#I never deactivated it proper but it's been sitting there

[romantichore]

some days (like today) I get this mad urge to reactivate the ole elder scrolls tumblr, to see if maybe that kicks me into gear again. it warmed the heart when people would randomly pop in to say thanks for reblogging their art. I enjoyed seeing people's works in the tags. es is one of my favorite franchises and I'm thinking maybe going back will also give me something to go back to, art/writing wise.

I'm only worried that it was a lot of work, and I'd hate to start again only to give up later. but it might be worth it regardless? idk

[showf4lls]

ɞ ― make a home in you; chuckle sandwich

cw + info! fluff, headcanons / no CWs

includes! ted nivison + charlie slimecicle + jschlatt

dedication! @ivyinnit

notes! i’m currently trying to get over a breakup and am kind of struggling w yearning atmo so this request (while old) was kind of perfect thank you for dropping into my askbox, ivy!! little update: it’s been so long since i’ve received this request, i know. it should’ve been easy to get it out quickly, but school absolutely melted me this semester. i know that ivy’s deactivated now, but in the case that she comes across it, i hope you enjoy beloved <3

TED

⎼ y’all schedule out laundry days together. it’s cute as fuck okok

⎼ forehead and cheek kisses while you’re on your way out the door

⎼ if he wakes up before you, he makes your morning drink of choice just the way you like it! though, he prefers to sleep in with you

⎼ if you don’t have any important plans for the day and you’ve set alarms just for the sake of waking up at a certain time, he turns them all off before you wake up. he wants to give you an opportunity to rest as much as you need to; your body will wake up when it’s ready

⎼ brunch dates! while you guys prefer to sleep in together, you alternate between sleeping in and waking up at a reasonable hour depending on your plans. ted really likes taking you out to brunch and just walking around window shopping with you after

⎼ if either of you are going somewhere important, the other will help them get ready and run through a mental checklist with them before they go in order to make sure the person leaving has absolutely everything they need

⎼ y’all are constantly doing bits. it’s kind of confusing for your friends, but neither of you care much because you’re just having a great time

⎼ ted is an absolute gentleman always, not just in the honeymoon phase. constantly opening doors for you, helping you put your sweater on when you’re leaving the house, opening the car door for you. stuff like that

⎼ he rubber ducks for you a lot. just sits down near you and listens, letting you work out your issues by talking it out without feeling awkward about it

⎼ he’s just overall a great listener and very in-tune with your needs. only gives advice and input when you ask for it, but he always makes an effort to validate your feelings. holds you when you need him to and steps back when he senses that you need space. also really good at problem solving and helping out when you get overwhelmed or have sensory overload

– when you have bad days, he has a tendency to go above and beyond. he cooks dinner for you, makes sure your comfy clothes are all washed and clean, and generally just makes sure you have to do as little as possible so that you have the proper space to calm down

CHARLIE

– you guys have rapid fire joke contests together, usually late at night when you’re sitting on kitchen counters, snacking. you go back and forth until either the two of you are laughing so hard that it would be physically impossible to keep going, or someone can’t come up with a joke fast enough

– you try to stay on the sleep cycle but you both tend to get a little out of whack every once in a while, so you have these phases of going to sleep at a decent hour and then going to sleep when the sun is about to come up

– as such, you guys have these phases of making spontaneous runs to the grocery store or gas station to get snacks, usually cereal for some reason. you get whatever you want and charlie never lets you pay for any of it. on the later nights, you guys sometimes experiment with new flavors of things or weird snack combinations

– he has a thing about always making sure you’re warm enough. you’re a little chilly? he’s pulling his sweater off and pulling it over your head. once you’re all comfy and settled, he’s on his way to turn on the heater. your feet are cold? he’s running to get you a pair of fuzzy socks and a blanket in case your legs are cold too. even when you’re about to leave the house -- it’s colder than 50 outside? he’s scrambling around the house, gathering gloves and scarves and beanies for you to take with you in case you get cold, even if they don’t match. no other options but you’re still cold? mans is wrapping himself around you, trying to use his body heat to warm you up himself. he hates when you’re chilly and uncomfortable :[

– brings you home little presents all the time. literally anything that remind him of you. you have a collection of buttons and keychains that he’s seen while walking through shops. he also steals cool props from videos and projects to give to you. you have a little collection going

– loves pda all the time, but not always cuddling (which can sound confusing, but let me explain). he likes casual pda with you around the house, whether it be you resting your feet in his lap while you both lounge across the couch, sitting on the floor and leaning back on his legs while you watch a movie, him putting a hand on the small of your back while he moves around/behind you, holding onto your hand until you’ve walked out of reach, gently pressing his knuckles into your back while you’re laying on the other side of the bed and facing away from him. likes to be touching you when he can be but in little ways that aren’t super overwhelming (mostly because i feel like you’d both be too fidgety to just cuddle)

– some of your most domestic moments are spent in the kitchen, usually cooking dinner together. it’s light and warm and it feels so much like home that you sometimes find yourself questioning if it’s all real. he’s right there to tell you it is. but back to dinner. he loves cooking for you, and you love cooking for him. it’s all laughter and winding down from work days and gentle hugs and swaying together as he hums for you

SCHLATT

– it’s a little hard to find domestic moments with schlatt off the top of your head, but they’re there when you look for them. they’re quiet, but they’re ever present

– he sleeps a lot, meaning that you usually wake up before him. if he’s sleeping light enough to hear you get up, he’ll roll over, half asleep, wrap his arms around your middle, and pull you back into his chest, mumbling a groggy “ten more minutes, babe. i’ll be up then, jus’ ten more minutes.” it’s never just ten more minutes

– he picks you up and carries you around a lot. not in the typical way. if he thinks you’re working yourself too hard, he’ll grab you from your desk and throw you over his shoulder, dropping you onto the couch and forcing you to watch a movie with him. or you’ll be sleepily making yourself a snack in the kitchen and he’ll grab you from behind, just wrapping his arms around your middle and picking you up. he carries you, complaining and squirming, the whole way to your room and tells you it’s nap time

– you guys have a lot of nap dates. it’s an easy, sweet block of time for you guys to spend together, hazy and together while napping on and off. if one of you wakes up, you get to fondly watch the other nap until you fall asleep again. watch the easy rise and fall of their chest, run a hand through their hair, trace gentle patterns on their skin, play with their fingers, listen to the beating of your heart

– you do the dishes together. you wash and schlatt dries. sometimes you get into towel fights or start flicking water at each other with your fingers

– schlatt follows you out of bed when you get up in the middle of the night. he’d never admit it, but he has a hard time sleeping without you. he hates waking up to a cold bed. so when the clock blinks 3:17 and he feels around to find nothing beside him, even if your side of the bed is still warm, he huffs and gets up. pads through the house with puffy, tired eyes until he finds you. wraps his arms around you from behind and rests his chin on your head. “what are you doin’ outta bed?” he never waits for your response, just starts ushering you back to your room

– really likes seeing you in his clothes, again, not that he would ever admit it. he’ll purposely “forget” to do your laundry so that you have to start wearing his hoodies, tee shirts, sweats, etc. it just gives him the warm fuzzies, seeing you be so comfortable and cozy in his clothes

– hangs on you a lot on days when there’s nothing to do. he’s pretty idle about it, too, kind of like a character accessory. sometimes you just have to go around the house doing your stuff with this big man hanging off of you because you don’t have the heart to tell him to leave you alone for an hour or two to get your work done

[excadrill]

tagged by @yj-98 ilyyy 🫶🫶🤍

RULES: Reveal the titles of the documents in your WIP folder and tag as many people as there are documents. Let others ask questions about the ones that interest them and post snippets or explain the contents as you see fit!

tag as many people as their are wips.. eep.. sorry i'd put this under a cut but it's not working on mobile 😭

ankhgiveaway.sai [i held an art giveaway in february and havent finished the prizes even tho i keep looking at them and going 'i need to and Want to finish this..']

yuukigiveaway.sai [same as above but the person who requested this one deactivated so i. don't know if i'm still gonna finish it]

sonomomo.sai [my current priority 'For Me' wip.. ive shared this wip w some people but ive never done a proper piece for the 'cycle of life and death' thing for them so that's what this one is..💙❤️]

exozinewip5.sai [pokemon zine oc piece, not supposed to share zine wips so idk if i should say more but it's of my beloved gymsona.. this zine will be free + digital and i'll ofc be promoting it more when it's done but it's soooo cute keep your eyes out for this one :3c '5' not bc im contributing multiple pieces but bc this piece is big and slightly intimidating for me so i keep saving different versions when i do major merges]

pocketzine-nymble.sai [another pokemon zine piece, so i can't really say more But it's not the only thing im contributing to this zine, ive just finished all my other stuff already]

oczine-thumbs.sai [thumbs for an oc zine i signed up for that i'll probably drop out of bc im not feeling like a vibe w everyone else there >w>;;; ]

philip.sai [philip piece ive had sitting around basically since i finished W.. about a year ago now i think ? but i transferred it to my '23 wips folder bc i still wanna finish it..it was supposed to be a 'this one will be quick and easy so i'll have smthn i Finished this month outside of zine stuff' but. zine stuff took up all my time and energy oops]

mrtourism.sai [this one's a silly post-canon kirihiko art i've Also had sitting around for like a year. i chip away at this one sometimes but then keep restarting bc im unsatisfied with the lines i wish i could just sit down and finish it bc i Love Him]

platform.sai [ummm silly ryotaro thing i drew after watching the den-o final stage ^__^ not a high priority one but it's cute so like. maybe one day]

punkjackhelmet.sai [file name was bc i was originally doing helmet studies before it turned into a full sketch. punkjack with the beat buckle bc i was doing this right after his special came out 🎃🫶]

colourwheel.sai [ummm well. yeah im not good at finishing art memes when theyre still on trend. i did all the sketches for these but i probably won't finish at this point..]

poppyangel.sai [poppy ex-aid i sketched as a break between big stuff the other day that i like a lot so. maybe will finish but might just post unfinished if i cant find the energy to get to this one sooner. feel bad that i like ex-aid so much but don't have any clean art done for it..]

millirider.sai [toku oc planning :3 i was saying last night i finally figured the helmet out which ive been struggling with for ages so hopefullyyyy i get around to doing a proper ref sheet]

im not at my laptop rn so im doing this off the top of my head but i THINK that's everything.. tagging umm @ankhisms @heartvisor @madaraki @circeancity @horrorcomedies @yu3s @pleuvoire @kosukeiichi @danothan @seashrine @asticassia @eclipse-song @kirider only if you guys wanna 🤍🤍

[psilocybinlemon]

DARK ENERGY - CH2, MANIFEST

Modern Post-Apocalyptic AU, based in the universe of Half-Life series. Rated Explicit for death, blood and gore, terrible politics, war, that kind of stuff you see in First-Person Shooter games.

Pairing: Eventual Nalu

Chapters in Tumblr: 1, 2 Also in AO3 __________________________________________________________

CHAPTER 2: MANIFEST

// December 5th, Tuesday, 5:35 PM. Black Mesa East

“You were being watched?”

