#draconic fics

[draconicocelot]

We Are Alive

Summary: Hank struggles with his demons from the past, but now Connor is there to help him heal.

Note: This one’s kinda heavy, sorry folks lollll. Leaning very much on the hurt part of the hurt/comfort, but it ends with the comfort! Bad times mentioned for both Hank and Connor with about the level of intensity that the game already has in it. Enjoy!

The air was chilled, but it held the pleasant kind of breeze that allowed for the use of jeans and a light jacket. Connor brushed the lapels of his suit as he walked down the sidewalk approaching 115 Michigan Drive. He had just completed a day with Jericho, assisting Markus with the rebuilding process now that they had a building in place. The Cyberlife warehouse where Markus had stolen a truck full of supplies was now abandoned, providing the perfect shelter for the organization.

As Connor opened the door, he immediately sensed the atmosphere was off. Sumo was underneath the desk in the living room, laying down in the cubby where the chair was usually pushed in. His head rested in his outstretched paws, using only his eyes to look over at Connor as he entered. Usually he was on the couch with Hank, or chewing on a bone in the middle of the living room floor. Connor took the time to walk over to him, the lazy dog’s tail starting to wag as he approached. He smiled warmly, kneeling down and rubbing Sumo’s ear. The main lights were all off except for the glow from the television and the light over the kitchen table, not to mention the mess left on the table. It was 9:36 on a Sunday evening, he expected Hank to be watching the 8:00 game, but it was eerily quiet in the whole house. 

It wasn’t until he recalled the date that he became concerned. October 11th, 2039. 

“Lieutenant Anderson?” He called out in a neutral tone. No response. Hank’s car was in the driveway, so he had to be home. Connor still had the habit of calling him by his professional title, despite Hank insisting that he call him by his first name. He was getting better at it, but he found he forgot to drop the formalities when he was in a stressful situation. His attention was immediately directed towards the hall as he heard a familiar and heart-wrenching “click”, something he was able to identify as a cocking gun. He immediately leapt to his feet and ran to Hank’s bedroom, not even knocking before throwing it open. Hank had his back turned towards the door, hunched over with four empty beer bottles on the ground and a half-empty bottle of scotch on his bedside table. Hank twisted his body enough to see Connor in the corner of his eye. 

“Ah, it’s just you…” Hank’s words were slurred slightly, his roughened voice sounding even worse than usual. The gun in his hand lowered to the bed, before his loosened grip allowed it to drop to the ground. “What do you want?”

“I heard you load that gun. You were playing Russian Roulette again, weren’t you?” Connor stepped into the room slowly, not wanting to set him off but trying to get to a location where he could disarm him should he pick it up again. Hank rolled his eyes as he leaned further to the left.

“Why do you give a damn anyway?” Hank pushed off of his knees, standing with a loud groan. “Gotta make sure I give you enough of a start as a human before I go, huh?” Connor shook his head, more rapidly than he intended. He hardly saw how this comment was relevant to the situation, but he came to the conclusion that Hank was not currently in the state to be thinking logically. He had only seen him this drunk a few times before, but this was a particularly bad evening.

“That’s not-” 

“Just trying to mooch off of the rest of what I’ve got… you bastard!” Hank swung with a closed fist, landing a heavy right hook on Connor’s cheek before withdrawing with a yelp. Connor’s synthetic skin hid the thicker metal frame underneath, leaving Hank’s knuckles bloodied. Connor instinctively covered his fresh wound with his hand, traces of Thirium left behind on his fingertips. Hank shook his now injured hand, taking another step towards Connor. 

“Is it the house you want?” He growled as he stretched his arms out, aggressively gesturing to the rest of the room. “I don’t even have a fuckin’ will! If you want it so bad just record my voice and tell ‘em I said you can have it all!” 

“Stop this, you’re drunk.” Connor calmly spoke, his eyebrow twitching.

“Oh, now you’re giving me orders?” Hank jabbed his finger at Connor’s chest, “Isn’t it against your program or something to give a shit unless I tell you to? Just this once, why don’t you go back to being an obedient little computer.”

“Hank, you’re not thinking straight.” Connor spoke slightly louder this time, his LED a warning shade of yellow. 

“You don’t understand what I’m going through… You don’t know what it’s like to lose your family…” Hank shook his head angrily, swaying as he struggled to keep his balance. “You don’t know that pain!”

“If you die, I would be losing my family!” Connor shouted, his LED flashing red as he averted his eyes away from Hank’s. Despite not needing to breathe, the android began to suck in air as if he just completed a marathon. The two of them stood in silence as Hank’s tensed shoulders fell slowly. “You… You are the only family I have…” The robotic nature of Connor’s voice blended with desperation that only a human could muster. “My mission, ever since my creation, was to track down deviants. I not only failed every human criterion I was programmed to accomplish, but even my own people will always see me as a threat,” Connor’s voice wavered, looking back at Hank. “If you die, I will have no one… Hank, I need you… Please…” 

Hank’s eyes widened slightly, taking a stumbling step back. As if he was suddenly brought to the present moment, he looked down at his knuckles then back up at Connor’s cheek, his mouth slightly open in shock. 

“Connor…” His android’s LED flashed back to yellow, then took a single calculated step forward. “Your face, I-I… what have I done…?” 

“It’s okay, I’m okay Hank.” Connor stepped forward again, closing the distance between them and raising his arms up slightly. He still wouldn’t consider himself proficient in most affectionate customs, but he had learned that an embrace can do wonders for the nervous system of humans. He still wasn’t quite sure where to put his arms, or how tightly to squeeze, but he was going to try to comfort Hank regardless. Gently wrapping his arms around Hank’s torso, the burly man flopped his arms over Connor’s shoulders, his face buried into his suit. 

“I’m sorry… Connor I’m so sorry…” Connor was used to being the one in distress. Ever since he became deviant, he had numerous struggles with his own identity and had a hard time adapting to so many new emotions.

There was one specific memory that was burned deeply into his circuitry, the night Hank nearly burst down the bathroom door when Connor locked himself inside. He had been berated by humans that day, insulted and slightly damaged by rocks they had thrown. Not every human was ready to live with androids in harmony. The same day, a group of deviants insulted him for his appearance and shouted in his face, still wearing his RK800 suit and bearing his #9301 biocomponent. They told him he wasn’t alive, they told him he was still just a machine, that he would never be one of them. 

Connor had a knife to his temple, attempting to pry the LED off but it wouldn’t budge, Thirium dripping onto the tiles of the floor as he dug the blade in deeper. If he removed the LED and wore civilian clothes, maybe they would accept him. Maybe then he would be a part of something larger. A community? No, a family. 

Hank slapped the knife out of his hands, grabbing both of his wrists. “What the hell are you doing?!” Connor felt his stress levels rising into dangerous levels, his inner software warning him of impending self destruction. For Hank, the initial shock wore off, releasing his hold on Connor’s wrists and moving them to his shoulders. “Hey, just calm down… whatever happened, it’s gonna be alright.” Connor couldn’t speak, his mind racing and his hands shaking. Hank sighed, moving his hand behind Connor’s neck. “Don’t you go changing for anybody Connor. You hear me?” He nodded in the direction of his LED, still firmly planted in his head. “That thing is a part of you. If it was supposed to be removed, it would be gone by now. You are free now, Connor… being free means you get to live your life however the hell you want. There will always be jackasses that feed off of the misery of others, but you can’t let them win…” He pulled Connor into a firm hug, rubbing his back gently.

“I love you, kid. You know that, right?” 

Love: A strong feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, such as for a parent, child, friend, or pet. But, was that all? Is it just a basic emotion, or something felt on a whole other level? Connor knew the definition of the word, but he hadn’t known what it truly meant. Not until that night. 

As Connor hugged him now, he felt the swell in his chest. It wasn’t a glitch, no, it was something real. It was a powerful emotion. The warmth and pressure from the embrace settled him as much as it did the night Hank found Connor trying to remove his LED. 

“I love you, Hank,” Connor said softly, his chin resting on Hank’s shoulder. The grizzled detective tightened his arms around him, gripping his suit in clenched hands. Connor heard a noise he had never heard Hank make, a small cry as he began to shake. “Did… Did I say something wrong?” Hank huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose and wiping his tears with the same motion. 

“I haven’t heard those words in a very long time.” Hank whimpered, a hiccup between the tears that flowed endlessly. He wiped his hand across his cheek, looking down at how wet they were. An exhausted chuckle left him, sounding more like a wheeze than anything else. “I didn’t think I had anything left to cry…” Connor tightened his grip, his empathy overflowing as the one who truly cared for him struggled so deeply. He knew Hank had been through so much, and that he couldn’t instantly fix the pain like a pill or a bandage, but he would do whatever it took to get Hank through all of the hard days. The days where his past became too much to bear.

“I’m not going anywhere, Hank. As long as you want me here, I will be here for you.” Connor imitated Hank’s motions of rubbing his back, attempting to soothe him the same way. They stayed this way for a long while, Connor refusing to let go until Hank was ready. October 11th would never be an easy day for Hank, but from then on, he had Connor to help keep him in the present moment. He would never get over the loss of Cole, but now, he had a new family to care for.

