to see the figurehead. A two-headed bird, wings swept long and wide along the hull, and painted to mimic the colors of a sunrise. It feels… familiar, though he cannot place how.
“Delsin!”
The way James' voice crackles around his voice snaps Delsin out of his momentary daze and he hurries to climb the rest of the way up. The deck is abuzz with energy, crew moving this way and that, some disappearing into the lower decks with barrels and crates while others climb the rigging above as easily as one would walk the streets of Morefeld. Delsin finds his heart leaping with excitement everywhere he looks.
Someone crashes into him and he stumbles.
“Watch where yer going!”
Delsin finds himself face to… faces? with a two-headed alien carrying several sacks amongst six spindly arms. Their body looks like it's coated in ceramic tiles and bound in silk, their faces hidden behind masks made of wood.
“Oh, uh, sorry about that.”
A strong hand drags him backwards by his collar and he finds himself deposited next to his friends.
“Try to stay out of Basil and Tony’s way, aye?” James suggests, looking at Delsin upside down and hanging from the shrouds above by his knees. “They're good folk, but none too keen on others getting underfoot. Go join your brother at the helm.”
“Aye, sorry.”
“Good lad!”
Fetch and Eugene are already at the helm with Reggie and Billy, Ash perched at a table behind the wheel covered in paper star charts and readout displays. The helmsman is human like Billy, a stout, portly older gentleman who introduces himself to Delsin as Roberts.
Reggie leans over the charts with Ash, his gaze sharp and focused. “Roberts, heading is 2-9-03. Billy, gather the crew.”
“Aye, Captain.”
The first mate steps forward, bringing his fingers to his lips and whistling loudly as he walks the length of the ship. “Front and Center, all! Captain wants a word!”
A flurry of movement occurs, and soon the crew is gathered into a group before the helm, numbering not quite sixty. Low murmurs and curious whispers reach Delsin's ears, though he can't make out anything concrete. The moment Reggie straightens from the table and approaches the railing, all talking ceases, leaving only the gentle creaking of the ship and the low hum of the engines.
“As you have no doubt heard, Admiral Augustine of the Procyon Armada was seen docked at Morefeld some days ago. While there, she stole an artifact, the portal device created by none other than Captain Nathaniel Flint. With this, she means to travel to and awaken the Leviathan, a monster capable of destroying the bloody stars themselves. Our aim is to get to the planet that powers the device and destroy it, as well as destroying the Unity. This will be our most dangerous voyage, and it is quite possible we will not return. If there are any amongst you who do not wish to take that risk, who have family that you cannot leave alone, speak now and we will see you safely to the nearest port. You would leave with my full support and blessing.”
No one speaks up. Reggie’s eyes scan the gathered crew and he nods once. “Very well. Then on to our next bit of news. We have two Procyon travelers joining us for this journey, as well as my younger brother. Should anyone have a problem with this arrangement, keep it to yourself. They are to be treated with the same respect as any other member of my crew.”
Surprised whispers go up through the crew, and Delsin feels his friends go rigid. Well, at least they don't need to hide the whole trip.
“Now that that's out of the way…” Reggie trails off and with a flick of his wrist, sends his hat flying over the edge of the ship. “I think we're in for a change of colors! What say you, gents?!”
Delsin feels the roar that follows in his bones as James skitters up the mast, followed closely by Basil and Tony, and Delsin's eyes pop out of his skull as a flag is raised high.
A pirate flag, four planetary rings around a zaftwing skull, dotted with stars.
The pieces are starting to fall into place. The flag, the modified ship, the figurehead-
Reggie shucks his coat and accepts the new one Billy hands him. The same rich shade as deep space and trimmed with the swirling patterns of a nebula, the moment it settles on his shoulders Reggie shifts. Delsin can only stand there, mouth agape, staring at what feels like it should be a vulgar display. He hasn't seen his brother's wandering form in decades, and yet he shows it here, freely, in front of an audience, wisps of stardust dancing off his hands.
“Who’s ready for some good, honest pirating?” His voice hasn't sounded this viscerally excited in ages. He begins giving orders for castoff and the crew are leaping to follow with a renewed sense of vigor, while Delsin can only stare in disbelief.
“Your brother is Captain Aphelion?” Fetch's soft whisper, like the tinging of a bell, catches Delsin off guard.
Captain Aphelion, one of the most notorious pirates in the known galaxy and protege of the late Captain Apogee, who was one of Nathaniel Flint’s major rivals.
“This is the Lawless Dawn,” Delsin breathes, the realization hitting him in the chest like a cannonball. “This is the Lawless Dawn!”
“Took you long enough to figure it out,” Ash grumbles, tapping away with one of his tiny feet at a console. “And your friends can take off the heavy robes now, it's safe here. ‘Sides, everyone knows what they are. Might as well get comfortable.”