Natsu nodded as he took a cigarette from the blood-stained pack, placed it between his teeth and ignited it. He left the lighter and the carton on the table, then lifted his gaze to the old man sitting in front of him. Disapproval was clear as the day in Makarov’s eyes, yet the leader of the base made no effort to make Natsu stop smoking in his office. Not today, at least.

“Yeah,” Natsu mumbled, then lowered his eyes back to his hands. The dried blood, that wasn’t his, had begun to flake off and fall to the black-and-white checkered floor. “But there wasn’t anyone. It just felt so off.”

“Strange. Our visitor reported having the same experience this morning,” Makarov said and wrote a few lines into his notebook. “What was the clock at that moment?”

“I don’t know. Quarter past eight?” Natsu said, remaining quiet for a second. “What visitor?”

“We have a visitor from the White Forest,” Makarov answered, then glanced at Erza, who then stepped from the back of the office closer to the table. She had slightly opened the window to let the smoke escape the room. “We didn’t want to tell this to you… yet, but well, you’ll be introduced soon enough. Anyway, seemingly at the same time today, before arriving at Black Mesa East, our visitor reported feeling as if they were being watched. An interesting occurrence, indeed.”

Natsu shrugged. “I’m not sure if I’m supposed to like this information or not.”

“The events could be connected somehow,” Erza said. “Something is stirring the Combine up, and we have to find out what it is.”

“I meant the visitor,” Natsu clarified, then glanced down at his bloodied outfit, blowing out some smoke. He had never been to White Forest himself, but it was Resistance’s most secret base dedicated to scientific research, mostly trying to restore technology from old Black Mesa. Fancy folk, those scientists. “I’m probably not in a proper condition to meet some visitors from White Forest. Can I at least change –“

“No. Immediately as you’re done with the report, we’ll invite this person to the office,” Erza said, making Natsu roll his eyes in frustration. “There’s no time to waste. This is very important business, Sergeant Dragneel.”

“Yeah, seems like it,” Natsu scoffed. It’s going fucking great, he thought and inhaled the cigarette. “Anyway, so, after I felt like some creepy-ass-fucker had its eyes on me, everything went as usual for a while. Or so I thought…”

And then he fell quiet, sharp pain in his chest suffocating his voice.

“Natsu?”

“… until we made it to Station 12.” __________________________________________________________

// December 5th, 2017. Tuesday, 8:16 AM. City 17 //

“… Do our benefactors really know what's best for us? What gives them the right to make this kind of decision for mankind? Will they ever deactivate the suppression field and let us breed again?”

Side by side, Natsu and Gray walked across the city plaza. A small group of citizens flinched as they saw them approach, turning their gazes back to the screen, mounted high on a mast in the square’s centre. There spoke an older man, with short white hair and a trimmed beard. Seeing his face aroused an impulse in Natsu to point his gun at the screen and shoot it to smithereens. It was dr. Wallace Breen, Earth’s Administrator under the Combine, formerly known as the leader of Black Mesa Research Facility. These things, Breencasts, were the only entertainment delivered to the citizens of each Combine-controlled city.

But well, if Natsu had to choose between listening to Overwatch Voice or Breencast, he’d choose the latter – in Black Mesa East, they did some funny remixes out of them. But the Voice was still lingering in his mind, the haunting echo of doom he had barely managed to escape from. Though the events of this morning aroused hundreds of questions and the strange feeling in his guts refused to fade, he forced them to the shadows for now. They were alive. They had an objective to focus on.

Now, they had to find Cana and Loke.

“… Allow me to address the anxieties underlying your concerns, rather than try to answer every possible question you might have left unvoiced,” spoke Earth’s Administrator on the record. “First, let us consider the fact that for the first time ever, as a species, immortality is in our reach. This simple fact has far-reaching implications. It requires radical rethinking and revision of our genetic imperatives. It also requires planning and forethought that run in direct opposition to our neural pre-sets.”

In silence, Natsu and Gray left the plaza and headed to the alley between the buildings, arriving at a scene where an old playground stood. It had once been a park for the block’s children to play in, but only echoes lingered here now. The swings swayed in the faint wind, old metal creaking with the motion. A graffiti had been spray-painted on the rusty carousel. ‘CASTE’, it read, with a Combine soldier holding a blue-eyed human child in his arms. Its stare seemed to pierce right through Natsu. ‘Fucking shit, I’ve had enough creepy things staring at me this morning.’

“…I find it helpful at times like these to remind myself that our true enemy is Instinct. Instinct was our mother when we were an infant species. Instinct coddled us and kept us safe in those hardscrabble years when we hardened our sticks and cooked our first meals above a meagre fire and startled at the shadows that leapt upon the cavern's walls. But inseparable from Instinct is its dark twin, Superstition. Instinct is inextricably bound to unreasoning impulses, and today we clearly see its true nature.”

Natsu had heard the same speech too many times. It was one of those that was replayed the most, as if to keep reminding everyone that the suppression field hadn’t gone anywhere. Since the Combine took over Earth, no new human had been born. The Combine, or rather Dr. Breen himself, never explained how the field actually worked, but Natsu’s brother had presumed it prohibited certain protein chains important to the process of embryonic development – a part of the Combine plan for total omnicide of the human species.

Yet, since it had been affecting the population for seventeen years now, Natsu didn’t think about it too often. Strangely, he couldn’t fully remember what children even looked like. He had been just five back then, and all the children had grown into adulthood alongside him. Only a few pictures had been spared from the time before the apocalypse. His brother had a photo of their family framed in his laboratory, one Natsu used to glance at just enough times to not forget how his parents had looked like. He might’ve been one or two years old when the picture was taken, so perhaps it would also remind him what strange creatures these children were like.

Though, as they passed by the abandoned playground, a strange flash of sadness swept over his heart. It was always so haunting to remember he might never actually see a living child again. Unless the Combine would be driven off Earth, his generation would be the last one there’d ever be.

And in the speakers, the speech went ever on.

“…Instinct has just become aware of its irrelevance, and like a cornered beast, it will not go down without a bloody fight. Instinct would inflict a fatal injury on our species. Instinct creates its own oppressors, and bids us rise up against them. Instinct tells us that the unknown is a threat, rather than an opportunity. Instinct slyly and covertly compels us away from change and progress. Instinct, therefore, must be expunged. It must be fought tooth and nail, beginning with the basest of human urges: the urge to reproduce.”

“Come to think of it,” Gray spoke suddenly, as if he had been lost in thought for a long while, “that if the suppression field actually suppressed boners, half of the population would be very encouraged to fight back the Combine.”

Natsu chuckled. “That’s fucking terrifying.”

“Like, it isn’t as bad as it is now. The field might’ve suppressed the urge to reproduce, but not the urge to fuck. And we actually benefit from it,” Gray said, and though Natsu couldn’t see his face behind the CP’s helmet, he knew Gray was grinning. “Yeah, sooner or later our race is gonna go extinct, but at least we can rail bareback without a worry until then.”

Cringing, Natsu slammed his palm on his goggles, dragging his fingers down the mask’s respirator. “Doesn’t it get a bit claustrophobic at the base when you’re railing at least three girls at the same time?”

“I don’t know. Does it? At least I can’t get all of them pregnant at the same time. That would be slightly awkward.”

“I adore your optimism, my friend, but I think you’re gonna end up with gonorrhea at that rate.”

Gray laughed, his voice still distorted by the helmet’s vocoder. “Rather that than a baby. Or worse, many babies,” he said and thought for a moment. “Maybe the vortigaunts would write some poetry about it. ‘Roses are red. Violets are blue. Went to the pizzeria, came back with gonorrhea…’”

Natsu tried not to laugh, but failed. This thing he adored about Gray: no matter how dark the circumstances were, he could always rip some humour out of it. While they spoke, they missed lines from the dragging speech. The last part started, only so that the record could play again right after it would finish.

“We should thank our benefactors for giving us respite from this overpowering force. They have thrown a switch and exorcised our demons in a single stroke. They have given us the strength we never could have summoned to overcome this compulsion. They have given us purpose. They have turned our eyes toward the stars.”

A moment’s silence fell upon those words. When the record began from the start, they were so far they could only hear it muffled in the distance. Natsu always chuckled at how wrong the Combine was. Thrown a switch and exorcised our demons in a single stroke? If they truly believed so, they knew absolutely nothing about human nature. At least Gray wasn’t given a crumb of that strength to overcome this compulsion – but of himself, Natsu wasn’t so sure.

Not anymore.

They arrived at the end of the alley between the buildings, reaching a path towards the canal below the streets. A small, orange λ, lambda badge, had been painted on the concrete wall to indicate the Resistance’s presence in this area. “Now that we’re talking about girls, you mentioned things with Lisanna are getting complicated,” Gray said quietly. “I thought you got along well, but isn’t it working?”

Natsu shrugged. “Never probably did, to be honest.” His shoulders tensed as he grew silent, hoping Gray would stop talking about this. But as the dark-haired man knit his brows in wonder, Natsu knew he wouldn’t hear the end of it anytime soon. “Damn man, I just don’t know. Maybe it used to. Maybe I used to like being with her, but it’s… starting to feel like I signed up for something I don’t want to be in.”

“Signed up?” Gray echoed. “So, she’s your girlfriend for real now and you didn’t tell me?”

“Nope. We aren’t in any relationship,” Natsu cut him off, struggling to find an explanation for a thing he hadn’t figured out either. Nervously he glanced around as they climbed down the narrow path between the abandoned buildings, leading towards the rails. “But, eh, she probably wishes we were. She’s liking me a lot. Too much, I guess.”

“And how’s that a bad thing? She’s a pretty lass. Strong as hell. She’s gonna be an amazing fighter when she’s through the training,” Gray said. “I think it’s gonna get less complicated when you’re not the one training her. Couples are never put on the same team, you know. Some time apart would –“

“Yeah, I know. But I’m just not feeling it. Think it’s better to end things before it becomes anything more serious, but shit, I don’t want to break her heart.”

“The same way Erza broke yours?”

“She didn’t, damn you,” Natsu cursed, lowering his voice as he swiftly changed the topic. “Besides, if I’d break Lisanna’s heart, her sister would kill me.” 

“I couldn’t agree more,” Gray chuckled. “Mirajane can be scary as fuck if you mess with her siblings.” Then he remained silent for a while, as if reminiscing the time he went into a bloody brawl with Elfman. “Damn, you’re fucked.”

“I know, right?” he groaned, crunching his brow. “If there would be a clean and easy way to just end this, it would be fucking great.”

“I’m afraid there isn’t. Even the world doesn’t end clean and easy, it keeps lingering for damn decades,” Gray said. “But anyway, I hope you’ll figure out whatever you have going on. Even if it doesn’t work with her, we’ve still gotta cling on to the human feelings we have left. We all might be sterile by now, but we’ll still love each other. The Combine can’t take that away from us.”

Natsu shrugged, giving his fellow soldier a slight grin. Somehow though, he had a feeling this thing with Lisanna wouldn’t linger as long as the world did after its dying blows. Sooner or later, this bright-eyed girl would notice what he had become – or if she had already noticed, she’d finally admit it: the toll this life would take on a man.

“I feel like it already has.”

As Gray looked at him in silence, Natsu realised what he had said. The words had slipped from his mouth without much thought. He turned his eyes to the path ahead – they were soon arriving at the railway yard, and they’d better remain quiet.