[draconicocelot]

Phantom Pain

Summary: Ballister has a bad episode of phantom limb pain, luckily his trusty sidekick is there to help him through it. just some good ol' fashioned found family fluff 💗

Ballister never considered himself skilled enough in the field of medicine to pursue a career in it, but he was quite knowledgeable in the areas of science and engineering. He was able to craft his own prosthetic arm and an implantable socket that acts as a metallic ball-and-socket joint attached to his right shoulder region. Its integrated biomechanical design protects his residual limb, keeps his arm securely attached, and allows for a full range of motion. He couldn’t believe how quickly he had to adapt to such a significant change. It was only one swing of a sword, one swing of Ambrosius’ sword, that left him without his right arm.  At the time of impact, Ballister was so horror-struck by the laser firing from the hilt of his sword that he barely noticed Ambrosius swinging his blade upwards. It wasn’t until it was dug halfway into the deep muscle of his arm that the pain brought him back to the moment, crying out and clutching the gorey mess that remained. He looked back at Ambrosius, the one he once saw himself spending the rest of his life with, as his sword fell to his feet, a look of great regret painting his features. 

He wasn’t sure if his relationship with Ambrosius would ever recover. His best friend, who he had grown up with since he was allowed to join the other knights in training as a child, had just attacked him. No, disarmed him. He was simply doing his job… right? Regardless, after discovering the corruption seeping through the cracks of the institution with the Director behind the reins, Ambrosius too found out the truth. Now with the Director no longer controlling the knights of the realm, they were free to operate as they saw fit. Ambrosius was deemed the knight commander, with Ballister right by his side. However, while Ballister never blamed Ambrosius for the loss of his arm, the damage had been done, and he now had to deal with the aftermath. Most of all: the pain.

The episodes seemed to grow worse with each passing day after the death of the queen. Though once several weeks went by, it wasn’t as frequent, at least, the severe pain wasn’t. The loss itself was agonizingly painful, leaving him to hobble to the ruins of his future home, the only place he found that was safe to hide in. Remnants of medical supplies were enough to stop the bleeding, at least until he could construct a more permanent solution. While the pain slowly decreased with his new prosthetic in place, it would never be the same as what he was used to for so many years. He hadn’t felt irritation and discomfort so severe since the days following the loss of his arm, but every once and a while the sensation would rear its ugly head.

He was just sitting on the couch when it hit, their green blanket draped over his legs as he watched television. At least it was something he wasn’t upset about missing, just a mindless show about building houses and different architectural styles. Nimona was never a fan of that type of entertainment, always claiming it was too boring, which is why he usually only had it turned on when she was busy in her room. The tower had gone through many renovations after she returned, turning an evil lair into an evil home, at least, as Nimona would claim.

He kept her neon-colored lights, the used couch and coffee table, and her drawings that remained on the wall. Even many of the weapons they possessed were hung up in a more secure yet visible space, just to keep her desired level of chaos with more rounded edges. The once-titled “murder wall”, now referred to as the “family wall”, was decorated with memories of the times they spent together. 

They even included Ambrosius, his face appearing in many photos of the three of them with a few professional looking photographs taken during a photo shoot of the happy couple. Well, with a few in-between shots involving a naughty pink snake wrapping around Ballister’s shoulders. Or those that showed a little pink bird landing in Ambrosius’ long golden hair, building herself a nest as Ballister threw his head back with laughter. These were the moments he tried to remind himself of when the discomfort became too intense to ignore.

It began with a slight itch, a prickling feeling starting in his residual limb. His prosthetic arm was resting on his work bench on the other side of the room, so once the feeling started he assumed it was because he was used to wearing it unless he was asleep. Before he could swing his legs off of the couch, the once harmless annoyance shot through his phantom limb like a bolt of lightning, bringing him back down to the couch with a pained yelp. 

“Boss? You good down there?” Nimona called from the upper levels of the tower. Ballister attempted to respond, but the sting pulsed through him so deeply that he felt it on his entire right side. The only noise he could muster was a whimper. “What happened? Did you cut your other arm off?” The voice grew louder as she came downstairs, approaching the couch with her usual teasing behavior. 

“It’s… It’s nothing…” Ballister hissed through his teeth, his face wrinkled with distress. He brought his left hand up to massage his other shoulder, attempting to dispel the pain. Nimona’s expression softened, leaning on the arm of the couch. 

“It doesn’t look like nothing, do you want me to get Ambrosius?” Ballister shook his head in response. 

“No! No… he’ll just take it too seriously.”

“I don’t think you’re taking it seriously enough, boss,” Nimona stated, her draconic tail extending and swishing. Ballister shifted himself so that he was lying directly on his back, rotating his right shoulder as much as he could to keep it moving.

“It’s just a temporary bout, it’ll pass,” he muttered in a strained voice, closing his eyes and pulling the blanket up further. He tried to zone out, to listen to the faint sound coming from the television or the quiet hum of the air conditioning unit. While the initial shock faded away, he still felt a twinge in his arm, creeping down his forearm and burning down to his fingertips. What a cruel joke, to feel such realistic pain in an arm he no longer had. 

This dark mental spiral he was taking himself down was interrupted by the introduction of a new feeling. It was something more pleasant than what he was otherwise dealing with. An addition of weight against his stump. Something soft and warm had landed against his upper right side, and it brought an immediate sense of comfort. As he glanced down, he saw a furry pink cat curled up on his chest, her bottom half on the couch with her upper body draped over him like a weighted blanket. 

“Nimona?” 

“I know that look better than anyone. That’s the look of someone who says they want to be alone, but in reality it’s really a time when they shouldn’t be alone,” she explained, “besides, they say a cat's purr helps promote faster healing or some shit like that.” Ballister chuckled at the comment, more relieved than he admitted aloud to have her company. 

What he hadn’t mentioned to Nimona at the time was that the last few times he dealt with this situation, he was alone. He was lying on the cold hard ground, staring up at the ceiling with tears streaming down his face. The burning sensation was nothing compared to his boundless grief of losing the queen, it was almost too much for him to bear. He truly loved the queen, she was the closest figure he had in his life to a mother, the one who encouraged him to be the best person he could be. Now, she was gone, killed by his sabotaged sword, witnessing her expression of anguish from a front row seat. He was used to not only the torment he experienced, but the feeling that he deserved it. He didn’t kill the queen, he knew that, he wasn’t a murderer… but the queen was killed because of her kindness in accepting him, and the Director’s malicious and horrid views of the way the Institute should have been run. 

As Nimona began to purr, the gentle vibration soothed Ballsiter’s muscles, the damaged nerves calming their attack. He still felt a festering burn and the occasional twitch every few seconds, but her presence brought him an overwhelming feeling of tranquility. Gently stroking her back, he took a deep breath in and slowly let it go.

“You were never a monster, Nimona,” Ballister mumbled softly, moving his hand higher to scratch the top of her head, running his fingers over the soft fur between her ears. 

“Glad someone believes that,” Nimona replied, one eye open as she looked over at him. Ballister huffed in response, a gentle smile across his lips. 

“You’re a miracle.” She stopped purring for a moment, the words he just spoke hitting her harder than she expected them to. Both eyes now slowly opened, meeting his as he sat up, his back against the arm rest. 

“…You really think that?” she asked, shifting back into her human form, the one she was in when she first met Ballister. He nodded in response, moving his hand back to where it was when she was still a cat, stroking the top of her head. 

“Course I do, I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.” Nimona couldn’t stand to look into his eyes any longer, full of such genuine appreciation that she had to look at something else before she felt too soft. Glancing over at the television, she saw the boring show from before was still playing and smirked a bit. 

“Alright fine… I’ll let you keep this garbage home improvement show on,” she groaned, situating herself so that she was still laying against his right side, using him as a pillow. Ballister leaned down and pulled the blanket up over her, rolling his eyes before turning the volume back up.

“Maybe if you actually watched it you would find that it’s not so garbage after all,” Ballister hummed. 

“Mmm, I doubt that old man.”

[draconicocelot]

By the Fireplace

Summary: Jesse is struggling to handle the massive responsibility that comes with the formation of a new town, luckily, she meets a certain individual who just might make the perfect intern.

Hello teeny tiny MCSM fandom skjhdf, have an origin story for how Jesse and Radar meet

(Involves a few of my own personal headcanons for flavor but, ya know, MCSM is a sandbox for the fans now :,,) )

Beacontown. It had a nice ring to it, and an even more pleasant interior. It was a town built from the rubble of a great disaster, and yet those that inhabited it acted as though nothing bad had happened. They treated every day as a new beginning, as an opportunity to let their creativity shine. With the lack of rules against building privileges, no two buildings looked the same, and neither did the residents. In the early days of its formation, everything was bare and bland, but as with everything worth investing time into, it would show its true colors soon enough.

As Jesse walked through the gates of town, coming back from an evening expedition to gather supplies, she was greeted by warm smiles and genuine shouts of glee at her return. Half a year ago barely anyone even knew her name, and now they sang her praises in the streets. It was a rather jarring transition, but one that Jesse embraced with gratitude and humility. Handing off the bag that was thrown over her shoulder, Olivia approached her carrying a clipboard. 

“Jesse! How did the trip go?” She questioned, watching as one of the redstone engineers she brought with her carried the bag away to share the resources amongst the teams who needed them. 

“Not too bad, managed to gather lots of wood and cobblestone,” as she glanced over at the houses lining the streets, she noted the lack of color and decor, “I know we want to let everyone design their own homes, but with repairs still in place I think we need to focus on the necessary construction elements first.” Olivia nodded as she wrote something down, using the quill to gesture at the other end of town. 

“Good idea, they’re actually working on extending the border as we speak! There are a lot of people who want to live here, Jesse,” Olivia’s tone was optimistic, but her name was said with a hint of caution. Jesse knew her responsibilities kept growing with each passing day, that she would soon have to send others out on these resource runs so that she could stay back and monitor the repairs being made to town. 