Fetch and Eugene exchange glances and slip from their bulky disguises, frames coiled with tension. They barely receive a second look, and Eugene hesitantly peeks around Delsin, blue eyes watching the comings and goings of the crew with thinly veiled curiosity.
His brother is a pirate. His brother is a pirate!
The ship rises through the atmosphere, the moon below rapidly growing smaller.
“We're ready, Cap!” A voice yells.
Reggie nods, turning ever so slightly, enough for Delsin to catch a glimpse of deep void eyes. It's always jarring seeing his own take on that shade when he shifts, but to see it on someone else is even more strange. “Brace yourselves.”
He signals with a hand and the ship lunges forward, engines roaring. Delsin grabs hold of Fetch while Eugene squeaks and falls over, saved from a head injury by Billy's last second intervention.
Cheeks going red, Delsin swiftly lets go of Fetch. “Sorry, sorry. You uh, you okay?”
She sweeps the deck with a glance and shrugs. “I'm not in shackles, so there's that. Are we to be confined to the brig for the voyage?”
“Not unless you make trouble,” Billy answers her with a touch of amusement. “Follow the Captain’s orders, and you should be fine.”
Fetch scowls. “The only person I listen to is myself.”
“While you are on my ship, you will follow my instructions, is that clear? Or shall I drop you at the next port?”
Reggie’s sudden looming presence behind them makes Fetch stiffen. A sea of pink meets the depths of the void and a tense standoff occurs. Fetch finally looks away, glaring at the deck. “Aye.”
“Good. Miss Martinez!”
Reggie’s booming voice makes them jump, as does the sudden appearance of a lithe figure dropping from the shrouds above. A felinid woman with light gold fur, wearing a billowing cream blouse and heeled boots so tall they nearly bring her to Delsin's height. “Yes, Captain?”
“Jimena, I leave Fetch in your care. See to her needs and keep her out of trouble.”
“Aye Sir.” She looks Fetch up and down, large ears flicking. “Come on then, love, let's get you settled in my bunk.”
As the ladies leave, Reggie gestures for Delsin and Eugene to follow him, leading the pair below deck. The ship’s kitchen is filled with bubbling pots and dried herbs and crates brimming with produce. A giant of a man takes up a good bit of space, humming to himself while he slices up sourpits. He glances up at the sound of footsteps, a smile spreading over his metallic face, eyes a bright, neon green. Delsin’s heard of Chromians before, but he’s never actually met one.
“Good afternoon, Captain. What can I do for you?”
“Afternoon, Master Clark. This is my brother, Delsin, and his friend Eugene. I am placing them in your care for the duration of the voyage. Keep them busy and out of trouble.”
“Aye, Captain,” Clark states at the same moment that Delsin groans “Seriously? We have to work? Why can’t I hang out with you?”
“Everyone is expected to pull their weight on the Lawless, Delsin. And I will be busy running the ship. Clark is here if you need anything.”
He leaves without another word and Delsin sighs, trying not to pout. Great. Clark’s eyes are keen, and he claps a heavy hand on Delsin’s back, knocking the wind out of him. “There there, lad. It shan't be such a hardship, there will be plenty of downtime to explore every nook and cranny o’ this creaking tub, so long as ye keep out of yer brother's hair.”
“Right…” Delsin's gaze trails back up the stairs. He still can't believe how this day has gone. He's standing on the Lawless Dawn. “Clark? Can I ask you something?”
“Course, lad. Though Gods only know if I can answer it.”
“How'd my brother come to be part of the crew of the Lawless? I realize it would've been before your time, but have you heard stories? Maybe how he came to own the ship?” Captain Apogee was a Wanderer too, maybe they simply wanted to bestow it on another of their kind?
Clark's green gaze turns quizzical. “He were born on this ship, same as you. And I figured yer mum’s wish was pretty normal, wantin’ her ship to go to one o’ her sons.”
“Her ship?..” Delsin echoes faintly.
“Aye. Yer mum Roxanne was Captain Apogee, did ye not know?”
An AU based on one of my favorite Disney movies, Treasure Planet! Pirates, Space travel, Aliens! OOC but still fun
TW: some xenophobia, brief (non-graphic) torture, implied mistreatment of prisoners, Augustine being Augustine, sort of a no powers AU
Featuring my veritable boatload of OCs
Delsin spies a familiar longboat tied at the dock and bites back a groan. Of course this is the day Reggie comes back home. One of the two officers escorting him opens the door to Betty’s Tavern and the other leads him through the door, servo tight on his upper arm. The tavern falls quiet the moment they step inside, every set of eyes on Delsin, who wishes he could melt into the floor.
Betty’s standing next to a table in the back, holding a pitcher and looking so immensely disappointed. And of course, seated at the table with some of his crew is his big brother, wearing civilian clothes and a scowl as fierce as a solar fire. Oh boy.