“Bro?” Gray whispered. “Is everything okay? Like, really okay?”

Natsu replied with a nod. “Yeah,” he said then, but knew Gray did not believe it. “Everything is just okay.”

If Gray said something, his voice got buried under the blast of a horn, a distinctive bellow to announce the departure of another razor train. They stepped from the shadowed alley into the light and waited behind the fence as the train sped by, fast out of the city, possibly heading into Nova Prospekt. Of course, everything is okay, Natsu thought, somehow sensing Gray felt the same. We are not the ones on that train. We are that lucky.

When the train had passed, they climbed over the fence and jumped down, quickly running over the steel rails into the other side of the yard. As the trains were fully automatized and loaded in the station further away, no Combine security was present in this area. Still, they hurried into the underground tunnel ahead and wasted no time threading through it. It led them to the other half of the railway yard, yet this time, they headed down the wastewater canal.

Here, the Route Kanal, the underground railroad into Black Mesa East, began.

This time of the year, the waters were low, making it easy to access safe paths. Things were different in the spring – in the worst years, all canals were flooded to the top, and no citizens could be saved this way, but that had been long ago. As the Combine kept tapping away Earth’s water resources, the drought that now reigned these canals was the Resistance’s advantage. One had to see the bright side in times like these, after all.

Down the ladders they went, jumping into a small path that framed the water below, which was now mostly toxic waste. Too many times had Gray threatened to throw Natsu into the murky waters, and equally often had Natsu promised to kill him if he did so. But this time, Gray was dead silent. Neither of them said a word until they made it to the large, red box car ahead of them. Natsu climbed onto its roof and knocked a few times on the hatch door.

“Dragneel and Fullbuster coming in,” he said, then pulled aside the metal shield, and dropped into the box. Gray followed, hanging on the edge with one hand as he closed the hatch after him. They took off their helmets, shoving their black scarves and Resistance emblazons. Here in the underground railroad, wearing full CP outfits meant getting shot without mercy. “Seen Cana and Loke pass by?”

In the cosy corner of the container, there stood a fair-haired man, clad in black Resistance armour. Lyon was his name, an old friend of Gray’s – yet those who weren’t on any good terms nowadays. In turns with few others, Lyon guarded this station and lived here for days at the time. A large map of the canal system covered the wall behind him. “Yeah, they passed here with a group of citizens a moment ago. They said they’d wait for you at Station 12,” Lyon told with a worried look on his face. “You ran into some trouble?”

“Civil Protection raided the block, but that was nothing we couldn’t handle. We sent Cana and Loke ahead of us here, as they probably told,” Gray answered, gazing at the vortigaunt standing next to Lyon. The creature was trying to fix the radio which had lost signal and paid them no attention. “You having problems as well?”

Lyon shrugged. “The radio is being a piece of shit as always. We lost connection to other stations about an hour ago, but Gary is trying to fix it.”

Natsu chuckled by himself. The vortigaunt’s name most likely wasn’t Gary, but most often their real vortigese names were too difficult for humans to pronounce. The sight of vortigaunts always made him shudder, even though they had been their allies for years now. Such wasn’t the case in the initial days when these hostile, electricity-shooting aliens had flooded the halls of Black Mesa. Now, as he watched the green-brown-skinned creature struggling with a broken radio with its three arms, he could sympathize them. The vortigaunts had once been slaves in Xen, lost and confused as they spawned on Earth during the Resonance Cascade.

Then, the vortigaunt turned its head, adorned by a large red eye, towards them. “There’s a disturbance in the vortessence. A deep mystery,” it spoke fluently, but with its bizarre accent. “No deeper than the void itself.”

Gray nodded, holding back a smile. “Seems like this day is full of these deep mysteries. Hope you’ll solve them somehow.”

The vortigaunt bowed and extended its middle arm towards them, clenching its long claws. “As do you. Please, accept this charge as a gift for the rest of your journey.”

Then, a jolt of energy floated from the vortigaunt’s hand, passed the air, and reached Natsu’s head. The tingling electricity sent shivers down his spine as the charge spread, first attaching to the metallic dots on his temple, then fully loading the electric parts of his Combine armour. Then the vortigaunt released another bolt, charging Gray’s BCI and suit as well. The man shuddered, making Natsu smile. Gray never seemed to get used to this.

As Natsu’s interface was again in full charge, he realised the disturbances with his feelings earlier today might’ve been a symptom of running on low power. His BCI had never run out of charge, for it drained energy from Combine’s outlets as well as receiving jolts of vortigaunt’s electricity. But sometimes, if he went too long without charging his system, it started running slow and laggy. Now, it felt like magic – all noise in his head went dead silent, like a raging sea had calmed into perfect still.

A few years back, Natsu had felt the same when the interface was first installed. As he had woken up from the anaesthesia in his brother’s laboratory, everything had been… different. For all his life there had been dozens of radio channels open in his brain at once, and then there was finally peace. If he hadn’t known the technology was counterfeited from the Combine, he would’ve fallen in love with it. But there was always this strange aftertaste in the flawlessness, some nagging sounds that always reminded him, you’re now the same as your enemies.  

“Thank you, Gary,” Natsu said to the vortigaunt. “We’ll be on our way. Please report to Station 12 and Black Mesa East when you get the radio to work, and if you discovered what caused the disturbance.”

Lyon nodded to him and slid open the door on the container’s side wall. The iron bars in the canal’s gate had been broken, allowing them to proceed into the closed underground sections by foot. “Good luck,” he said, and stepped out of the way. “Be careful out there.”

“Always. Stay safe,” Gray said nonchalantly as he followed Natsu out of the car box. When the door was closed behind them, Gray sighed heavily. “Damn, I can barely stand that fucker’s face for two seconds.”

Here, after the first checkpost, the road truly began. Despite its name, the underground railroad had no rails, no trains, only concrete paths that lead through the canals. Over the years, the Resistance had worked to build makeshift bridges out of rubble, planks and cement blocks, over the toxic waste below. Several tunnels and pentices protected them from plain sight – there was always a shelter to hide into if the Combine hunter-choppers flew over them.

After today’s ordeals in the city, it felt great to be finally safe.

“You were surprisingly kind this check-in,” Natsu chuckled, and attached the helmet to the strap on his back, taking off the machine gun in exchange. He let it rest in his arms as he took steps forward on the path of concrete, gazing into the underpass ceiling. If he’d see a barnacle, he’d shoot it – having one of those nasty things almost strangle Gray yesterday had been too much. “He’s still salty because you fucked his girlfriend like half a year ago?”

“Of course. He’s jealous of my dick,” Gray answered with a grin and reached for the cigarette he had tucked behind his ear earlier this morning. He extended his hand towards Natsu, a wordless signal for fire. Natsu rolled his eyes and tossed his lighter to him, realising he was also dying for a smoke. Swiftly, Gray ignited his cigarette and threw the lighter back to Natsu. “Well, if I were him, I’d be jealous too. My dick’s so big it can distort time and space.”

“Yeah, even black holes move towards your huge dick,” Natsu mocked with a suffocated laugh as he lit a cigarette of his own, inhaling the smoke as he put the pack and lighter back into his pockets. Through the grey clouds, the sun was beginning to shine, rays of light descending through the holes in the concrete ceiling. “Got something else to brag about on this beautiful morning?”

“I ain’t bragging, baby, it’s the truth,” Gray said and smirked. He kept the burning cigarette between his lips and took off the small radiophone from his belt. He extended the antenna and pressed the button, trying to get connected to Loke. Only static echoed from the speaker. “It’s fucking blank. Seems like my dick distorts radio connections too.”

Natsu wanted to chuckle, but this wasn’t funny anymore. He exhaled a cloud of smoke, gazing at the static in silence as a serious frown formed on his forehead. Gray turned the channel selection knobs, but no connection was found. “It’s weird,” he mumbled. “Let's not keep them waiting any longer.”

Gray kept pressing on and off the radio, as if making a beat on the static noise, grinning by himself. Natsu held back a frustrated sigh. As he knew, Gray always acted like this whenever he was nervous – not even the BCI had managed to rid that trait of him. Perhaps by a miracle, it hadn’t got him killed yet. A momentary melancholy swept past Natsu. He could remember being like this, too, long before technology changed him. 

Slowly, Natsu raised his gaze upwards, to the rays of light that bled through the cracks. And hidden by them, there was a barnacle attached to the ceiling, right above Gray – a xenian creature, no more than a large mouth full of sharp teeth. The alien’s long, sticky tongue was descending towards the man, hidden by the blinding light. For a moment Natsu felt tempted to let it snare Gray and teach him a lesson, but as the leader of his team, he had duties to keep.

Quickly, Natsu lifted his gun, aimed at the barnacle and opened fire. Gray flinched at the sudden noise and leapt backwards with a terrified shriek. With a few shots the alien was dead, and a powerful spew followed instantly. The barnacle turned inside out and disgorged the skulls, bones, and other remains of recently consumed victims – thank god the bones were too small to belong to a human – along with gallons of green bile. They splattered right next to Gray, and as the limp dead alien’s limp tongue retracted and hung in the air, he nearly gagged.

“Focus, you goddamn idiot,” Natsu mumbled and lowered his gun, then let it hang on his shoulder as he took the cigarette from his mouth. “Let’s go.”

Being safe was just an illusion, as they were both reminded. __________________________________________________________

On their way to Station 12, Gray kept frequently checking whether the radio had begun working, but it never did. It wasn’t completely unusual for the radios to fail, but now, an unyielding worry kept growing in their guts. Even Gray’s playfulness withered and his jokes went quiet, and the silence around them started to feel more and more like a trap. Keeping their guns close, they threaded through the familiar pathways, seeing no signs of the rest of the team. It was, most often, a good sign – corpses in the canal would be far worse than full absence.

They walked fast amongst the rubble. Over the years, lots of buildings had collapsed, even some trains from the rails above had fallen into the canal’s bottom. The Combine cared little about reconstructing whatever was broken – to them, the canal was only a part of the endless wasteland outside City 17, a landfill. But this crumbling debris, the box cars and concrete tunnels and corridors, were the lifeline for the Resistance. The chaos was their maze, a perfect shelter to sneak out of the city, right under Combine’s nose.

Nearing the station, Natsu noticed a few dead headcrabs on the mud puddle. Their yellow blood mixed with the water as their long limbs sprawled out. Natsu hated these creatures. This xenian race of omnivorous parasites had gotten its name from its unique way of choosing and controlling its victims. About the size of a pumpkin, the headcrab latched onto human head with its enormous mouth, chewed its way into the victim’s brain, and then gained full access to the human’s motor functions by unknown means. Natsu had seen the zombies headcrabs could turn humans into, and the sight never stopped haunting him. Gladly, Cana and Loke had killed them before they gained any more victims.

“You know, it still disgusts me that your brother has a headhumper as a freaking pet,” Gray said, gazing at the dead headcrab. “Zeref even named it, didn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Natsu said, cringing. “He calls it Lamarr. Says it’s de-beaked and completely harmless and likes eating watermelons… I call it bullshit.” Then he turned his eyes away from the creature. “Nobody really knows what goes through my brother’s mind with these experiments of his.”