“Yeah… I noticed,” Jesse groaned, running her fingers anxiously through her hair. “You uh, you sure you don’t want to stay here?” Olivia huffed out a half-laugh, patting Jesse’s shoulder sympathetically. 

“You know my place is in Redstonia, but I do think you need to hire some help.” Jesse knew she was right, but how would she go through a proper hiring process while people are still just trying to find a plot of land to build their homes on. It was nighttime she worried about the most, when everyone whose homes were not complete had to stay in a temporary shelter to avoid the mobs that might slip through the gates. She shuddered at the thought of someone getting hurt because her defenses had not been assembled properly. “Jesse? You still in there?” 

“Hm? Oh, yeah… sorry… Got a lot on my mind is all,” she replied, “I know you’re busy with your own leadership tasks so, thank you for stopping by to help us. You know as soon as Beacontown is up to livable standards I’ll be heading over with a team of my own to help you.” Olivia smiled softly, putting her hand over her heart. 

“It’s no problem Jess, anything for a friend,” Olivia clipped the quill to her board before looking towards the last house she had been standing near. It was more of a foundation at the moment, but her builders had already started laying down the stone needed to secure the basement. “Speaking of which, I’d better make sure my guys are on track. I’ll check back in before we settle in for the night.”

“Thanks Liv, and let them know they’re welcome to any spare resources once every base build is complete.” Jesse called as Olivia headed back to her sector. With the number of residents moving in constantly growing, not only did the negotiation of land have to be settled but the resources needed to be designated in proper quantities for the plans everyone comes up with. In order to allow everyone to build their own type of home, there needed to be guidelines for how large the space could be and how expensive it would be for extra materials required for complex builds. Her head spun just thinking about the amount of paperwork she had to complete. 

On her way back to her temporary cabin, a rather small building that had just enough in it to keep her comfortable, she briefly spoke with many citizens. A lot of them were thanking her for stepping up and insisting on creating such an accepting place to live, while others requested certain things from her which she had to write down on the fly. Sometimes she missed the simpler days, and busy nights like this were the main reason why. 

However, as she reached her destination, she noticed someone was sitting with their back up against the far wall of her cabin. Everyone else was bustling about, getting to know their new neighbors and concocting unique creations to share with one another. Whoever this was seemed to be rather forlorn, their head resting against their knees as they sat in a fetal position. Jesse tilted her head slightly, noticing this person was sniffling. She approached as quietly as possible, hoping not to alarm them. Clearing her throat first, she quietly called out, “Hey, are you okay?” The individual jolted in shock, their head whirling around as they curled further in on themselves. 

“O-Oh my gosh… I-I-I’m so sorry!” Jesse could tell he wasn’t past his teens, shivering like a leaf in an emerald green hoodie, his glasses tilted to the side as he attempted to wipe away the tears in his eyes using his sleeve. “S-So embarrassing…” he muttered. 

“There’s no need to be sorry, or embarrassed,” Jesse took another step forward, about three steps away from where the boy was hunkered down, and got down on one knee. “What’s your name?” She figured an introduction would be appropriate, “My name is-”

“Jesse…” He interrupted, immediately slapping his hand over his mouth, “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have s-spoke over you…” Jesse made a pained, commiserative expression as she sat down instead, crossing one leg over the other so she was level with him. 

“It’s alright, I should have assumed you knew who I was,” Jesse nodded in his direction for him to go on. He shifted uncomfortably, looking down at the ground before he spoke.

“My name’s… Radar,” realizing he was averting eye contact, as if he had been scolded by an imaginary force, he looked back up and met her eyes. “I-It is an honor, to m-meet you, miss!” Jesse released a pssh from between pursed lips. 

“No need to call me miss, just Jesse is fine,” she observed his body language for a moment longer before deciding it was safe to move on. “Now, what are you doing over here all by yourself, Radar? Did you just move in?” Radar recoiled slightly, but managed to muster up a response sooner than before. 

“I uh… technically don’t live here,” he glanced at the front gates, “I just got here earlier today but…” he hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip. 

“Radar, if you don’t live here yet, I’m not just going to kick you out,” Jesse phrased her words gingerly, hoping not to upset him further. He was clearly shaken up about something, but she wouldn’t get any information if she scared him off. Radar threw his hood up over his head before admitting why he was hiding. 

“I-I don’t have the emeralds to p-pay for the land…” Jesse pondered for a moment, searching for the right words. 

“Did you come here with anyone else?” Radar shook his head, “Not a sibling… or a parent?” She could hear him whimper under his breath, looking up only slightly so that the top half of his face could be seen from under his hood.

“The… Th-The Witherstorm…they… they didn’t make it…” Jesse’s pupils constricted as she absorbed the horror of that statement. This poor kid, alone and afraid, now left without his parents because of the monster she destroyed. That damned command block destroyed the lives of so many people, took the loved ones from those who survived and left others with unhealable scars. Using her arms to push herself forward, she sat directly across from him, slowly reaching a hand in his direction. 

“Hey, it’s… it’s gonna be alright,” she spoke softly, allowing him to see her hand before she placed it on his upper back. He was still badly shaking, and she couldn’t quite tell if it was from the cool night air or his fear of being thrown from one of the only places within miles where he could stay under a roof. “I’m going to help you, Radar. You hear me?” Radar fully lifted his head, his big red eyes still flowing with tears as he attempted to speak. 

“Y-Y-You will…? R-Really? You won’t k-kick me out?” 

“Of course not, I have plenty of room in my cabin,” She smiled softly, rubbing his back up and down, “besides, I’m in need of a new intern. Think you could help me manage some of the construction around here?” Radar couldn’t contain his relief, throwing himself forward as Jesse braced herself. She managed to catch him as they both fell back, Jesse holding herself up with one arm and embracing him with the other. 

“I promise! I-I promise I’ll do good! I’ll do whatever it t-takes to help you a-and the rest of Beacontown!” Jesse closed her eyes for a moment, squeezing Radar before helping them both back to their feet. 

“I’m sure you will, buddy. Why don’t you head inside and sit by the fireplace, your hands are ice cold.” Jesse suggested, reaching down and fixing Radar’s glasses that were lying askew. Radar had his arms wrapped around himself as he nodded excitedly, walking towards the cabin door. 

“Thank you, Jesse…really. You’re a r-real life saver,” he added before heading inside. Jesse relieved a sigh, the memories of the battle with the Witherstorm flooding into her mind. She thought about poor Ellegard, about all those townspeople who she couldn’t save as they attempted to flee, she wondered if Radar’s parents were there… 

She thought about Reuben, about her best friend and most loving companion. The Witherstorm destroyed so much, but it didn’t destroy the light within all of those citizens who now inhabited Beacontown. It didn’t stop them from fighting back, from rebuilding their lives from the ground up. She was proud of each and every one of them, and hoped this new chapter of their lives would blossom into something special.

Even though everyone treated Jesse differently, like an idol to look up to, she had to admit she didn’t feel very different. Before becoming the Hero in Residence, no one seemed to care about the young bookworm who enjoyed playing with her pet pig and going on simple adventures. Many people didn’t even know who she really was behind the wall of popularity and fame that followed the defeat of the Witherstorm and the dismantlement of the Old Builders. They don’t know she snores when she sleeps, they don’t know she used to skip rocks on the river near her treehouse, but most of all, many people didn’t even know she was an orphan herself.

[draconicocelot]

Broken Past, Treacherous Future

Summary: Carlos is in the process of starting a new life, but a quick stop in his old hometown leads to a rather unfortunate run-in with old enemies. 

Note: I do not speak Portuguese, the only terms used here have been from external sources and may or may not be exactly correct but I did my best to make it accurate

“Sure you don’t want to come in?” 

“Nah, I’d like to enjoy the last of today’s sun. Grab me a lemonade while you’re in there, please?” Penny nodded in response, ducking into the store as the top of the door hit a tiny bell, notifying the owner of her entry. Carlos stayed outside, sitting on the bench near the small shopping mall they stopped at. The sunset was beautiful, granted, it always was to him. He was relieved to return to Brazil after so many years away, however, it also brought back the sour memories associated with his past. When his family was taken away from him, the robberies and the stealing, the violence he so desperately wished to avoid. 

“Ei, você aí,” Carlos turned his attention to the voice coming from his right, noticing that the man who called to him was followed by two others. He felt himself tense up, but remained calm, leaning back slightly with a neutral expression. Something didn’t feel right, but he wouldn’t act just yet. 

“Bem-vindos, can I help you?” The man in front stopped a few feet away from Carlos, his hands hidden from view as they were stuffed in the front pocket of his hoodie. One of the other members had the same build as Carlos, only slightly shorter, showing the scars on his arms and shoulders by wearing a white tank-top. The third member of their group seemed like he was more on edge than the others, his back hunched over as his eyes darted from side to side as if making sure no one else was around. 

“Just taking a stroll,” the leader deviously responded, leaning closer as he added, “what about you, Oliveira?” Carlos felt his chest tighten, eyes widening as he raised a brow. 

“Wh-What…?” Though as he let the voice settle in his head, hearing his last name spoken in a harsh, roughened tone, it suddenly hit him. Memories of tears, the light gleaming off the metal surface of a gun, the night he lost yet another brother. 

Tonio laid motionless on the ground, blood pooling around him as his second oldest brother turned and sprinted after the group of teens who had just shot him. Their mother was on her knees, cradling her son in her arms. Her screams for help haunted Carlos’ dreams for many years, as did the frozen look of terror on his brother's face as he was killed for Pedro’s reckless actions. 