Reggie manages to talk the officers into giving him a minor citation instead of something serious (one of the few perks of having a brother in the Interstellar Navy), but before Delsin can make his escape, he’s dragged into the tavern’s kitchen by the back of neck. Feeling very much like a badly behaved kitten, he keeps his gaze on the floor while Reggie tears him a new one.
“Is it truly impossible for you to stay out of trouble for more than a millisecond? I only just returned to port and Betty tells me you’ve been arrested three times in a fortnight!”
He continues to rant and Delsin tunes him out. Huh, the grout in here could really use a good scrub. Whose job is it to clean the floor in here? …Oh, wait, that’s on him.
The harsh yank on the point of his ear makes him squeak, glaring at Reggie. “Ow, what was that for?!”
Reggie glares right back. “You’re not even listening to me!”
Miraculously, Delsin resists the urge to roll his eyes. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard you say before.”
“Dammit, Delsin! You’re nearly one-hundred and seventy years old, act like an adult. They won’t send you to Juvenile Hall next time, they’ll lock you up somewhere and throw away the key and my rank will not be able to save you! You will spend hundreds of years wasting away in a cell on some forgotten asteroid in the Karalon Abyss. Is that what you want?”
“At least I’m not running away from home like a gods-damned coward!”
“I’m not running away,” Reggie growls through gritted teeth, the long points of his ears going red like they always do when he’s frustrated. “I’m working. In case you hadn’t noticed, most people in this galaxy have to work to maintain a living.”
“And I’m trying to assert my talent and show people what kind of horrors there are in the galaxy!”
Reggie barks out an incredulous laugh. “Assert your talent? What in the bleedin’ nebula does that mean?”
A sharp whistle makes them both flinch, and they turn as one to find Betty with her hands on her hips. “If the pair of you are quite done, I have a tavern to run, and need the use of my kitchen to do it.”
“Sorry Betty,” the two mumble as one.
Shaking her head, she pushes Reggie towards the door. “Go finish your coffee before it gets cold. I’ll bring breakfast out in a moment.”
“Betty, I-”
“They don’t feed you sailors enough, so don’t even think of arguing with me about it. Off you pop.”
Once he’s out the door, Betty turns her attention to Delsin, a profound sadness in her eyes that forces him to look away. “Delsin, little star-”
“It’s fine, Betty.” He can’t bear the weight of her disappointment. “Those cops just won’t get off my back, ya know? But it’s fine, really.”
He flees the kitchen by way of the back door before she can stop him.
000000
It’s raining. Of course it’s raining. Anything to add misery to this already miserable day. He presses back against the roof and sighs, the eaves keeping the worst of it off of him. Next to him, one of the tavern’s upper window shutters has been propped open, letting in the damp Morefeld air. The breakfast rush has cleared, leaving only Reggie and his crew along with Betty and their old droid, BEN.
“-lad’s havin’ a rough go recently, Cap’n, it ain’t his fault. And it ain’t yours neither.” The voice belongs to James, as recognized by the Filament’s crackling hiss that follows the end of each word. Delsin peeks under the shutter, seeing Reggie shake his head, fingers at his temples.
“I have no idea what to do with him.”
Betty sits at Reggie’s side, a cup of tea in her hands. If Delsin knows his surrogate grandmother, it’s almost certainly half Arcturian rum. “He needs time to come into his own, Reggie. You just need to have a little faith in him.”
“I do. I know what he’s capable of if he’d only stay out of trouble.”
“Hm, I wonder where he gets that from,” Billy mutters into his mug of ale, though Delsin still catches enough to figure out what he said. Delsin’s eyebrows dart up when Reggie gives his first mate a dirty look.
“Stifle that kind of talk, Jackmoore.”
“Aye, Sir.”
Delsin wants to know what Billy meant, but Ash changes the conversation, the Vermili’s multiple eyestalks dancing nervously. “Is it true that the treaty with the Procyons may fall through?”
“We all knew that treaty was a farce in the first place,” James hisses, “They never intended to keep it. Rumor I’ve heard is that they’re looking for something.”
Billy opens his mouth to reply but Betty bangs her fist on the table. “Enough. You all came home to get a break. Set work aside for a nanosecond,” she says firmly.
“Aye, ma’am” echoes around the table.
Disappointed, Delsin slips back into his room upstairs and sighs. Just when things were getting good, too.
000000
Three days pass, and he and his brother barely speak beyond a few halting words in the hallway. Reggie’s portside trips have grown few and far between over the last handful of decades, and with as stubborn as they both are, their relationship has grown distant, cold, lacking the warmth it used to have when they were children. When their parents were still alive, when Mom’s art graced the walls and Dad’s crazy inventions used to run amok.
Delsin can still picture his mom perched on the window seat in his room, conjuring star charts and tiny nebulae with a flicker of her fingers, telling him stories of when their people were many, when the Wanderers lived freely in the spaces between stars. Before they learned to hide their gifts and disguise themselves as Faryons.