Gray climbed over the part of the broken steel fence. “Sometimes I wonder what he’s doing in this lab all day long, but then I realise that I don’t wanna know,” he said. “Have you heard of the teleport project? It would be much appreciated if he’d finally succeed at that. We wouldn’t have to thread this shitpath every damn week.”

Natsu shrugged and followed Gray to the other side of the fence, walking into shadows towards the brighter space where Station 12 was located. “That would indeed be great, but from what I’ve last heard, there’s been no breakthrough yet. Not having a teleport is better than a broken teleport.”

“Yeah,” Gray said, shuddering. “I’m still having nightmares about that cat.”

“Geez, don’t mention it.”

Gray was about to say something, but Natsu silenced him by lifting his arm. The station – the abandoned warehouse by the sewers, fenced and guarded, was eerily quiet. Usually, by now, they were supposed to be welcomed by someone. There was always a team keeping the station, but now, it seemed there were none.

“Don’t like the looks of this,” Natsu whispered, carefully scanning the environment as they walked closer to the wall. “Can you test your radio again? We’ve gotta get contact inside and see what’s going on.”

Gray nodded and took out the radiophone, pressing the buttons again. Out of the static, a faint voice could be heard. It’s finally working. They both flinched and crouched closer to the speaker.   

“We don’t… what are you…don’t shoot! What are you doing? Please, don’t hurt me! Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! Don’t –“

The transmission ended with the abrupt roar of the machine guns. Cold shivers ran down Natsu’s spine – the radio went silent, but from the cellar of the station, he could hear the screams and the gunfire. Upon an impulse, he aimed to run straight in, but Gray caught him by the collar of his suit and held him still.

“Station 12, come in. Station 12, do you read?” Gray shouted to the radio.

“This is Station 8!” responded someone from the channel. The connection was weak and frail, words barely recognisable. “We heard 12 go down and out. Surgical strike units are targeting railway stations. Repeat, civil protection is coming down on underground stations! We are already getting refugees from 9 and outlying! Looks like we’re –“

Then, the voice was cut again – and from there, Natsu’s mind went fully blank. A snap of the synapse, and now it was fucking war.

The Resistance was under direct attack.

Natsu caught Gray’s radio and hissed in. “Station 8, do you copy? Station 8, are you there?” He bit hard into his lip and threw his fist in frustration. “Fucking hell, I can’t believe this!” Then he pulled on Gray, forcing him to his feet. Quickly, Natsu took out his resistance scarf, wrapped it around his arm and put the helmet back on his head – in a situation like this, friendly fire was better than a bullet to the head from CP. “Come on, let’s go!”

They ran into the sideway stairs, down into the cellar and kicked open the door. A strong scent of blood and gunfire flooded in, a terror that had just been released and now grown deadly silent. With the night-vision turned on, Natsu saw the bodies in the darkness – all lined up against the wall, shot from behind. There were eight of them.

And Natsu knew all their faces.

The rage did not blind him. It never did. So fast he found the Combine soldiers, turned his gun at them, and shot. The half-second’s confusion he gained by wearing their uniform was enough to get them killed, for they saw not the resistance badge in his arm, not before their eyes were shut forever. Gray aimed for the soldier climbing on the ladder to the upper level, pressed down the trigger, and then the cop’s pierced body dropped to the ground as the blood began to spread below him.

There had to be more of them.

Natsu scanned through the shadows while Gray ran towards the ladder, hearing distant chatter from upstairs, voices distorted by vocoders. Natsu kept cursing as he crouched by the bodies to check if any of them was still alive, if they could be saved somehow, but his hopes withered fast. Just a few hours ago Natsu had promised them a better life, and now the CP’s pulse rifles had torn them to shreds.

But Cana and Loke weren’t among the corpses.

Natsu stood up, mumbling silent apologies to the victims while he stole one last glance around, running after Gray. All supplies in the cellar chamber were thrown over and destroyed, even the radio was shot to pieces. There had been beds, shelves full of preserved food and medicines and ammo, but now it was all coated in blood and gasoline – and right then Natsu realised they had to get out of there immediately.

On the second floor, several flatlines rang as Gray shot the CP officers to their deaths. Natsu jumped the ladder, keeping his gun in his left hand, pointing upwards as his finger rested on the trigger. A faint sound of a rolling bottle approached him, and before he fully recognised it, the firebomb dropped from the hatch door right past him. It shattered on the floor below, each sound buried under the roaring flames as the burning gasoline engulfed the cellar.

Cursing, Natsu hurried up as fire licked his boots. He jumped out off the ladder to the upper floor and kicked the hatch closed. For this open moment, Gray kept him covered, and Natsu showed his gratitude by stepping to his side and opening fire towards the CPs lined up in stations across the room.

“Alright, which one of you fuckers tried to burn me alive!?” Natsu shouted through his vocoder. “No matter, you are all fucking dead, you pigs!”

Amongst the dead officers, there lay blue-suited Resistance members on the floor, executed in the same manner as the group of citizens in the basement – these folks had let them pass through the station yesterday, and now they were gone. Yet Natsu couldn’t grieve them until the Combine unit was destroyed and the situation stabilized, which he knew wouldn’t happen anytime soon.

As most of the CP’s fell lifeless to the ground, Gray shot directly at the last living officer’s rifle, tearing the gun out of his hands. He marched to the man, fired a few bullets into his feet, then kicked him down and caught him by the neck. “Where are two of our buddies? The brown-haired woman and the ginger man? Tell me!”

The CP didn’t say a word. He reached for the grenade on his belt, but Gray shot him in the arm. “They aren’t here!” Gray shouted. “How’d you find out about us? It ain’t no fucking coincidence that the same day you raid us in the city, you wound up fucking here –“

“Gray,” Natsu muttered, walking across the room, listening closely to the humming sound from above. “Do you hear that?”

Gray lifted his head, and instantly realised what Natsu was talking about. He mumbled a curse, shot the enemy in the neck, and hurried up to the stairs, to the roof. The humming grew into a deafening noise as they stepped outside.

Natsu raised his gaze up. A Combine’s dropship ascended towards the sky, closing its carriage door, and covering the sun as it went. Natsu pulled Gray into the cover of concrete blocks as the ship opened fire towards them, pulse bullets flying right past where they had stood. Natsu glanced through the roof but saw no bodies, right then knowing where Loke and Cana were.

They were on the ship.

Unable to say a word, Natsu and Gray watched as the dropship flew out of the canal, disappearing behind the tall buildings framing the area. The Combine rarely used these ships for combat, only for transporting troops – but as Natsu heard another chopping sound approaching, he knew they were only sending in whatever would kill them.

He could only steal a glance at the overflying hunter-chopper before the bombs unfurled.  

// December 5th, Tuesday, 5:45 PM. Black Mesa East. //

After those words, Natsu fell quiet. His cigarette had burned out, but he still held its remains between his fingers, blankly staring at the table in front of him.

“So, this is where Gray was injured?”

“No,” Natsu said, then realised he was lying. Though his memories of the events were sharp, he struggled to speak them out. “Or, well, he got a shell shard into his arm at Station 12, so yes, he was first injured at station 12.”

“Then where did he receive those bullet wounds?”

“Station 8.”

“What happened?”

Then, Natsu reached for another cigarette. Leader Makarov sighed, crossing his arms on his chest. Hell, what should I even say? Natsu thought as the silence stretched on. How can I tell them? He ignited the smoke, inhaled it, yet found absolutely no relief. They waited for his answer, but there were no words to describe the events of Station 8. Not now, not yet.

“I think we can get to that a bit later,” Erza said then, understanding that when Natsu went silent, things were really bad. “What concerns me the most is what happened to Loke and Cana. Are you sure they were taken into the dropship?”

Natsu shrugged. “I couldn’t see them getting in. Their radio signals were also gone. But I’m sure if they were taken, they were taken alive.” He let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his aching forehead. “But for them, it’s probably worse.”

“Indeed. The Combine needs information. And they have their way of getting it,” Erza replied. “But… I wish I didn’t have to say this, but this all seems that somebody ratted on us. If there’s no sign of Cana and Loke, then –“

“It’s no fucking way it was them. I trust them with my life,” Natsu cut her off. “It’s gotta be that ninth citizen we were supposed to rescue. That black-haired woman. She heard too much of our plans, and then gave us into the Combine.”

“Then Cana and Loke made a mistake trusting that citizen. That’s bad news for the whole rebellion.”

Natsu glanced at Makarov. Sadness glimmered in his dark eyes. So far, Makarov had chosen to trust humanity – to trust citizens –  to fight united against the Combine. Everyone who believed in Earth’s freedom was an addition to the rebellion, no matter if they became a fighter or just a passive supporter. Even those who didn’t believe in their goals never wanted to hurt them. Now, somebody did – and for their trust, they had to pay with blood.        

“Do you know the woman’s name?” Erza asked.

Natsu knit his brows. “One of the other citizens called her Minerva, but I’m not sure if that’s her real name. If she’s an infiltrator, it probably isn’t. She behaved like a normal citizen before she suddenly disappeared. At least I didn’t notice something was off.”

Makarov nodded. “Good thing is that Black Mesa East isn’t bombed to the ground yet. If they knew about our base, they would’ve aimed here first instead of destroying stations of our underground railroad,” he said. “But the bad thing is that they’re now aware of the railroad. You sent an evacuation code to everyone in the other stations?”

“Yes. All posts will be abandoned to avoid further casualties.”

“We’ve already received refugees from the closest stations,” Erza said. “We’ll figure out what to do with them, but for now, the railroad is closed. The vortigaunts are working extra hard to conceal all signals of the base to ensure that we’ll stay under the radar. For now, we are safe, but we’ll remain cautious.”

Slowly, Natsu inhaled the smoke, failing to trust Erza’s words. Even if the Combine would follow their tracks, they’d be stopped by the doorstep. Finding the base without knowing where to go was nearly impossible, and getting in was even harder. But they have Cana and Loke, Natsu was grimly reminded. If they break in the hands of the Combine, then things it’ll be really bad.     

Makarov seemed to have the same thought. “We’ll be launching a rescue operation for our captured comrades. It’s most likely they’ll be taken to Nova Prospekt,” the leader said, making Natsu shudder. “Tomorrow we’ll gather a team and send them in. It’s crucial for our survival that they’re rescued… or silenced, as soon as possible.”

“Will I be going?” Natsu asked. Great, if I’d even get to wash off the blood before being sent on another round, that would be nice. But the way Makarov said they had to be silenced wrenched his guts. I just don’t want to kill any more comrades, fucking damn it.

“No,” Makarov said. “We have other plans for you.”

Natsu squeezed his eyes shut, instantly knowing this would be worse.

“Well, what is it?”

“We’ll let you know as soon as the report is done,” Erza said. “I’m sorry, but we need to know what happened at Station 8.”

Lowering his gaze at the table, Natsu let his smoke burn on its own. Never before had he had issues giving reports, but now, he froze. I did what I must, he thought, still remembering the frightened screams before he pulled the trigger. I can’t help a casualty if I become a casualty, that’s the rule, but fuck, how can I fucking tell them?  

“I had to kill a citizen.”

Natsu brought the cigarette back to his lips as Makarov’s and Erza’s eyes shot into him. In disbelief, they stared at him, wondering if they’d heard right. But yes, they did.