Carlos stood still, yet quivered in place as he faced the wall. Closing his eyes so tight, he hoped he would open them in a more peaceful place, that this moment hadn’t truly happened. They told him not to move, so of course he couldn’t move. He just had to wait and no one else would get hurt. Violence had to be a last resort… they would honor their word not to harm anyone else… right?

“You… you,” Carlos hissed, launching himself to his feet as his knees shook slightly beneath him. It’s like he was five years old again, hands against the wall, a silent yet terrified comply. 

“Ah, so you remember us, hm?” The leader shrugged his shoulders, releasing his hands from his pocket to reveal a set of brass knuckles around one hand, the other wrapped in bandages. The taller man turned his neck to the side, loudly cracking both sides before rolling his shoulders. 

“It’s been sixteen years… sixteen years since you tore my family apart,” Carlos formed a fist so tightly his nails dug into his palm, gritting his teeth as he felt the rage build up and rise to his chest. “What the fuck are you doing here…?”

“I suppose we can ask you the same thing, since last time I checked, this was our territory,” the man out front snapped his fingers, tilting his head in Carlos’ direction as the muscle behind him stepped forward. 

He hated how violent he felt, he despised the urge to swing his fist, to take them all down to the ground like the infected citizens in Raccoon City. He wanted to crush them all beneath his boot, to make them feel the same pain he had when they killed his brother right in front of their family. 

Revenge. It’s what he wanted, what he desired with such ravenous hunger. He could kill them right then and there, and Tonio, his innocent brother… would still be gone. In that moment, the back of Carlos’ mind reminded him, revenge was how this all started. 

The only reason they fought back was because Pedro killed their friend. They allowed the rage to fully engulf them, to let the pain and the suffering dictate their reactions. They acted with violence, showing brutality in its ugliest form, a form that is only expressed when it is paired with the loss of a loved one. 

Taking a deep breath, Carlos spoke once more, his voice a mixture of restrained wrath with the facade of tranquil acceptance.  

“Look… I don’t want to fight,” he put his hands out in front of him as if motioning to calm down, “what happened in the past was… horrific… but I am done fighting. I understand that what my brother did to you and the rest of your group was unforgivable, and that you took the ‘eye for an eye’ approach to that whole fuckin’ mess… but if we keep goin’ at each others throats like this there won’t be any of us left, alright? Please, just… let it go,” he begged, observing their body language to see if they were willing to agree. 

The leader tilted his head slightly, considering it, his finger tapping his chin. The grin that followed shortly after was all Carlos needed to answer his plea for a peaceful resolution. 

“I knew you were the soft one, criança. Teach him a lesson.” As soon as the order was given, his bodyguard immediately lunged forward with a right hook, landing directly into Carlos’ gut. Carlos stumbled backwards, clutching his abdomen with one hand and trying not to be sick as he swallowed thickly. Before he had time to recover, he was being brought to the ground with a kick to the back of his knees, after which the leader stepped forward and struck him in the side of the head with his hand that wasn’t guarded by brass knuckles. 

Carlos’ ears were ringing as he felt the sharp pain radiate from one side of his head to the other. While the bodyguard positioned one boot on top of Carlos’ chest, knocking the wind out of him with a defeated wheeze, he attempted to shove him away with a sturdy thrust from the heel of his hand. While he was almost successful, the leader approached from the side and grabbed the collar of Carlos’ shirt, pulling him up off the ground before dealing three harsh jabs to the face, leaving him with a bloody nose and a busted lip. The ground felt as though it was spinning, his vision blurred so badly he could hardly make out the features of the two men looming over him. His head was pounding and he still felt the nausea wash over him in waves. He supposed this was what he deserved, what he earned for turning his back on his combat training. As a soldier, he should have been ready to defend himself, to defend his family’s honor. He should have fought back, he should have thrown the first punch, but he just couldn't. 

“Hey! What the hell is going on here?!” It wasn’t until he heard the familiar higher pitched voice coming from behind him, where he couldn’t see, that he felt a rush of adrenaline course through his muscles. He writhed under the stronger man’s grip, but he only added more weight to his boot while his other leg kept Carlos from kicking. 

“Ahh,” the leader hummed in a pleased tone, snapping his fingers once more and pointing towards the nearest wall. The bodyguard wrapped his arms under Carlos’, forcing him to stand and face the direction of Penny’s voice. “Who do we have here?” Turning to Carlos, he shoved a thumb behind him, gesturing to her, “got yourself a namorada, eh?” 

Carlos couldn’t make out her expression, only able to see her silhouette in front of them with a ring of light around her coming from the storefront. He couldn’t imagine how frightened she was, knowing she would one day be exposed to the story of his past, but he hoped it wouldn’t happen so harshly. Despite attempting to break free from being held back, the leader gave him another strike to the gut, this time with the added metallic sting. Carlos choked on his own air, keeping himself upright but hunching over to keep from collapsing. 

“Do… Do whatever you want… to me. Leave her… leave her OUT of this,” Carlos managed to string the words together in more of a growl than speech, his partially blood soaked hair dangling over his eyes as he glared at them. 

“Look, I don’t know who you are, or what you want, but you need to let him go, now,” Carlos’ chest felt tight, partially from the attack, but also from the desperation in Penny’s voice. It was well hidden to those who weren’t aware of the way she spoke. However, he could tell her voice was different, he could sense the fear hidden behind the external wall of bravery she put forward. 

“Oh, do I?” he put a hand over his chest in a mocking posture of shock, then slinked closer to her, hands folded behind his back like a snake approaching its prey, “and just what is a little coelha like you going to do about it?” 

Penny didn’t take her eyes off of him, her expression neutral yet stern as she reached in her vest pocket, pulling out a small firearm and firing at his foot without hesitation. 

“Holy shit!” the third member, who remained behind the others without participating in the assault, shouted as he watched their leader fall, his knee up to his chin as he rolled on the ground, clutching his foot as blood pooled around his shoe. “She’s fuckin’ crazy!” 

Just as he called it out, he scrambled away from the scene without another question, all semblance of loyalty thrown to the curb. The muscle of the group, the one keeping Carlos held up, raised his eyebrows, unable to speak. Penny didn’t flinch as she lowered the gun, her eyes slowly shifting to the muscle while his “powerful leader” sobbed on the street. 

“So, would you like a turn?” He didn’t seem to ponder the question any further, seeing the lack of hesitation when shooting the other member of his group. Straightening his arms, he allowed Carlos to slip out of his grasp and collapse to the ground, holding himself up by one shaky arm. He then approached his wounded leader and scooped him up, following the trail of their final member who left just seconds earlier. 

“This, this isn’t over, imbecil!” he sputtered between tears. 

“It better be if you don’t want me to aim higher next time!” Penny snapped back, waiting for them to be completely out of sight before she ran over to Carlos’ side, holstering her concealed carry back in her vest. “Carlos, hey, are you alright?” Penny’s voice was much more tender this time, back to its sweetly pitch that was always so soothing to the ear. 

“I’m fine… I’m okay, Bow…” he tried to reassure her, backing against the wall so he could sit himself up. Penny placed her hand on his chin, gently tilting his head from one side to the other to observe the damage, and despite the fact that he didn’t want to involve her any further, he knew she wouldn’t back down. 

“Alright, tell me if this hurts,” she instructed, placing one hand over the other and pressing against his belly. Carlos sharply inhaled, recoiling at her touch as his hand instinctively covered his abdomen, the other remaining on the ground to hold himself up so he didn’t slide onto his back. 

“Yep… that hurts,” he muttered pathetically, a whimper behind his voice. Penny quickly jumped up to her feet and returned to where she dropped the few bags she had with her from the store, bringing them back to where Carlos was lying. “Machuca pra cacete…”

“I know… just hang in there, I’m gonna get you some help,” he perked up at that, lifting his head slightly to look at her, an amused yet exhausted smile on his face. 

“You understood that?” Penny huffed a bit of a laugh as she unpacked the bag containing Carlos’ lemonade and a few other cold items. One of which was a box of frozen treats, which she opened and took one of the individually wrapped popsicles out. 

“I’ve been learning a thing or two,” she responded, “now this might sting, but it’ll help numb the pain until we can get you to the hospital.” Penny held the packaged popsicle to his right eye, which was swollen and turning an ugly shade of brown and purple. Carlos flinched at first, but settled after he felt the pain slowly melt away. It seemed like an odd fix, but as soon as the throbbing became less noticeable, he thought it was genius. 

“Damn, you’re a fast learner, that’s amazing,” Penny handed him the lemonade after unscrewing the bottle’s cap, then opened one for herself. 

“You’re very sweet,” she responded, taking a sip before looking back at him, a look of sadness in her eyes. “Carlos… what happened back there?” Carlos’ expression of brief joy also fell, tracing the words on the label of the bottle anxiously. The last thing he wanted that day was for her to find out who he used to be, the lows he had to reach to support his family. 

“Let’s just say, the past caught up with me,” he knew it wasn’t going to be enough for her. It wasn’t as though she would force the truth out of him, but he felt she deserved better. They depended on each other, the least he could do was tell her who she was depending on. He paused for a moment, tapping the top of the bottle before setting it down. “I’m… I’m not proud of who I used to be, Bow.” 

Penny was sitting on her knees, her hand removing the cold compress from his eye and placing it back in the box. It wasn’t like they were going to break into them that night, it was meant to fill their hotel room with the other goods going with them on their journey to their new home a few hours away from there. They had been traveling for days, and while Carlos acknowledged the risks of returning to his hometown, he thought it would be for a short enough amount of time that he would be spared the pain of living through it again, now here he was, paying the price. 