He rarely shifts anymore, even in the safety of his room. It’s too addicting, the pull of boundless stardust in his veins, the desire to never go back to that solid form that muffles the galaxy’s song.
A knock at the door snaps him out of his thoughts and he lowers his paintbrush. “Who is it?”
“It’s Reggie.” Oh. He expected it to be Betty. “Can you let me in for a moment?”
“Why?” Okay, maybe he’s being a tad petulant.
“I… I’m being summoned back to the spaceport. I’m not sure why, or if we’re being shipped out, but I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”
In case he disappears again for another seven years. Delsin scowls. “Well, you’ve said it. Best hurry and return to your ship.”
Silence from the other side of the door, then he hears a soft sigh and the sound of retreating boots. Setting his brush aside, Delsin climbs out the window, watching his brother make his way to the dock. Billy’s waiting in one of the Majesty’s longboats, and he can faintly see the ship herself anchored high above. She’s a beauty, with gleaming solar sails and a fresh coat of paint.
Delsin hates her.
He stays on the roof long after the ship disappears towards Morefeld’s moonbound spaceport, watching the sky paint itself with colors that he can only dream of capturing in his work.
Clang!
The explosive cacophony behind him nearly has Delsin falling off the roof in his haste to stand, catching a trail of fire and smoke from a small skiff careening towards the dock. Delsin’s next to it in minutes, prying the bent door off and coughing as a wave of black smoke hits him square in the face.
“Hello? Anyone in there?”
A hand appears, grasping for the edge, and he recoils in shock as two figures stumble out of the burning skiff. The first, a boy who looks to be around the human age of fifteen, stiffens when he spots him. His eyes are just a wash of electric blue, no pupil or sclera to be seen. His skin and hair are an iridescent blue, while his companion, a girl of about seventeen, is of a more purple, pearlescent hue. Her eyes are such a bright neon pink that they almost seem to glow, especially with the fearsome glare on her face that could almost rival that of his older brother.
Procyons.
What the hell are they doing here? Is this why Reggie was called away? They’re both wearing tattered clothes, with metal shackles around their wrists that bite into the skin beneath, golden blood welling up. Delsin’s heart aches to see it.
He takes a hesitant step forward. “Are you two okay?” Do Procyons speak Basic?
“Get out of the way.” Her voice has a strange, metallic quality to it, like when a hammer pings off of copper.
“I’m not trying to hurt you, I just want to help.”
“We don’t need your help. And we’re not stupid, no one helps a Procyon.”
He eyes their lack of footwear and purses his lips, an action he copied from Betty. “Well I do, so I guess that makes me no one.”
She blinks at him. “You’re weird.”
Grinning, he shrugs. “Yea, I get that a lot. But seriously, at least let me get you out of those stupid shackles. They look like they hurt.”
The two Procyons trade a look, and Delsin can detect a faint humming. Are they.. talking? The girl looks back at him, and even though he can’t tell where exactly she’s looking, he figures out without too much trouble that she’s studying him. "You're a Faryon, aye?”
Years of practice keep his smile from being too tight at the edges. “All my life.”
“...Fine. But if you try anything funny, or sound an alarm, I’ll kill you.”
That’s fair.” He sticks out a hand. “I’m Delsin.”
She doesn’t take his hand, but does offer her name. “...I’m Fetch. And this is Eugene.”
If Reggie finds out about this, his arse is toast for the next millenium. “Welcome to Morefeld!”
000000
They were prisoners on another Procyon ship. Delsin sneaks them into his room and finds some ripe purp fruit in the kitchen. Neither have seen one before, but one bite and they’re both eagerly scarfing down as many as they can stomach.
“Admiral Augustine tells your navy she wants peace and hunts down other Procyons to make an example of them, to get your navy to trust her. But she is a liar. We haven’t done anything wrong, except speak out. She controls the Armada, not the Empire. The Queen is a prisoner, and our people are too afraid to fight back against the Admiral. She’s looking for something, a weapon of some kind, so that she can conquer the whole galaxy.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“How did you escape?”
“Her ship, the Unity, it’s docked at the spaceport above your planet. When they turned off the power for repairs, they forgot to keep some running to our cell, so we were able to pick the lock and escape, but the shackles were too complex. We escaped and found a skiff, but I’ve never flown before, and we crashed.”
That sounds too easy. Way too easy. “We need to find you a place to hide until the Unity leaves.”
“Delsin!”
Both Procyons dart under his bed when Betty’s concerned voice calls from the hallway. “There’s a crashed skiff outside! I need your help!”
Shit. Shit shit shit! “I’m coming Betty!”
Peering under the bed, he raises a finger to his lips. “I’ll deal with the skiff. Take this key, there’s a house to the north. First one you come to. Stay there and I’ll come check on you.” Ever since Billy’s mother passed away, the only time the Jackmoor Manor is occupied is when he’s portside. Hopefully, his brother’s first mate won’t mind the houseguests, and he did say Delsin is welcome to visit at any time. Slipping out the door, Delsin locks it behind him.