“Here’s how it happened.” __________________________________________________________

// December 5th, Tuesday, 5:46 PM. City 17. //

It happened so fast.

As he lay hiding in the sewer tunnel, holding a gun tight against his chest, he still struggled to understand what was going on. What happened to the world he’d known? Who were these strange soldiers in white armour and gas masks hunting him for not having an ID to show? Why was his former employer speaking on the massive screens, mumbling something about our benefactors?   

Just how many years had passed since he had last walked on Earth?

Yet still, he held onto the gun he’d managed to steal. Next, he’d need armour – if he’d get his old hazard suit from Black Mesa, that would also be great, but perhaps it was too much to hope for. Perhaps there’d be a dead soldier lying somewhere he could borrow some equipment from, but before that, he didn’t have a chance of surviving in this strange, changed world. He had to figure it out. He had no other choice.

Then, he had to find his sons.

[caiusmajor]

Trick or treat! (Early but I wanna play)

Here's an old TF G1 S3 WIP. ETA: No fertile or viable eggs are harmed in this wip.

"Does he eat your eggs?" Cyclonus asked, as if it were a normal question.

And maybe it was. Ultra Magnus didn't make a habit of talking to Decepticons. Not like this, anyway, just sitting together and talking while they waited for Cyclonus' self-repair to work enough for them to get off this asteroid.

And it wasn't weird exactly that Cyclonus was thinking of food, not the way he'd bolted down Magnus' emergency energon stores and was still licking at his own lips and claws in the hopes that some more remained there.

Decepticons were hungry. That was normal, even if nothing else about Cyclonus was normal for a Decepticon.

Cyclonus was still looking at Ultra Magnus as though he expected an answer. Magnus played the question back in his processor. "He" would usually be Galvatron, but since Cyclonus was asking about him, he probably meant -- "Rodimus Prime?" Ultra Magnus asked. "Why?"

Magnus could only picture the times Rodimus -- well, Hot Rod, really -- had made earth animal eggs for Daniel. It had been a bit of a mess but enough of them had come out edible for the tiny boy.

"Of course," Cyclonus said. "Who else? You wouldn't…." Cyclonus gave Magnus a sidelong look, the look he got when he seemed to remember that a warrior Magnus might be, he was still an Autobot "-- distribute them to the troops?" Cyclonus sounded extremely doubtful about this idea. "…Give them to the humans?"

Ultra Magnus shivered. He didn't think Cyclonus was referring to eggs laid by earth creatures, or even by the non-sentient fauna of Cybertron or Chaar. "I don't lay eggs." Hadn't in a long time, anyway. That part of his frame had been deactivated and removed early in the Great War.

But then, Cyclonus hadn't lived through the war. As mature as he seemed, Cyclonus was younger than Daniel.

"Oh." Cyclonus looked Ultra Magnus over, searchingly. "Do Autobots just not? Or does your Lord not fertilize you enough?"

"No!" Magnus sputtered. "I -- Rodimus -- he's not a Lord, Cyclonus, stop calling him that." He didn't even know where to start with Cyclonus' other assumptions about his relationship with the Prime. Didn't want to start, since he's sure it would result in getting way more information than he needed about Cyclonus' relationship with Galvatron.

"Your Prime," Cyclonus said, in a tone that suggested he might have stern words with the Prime in question about not fertilizing Ultra Magnus enough, or whatever else it was that Cyclonus believed a proper leader should be doing. "Why don't you lay eggs? I do. Scourge does. Sweep eggs are pretty good, but Galvatron says he likes mine even better," Cyclonus sat up taller and preened a little, clearly proud of producing delicious eggs.

"I --" Magnus was once again at a loss. "I had that turned off, millions of years ago. I can show you the coding if you like, it's not difficult to turn it off temporarily, although you'd need a medic for the surgery to make it permanent."

Cyclonus stared at him, first in horror, than in pity. His optics focused on Magnus' crotch in a way that made Magnus decidedly uncomfortable. "No! I'm sure you had a good reason for allowing that to happen, but never." Cyclonus' thighs pressed together hard enough to send soundwaves even through the asteroid's negligible atmosphere.

"It doesn't interfere with functioning," Magnus said defensively, and felt ridiculous. He might as well tell Cyclonus his spike worked just fine, thank you!

Cyclonus gave him a pitying look and stretched out his wings carefully. "I should be able to get us to the nearest neutral planet now." He backed away from Magnus a few yards and transformed into spacejet mode -- not the large jet mode he used to carry Galvatron, the mode that was about the same as Cyclonus' root mode. "Get on, hold tight, and don't try to open the cockpit." Cyclonus commanded.

"Thank you for the lift," Magnus said as he settled himself lying on top of Cyclonus' body, holding on as firmly as he could.

"A fair exchange for the energon," Cyclonus replied, and then there was nothing but engines and the vastness of space.

*****

"Any intelligence?" Rodimus asked.

Ultra Magnus shook his head. "Nothing useful. Cyclonus was willing to carrying me off the asteroid even after he'd taken my energon, but that kind of honor never lasts long when he's with the others."

Rodimus sighed. "With Galvatron, you mean."

Magnus shrugged. "He's got to save face with the other Decepticons, but yes, Galvatron is always the higher priority where Cyclonus is concerned." He looked down and away, awkwardly.

"Anything else?" Rodimus spoke softly, in that 'asking as a friend, not a Prime' voice he'd been learning to use lately.

Magnus shrugged again, awkward. It wasn't as though Cyclonus would have told him something and expected him to conceal it from Rodimus. "He's been producing eggs regularly. Scourge, too, and maybe also the rest of the Sweeps.

"Eggs?" Rodimus' optics had gone bright and he was leaning closer to Ultra Magnus. "We haven't had any reports of Decepticon hatchlings…." Rodimus looked sad, now, and Ultra Magnus started to regret having brought it up. He knew how Rodimus was about children -- any sort of children.

"Uh, yeah. Galvatron's been eating the eggs, apparently. Well, Cyclonus', Cyclonus mentioned he'd eaten some of Scourges -- you know how hungry the Decepticons are." Magnus shifted uncomfortably. He wasn't equipped for this sort of conversation, neither of them were, but they were the ones who had lived.

Rodimus looked stricken, one hand on his own belly, right where his egg chamber would have been -- would be? Magnus wasn't sure if Hot Rod had had the surgery, and of course Rodimus Prime was another matter -- his optics a wetter shade of blue. "They're eating eggs?"

Magnus reached out an arm awkwardly, halfway between offering a hug and trying to pat the Prime on the shoulder. He really wasn't equipped for this. "Yes. They almost certainly don't have the energy to hatch them anyway, never mind the energon and materials necessary to raise them up to Decepticon warriors." Because that was what they would be, of course. Magnus couldn't forget that any more than Rodimus could avoid picturing inert eggs as cute babies. It was good the Decepticons lacked the resources to reproduce themselves. "I offered Cyclonus the suppresant code."

"Did he take it?" Rodimus stepped forward into Magnus' half-embrace. Magnus tried to pat Rodimus' back in a reassuring manner -- he was never quite sure whether to try to put his hand on the spoiler or under it, or maybe below it? He settled for petting carefully at the bottom of the center shaft.

"No, he refused." Magnus watched carefully for Rodimus' reaction, but it was hard to tell how he took this piece of information. The Prime still seemed distressed. He patted Rodimus' back some more. "I'm not sure if Cyclonus understands what an egg is, really, other than something tasty to give Galvatron."

Rodimus laughed in the bitter way he did these days. He wrapped his arms around Magnus briefly, patted him on the back in return, and then stepped back out of reach, relieving Magnus of the connundrum of where to put his hands. "Maybe not. I can't imagine Unicron -- or any of the 'Cons -- ever gave him the 'your reproductive system and you' talk. Probably only ever got manuals for his weapons."

Magnus made himself chuckle -- it wasn't funny that Cyclonus had been deprived that way, but he knew when Rodimus was trying to lighten the mood.

Suddenly Rodimus asked, "Was he egg-heavy when you saw him?" All the sardonic humor was gone from his voice, the sad yearning back in force. Rodimus' hand had slid back to his belly, and his optics had slid down to look at Magnus' waist.

Magnus shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know, Rodimus. I'm not a medic, and I don't have a lot of experience with egg-heavy mechs."

"Of course, yeah. Just wondering." Rodimus' hand moved away from his belly and his optics moved back up to focus on Magnus' face. "Some of the Paradronians have hatchlings," he said, wistful. "But the parents don't like me being near them. Something about having blown up their planet." He laughed bitterly again.

"You saved them from the Decepticons, Rodimus!" Magnus said, earnestly. In this, at least, he felt he was on firmer ground. "You did what you had to do, they'll realize that and warm up to you soon I'm sure."

Rodimus smiled, sincere but still sad. "Thanks, Magnus. I wish I had your confidence in me." He backed away a bit more until he was leaning on his cluttered desk. "Anything else to report?"

"Not about Cyclonus, but I've got a few things to share about Karkas III."

When the Autobots had cleaned up after Unicron and found themselves in near-undisputed possession of Cybertron, Rodimus Prime had gone to First Aid for a full medical scan.

"I want you to look at my reproductive system," Rodimus said, once they were in a private room together. "Unicron only KNOWS what the Matrix may have done to it."

"Of course," First Aid plugged into his medical port and got to work.

Rodimus watched anxiously.

Rodimus couldn't stop thinking about Cyclonus' eggs. He'd lie alone in his berth at night, hand on his empty belly, thinking about all those eggs. Eggs growing inside Cyclonus, nourished and fertilized by Galvatron. Eggs that would never get to hatch, or grow up.

[ofhouseadama]

33 for the hand ask meme

33. bandaging the other’s hand and not quite letting go

After the adrenaline finishes burning through his system, he struggles to parse out his own exhaustion from the burning in his lumbar, from the raw ache of his burnt, bruised, and swollen hands. But there's still eleven hours to go before they reach the wormhole, and as soon as they can make contact with DS9, they're at war.

He's gotten them this far, he just needs to get them a little bit farther. Still, he cringes at this softness. This weakness. How many days, weeks, months did he spend in the Order running on even less sleep, functioning on significantly worse injuries, running critical missions with similar stakes? It used to thrill him.

Now, all Elim Garak knows is a bone weariness that comes from a rapidly crumbling sense of resiliency.

He barely notices when Bashir sits in the pilot's chair next to him, the runabout's first aid kit in hand.

"It's fine, Doctor. Worf needs your attention more than I do," he says, waving him off. Just barely through the grimy film of fatigue, he catches the hint of a smile on the Doctor's face. "What?"

He inclines his head. "I suppose there's a distinction between needing and wanting my attention, that Worf might need my attention and that you want it--"

"A bold proclamation, indeed."

But not an incorrect one. He's never not wanted Dr. Bashir's attention, even after the wire was deactivated. Sure, the endorphin high never reached the apogee of numbness and bliss as it did during the years where he was tripping the mechanism once, twice, three times a day -- but the feedback loop he gets from his interactions with Bashir has always been shamefully pleasant.

Humming, the Doctor leans back in his chair, giving him a wry grin. "But for the time being, Worf is asleep, and well-watched. And you, my dear Mr. Garak, work with your hands."