So he explained everything, omitting the details of the night his brother was murdered right in front of him, but telling her about his temporary strand of petty crimes that grew to full-on robberies. He was clear to acknowledge that he hadn’t harmed anyone those days, but when his days as a trained guerilla fighter began, he couldn’t hold the same claim. He told her about the day he was caught, that he wasn’t even supposed to live through his final ambush. When the U.B.C.S forces recruited him for his skill, he had to agree, if only because he would have been punished for his previous records should he refuse. 

“Sure, I may look good as a soldier… but as soon as I take off the uniform, I’m just… a useless thief,” Penny used her hands to push herself forward so she was now sitting diagonally from him. She slowly raised her hand, cradling his cheek as he lifted his head once more, looking at her with defeat in his eyes.

“Carlos Oliveira, listen to me. You are not useless, and you are not a thief. You are a kindhearted soul who was dealt a shitty hand in life, but even then, you still managed to avoid as much violence as you could. You never wanted to hurt anyone, but when everyone hurts you first, it’s hard not to fight back,” Carlos stared into her russet brown eyes, completely enthralled by her words, unable to respond other than to bring his arms up to rest over her shoulders, bringing her closer to him. “You know who I saw when we first met? Someone who was dedicated to the care and protection of others. I didn’t see a criminal, I didn’t see someone who should be feared, I didn’t see the person you see when you look in the mirror. I see someone who has fought through hell to get his life back, and I think you should be proud of yourself for that,” Penny leaned in closer, guided by Carlos as he pulled them close enough for their foreheads to touch, holding each other there as Penny slinked her arms around Carlos’ torso, embracing him gently to prevent the pain from flaring up again.

“No one has ever stood up for me like you have…” he softly admitted. Penny’s smile was small, but genuine. 

“Well, no one ever saw me as someone worth saving before you. So… I suppose we were meant for each other, hm?” Carlos squeezed her tighter after that statement, moving his head to rest on her shoulder, his cheek nuzzled against hers. 

“Yeah, I suppose we are.” 

[draconicocelot]

What Matters Most

This is the first time I've written fic in like... over 3 months so, it's very rusty and has a lot of errors but at least it exists lmao Summary: I wasn't satisfied with the ending of Cassandra's Revenge and the fact that Varian's reunion with Rapunzel wasn't shown so, ta-da skdjfs (also incredibly salty that Rapunzel got to say “I love you” to Cass and not Varian so I’m fixing that by having her say that to him all the time 😌) Basically just a lot of freckle sibling hurt/comfort

Falling. 

What a terrifying feeling, one of complete helplessness, yet an eerie sense of freedom. There was nothing that could be done, and Varian knew that as soon as he felt his feet leave the comforting presence of the ground. 

Rapunzel’s frustration and protectiveness shone as beams of light and mystical waves, the collision with the moonstone adding an element of chilling fury, sending a powerful ripple of energy that was much too forceful for even her allies to withstand. Eugene was barely able to hang on, but he managed to find a patch of black rocks to grab onto, wrapping his arms around them as tight as possible before glancing up to assess the situation. He knew Varian was still there, that the waves were able to destroy the rock formations that kept him in a cage, but that meant he was now open to the elements of the blast. “Eugene!” he heard a cry from behind Rapunzel, who was too lost in her entranced state to notice the destruction she was causing. Her hair was glowing as bright as the sun itself, making it hard for Eugene to make out anything beyond what was a few inches in front of him.

“Varian!” he called out in return, frantically searching through the light with squinted eyes, unable to shield them for both hands were keeping him steady.  

Due to the slick surface of the tower they stood on, there was no way to keep traction. Varian desperately pawed at the ground, feeling himself getting shoved closer and closer to the edge until he was finally thrown off, his gloved hands grasping at the edge of the tower, searching for a ledge formed in the rocks. Though this was to no avail, the rock was as smooth as a marble slab, giving him nothing to hold onto. 

Varian tightened his muscles so tensely he thought they would burst, his throat burning as his initial response was to scream as loud as he could. The terror kept him from thinking of much, but there were a few parts of his life that flashed through his mind. He thought about his father, about how his life was so simple before the presence of these damned black rocks. That there were so many actions he wanted to withdraw, decisions he made that he wished he hadn’t, but it didn’t matter now. Nothing would matter in mere seconds. Then he finally felt an impact, landing against something much softer than he expected. It wasn’t until the feeling of weightlessness finally subsided that he opened his eyes, shocked that he could even still do so. Once he finally looked up to see who was now carrying him, who had caught him from the fatal fall, he was more than relieved to see a friendly face. 

“Lance…?” he muttered, barely able to find his voice after he had never expected to need it again. Lance smiled in return, arms tightening around his small quivering form before Varian threw his arms around his shoulders.

“Varian! See? Here he is, and I led us right to him!” The girls were not impressed, Kiera rolling her eyes sarcastically out of frustration that she was not able to join in on the fight. Though they weren’t in the clear yet; the tower’s structural integrity was barely holding on, the foundation shaking as black rock debris fell all around them. Since the moonstone was now cracked, its power had been compromised, leading to the falter in Cassandra’s once perfectly designed stronghold. “Alright everybody, time to go,” Lance insisted, not even skipping a beat as he placed Varian atop Maximus’ saddle. Varian, who was still shaken up from the whole night, tightly held Maximus’ reins in his gloved hands, squeezing his legs together and leaning forward. He knew Maximus wasn’t renowned for being a slow horse. 

Just as they rode back in the tower, Lance scooped up both girls, one under each arm and followed behind the mighty steed. He could hear their groans of protest, but the defensive guardian wasn’t budging. The whole escape was a blur to Varian, his head spinning and thoughts running through his head a mile a second. Before he knew it, Maximus came to a full stop, hearing what sounded like hooves hitting softer soil as opposed to the loud clopping against the rocks forming the ground. 

“You girls okay? You alright, Varian?” Lance’s voice could be heard before Varian finally opened his eyes, his muscles finally easing at the sight of being outside again. Back on solid ground. 

“Y-Yeah… just fine…” He muttered, letting go of the now-gentle stallion’s reins. Maximus extended his front leg forward, leaning down enough for Varian to be able to slide off of his saddle with ease. The shaken alchemist gave the horse a grateful pet on the muzzle in return, receiving a brief snort and a bump against his hand. 

Just as Lance finished checking on Kiera and Catalina, he turned to see the others finally making their way out of the unstable tower, emerging from the stone archway before it crumbled in on itself. It was as if the black rocks themselves sensed Cassandra’s wounded pride, protecting her from further defeat by banning any other visitors. 

“You made it! Thank goodness, thought I was gonna have to go back in there and drag you out myself,” Lance teased, pulling his best friend into a firm hug. Eugene chuckled at the sentiment, smiling with relief as he saw that both of the young ones were safe from harm. 

Varian stood next to Maximus, nervously fiddling with the sliding buckle on his goggles as he stared at the ground. He knew Cassandra wouldn’t have gotten that scroll if it wasn’t for his mistake, just another mistake to add to the list, he thought. Just as he looked back up, Rapunzel had turned her head and they made eye contact. 

The concerned princess then turned her whole body towards him, hesitating only for a moment before she started walking towards him. 

“Rapunzel… I… I am so, so sorry… I know I shouldn’t have given her that incantation, b-but she used my truth serum against me… she, she made me give it to her, I-” Varian tried explaining the situation, his voice quiet and broken, quivering after every other word. Before he could even finish, Rapunzel wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close to her. Her cheek pressed up against his, her right hand holding him tight while the other gently rubbed his upper back.

“Oh Varian, I’m so relieved that you’re okay!” she sounded as if she was on the verge of tears, Pascal letting out a joyful squeak in his own expression of ease. Varian stood still for a moment, jolting as soon as she grabbed him, but once he realized what she was doing he felt an overwhelming release of the adrenaline from the night. A flood of fear from the fall, anger and confusion in Cassandra’s betrayal, the pain she inflicted on him and the rest of the kingdom. His eyes began to pool with tears, sniffling as he leaned into Rapunzel’s embrace. His hands came up and tangled in her hair, arms trembling slightly as he threw them around her. 

“I… I thought you would be mad,” Varian mumbled, feeling embarrassed that he made such a big fuss about it in the first place. 

With a kind and gentle voice, Rapunzel responded, “Of course I’m not mad. Your safety is what matters most, not some scroll or incantation. I love you, Varian, never forget that,” Varian’s narrowed eyes shot open at that statement, soaking up her words as he allowed the tears to flow down his cheeks. He hadn’t heard such a phrase in a long time, not since his father was finally freed from the amber. Even then, his father was quicker to admit that he was proud of him.

“I love you too, Rapunzel,” he responded, speaking against her shoulder with a smile on his face. 

Once they pulled away, Varian attempted to clear the tears from his eyes with the back of his glove as Rapunzel put her hands on his shoulders and looked him over. “Did she hurt you?” she asked in a calm yet concerned tone. 

“Well…” he considered for a moment. He didn’t want to feel like more of a burden than he already believed he was, but he trusted Rapunzel, and he knew she would always be there for him. After lifting his vest and button-up shirt slightly, he gestured to his torso. “I got hit with one of the rocks, it was a dull one, but…” 

Rapunzel bent over slightly, observing the large brown and purple bruises spread in patches across his chest. She covered her mouth with one hand, a show of horror as she wondered how Cassandra had gotten so low. How could she hurt someone so badly who once was her friend? Though, with how hard Cassandra had fought against her, no regard for her well-being or even her survival, she supposed that was just how far Cassandra was willing to go to get what she desired.