What has he gotten himself into?
000000
The tavern is on fire. The tavern is on fire, a gargantuan warship is moored at the dock, and there’s an imposing, armored Procyon woman standing with her hands clasped behind her back, watching it burn with an air of disinterest. Delsin desperately scans for Betty, finding her on her knees and covered in soot between two guards.
“Betty!”
Her head snaps up and she lets out an audible gasp, tear tracks carving lines through the ash on her face. “Delsin!”
Four sets of hands wrap around Delsin’s arms, halting his mad dash towards the tavern. Instead, he finds himself dragged in front of the woman watching his home burn as though it were a merry hearth. Her skin is a pale ivory, a washed out, bleached color that makes him think of old bone, while her hair and eyes are a vibrant crimson. When she speaks, her voice has a grating, rocky tone to it that makes Delsin’s ears hurt. “Two prisoners escaped custody on my ship. The local authorities tell me you reported their wrecked skiff, but found no bodies. As you are no doubt aware, harboring Procyon fugitives is illegal. Per the treaty, they are to be turned over to the Armada.”
“We’re not harboring anyone!”
“Then produce my prisoners.”
“I don’t know where they are.” Delsin raises his eyes, glaring defiantly into burning red. “And if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
Thin lips curve into a tight smile. “Hm. I hear you’re the town troublemaker. Perhaps we can fix that.”
She raises a finger and presses it to the center of his forehead. A sort of humming fills the air, similar to Fetch and Eugene, but deeper in pitch. It vibrates through his bones, accompanied by a feeling like the world dropping out from beneath him, leaving him in free fall. His vision tunnels, and he’s certain someone is screaming. Is it him?
Before he can figure out the answer, his world goes dark.
000000
Pain.
Ringing in his skull.
Grinding of stone on stone.
His mouth tastes of metal.
Sleep, little star.
Betty?
The ringing stops, replaced by a soothing, lilting melody.
Sleep.
He does.
000000
Delsin wakes gradually, wincing and rubbing the back of his neck. He sits up gingerly, finding himself in a strange, unfamiliar room. Scrounging for a lamp, he almost knocks the damn thing over, cursing when some of the oil splashes onto the table. Fumbling with clumsy hands that won’t work right yet, he manages to get it lit and ventures out the wooden door, finding himself in the far more familiar space of Billy’s upstairs hallway. He’s in the Manor, thank the-
Wait.
The Manor.
He sent Fetch and Eugene here!
Panicking, Delsin bolts downstairs, taking them two at a time and nearly cracking his head on the polished white stone as a wave of dizziness hits him. Voices carry down the hallway and Delsin hurries along, soon finding a partially open door with light spilling out. Within, he sees Betty covered in blankets and laying on a chaise, with Ash gently setting a wet cloth on her forehead.
Reggie, Billy, and James are right outside, arguing in barely constrained tones. James is the first to catch sight of Delsin.
“Oi, Reg.”
Reggie’s head snaps around so fast that Delsin is more surprised his neck doesn’t break, and then he’s being swept into a tight hug that makes his ribs creak. “Delsin! Thank the Stars! I was afraid we were going to lose you!”
“Yea, uh, lovely to see you too, Reg,” he grunts, wincing a little. “Can you let go?”
“Right, sorry.”
His brother draws back, holding him at arms length, and scans his face worriedly. “Are you alright? Any headaches? Ringing in your ears?”
“I’m fine.”
He’s not, but he has bigger things to worry about. Pulling away from his brother’s grip, he makes a beeline to Betty’s side, gratefully taking Ash’s chair when the Vermili hops off of it and skitters outside to perch like a Candarian zaftwing on Reggie’s shoulder. The door shuts, and Betty smiles tiredly at Delsin and takes his hand in hers. “Feeling alright, little star?”
“I’m more worried about you.”
She waves him off. “It’ll take more than some red-haired wench and a bit of harmonics to put these old bones in the ground.”
Delsin’s almost afraid to ask, but he does anyway. “And the tavern?”
Betty’s face falls briefly, and so does Delsin’s heart. Bringing his hand to her chest, she squeezes it comfortingly. “The tavern can be rebuilt.”
“It shouldn’t have to be. You did nothing wrong!”
“I knew what you were doing, and I let you do it, so I am as much to blame as you are, little star. Your friends are alright.”
Delsin blinks. “My friends? What-?”
Betty’s eyes flicker over to another corner of the room, by the window, and Delsin follows her gaze to find-
Fetch and Eugene.
Half hidden by shadows, the two Procyons are watching with blinkless gazes, a couple untouched plates of food resting on a nearby table. Delsin’s panicked gaze comes to rest on the closed door where he can still hear Reggie and his crewmen arguing. Betty squeezes his hands again, returning his focus to her. “They told me what happened, how you helped them. I am so proud of you, and your parents would be too.”