"Oh, they'll be alright," he demurs.

They won't be. In all likelihood, the pain will get worse as more and more of the nerve endings in his palms and fingers die. The heightened sensitivity and fine motor skills that Cardassians pride themselves in, the acuity and emotive gestures and hand presses and clasps that make so much of the silent parts of their speech will be dulled and possibly numbed for him forever. On the upside, it will finally allow him to use his own palm as a pincushion.

Dr. Bashir sighs, setting down his kit and holding out his own hands expectantly. "Let me see them. It's the least I can do, Garak. You got us out of there. Let me repay you in this one small way."

He dreads to appear weak. He dreads to appear vulnerable.

But... no one else is around. He can hear Martok snoring from their position on the helm.

"I suppose, if you feel you are in my debt..."

If he hesitates, it's only from forty-plus years of training to do so. Still, he allows the Doctor to take custody of his hands, and tries to quell the shiver that runs up his spine at the gentle, careful, exacting touch. No part of him has ever been so warmly cradled.

Brows furrowing, the Doctor touches the pad of his pointer finger to the center of his palm. Garak wonders if he knows how intimate a gesture that is, his jaw tensing as Bashir continues, tracing the lines of his hand, the meat of his thumb. It's unbearably tender.

"I don't have access to a dermal regenerator," he murmurs. "But I can clean these burns and the larger lacerations, dress the wounds until we can get back to a proper infirmary."

"If you insist," he answers, just barely managing to not stammer his reply.

The Doctor's head snaps up. "I do. I really, really, do."

And if Bashir's gentle grasp lingers after affixing the last of the medical gauze, neither of them note it out loud.

[agustdakasuga]

Reflection Of You | Chapter 3

Genre: Historical!AU, Timetraveller!AU/ Different Dimension, Romance

Pairing: SUGA x Reader, Yoongi x Reader

Characters: Normal!Reader, Idol!Suga, King!Yoongi, Guard!Seokjin, Guard!Jungkook, RoyalAdvisor!Namjoon, Servant!Jimin, Servant!Hoseok, Prince!Taehyung

Summary: Confirming you were dating the famous Min Suga of BTS, you knew you were bound to make some enemies. But what you didn’t expect was to be cursed, leading you to meet a cold-hearted, arrogant king that shares the same face as your rapper lover.  

Looks like you couldn’t deal with the negativity and the scary fans on your own. But you couldn’t bear to burden Yoongi further with it. 

Chapter warning(s): threatening words, death threats, name calling. Mentions of someone getting cursed through fantasy dark magic. Please do not take it seriously and only read at your own discretion.

Ever since the news, things have been... eventful. Most of the ARMY seemed accepting and supportive, most. Some ARMYs have found your social media accounts and were spreading it around. While some of the messages were nice, there were still some threatening ones. 

“Have you told hyung?” Taehyung asked. You jumped, the phone slipping out of your hands and onto the floor. Taehyung had come to go through some music with Yoongi and they were working in the room the whole day. 

“You scared me, Tae.” You bent down to pick up the device, tucking it into your pocket. 

“So are you?” Taehyung blinked. 

“Tell him what? Exactly.” You sighed, continuing with your cleaning chores of the kitchen. Taehyung stopped you, gripping your wrist, it was obvious that he wasn’t going to let this go. 

“You need to tell him. He can do something, or tell the company to do something.” Taehyung said. 

“Thanks for your concern, Tae. But I can handle a few young girls without having to involve Yoongi. I don’t want him blaming himself again. It’s just social media, I don’t need it. Besides, this has probably caused a lot of trouble for the company already, I’m not about to add on more.” You said softly, not wanting Yoongi to hear. 

“These aren’t a few young girls, noona. They’re crazy, violent. They aren’t ARMY, you know that.” Taehyung insisted. 

“Whatever it is. It’s nothing dangerous. If things get worse, then I’ll tell Yoongi.” 

“Tell me what?” Yoongi appeared. He blinked when he saw Taehyung gripping your wrist, you and him having such a hushed conversation, that apparently wasn’t hushed enough. 

“Nothing.” You muttered and pulled your wrist away. 

“What did you do?” Yoongi’s eyebrows furrowed. Taehyung shook his head, going to the fridge to get a bottle of juice before leaving the kitchen. 

“I’m fine, Yoongi. Nothing’s wrong, don’t worry.” You smiled, knowing that Yoongi was still genuinely concerned for you. Drying your hands, you walked up to him and kissed the furrowed eyebrows with a smile. 

“Take a break. We can continue cleaning later.” Yoongi held your hand. 

“I’m almost done.” You shrugged. Yoongi sighed, giving in to you. His hands moved to hold your waist as he leaned down to give you a kiss on the cheek. Squeezing your waist once more, he poured himself a cold coffee from the fridge and left to continue working with Taehyung. 

“Where was I...?” You turned to finish your cleaning. When you were done with the kitchen, you busied yourself by vacuuming the floor and dusting the shelves until the house was spotless. 

“All done.” You smiled, happy with yourself. You sat down on the couch, looking back at your phone. 

‘Why would oppa go for someone ugly like you?’

‘We know you’re just using him, whore. ’

‘You think we won’t find you?’

‘If BTS loses popularity, it’s all your fault. If only you died.’

With that, you decided to deactivate all your social media. You deleted all the apps from your phone, willing yourself not to think about it. Even if you acted unaffected, a part of you was creeped out by just how much these people can find out about you. Luckily, you had no family that they could track down and hurt as revenge. 

RINGGGG

“Hello? Geumjae oppa?” It was rare but not odd for Yoongi’s older brother to be calling you. He owned a nice cafe in Daegu, being a chef. 

“Hey, (y/n). Is Yoongi busy?” 

“He’s in the home studio, working with Taehyung. He must have silenced his phone. What’s up? Can I take a message?” You went to retrieve a notepad and pen just in case. 

“Oh... Don’t worry. It isn’t important, I’ll just call him. My parents told me what happened, and I read about it in the news, how is everything on your end?” 

“Manageable.” You replied shortly. 

“I understand. Even as his brother, I get some threats sometimes. Don’t take them to heart, alright? If it gets too much, you have to tell Yoongi. So the company can take action. Still, you should be careful if you go out. Maybe have someone follow you for now.” 

“I will, thanks oppa. It’s a little shocking how they managed to find me so quickly. We’re just laying low now. I don’t want to unnecessarily stress Yoongi out even more.” You said. 

“You’re always putting others before yourself, (y/n) ah. Oh, looks like I have to go. I’ll see you two when you come to Daegu.” 

“You can count on it! I’ll see you, oppa.” You chuckled and hung up. Since you got a little sweaty and dirty from cleaning, you went to take a shower. 

When you came out, you saw Yoongi sitting on the couch, sipping whiskey. Taehyung didn’t seem to be around anymore, his shoes from the doorway were gone too. 

“Tae went back?” You asked. Yoongi just grunted in reply. 

“What’s wrong? Why are you mad?” You stood at the end of the couch, putting your hands on your hips. 

“How long were you going to keep me in the dark? About the fans finding your social media and harassing you, sending you death threats. Or how about that your boss had put you on indefinite period of leave.” Yoongi spoke. There was so many emotions in his voice, betrayal, sadness, anger, frustration. You sighed, looking away. 

“Who told you? Tae?” 

“Taehyung knows?!” Yoongi raised his voice. 

“That’s what we were discussing earlier... In the kitchen. He saw my phone. Unintentionally, of course. But if it wasn’t Tae who told you, then who?” You asked. 

“That’s all you care about? Well if you must know, Geumjae hyung just called me to tell me that some fans showed up at his cafe and he saw the comments on your social media before you deleted them. As for your job, your boss told me when I sent an official BigHit letter about the situation.” Yoongi explained. 

“Those comments are just nothing but words. And with the job, I can just find another one. I can handle it, Yoons. It’s no big deal.” You spoke calmly, quite the opposite of him. 

“Stop saying you can handle it, (y/n)! Stop saying it’s no big deal! I... Ugh...” He held onto his head in frustration. 

“Then what do you want me to say?” You closed your eyes to take a deep breath. 

“I know you’re doing this so I don’t feel guilty or whatever but you saying it’s no big deal makes me feel worse! It feels like I can’t even do a proper job of protecting my girlfriend, that she feels the need to hide from me just because she thinks that I can’t take it.” He hissed. Now you knew he was just saying things he didn’t mean.

“Yoongi, you know that’s not true.” You crossed your arms. 

“It sure feels that way.” He replied. You bit your lip. knowing that speaking to him when he was in this state wouldn’t help the both of you. You would just end up losing your cool and screaming at him too. 

“Goodnight, Yoongi.” You turned around and went to the room. Before you closed the door, you heard the door to Yoongi’s studio slam shut. 

“Just great.” You sighed. After drying your hair, you put your moisturiser on and got ready for bed. 

In time like these, you just needed to give him space. It was known that Yoongi didn’t express emotions well so he often said things in a fit of anger but he really doesn’t mean it. 

3 am...

You hadn’t been able to sleep so you settled for a book that both Namjoon and Yoongi had recommended. The bedroom door slowly crept open. Yoongi stood there, teary eyed and red nosed. He looked at you with a slightly blank stare. You closed your book, standing from the bed to hug him. 

“I... I...” His whole body shook. 

“I can’t just sit... and wait for that dreaded call... that something happened to you. I can’t, (y/n). I’ll go crazy. I’m so f*cking scared.” He shook his head. You knew Yoongi was paranoid, he was always worrying about something. 

“It’ll be okay, Yoongi. You’re scaring yourself.” You said softly. 

“I can’t let you go.” 

“No one says you have to. I’ll always be right here, Yoons. It’ll take a lot for anyone to drive a wedge between us, I promise you.” You kissed his temple. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I know I should trust you more and shouldn’t have made you feel weak or useless. It’s just, I’m scared too. This is all new to me.” You continued. 

“We’ll get through this together.” He cupped your cheeks in his hands. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips against yours. You grabbed a tissue from your nightstand, gently wiping his eyes and nose. Yoongi stood still, sniffling ever so often. You threw the tissues away and laid with him. If possible, Yoongi held you closer to him than any other night. 

“Tell me about what you’re working on.” You changed the subject. Yoongi was always in the mood to talk about music. 

“Tae’s mixtape looks like it’s coming along well, he has come very far in terms of putting his own music together. I’m gonna start working on the songs I promised Jimin and Jin hyung. ” Yoongi said. 

“That sounds awesome.” You said encouragingly. 

“Really? It seems that all I talk about is music. I’m even using my break to work on it.” Yoongi scoffed at himself. 

“It’s your break, Yoons. You can do whatever you want with it. And I never get tired of listening to you talk about your work. You just sound so proud and confident when you do.” You confessed, blushing. 

“Are you blushing?!” Yoongi’s eyes widened. 

“Whaaaaaaat? I’m allowed to blush over my boyfriend. Geez. I didn’t think I would be confessing all my inner thoughts today.” You cleared your throat. Yoongi let out a soundless laugh, showing his genuine gummy smile, the one that you just love so much. 

“You’re too cute, aegi.” Yoongi stroked your hair. 