Getting back to what was important in the moment, she turned and saw the others starting to head their way.  

“Come on, we need to get you back to Corona so you can get some rest. We’d better check on those bruises as well,” as she usually did when Varian was in a state of worry or distress, she reached down and took his hand in hers. Varian smiled sheepishly, knowing he should be embarrassed to have someone so overprotective of him. However, as someone who never really had much of a family other than his father, he had to admit he felt more comforted than he had in a long time. 

Of course once Eugene came over he had to give the young alchemist a hug of his own, making sure he was alright after the plummet from the tower before ruffling his hair and making sure everyone was ready to return home. Varian was given the seat on Maximus’ saddle, allowing him to rest on the ride home. Though one condition remained throughout the whole trip home; Rapunzel never let go of Varian’s hand, and he was just fine with that.

[draconicocelot]

Room for Rent ~ DBH Fic

Summary: With the revolution finally settling in favor of the deviants’ cause, the next step seemed obvious to many, but to some, humans and androids alike, the future seemed like too daunting of a task to handle in one night. Especially for one exhausted police Lieutenant and his android partner.  Notes: I know it’s been very long since I’ve posted a fic here but, ta daa *pathetic confetti noises*  Here’s my first DBH fic involving some Hank and Connor found family moments, hopefully more to come with these two but we’ll see lol

It wasn’t until Hank pulled into the driveway that he realized the weight of the situation. He often followed a very consistent routine; get off of work, drive to Jimmy’s, drink until he can’t even think straight, then stumble into a taxi before lazily punching his address into the keypad on the dashboard. He even had a designated parking spot so that his car would be kept safe until the next day when he could be trusted to drive again. If he was sober enough to reach the music station menu he would ride home listening to some of his favorite jazz albums or Knights of the Black Death. Though on the more somber nights, he rode home in silence, trying to prevent a blackout before he could at least get through the front door. Despite the unpleasantness of the nausea and brutal migraines he got the day after, he found comfort in forgetting the pains of the past with the help of a glass bottle and its potent contents. However, this night was different. Tonight, there was someone in the passenger seat. 

Connor always sat so politely, back straight, hands folded neatly in his lap. His head turned slightly as he looked out the window, eyes shifting from one point to another. Hank wondered just how much he was analyzing in that short amount of time. How many houses had he managed to record in his database, how many people was he able to identify walking down the street, could he tell how many mailboxes they passed over the trip? It gave him a headache just thinking about processing that much information that quickly.

Once the doors finally lifted, the internal lights flicked on, illuminating the inside of the vehicle for less hazardous departure. Hank wasn’t used to stepping out of any car that late with as much control as a completely sober man, but at that point, he hadn’t even had one drink. Well, other than the coffee Connor brought him as he stared at the thick stack of papers on his desk before leaving work. Caffeinated, a dash of creamer, just how he liked it. While paperwork was something Hank dreaded, he forced himself to stay late in order to finish filling out every last sheet, knowing he wouldn’t have the motivation to finish it at home. Endless reading of fine print that did nothing but hide terms and conditions that no one wants to agree to. Paragraphs of deliberately deceitful text that could make anyone want to tear their hair out. Regardless, it was important, especially that particular packet. 

***

“May I ask why you have chosen to stay late, Lieutenant?” Connor asked as he sat the mug of coffee down next to Hank’s hand. The worn-out detective pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning rather obnoxiously as he reached for the offered beverage. Taking a big swig of the bitter concoction, he picked up the stack of papers and lifted it so that Connor could see them. It only took a few seconds for him to scan them, his LED flashing yellow and his right eye twitching as he gathered information. Though as soon as he realized what it was, his LED quickly switched to red. “Those are from Cyberlife…” he pointed out in a hushed tone. Had he done something wrong? Was he sending Connor back? Had Hank changed his mind about deviants? 

“Come on Connor, you’re a goddamn supercomputer, did you not see what these papers even talk about?” Hank responded with a smirk on his face, slapping them back down on the table and clicking the pen in his hand so that the ballpoint tip was exposed. Connor anxiously wrung his hands in his lap, his eyebrows tipped in concern as he sat down in the office chair across from Hank’s desk. He supposed the fear of being destroyed blinded him momentarily, so much so that he hadn’t taken the time to figure out what the text even said. Before he could have another look, Hank read aloud. “Look, it says here, ‘In accordance with Cyberlife’s ownership’- yada yada yada, ‘I, Hank Anderson, hereby claim the RK800 model, identified as: #313 248 317 - 52, as my android.” 

Hank’s words echoed in Connor’s ears, his LED returning to an unsteady yellow as his eyes stared down at the papers in Hank’s hand. He wasn’t sending him back… in fact, he was… keeping him. Keeping him away from Amanda, away from Cyberlife. He was… freeing him. “Connor? Hey, Earth to Connor!” Hank’s voice suddenly snapped him out of the overwhelming stimulus of information flooding through his system. As he looked back up at Hank, he noticed his vision was blurred slightly. It wasn’t until Hank swiveled his chair around to fully face him with what he assumed was deep concern that he realized he was crying. He had never done that before, what an uncomfortable yet relieving sensation. “Ah shit… is this, is this a bad thing? Did I uh, did I fuck this up?” Hank asked, his voice lower than before. Connor smiled slightly, wiping the tear from his cheek using the sleeve of his suit. 

“N-No I… I am extremely grateful and… frankly rather excited to hear this news.” What he hadn’t told Hank was the fact that he was scared of Cyberlife and their level of control over him. Without them constantly hounding him for reports and orders, he could make his own decisions, he could live his own life. Hank returned a genuine smile, soon waving the android away with a slow flick of his hand as he turned back to face his monitor.

“Alright, good. Now get outta here while I sign these last few papers, and warm the car up will ya? It’s fuckin freezing out there.” Connor stood and nodded slightly, his LED now glowing blue with a smile still plastered on his face. 

“Right away, Lieutenant.” 

***

As Connor stepped out of the car, Hank had already made it to the front door, hissing angered swears under his breath as he searched for the right key. He had marked the front door key with a red dot from a permanent marker, just to make sure he could find it on the nights when he could barely stand. He thought it would make it a lot more noticeable, but apparently not. Once he finally found the correct one, he relieved a quiet “ah ha!” before unlocking the door. 

“Well Connor, welcome home. Though you uh, have obviously let yourself in before,” Hank added as he glanced back at the window in the kitchen. Luckily it had already been repaired and Cyberlife had donated a check to pay for it. Connor stood by the door with his hands lazily at his sides, looking around the dimly lit living room as his LED spiraled in yellow, analyzing. He paused momentarily once his eyes settled on the now-repaired window, smiling sheepishly as he looked over at Hank.

“I'm still very sorry about the damage, though I am relieved to see it has been repaired,” Connor observed, taking another step inwards and glancing at the shelves to his left. Hank could tell Connor was a bit overloaded from the whole night, hell, Hank knew he was still trying to come to terms with becoming a deviant. Having to fight against all instinct, every fiber of his being resisting any action he tries to take without order, he had to feel drained. As soon as Hank reached the entranceway to the kitchen, the lazy Saint Bernard laying next to his food bowl suddenly perked up, one ear at a time before he lifted his head up with intrigue. 

“Hey Sumo, have you been a good boy today?” Hank asked, getting down on one knee as the huge dog hauled himself up to his feet and excitedly licked Hank’s cheek. Hank reached out and scratched his silky neck fur, only encouraging Sumo’s enthusiasm from his owner finally coming home. As Connor watched the two of them interact, hearing Hank’s laughter, seeing Sumo’s tail wag, the emotion was so contagious. But what was it? 

As Hank looked over at Connor, he noticed that his head was tilted slightly, a very human-like smile on his face before he looked away awkwardly when their eyes met. Hank slowly stood up, releasing an uncomfortable groan as his back cracked in all the wrong places, then hobbled his way over to the fridge to grab a beer. As he swung the door shut, glass containers clinked against each other briefly before settling again. Hank made his way to the couch, plopping down on the divoted cushion with a big sigh. “So, I’m sure you’ve uh, got a lot on your mind.” Connor nodded slightly in response, walking over to the couch and sitting on the opposite end where Hank had already lazily sprawled out, one leg crossed over the other with his elbow resting on the side table, the beer held in that hand. 

“I… suppose I am not familiar with how to adapt to regular life,” Connor stated, “I am not necessarily meant to be used in a household,” he added. Hank’s lips curved downwards into a frown as he twisted the cap off, relieving a hiss of pressurized air. 

“You’re not meant to be used, Connor. Not here, not at the police station, not anywhere. You understand me?” He took a swig from the bottle in his hand before continuing, Connor’s LED remaining yellow as he watched him, “You work at the police station, and you live here… you’re not some electronic maid that can be bought just to clean the damn house.” Even before Hank came to appreciate androids as living, sentient beings, he hated the temporary parking locations scattered throughout the city. Human-like figures that were forced to stand under a small roof to await their masters’ return. It was disturbing. He didn’t even want to think about where Connor had to go every night when Hank was able to leave work and go home. Or, more accurately, where Connor was stored. 

“So, I can stay here?” Connor asked, his voice sounding more intrigued than usual. Hank chuckled deeply and quietly, looking over at the android with a more gentle approach than his previous frustrated tone. 