“I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“It was not your fault, Delsin, so banish the thought from your mind,” Betty says firmly. “That hag had a plan the whole time.”
Delsin thinks back to Fetch and Eugene’s escape, how it felt too easy. “She let them go on purpose, didn’t she?”
“Aye. She let these two go so their disappearance would stir up trouble and keep the local guard occupied.”
“Why?”
“Haven't the foggiest idea, but your brother might.”
Delsin winces. “How mad is he?”
“Well, there's a new hole in Billy's front door. But after quite a lot of yelling, and some intervention by James, I believe he's calmed down.”
That doesn't surprise Delsin one bit. Of Reggie’s crew, James would be the one he'd trust to defend the pair of Procyons. “He can't turn them over to her. He can't. I won't let him.”
“It’s amusing that you think you have a say.”
Delsin has no idea how he didn't hear the door open, but frankly, he doesn't care. His most recent growth spurt has left him a few centimeters shy of eye level with his brother, but at least he won't have to crane his neck so much. “They're not the bad guys here, Reggie. That witch Augustine is. They haven't done anything wrong and you know that.”
“Giving them back is the only way to avoid a war, Delsin.”
“The war will come all the same, Cap’n. We're only delaying the inevitable.”
Reggie shoots James a glare, but the Filament remains unfazed. “It forces her to rethink her strategy and that gives us enough time to get a step ahead of the Unity.”
“A step ahead of what? What are you not telling us?” Delsin demands, wanting to scream in frustration when Reggie shakes his head.
“This does not concern you, brother. Your part in this is over. You are to stay here with Betty and stay out of trouble.”
“Trouble has already found me! The tavern is in ashes, there's a woman threatening our homeworld and you expect me to sit here while you hand innocent people back to their executioners? I thought your duty was to protect people!”
“My duty is to protect our people. And this is about the fate of the entire galaxy, Delsin. She means to wake the Leviathan.”
Whatever else Delsin was going to say dies in his throat. Behind him, Betty spits a curse in a language he doesn't recognize.
The Leviathan. A dark figure, a myth, a horror tale from Dad’s bedtime stories. A long dead goddess, a devourer, a shadow reaching to engulf every scrap of light until a galaxy was snuffed out entirely.
It had taken everything their people had to put her to sleep. The victory had cost them their name, their history, and much, much more.
“Augustine doesn't know where she sleeps though, no one does.” Delsin's feeble hopes are dashed by the way Reggie’s lips press into a grim line.
“The Morefeld archives,” Ash voices nervously, wringing his tendrils. “Captain Flint, his portal is one of the treasures there. It can take you to anywhere you wish so long as you know what it is you seek. She means to power it.”
“But no one even knows how it works!”
“She does.” Delsin completely forgot Eugene and Fetch were there, and it's the first time he's heard the blue boy speak. “The portal was crafted from stolen Procyon technology, refined in secret.”
“How do you know that?” Billy asks, frowning.
“My great-grandparents were financiers of the project.”
How old does that make Admiral Augustine? Delsin shoves the question aside, his mind racing to find a solution. “Reggie, if you attack the Unity with the Majesty, isn't that in and of itself an act of war? Isn't that playing into her hands? And what's more, you don't know where she's going!”
“We're not taking the Majesty. The rest is none of your concern.”
Not taking the-?
Fixing the elder Rowe with every ounce of courage he can conjure, Delsin states firmly “I'm coming with you. And Fetch and Eugene are coming with us. We will stop Augustine, and return them home. I started this, I mean to finish it. I helped Fetch and Eugene when they crashed, they are my responsibility. I will see them safely home and fix my mistake.”
Before Reggie even opens his mouth, a rebuke surely on his tongue, Betty speaks. “Reggie. He's right. You cannot change what has happened, only what will happen, and he has a part in it. They all do.”
“.....” Reggie holds his arm out and Ash skitters onto it, tendrils clinging tight. “Master Nells, ready the crew. Take Master Wiliks and see to it that the ship is set to sail in two days.”
“Aye Captain.” He hops off and zips out the door, followed closely by James.
“Master Jackmoor, find what supplies you can to make these three neophytes ready to accompany us.”
Billy barely manages to stammer an ‘aye sir’ before Reggie is out the door and out of sight.
Delsin breathes a sigh of relief. Everything will be fine. A few harmless months in space, they'll stop Augustine and save the galaxy, then it'll be back home to rebuild.
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A little FebruAUry fic for my OG fandom, Transformers. Featuring Arcee, one of my favorite characters, and Blockade, one of the very first OCs I ever made. Takes place during the events of Infamous Second Son.
TW: canon character death
Incoming transmission…
{Cade? You still ignoring me? Look, I’m sorry about the headlights, and leaving you, but I was a little busy. And it’s not like you can’t turn them back off yourself!}
{Come on, buddy, seriously?}
Data package sending…
{Really? Jar of Hearts? That’s the best you could do? Slagger.}
He waits another orn before deciding he’s been sufficiently petty. Making sure he’s thoroughly cloaked, Blockade opens one of his encrypted internal channels and sends a ping.