“Stop embarrassing me. I’m supposed to be the one to tease you, not the other way around.” You scrunched your nose, pulling away from his embrace to hide under the blanket.

“Okay okay, I’ll stop. Can you come out, please? I want to cuddle my girl as I sleep.” Yoongi persuaded. You slowly removed the blanket, letting Yoongi tuck you into the crook of his neck comfortably. 

-

As you and Yoongi were getting ready to head to Daegu, Yoongi was told to pick up his fan gifts from BigHit. All fan gifts are sent to BigHit for security checks before the boys can collect them and open them at home. Yoongi drove one of BigHit’s borrowed cars, which is a Hyundai SUV, considering they were the brand ambassadors. 

“Ready?” Yoongi asked, adjusting his bucket hat. 

“Yeah.” You pulled your mask up, carrying two cups of iced coffee. You handed one to Yoongi while you locked the front door. After that, Yoongi used his free hand to hold yours. 

“Should we have asked Sejin oppa to drive us?” You asked as Yoongi unlocked the car doors. 

“This car was checked and approved by BigHit. The windows are also tinted so they wouldn’t know it’s us. And we use the back entrance.” Yoongi informed. 

“Alright.” You got in. As you closed the door, Yoongi grabbed your hand, kissing the back of it. You smiled at him as he started the engine. You played music from your phone, ready to jam with him like you always do. 

“Ready?” He turned to you. You nodded and he drove out. 

“Now for a throwback.” You announced as you played ‘No More Dream’, much to Yoongi’s annoyance. You would play old BTS songs from time to time just to mess with him. 

“Aegi, please.” He groaned. 

“I want a big house, big cars and big rings.” You were too busy rapping his part to hear him. Yoongi burst out laughing, you rapping, especially to his songs, never failed to make him laugh. You were even throwing hand signs like he would do. 

“If you can’t beat them, join them.” Yoongi shook his head, joining you in the song. He took the vocal parts while you took the rapping parts. Hearing Yoongi try to reach high notes killed you. 

“To all the youngsters out there without dreams.” The two of you said Namjoon’s ending line together. 

“I can’t even believe we had fans back then.” Yoongi chuckled. 

“Hey, don’t shun the ARMY. They’ll love you no matter the era.” You scoffed with your arms crossed. You remember how Yoongi would come in after practice, looking so tired but still diligently picking out CDs to buy. 

“I remember you bringing me your first album.” You reminisced with a small smile. Yoongi cringed. 

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” 

“Why? You were so cute and nervous. I think that was when I started to develop feelings for you.” You giggled. Yoongi had burst into the store, presenting you the signed album with a deep bow. He had turned so red and was so flustered that he spoke with a stutter. You found it adorable but what made your heart swell was the personal note Yoongi wrote for you. 

“That’s when you had feelings for me?! Then why did I wait like 4 years to ask you out?!” Yoongi screeched in outrage. You just shrugged. 

“At that time, you and the others were so unsure of where your careers would lead you, who knew what the future held. Starting a relationship wouldn’t have been the smart thing to do.” You explained lightly. 

“Still, I could have had you by my side.” He grumbled. 

“Whether I was your girlfriend or not, I would have always been by your side, Yoon. For you and the others.” 

“Yeah but I would have preferred if you were by my side, as my girl.” He scoffed and you reached over to stroke his cheek lightly, not wanting to distract him from driving too much. 

“But here we are. I don’t think waiting a few years has changed my feelings for you. Things happen for a reason.” You smiled. 

“You and your philosophies... You know, you’re starting to sound a lot like Namjoon and I’m not sure how I feel about that.” He teased. You shook your head and rolled your eyes. As Yoongi drove past the front of BigHit, there were a few girls sitting on the floor. 

“Don’t look.” Yoongi said, not even having to turn to you. But it was too late, you saw all the words of hate and anger directed towards you, Yoongi and the rest of Bangtan. 

“I told you not to look.” Yoongi said softly. 

“It’s inevitable...” You looked down at your lap. You hated that the rest of the boys were also getting the heat for this, they didn’t deserve it. 

“Mr Min.” The security guard greeted as Yoongi rolled the window down. He opened the barrier for Yoongi to drive in. He entered the private, underground carpark to the BigHit building. He backed into his parking space.

“Hey, it’ll pass. Remember?” Yoongi held your chin and leaned in to give you a comforting kiss. You gave a small smile, wrapping your arms around his neck to hug him.

“Let’s do this quickly. Then we’ll go home.” He said. You hummed in agreement, exiting the car with him. 

“Hey.” Yoongi greeted the stuff with a bow and you followed suit. 

“It’s in the conference room.” He told you as the two of you took the lift up. Yoongi held your hand the entire time. You went into the empty conference room to see a stack of gifts there. What surprised you was that there was a small stack with your name labelled on them. You blinked, turning to Yoongi, who just shrugged. 

“They’re checked for dangerous items. So go ahead.” He encouraged. You opened the first box, seeing a stuffed black cat that was dressed similarly to Yoongi. You giggled, shoving it into Yoongi’s face. 

“It’s you. Lil meow meow.” 

“Whatever makes you happy, aegi.” Yoongi rolled his eyes and looked through some of his gifts. There were nice, heartwarming letters in most of the boxes. 

“Aww, look.” There was a nice fanart of a faceless girl playing with a black kitten, presumably Yoongi. It was done so nicely with watercolour, you couldn’t wait to display it. 

“That’s you.” You pointed to the kitten that was rolled in yarn. 

“Wow, I didn’t even think of that.” Yoongi said sarcastically. You slapped his arm. He read some letters while waiting for you.

“What?” You opened a box to see some few odd objects inside, not something one would give as a gift. There was also a tarot card inside, The Devil. There was no letter inside at all. It creeped you out slightly but it wasn’t particularly threatening so you just closed the box. 

“What’s that?” Yoongi asked. 

“Some nice notes put together.” You lied with a smile. 

“Let’s go home and open the rest of these.” You told him. Yoongi nodded, placing the gifts onto the trolley that was provided and pushing it back down to the carpark. 

“Min Yoongi!” Someone called out just as you reached the carpark. The both of you looked up but your reaction was too late. 

“Ah!” Your first instinct was to protect your face, causing the blade to slash your arm. You crumbled slightly, face scrunching in slight pain as blood began to seep out. Yoongi’s eyes widened in horror.

“Aegi!” Yoongi was in shock. Before he could pull you behind him, you felt yourself fall to the ground, a sudden weakness taking over your system. 

“Yah! What did you do?!” Yoongi screamed at this intruder. 

“If I can’t have Yoongi, no one can.” She smiled as she met eyes with you. You laid on the ground, shivering. Your vision blurred horribly and you felt light headed. Was that what the box was earlier? Witchcraft? Does witchcraft still exist or does it even work? Yoongi called out to you but he felt so distant even as he hovered over you. 

“Time to disappear.” She grinned and clapped her hands. 

“Aegi! (y/n)! Can you hear me?!” Yoongi shook you. 

“Yoon-” Your vision faded to black. 

~~

Series Masterlist

Tag list

@veronawrites @diamonddia-mond @georgie-me-myself-i @nlost21 @aqueenieme @nello-rie @ireallylikeyourwriting @imascreamerbabymakemeamute @kimahnjung98 @kimmieloveswho @aianloveseven @pb-n-juju @myggummy @baby-noodles @bt21chim @cait-with-luv @bbgniecyy @ggukkieland @awsome-small-k @huhuehuey @yeontanismypresident @strangeobjectmaker @mariana-mmtz @multicolourunicorn @zae007live @yiyi4657 @writingdust @hqtetsurou @fangirl125reader @saveme-imfine @untamedgrape @simplymemyself​ @cheonsa-unnie​ @skyys-universe @carolinexkpop @vishakhas-world @tinyoonsblog @mamemimoimoi @iamsherlocked271 @samararose21 @cherry-suna

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

I wish you would write a fic where... an Obi Wan who left the order as a padawan returns/offers to help with the war effort in some way. Maybe interacts with Qui Gon or Anakin or any of his old friends. ?

(For this)

Since I'm not into JA, I'd write that Obi-Wan left for Satine. Tbh Obi-Wan is so quintessentially Jedi to me that it's hard to see him as anything else (and I especially like his story with Satine in its unfulfilled dimension) but I'm a sucker for reunion fics so I think I could pull it off. The problem is Obi-Wan 100% commits when he has made a choice so I don't think he'd come back, and Satine obviously wouldn't be on board with Obi-Wan taking on a military role if he's her consort, so I imagine he'd still convince her that the Republic is the right side to support and he'd run mercy missions with Bail (can you imagine these two as Prince Consorts BFF? the unmatched potential for sass, fancy clothing and utter disdain for their fellow politicians...) and he'd keep running into Anakin (who, for some reason, seems quite close to Satine's good friend Senator Amidala) and Ahsoka.

Obi-Wan would still be in touch with a lot of people in the Order so he'd know who Anakin is to Qui-Gon, and he'd probably try to befriend him - making Anakin angst even more over his own choices because maybe he should leave too if he wants to be happy with Padmé??? It worked out for Obi-Wan and Satine so maybe??? Really, I feel like Obi-Wan would just sit down and have drinks with any Jedi he came across, and talk about how things are at the Temple. He's just be happy to see them and they're all chill, you know?

Here, have a snippet:

Ahsoka jumped between the rolly and the Duke, lightsabers out. She had let herself get distracted by how nice it was to see Obi-Wan and hadn’t paid enough attention to her surroundings, and now they were in pretty hot water. If she didn’t manage to get them both out of there, Anakin would kill her. She deflected the oncoming blasts without too much effort, but they were still pinned – there was no way she could run up to the destroyer and take it out without leaving Obi-Wan exposed and pretty much unarmed. Deactivators didn’t cut it against droidekas!

She was too busy worrying about all the ways she was going to get in trouble for not properly protecting the consort monarch of a neutral system because she had been chatting with him to catch the last blaster bolt that whizzed towards her. It hit her in the leg and she fell backward and slammed her montrals into the ground. She blacked out for a second. When she came to, gasping from the blinding pain, she blearily tried to reach out for her lightsabers even as she dimly knew she’d never be able to get back up in time, but both hilts suddenly rose from where she had dropped them and sped past her.

There was a white and gold blur, and she found herself looking up to prim-and-proper Duke Obi-Wan Kenobi of House Kryze staring the droid down, her lightsabers held in a surprisingly good Jar’Kai opening stance.

“Right,” he said. He spared her a concerned look then turned his attention back to the droideka with a sharp grin and an alarmingly eager light in his eyes. “Let’s see how rusty I am with these.”

I feel like he'd never pass up an opportunity to use his Jedi friends' lightsabers x) He probably never stopped meditating, using the Force and training with staffs, so that droid is good for the scrap pile.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Alright, you guys asked for it, electrical boyfriends and the Doctor in The Grid.

On with the fic!

--

The Doctor shuddered when he felt himself entering into the programing, oof, it was still going to take some getting used to it seems. Although he was excited to see that his calculations had been correct this time, that he was able to enter the Grid in Castor’s penthouse.

Better than last time, when he accidentally found himself on the roof instead, and House was somewhere in the basement.