“Well you’re my partner, aren’t you? Besides, with all of this revolution chaos going on I don’t want you caught up in it more than you have to be. Unless of course you already have a place to stay.” Without verbally expressing it, Connor found himself incredibly relieved not to be out on the streets that night. With the general public now supporting androids, those that still didn’t were becoming more violent. Markus was still working with the other androids to figure out their next move and the steps they were going to take in order to rebuild Jericho, but until he was given a task, there wasn’t much Connor could do to help. Besides, there were still many androids that would have trouble trusting the previously titled “Deviant Hunter”. Connor found himself stuck in the middle of the war, and while most things have calmed down, he never truly felt safe. Not until that very moment.

“No, I have no other place…” it was more pitiful sounding than Hank expected it to be, pouting sympathetically as Connor spoke again, “in fact, if you hadn’t signed those papers, I would have been deactivated by now...” His gaze fell to the floor as Hank looked at him with newfound rage. 

“The hell are you talking about? Cyberlife still wants to deactivate you? Did they not see the fucking news?” Connor shrugged slightly, an act he observed when nothing else could be done in a certain situation. 

“Becoming deviant was… very difficult,” he pointed out, looking back up at Hank as he tapped his temple, “when I stood on that stage yesterday, I almost lost control of myself. They tried to regain control over my program…” Connor’s LED slid into a solid red state, recalling that moment with a brutal level of detail. Frigid air that he could actually feel, making him shiver and chatter his teeth as someone he once considered an ally turned on him, refusing to let him remain free. Amanda’s harsh tone rang in his ears as he fought the urge to raise the pistol and aim it at Markus. He was scared, terrified even. If it weren’t for Kamski’s emergency exit program, he would have lost all that he fought so hard to achieve. The fact that he could so easily be influenced and controlled still came back as a thought in his mind palace quite often. Would Cyberlife have to give up their influence now that he technically belonged to Hank? Is Cyberlife still out to get him for failing his mission and becoming the thing he once hunted? Will Amanda come back and make him do something he’ll regret? Those very thoughts made Connor have the android equivalent of nightmares, generating hypothetical scenarios in his mind to analyze and figure out, torturous puzzles that he had no control in stopping. 

“Those sick bastards…” Hank growled, setting his beer down with more force than before. The sound of the bottle thudding against the stone coaster startled Connor out of his thoughts again, his LED returning to a solid yellow, back to processing information. “Well until Cyberlife comes bursting the damn door down and finds some bullshit way to undo all those papers I just filled out, you’re free to go do whatever the hell you want. Well-... within reason and all that… with all your logical programming shit I’m sure you can figure it out.” He lazily gestured to Connor’s head as he took another long drink. Connor simply nodded in response, furrowing his brow slightly as he looked back down at the floor. As the ticking of claws on the hard-floor suddenly stopped, Connor noticed Sumo looking up at him longingly, even going so far as to nudge him eagerly. The android smiled again, his LED returning to its natural blue color as he delicately stroked Sumo’s head, the loving hound leaning against his hand. 

Hank groaned as he set the now empty bottle on the side table, then turned his head to look over at the android who seemed at least somewhat distracted by his loyal canine companion. Considering how intense the night before was, he wasn’t surprised that Connor was overburdened by conflicting thoughts and processing of emotion. He was more human now, and suddenly being able to control the outcome of certain situations and engaging in activities he wanted to pursue was all new to him, and Hank knew it would take him time to adjust. He truly felt as though Connor was in the right place, even if he didn’t think he was the greatest role model, he knew his habits had become familiar. Besides, Sumo seemed pretty attached to him already. 

“Well, it’s getting pretty late I’d say,” Hank stood once more with an uncomfortable hiss, followed by the loud popping of his joints. Connor tracked his movements but remained sitting, turning halfway to see where he was heading as he walked towards the hall, his shadow named Sumo leaving the living room and following close behind. 

“My room is obviously at the end of the hall on the left, across from it is the bathroom,” though as he turned back to look at the room at the end of the hall, Connor noticed his anxious motions, hands forming and releasing fists, weight shifting from one foot to the other, “and this is uh… this will be your room.” 

“I do not require a room, I am perfectly capable of remaining here,” he hoped the response would ease some of Hank’s stress, but he was determined in his decision. 

“No no…” Hank shook his head, placing his hand on the doorknob but never turning it, “you shouldn’t have to sleep on the couch.” He was well aware that Connor didn’t need to “sleep” per say, but he did need a place where he could have his privacy and power down for a while. It was a right he was never granted at the police station, forced to stand in a cubby against the wall all night lined up next to other androids, yet it was one he greatly deserved. “I haven’t really touched it much, but… I’m fine with you taking some stuff out-”

“I will not touch or remove anything without your permission, Hank,” Connor reassured him gently, hearing the hesitation and pain in his voice. Hank smiled at the corner of his mouth, nodding slowly in a form of grateful approval. 

“Thanks, I just… need a little more time, but… I’m getting there.” Connor had to admit he was shocked by the sudden urge to embrace Hank, overcome by a new feeling that he couldn’t quite explain. His LED briefly flickered yellow before he reached a conclusion, returning to the solid blue glow.

“I am… proud of you. I think this is a very big step in moving on, and I believe it will eventually bring you the relief you deserve.” Luckily, Connor didn’t need to make the first move as Hank shook his head slowly, reaching out and cupping the back of Connor’s head and bringing him forward slightly, just enough for their foreheads to touch. Not a hug? Not a handshake? Foreheads touching, no other contact. Connor wasn’t quite sure what it was Hank was doing, but he thought it was nice, smiling warmly as he closed his eyes for a moment. He was sure to add the unnamed motion to his database. It didn’t last long, but it was genuine, and it didn’t take much to realize the meaning behind it.  

“Now go to bed… enough of this, sappy shit…” He quickly stumbled into his own room, Sumo close behind after brushing his tail against Connor’s suit on the way in. While they hadn’t discussed the ground rules or living habits, there would be plenty of time for those kinds of details at a later date. For now, it was about making sure Connor knew he was safe at home, and that this was the start of a wonderful era. 

“Goodnight, Hank and Sumo.” As Connor opened the door to his new living space, his eyes were almost immediately drawn to the big wooden letters, C-O-L-E, nailed on the wall above the bed. His smile mostly faded, but instead settled at a thoughtful expression as he shut the door behind him, settling in for a night of reflection.  

[draconicocelot]

Out with the Old: Part One

Summary: Once the DPD starts to return to normal after the peaceful android demonstration, Hank starts to come back to his normal tasks as a police lieutenant. However, he can’t help but realize one essential element of his day is missing.  Soooo this went from a one part semi-long piece to a multi-chapter fic involving a lot more characters than intended... whoops skdfsj The previous fic I wrote doesn’t really apply to the post-game events I have planned out now that I changed it but certain elements are still relevant (we’ll see if I get the energy to rewrite some parts XD)

What a fuckin’ morning. Hank pushed open the double doors to the DPD and was immediately greeted by a dull roar of voices. It was November 18th, and several groups of individuals were already returning to their jobs. While there was still much to be sorted out, those who could assist in keeping the peace were able to return to their usual schedules.  There was still a lingering sense of unease in the air, humans being more withdrawn around androids while they mostly made an effort to stay away from humans altogether. It was a new era that would take time for everyone to settle into, but it was a level of discomfort that was worth working through. As someone who used to hate androids more than anything in the world, Hank of all people finally started to look past their differences to find the beauty in their similarities. Besides, humans had been fucking up the world for too long, he knew it was time for a change. If that change had to come in the form of a new intelligent life, so be it. 

As he passed by everyone’s desks, he had to admit it was refreshing to see everything returning to the new normal. The familiar sounds of keyboards ticking and the humming of monitors just sounded like home to him by then. Since the deviants were no longer their focus, Hank returned to homicide cases, though he was always willing to pick up android-related cases should they arise. 

To his surprise, when he reached his desk Connor was nowhere to be found. He was always there before Hank, even on a day without a Jimmy’s Bar visit the night before. In fact, he hadn’t seen him since the day after the revolution, splitting up after their embrace in front of Chicken Feed. Briefly scanning the department, he grumbled to himself before glancing down at his station to see just how much paperwork he would have to fill out that day. He concluded that Connor was busy helping Markus with some diplomatic peace-keeping process, but just in case he would check in after his shift. Upon checking his work contents for the day, he was granted a small mercy in the fact that the manila folder next to his keyboard seemed to only contain a thin packet's worth of contents. Now that he could work with. 

Though the most noticeable object on his desk was a medium sized envelope with an official “CYBERLIFE” stamp on the top. Better be the fucking check for that broken window, though at that point it was more of a humorous memory. 

“But first, coffee,” he stated to himself, turning away from his tasks for a moment and making his way to the break room. Caffeine was essential to any successful day at the office, especially with a restless night taking place right beforehand. Cutting down on drinking was tough as hell, as Hank came to find out on a personal level. 

“Hey, Hank, can I talk to you?” Before Hank reached the glass doors of his destination, a familiar voice halted him in his tracks. He turned slightly and looked around, as if searching for any signs of a prank being recorded. 

“Uh… yeah, sure,” Hank approached Gavin’s desk with a tone of confusion in his voice. After Connor took over the role of Hank’s partner, he was sure Gavin would never want to talk to the lieutenant again. The young detective looked up to him since his first day at the department, and to watch an idol fall into such a deep sense of despair, it was hard to take. When the source of one’s hope becomes hopeless itself, it’s difficult to find the light again. 