Reggie answers almost immediately. “Oh wow, look who finally decided to talk to me!”
“I can and will disconnect this comm channel in a nanosecond if you prefer.”
“You know what? Fuck you.”
The call disconnects and Blockade almost wishes he were in bipedal form just so he could roll his optics at his human friend.
Incoming transmission…
[Are you two done fighting yet? Because if I have to watch Reggie mope around Seattle for one more day I swear to Primus I will shoot your aft out of the sky and drag you over here by your spike to apologize!]
[Noted.]
He has no doubt she means it too. The pink femme has a soft spot for the grumpy human, and gets extra delight out of making the former Decepticon’s life miserable. Blockade sends another ping and, as expected, Reggie picks up again after the fourth ring.
“What?”
“Are you done?”
“Are you?”
“I believe that of the two of us, Sheriff, my patience functions at a far higher capacity than yours does.” He’s spent vorns sitting in complete silence, drifting through the cosmos, so sitting a few days to outmaneuver his human companion’s temper is far, far too easy. “But I come with a peace offering.”
He hears the human sigh, the connection buzzing lightly. “Okay, fine, what’ve you got for me?”
“The location of the DUP communications array. It is on top of the Space Needle.”
“You’ve got to be slagging me.”
Blockade buzzes with amusement. “I wish I was. Seems like Delsin is going to get his sightseeing in after all.”
“Dammit.”
000000
Blockade floats high above, idly checking the cameras he hacked earlier while debating with Arcee about the merits of American baseball.
[I’ve lived on this planet how many vorns longer? I have personal experience with the sport, so suck it.]
[Blow it out your actuator, fragger.]
[Oh Arcee, you say the sweetest things.]
His systems ping with an incoming call and he immediately picks up, moving his link to Arcee on another channel.
“I can’t fucking believe him!” Reggie’s voice explodes through the link and Blockade winces, turning the volume down in a hurry. “I mean what the hell is he thinking?!”
“What did Delsin do this time?” Arcee’s voice pops into the call, filled with amusement.
“He’s decided to play nice with that other bioterrorist, Abigail.”
He fills them in on what happened, even though both Cybertronians have been well aware of what’s going on since the beginning. Blockade might not be a scout like Arcee, or an infiltration specialist like Soundwave was, but enforcing has a lot of similar skills, and human security systems are nowhere near as complex as Cybertronian ones.
“I mean she’s out here murdering people and he just invites her in like it’s a fragging Sunday picnic! He really thinks she’s going to drop it and change in a heartbeat! He can’t understand that she’s dangerous.”
“So am I,” Blockade points out bluntly. He has never hidden the mistakes of his past from his friend, and he’s well aware that someday they may come back to bite him in the aft. “If I can change, so can she.”
“You’re not dangerous, Cade.”
“You say that because I’m your friend. But I’d like to remind you that I have enough firepower to wipe out the entirety of the West Coast in a few hours if I wanted to and your human military would have a 0.89% chance of stopping me.” The line goes quiet and Blockade cycles his vents in the Cybertronian equivalent of a sigh. He can tell Arcee is holding her glossa. She’s as bullheaded about the law as their human companion at times, so he really doesn’t need her input right now. “I’m just saying, give her a chance. Please? For me?”
“...Fine.”
000000
“Reggie! Fetch and Eugene, they-”
“I know, I heard,” Reggie replies grimly. Blockade and Arcee listen in silence, piggybacking off the Sheriff’s call. The two brothers argue, and Blockade feels his spark sink deeper when Reggie ends the call and pings their private channel. “Cade, can you come pick me up?”
“I think you should reconsider. Your brother needs your help.” Blockade does another circle overhead, his sensors remaining locked on both Rowes.
“Oh my god, not you too! I can’t keep risking innocent people for a pair of bioterrorists.”
“They are human beings, and you are an enforcer. Your primary objective is to protect all life, even those you don’t like. Bioterrorist, conduit, DUP, they’re all labels that do nothing but divide! Just like Autobots and Decepticons, they are nothing but words, factions meant to weaken us.”
“I'm sorry, do you see me running around with smoke pouring out of my hands? They're not like me!”
“Your genetics would beg to differ,” Blockade bites back. Primus take him, he told the human his mistakes so he would learn from them, not run headfirst into making the same ones! “I’ve already sat back and watched one well-intentioned tyrant destroy a planet, now you want me to do it again?”
Reggie doesn't answer.
“I suppose it was fate that Primus brought us together. We're both fragging cowards. I'll see you in a few hours, and we can turn tailpipe and run home, just like you want.”
“Cade-”
Blockade disconnects the call, blocking Arcee's attempt to contact him in the process. He trusts her to keep an eye on his charge long enough for him to clear his processor. Flipping in midair, he boosts his engines and heads North. He's been meaning to fly over Curdun Cay for a good scan, and there's no time like the present.
000000
A ping comes through on the emergency channel on his way back to Seattle. Then another.
And another.
And another, until it’s a barrage against his processor. Alarmed, Blockade hurries to answer. “Arcee? What-”
“BLOCKADE!!! WHERE IN PRIMUS’ NAME ARE YOU?!?”
He starts flying faster as a veritable deluge of messages come in, the backlog of Arcee’s attempts to reach him. The only message he cares about though is the one from Reggie.
[Cade, whenever you get this, I just want you to know I’m sorry. You were right, and I should’ve listened to you sooner. Thanks for setting me straight.]
“What happened?!”
“It was a fragging setup! Hank- Slag!”
Blockade taps into his cameras and sees a familiar pink Kawasaki weaving through traffic, desperately trying to lose the batch of Seattle PD and DUP pursuing her. Cycling through more, he catches sight of the concrete tower in the middle of the Puget Sound. Movement draws his attention, and he zooms in. That looks like-
No. No no no-
He shuts down his comms and diverts every ounce of energy to his thrusters, crashing right through the sound barrier. Don’t let go, Delsin, don’t let go! More power, he needs more power, he can make it, he can make it! Primus, let him make it!
Reggie drops, and Blockade drops his subspace engines into place without a second thought. He has no time to close his seams or do anything more than protect his spark, and he feels a line rupture somewhere when he kicks his engines on. Let the humans see him coming, hear him coming, it doesn’t matter, none of it matters, the only thing that matters is him being fast enough!
Information is scrolling through his processor at lightspeed, how long a human can hold their breath, percentage chances of surviving a fall from that height, diminished lung capacity for smokers. He shoves each statistic away, his focus entirely on the bright spot of warmth rapidly fading on approach.
Primus, I’ve asked for nothing, I know I deserve nothing, but please-
Please-
000000
Seawater is clogging up his intake valves, thickly coating his glossa and turning his paint dull. Coolant leaks from his optics, blurring the sight of the limp body held in his shaking servos.
He was too late.
The remnants of his charge’s concrete shell litter the ground, grinding into delicate cables and sending more warnings into the cluster already crowding his CPU. He ignores all of them in favor of gently brushing soaked hair from Reggie’s face. His human is cold, too cold, and no matter how much Blockade raises the temperature of his protoform, the human stays cold. The mech does another scan, but he already knows what he’ll find.
Nothing.
No spark of life, no breathing, no warmth.
Gone. Another victim of the Universe’s greatest killer.
Blockade should never have left him alone. Humans are fragile, and Reggie was up against a city full of humans with dangerous powers and a vendetta against his brother. But he was going home. He was safe.
Blockade should’ve known, his human is- was no coward.
Why? Why does it hurt? Why does he care? Blockade has only known the Sheriff for a decade. Ten short, impossibly human years. He himself has lived for eons. This man’s life was a mere flicker of optics compared to the lifespan of a Cybertronian.
“I should’ve never gotten attached.”
Arcee’s near-silent peds stop by his hip. “Do you regret it?”
He meets her optics, finding electric blue dimmed with grief. No. Never.
“Yes.”
“...For a Decepticon, you're a terrible liar.”
He's a terrible Decepticon, to be fair. A terrible protector, a terrible friend, a terrible brother. He's terrible at everything.
Well, maybe not everything.
“Can you return him to his people?”
Arcee seems startled by the request, but nonetheless she nods. “Of course. But where are you going?”
“The fight isn't over, and Delsin will need help.” The one thing he has always been good at is enforcing. So maybe it's time he got back to what he's best at.
Setting Reggie’s body gently in Arcee's servos, he walks away and doesn't look back.
000000
Enforcement Programming Enabled
Auxiliary Optics: Online
Battlemask: Online
Retracting Servo Claw Caps
Retracting Ped Claw Caps
Running Systems Diagnostics……
Weapons Systems Functioning Within Acceptable Parameters
Energon Rerouting In Progress
Disable Emotional Matrix?
WARNING:Emotional Matrix Functionality To Be Disabled Only In Event of Critical Pursuit
Critical Pursuit Condition: Enforcement Unit Offlined By Target
Critical Pursuit Condition: Intent To Cause Harm By Target
Critical Pursuit: Acknowledged
Set Pursuit Parameters
Setting Targets:
A. Augustine, Brooke
B. Daughtry, Henry
C. Penderghast, Celia
D. Importing Complete Department of Unified Protection Personnel List……
Set Target Neutralization Method: Offline
Acceptable Civilian Casualty Range: [0%-43%]
Acceptable Enforcement Unit Damage Range: [0%-100%]
Restriction Parameter:{Rowe, Delsin S. 0% Damage Allowed}
Pursuit Parameters Accepted
Emotional Matrix Disabled
Begin Pursuit
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