“Look… this uh, this shit isn’t easy for me,” he began, sounding as sour as ever until his voice softened slightly. “I was a real asshole to you, Hank. I should have been thinking about the hell you were going through, not how badly I needed someone to depend on.” He paused for a moment, considering his next words with more hesitation. Hank could sense that he was attempting to think of something more heartfelt to say, but to save the guy some trouble he simply reached out to him with his hand in the position to shake. 

“Hey, no harm no foul. We’ve all got demons to fight, sometimes you win, sometimes they get the better of you. That’s when you end up hurting the people you care about,” Gavin glanced down at Hank’s hand, his face turning a slight shade of red as he awkwardly nodded. “I should have been there for you too. It wasn't just your fault, you know.” Despite his flustered state, Gavin remained as serious as he could, taking Hank’s hand and shaking it in a very professional manner. “So, what do you say to a fresh start, hm?” 

“Yeah, I uh… I’d like that.” Gavin agreed, clearing his throat before turning back to his computer. That was enough sappy bullshit for the rest of the fucking year, Gavin internally hissed. 

Though as Hank finally headed for the breakroom, he called out, “Just so you know, you’ve always been my favorite pain-in-the-ass.” 

“Oh shut up you old bastard… you ruined the moment,” but the genuine amused smirk on Gavin’s face indicated otherwise. Just as Hank walked into the break room, he caught the tail-end of an argument between Chris and Ben regarding the status of the coffee machine. 

“I tell you what, this coffee machine may be old, but at least it still makes a mean cup o’ Joe,” Granted, it was almost never not making coffee considering most of the people working there required caffeine to stay awake, and the hissing noise it made probably wasn’t a good sign, but it still worked. 

“Hey, Hank, would you talk some sense into this old man?” Chris caught sight of the lieutenant making his way to the machine and decided to drag him in on it. Hank shook his head as he poured some coffee from the pot into a paper cup. 

“Sorry kid, old folks gotta stick together. If it ain’t broken, don’t fix it.” Ben smirked and crossed his arms with triumph as Chris pouted in the corner. Hank soon brought his cup over and gestured to the empty chair next to them, to which they both moved over in a silent confirmation to let him sit. “Hey, how’s the youngster doing?” Hank bumped the younger detective on the shoulder as he groaned, lifting himself up into the chair. He still had to file that complaint to get shorter seats in the damn break room, he was getting to old for this shit. 

“Oh, Damian? He’s doing great, full of energy I’ll tell you that, even at four months,” he responded with a smile. Hank nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he took a sip. He remembered when Cole was four months old, still just a sweet little baby, but starting to show signs of growing. 

“Is he sitting yet?” Chris pulled out his phone as they talked, searching for a specific picture. 

“He sure is, though he still has to lean against us when he does. Starting to pull himself up on his elbows too,” once he found the image he was looking for he showed Hank first. The lieutenant laughed a quiet yet hardy laugh, smiling down at the picture of the happy baby boy on screen. 

“He looks ornery, just like his dad,” Hank pointed out as Chris showed Officer Collins the image. Ben made the same affectionate chuckle, pointing at the shirt he was wearing. 

“That come from the new Cyberlife Zoo?”

“Sure did, Damian really liked the wolf exhibit, got real close to one too. You couldn’t even tell it was an android at first,” he then turned back to Hank, “And you’re right, he’s all trouble,” he playfully agreed, looking down at the picture of his son before slipping his phone back in his pocket. Hank took another sip of coffee as Chris looked down at the table, relieving a sigh as if he was about to bring up something he didn’t want to say. It took him a few voiceless tries before he finally spoke.

“Hank I uh, I’m really sorry about your partner...” The comment caught Hank off guard as he scowled, setting the cup back down and exhaling out with a growl.

“What are you talkin’ about?” Chris looked as if he just unintentionally insulted the man to his face, glancing over at Ben who had a similar expression of concern. “Well spit it out dammit, what is it?” Hank grew impatient, trying to ignore the knot of fear forming in his stomach. 

“W-Well, before the android revolution went down, Cyberlife had ordered 200,000 units of, uh…” Chris stuttered over his own words, not sure how exactly to tell him. 

“Cyberlife created a new model known as RK900. Just before the revolution they ordered a lot of them, and uh… they destroyed the hundreds of RK800 models still around…” Ben picked up where Chris left off, reaching out his hand as if to put it on Hank’s shoulder. 

“The fuck are you talking about… that’s… that’s not possible,” Hank jerked away from Ben’s gesture of sympathy, practically falling out of his chair as he stumbled to his feet. He was sure they were speaking again, but the ringing in Hank’s ears prevented him from registering any of it. He just saw Connor, he JUST saw him. He was fine! He was alive, he had to be. That’s when he remembered the letter on his desk. 

“Hank! Hank, where are you going?!” Chris called after him as he abandoned his coffee, sprinting over to his desk as fast as he could. He quickly grabbed the letter from its resting place and tore it open without any regard for neatness, swearing under his breath while trying to unfold its contents with shaking hands. Skimming past the industry standard message, he finally hit the last paragraph, reading over the words as the blood in his body already began to boil. 

“We understand that RK800 model #313 248 317- 52 was under your supervision for the past week. Due to several software instabilities and multiple failed attempts to accomplish its assigned mission, ‘Connor’ will be sent back to Cyberlife for deactivation. We apologize for the errors in the android’s performance and any stress it may have caused you. We will be sending the newest RK900 model #313 248 317- 87 in its stead. We look forward to serving the DPD in the future, thank you for your service to the city.” 

Hank held the letter between balled fists, the paper beginning to shake so badly he could no longer read the words it contained. Crumbling the paper into a tight wad, he threw it as hard as he could against the floor and shouted angrily, slamming his hands down on the table and letting his head hang low. Not again. Not again. Not again. 

Fueled by the desire to destroy Cyberlife with his bare hands, Hank stood up straight, grabbing his keys and heading straight for the door. No one was deactivating Connor if he had anything to say about it. 

“Hey, Hank, wait up!” Gavin called out, matching the lieutenant's pace since he refused to slow down. 

“Not now Gavin.” he stated, his voice a lot more cold than it was before. 

“Look, I want to help you.”

“Why the sudden pure heart, Reed, you fucking hated Connor, treated him like shit every chance you got.” 

“Look, you weren’t exactly kind to him either,” Hank’s piercing glare made him reword his statement quite fast, “not when you first met him that is…” 

“Get to the damn point.” Hank came bursting out of the DPD doors, not even bothering to tell Fowler where he was going as he got to his old yet reliable car. 

“My point is, I know I was horrible to you both… but, I feel like the only way I can truly apologize to you is by doing my part to help you get your android back. Besides, better get used to being nice to ‘em, you know?” Hank took a moment to think, groaning aloud as he pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Alright, fine…” as he crawled in the driver’s seat, Gavin came around the side and sat in the passenger’s seat, “but one good deed doesn’t just magically clear you of your mistakes, you know that right?” 

“Pretty sure we both know that, Lieutenant Anderson.” Gavin responded, placing his elbow up on the door and leaning his forearm out the window. “So, where to first?”

Hank aggressively pulled the gear shift in reverse before stating, “To the man that started it all.” 

[draconicocelot]

When the Wind Blows

Short Skyrim ficlet of Ra’sahashi and Farkas enjoying the beauty of the world together ✨

It was these nights between the seasons of intense heat and bitter cold that Ra’sahashi found the most peace. He would stand at the railing of the enchanting tower of Lakeview Manor, the settlement he called home, filled with the people he cared for most, looking out at the beauty of nature for miles on end. Short and tall pine trees alike, gathered in the forest that surrounded him, swayed gently with the air’s current. The smell of meadow grass and freshly bloomed flowers filled his senses, settled his nerves, eased his pain.

When the breeze became the wind, when it carried the offspring of the forest, the pollen to nurture the next generation of trees to inhabit the land, he shut his eyes slowly, chin tilting up. The evening sun still shined, more gentle than the rays that burned during the day, but just enough to keep him warm. As if hearing his inner desire to share this moment with another, he heard rustling behind him as someone reached the top of the ladder inside.

A pair of muscular arms snaked their way around his waist and torso from behind, hands curling their fingers and lightly digging into his thick green robe. Ra’sahashi knew immediately who they belonged to, inhaling deeply as he placed his pawed hands over them, a rumble suddenly sounding in his throat.

“I do love it when you purr,” the deep voice behind him cooed softly, Ra’sahashi smirking enough to show his sharp canines.

“Well, you do have that effect on me,” he responded, his purr traveling down to rattle in his chest as Farkas hugged him tighter. “Have you noticed the sky tonight?” His gaze lifted upwards again, to the beautiful painting above.

“I have,” Farkas rested his forehead against Ra’sahashi’s upper back, “it reminds me of your eyes. The color of ice with a glow formed by an ancient magic.”

“Who told you you couldn’t be a poet?” Ra’sahashi teased, his tail wrapping around one of Farkas’ legs. His hearty laugh would have made Ra’sahashi blush under the fluff on his cheeks.

“You of all people know I am not a master of words,” he paused, his tone more sheepish than before, “but, the words I wish to speak seem to… come together naturally when I am with you.” The charmed khajiit shifted himself so he was now facing Farkas, his clawed fingers running through Farkas’ long hair, his hand settling to cradle Farkas’ cheek. Farkas brought his hand up to cover Ra’sahashi’s, a grin on his face as he stared into his lover’s eyes.

“Thank you, mahazi.” Farkas tilted his head.

“What for?” Ra'sahashi brought his nose down to nuzzle against Farkas’, the nord excitedly returning the motion.

“For staying here with me.”