Speaking of House, he was dusting himself off, straighting out his clothing. He never seemed to have much trouble with getting himself onto the Grid, but then again, he could get inside of computers and the like.

The Doctor turned to see if his other companion had entered without much trouble, and it took everything in his power not to burst out laughing.

Arthur, the bartender android he had picked up from a lonely, boring life and then deactivation, had entered The Grid with him and House just fine. He was still ins his evening jacket, prim and proper as it always was, black in color instead of the rich red, but his bow tie was now a neon crimson, along with minor accents on the jacket.

However...

Seeing as he was originally on a track by a metallic pole coming down from his torso, until the Doctor fixed him to a set of wheels, he didn’t have legs to start with. Now he did, but unlike House and the Doctor, dressed in their typical suits, Arthur seemed to have gained legs outfitted with the standard tights of the users and programs here.

While the Doctor found it silly, but with a certain charm that fit the android, House had no problem pointing this out with a smirk. “Are you really going to be walking about dressed like a fool?”

Arthur frowned, looking himself over. “Ah. It appears that I may not have given this as much thought as I had when entering.”

“You can change, if you want.” The Doctor said, his smile amused.

“I could... but I am sure it is annoying House, and so I shall remain as I am.” Arthur replied and House huffed.

Before he could comment, a door opened and the Doctor turned to see Castor entering, surprised to see them. He seemed to smile brightly at the Doctor, until he noticed the other guests, frowning a bit with a pout. “Doctor, will I ever get you to come see me without... your pet?” He asked, gesturing to House, who made a rude gesture at him.

Castor’s eyes trailed over to Arthur, and he raised an eyebrow, before smirking, approaching quickly. “Ooh, what a lovely face you have. Loving the outfit, you look ready to tend to someone’s wants and needs.” He said with a purr, trailing his fingers up Arthur’s chest, giving his bow tie a little tug.

Arthur blinked once. “If you would like me to prepare you a drink, I can offer my services.”

“Oh, how polite! Come, come, let’s go to the bar! The club doesn’t open for a while, we can sit and chat!” Castor smiled brightly, then turned to House. “You don’t have to come, but I’m sure you’ll bother anyway.”

“Leaving you alone with the Doctor, and I guess Arthur is an option? Of course I’ll join you.” House smiled at him, his eyes flashing. The Doctor watched as Castor gave him a bitter smile before he turned away, throwing an arm around the Doctor’s waist, walking him out of the room and down to the club.

It was indeed empty, a rare sight for the Doctor when he visited. Even the DJs weren’t at their booth, and the staff seemed to be missing. Arthur, with a bit of stumbling on legs he had never had before, made his way to the bar, seeming much more comfortable behind the counter.

Of course he was, he was programmed to bartend, it’s only natural he wanted to be in his element. The Doctor didn’t make a comment, deciding to let him do his thing as he quickly went about finding bottles and such to make drinks. The Time Lord suspected he had already hacked into the programming for the bar to know where everything was.

Castor took the drink offered to him with a smile and a wink, sipping it. “Excellent! Oh, do tell me about your new friend, Doctor, he’s much more enjoyable than your pet!”

The Doctor sighed, Castor and House were never going to get along, he just knew it, not matter how much he could beg for them to be kind. At least Castor seemed to approve of Arthur, even though House thought he was annoying. The Doctor feared that House only let Arthur stick around because he could be a possible body choice.

“This is Arthur, he’s an android outside of the programming. He’s from a human transport ship in the far future.”

“Oh my, and you just nipped him, I take it?”

“I came along willingly.” Arthur replied, already back to his default actions of polishing glasses. “The Doctor offered me the stars instead of a lonely existence that would only lead to my deactivation in the end, and I took it.”

“Ah, always there to pick up those in need.” Castor smiled, putting his hand on the Doctor’s knee, then slowly let it move up his leg as he spoke. “You’re such a good man, Doctor. Helping your little friend here, finding a body for the pet and I...”

“Just remember, Zues.” House growled in warning from the other side of the Doctor. “I get to have a body first, as I was here first.”

Castor glared deeply before sighed in annoyance, sitting back and returning to his drink. “Yes, yes, as you always like to remind me.” He took a sip, then muttered ‘spoil sport’.

Arthur looked between the two men who strangely looked like him, then looked at the Doctor, cocking an eyebrow. “Interesting company you keep, Doctor.”

“Tell me about it.” The Doctor gave a tired grin before sipping at his banana daiquiri. 

--

My computer’s autocorrect seems to have died, so sorry for any spelling mistakes.  

Also, Castor flirting with Arthur was not planned, but... >.> Can’t all be hatefucking around here between the electrical guys. 

[karajaynetoday]

forever and always | calum hood

I couldn’t find the original credit for this gif but possibly here? It’s a deactivated blog though if anyone has the proper credit please let me know!

I don’t know how or why, but I woke up this morning thinking about this concept and I had to get it written to make my peace with it, in a way. Shout out to @spicycal for reading through the draft for me, and sending love to anyone this resonates with. It’s a very emo Calum one-shot that includes pregnancy loss (if that’s not something you can read, feel free to give this one a miss), but I promise it has a happy ending. 

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy and pregnancy loss/stillbirth, and references to COVID-19 (the pandemic circumstances i.e. quarantine, not actually having the illness)

(This is a fem reader insert)

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Calum ducked his head down to meet your gaze, brown eyes swimming with concern.

You were sat together on the couch in Ashton’s living room, surrounded by a lighting set up, having a quiet moment while Andy and Ryan were setting up their cameras in front of you. 5SOS were preparing to release their next album, and to reflect on the past ten years’ of the band, they had decided to film a documentary alongside the album process. After much deliberation, KayKay, Sierra and Crystal had agreed to take part, because they were just as much a part of the band’s journey as the boys’ families were, and their support and influence on the music was obvious. For you, though, it was a little different. You and Calum had successfully hidden your relationship from the public eye for the last four years. It was some sort of miracle, honestly, especially given the last little while where you’d gotten careless and slipped up by holding hands and showing affection in public. If any fans or paps noticed, they never said anything, and it gave you and Calum a sense of relief that no one knew your name or true identity when you were spotted with him or the rest of the band family in public.

Relief, but you had to admit that it hurt a little too. You’d seen the hate and vitriol that the other guys’ partners had experienced, and you knew Calum was just trying to protect you from all of that, but every time someone made a joke about him being the only single one in interviews, or asked him what he looked for in a girl, or the fans ran away with relationship rumours whenever he was photographed within breathing distance of a potential love interest,  it made your chest feel tight. At the end of the day, though, Calum always came home to you, and that was what truly mattered.

To say that this was a big moment, publicly announcing your relationship with Calum, and revealing that you’d kept it hidden for years, was an understatement. But you knew it was important to both of you to finally share it with the world. Not just because you loved each other and wanted to show it, but because the events of the past year had broken and rebuilt you all over again. As individuals, as a couple, and even for the band as a whole. You knew that the hope you’d held, and the pain that tore you down, and the healing you’d been through came across in Calum’s contributions to the new album, so it felt right to sit down and use your own voice to convey your feelings about it all.

You broke out of your deep train of thought to nod in response to Calum’s question, and press a quick but reassuring kiss to his lips.

“I’m sure if you’re sure.” You whispered, as Calum threw his arm around your shoulders and squeezed to let you know he was in support of whatever you wanted to do.

“Okay guys, we’re ready if you’re all good to go?” Ryan spoke up from behind the camera, trying not to unsettle you two and the moment you were clearly having. A deep breath and a brief smile from you and Calum let Ryan know he could start recording, and Andy sat down out of frame and pulled his notebook of questions into his lap.

“So, shall we start from the beginning?”

Your heart swelled, as you began to remember.

--

Ashton had full on wingman-ed Calum when you first met them both at a bar downtown. He was dating KayKay at the time, so he’d made it his mission to find Cal a hot date, or a lover, or a lifelong companion (“Any of the above will do, as long as you’re not a shit person”, he’d told you as he tried to pitch Calum to you). The pitch had worked, and you’d joined them for a few drinks and rounds of pool, before exchanging numbers with Calum at the end of the night.

From there, it was coffee dates, and brunches, and then dinners and nights out on the town. Soon it became days or nights at each other’s houses, which became entire weekends, then it was trips away or secret visits to see Calum on tour, and before you knew it, you’d been dating for the better part of the last two years and Cal asked you to move in with him. He knew it was a sacrifice on your part, not only dating someone who was away for months at a time, let alone someone whose hand you couldn’t hold out in public for risk of being photographed, but you also knew that you and Calum loved each other more deeply than you’d ever loved before. You understood he’d be burned in the past with public or semi-public relationships, and seeing his band brothers go through them made him hesitant at best. By moving in together, you’d see each other more, and you’d also get to shower each other with the love and desire that was building more and more within your soul with every passing day.

--

“So that’s the story of how we met. Mate, honestly, I was head over heels from day one.” Calum laughed, kissing your forehead quickly.

“I’ve had the privilege of observing you two and your love for one another for a few years now, and I have to say it’s a beautiful thing. You just seem to know each other inside out, and I love that soulmate aspect of your relationship.” Andy mused, flashing you a warm smile.

“Now, in terms of influence on this upcoming album, I know the past 18 months have been a rollercoaster for us all, but you two especially have been through a lot. Do you feel comfortable talking us through that a little bit?” Andy was careful with his words, not wanting to upset you or make you uncomfortable.

You squeezed Calum’s knee, before swallowing thickly and thinking back to the time period Andy had mentioned.

--

When 2020 began, you held so much hope and excitement for the year ahead. Watching Calum and his brothers play the Firefight Australia concert was incredible, and you were so thrilled for them to be releasing their latest album that truly felt representative of the four individuals who had come together to craft it. But then the pandemic began, and you were ordered into quarantine. Each day felt heavier somehow, with more sad stories on the news, and more frustration building up amongst your loved ones. It broke your heart to see Calum and the boys not able to release the album in the way they’d originally hoped, but Cal himself was both an optimist and a realist, and constantly reiterated that it felt like the right time to release it anyway, because maybe it would bring a bit of joy and serenity to people that needed that in their lives amongst all the chaos.

You’d quickly fallen into the routine of home isolation, waking early to get your work hours done, so you could spend your afternoons with Calum and Duke by the pool, or hiking a nearby trail, or bingeing Netflix on the couch. It was strange to have so much time together, but it was also so warm and comforting that it didn’t take you long to get anxious at the idea of Calum ever leaving again for tour or promo. That was a while away, though, so you tried your best to make the most of the time you had, and take it one day at a time.

You couldn’t remember the first day you woke up feeling nauseous. Sometime in June, you supposed. A few days of vomiting and fatigue that made you feel like you’d been hit by a bus, and you had a telehealth appointment with your doctor to try and figure out what was going on. Given your symptoms, they’d asked you in for tests right away. A week or so later, you were back sitting in the doctor’s office awaiting the results, extra nervous because the COVID-19 restrictions meant that Calum couldn’t come in with you. You’d thought about FaceTiming him into the appointment, but there was something in the back of your mind telling you that you wanted to have a moment to yourself to process the news, whatever it was going to be.

When your doctor looked at you with a smile and told you that you were pregnant, all you could do was gape back at her in shock. It shouldn’t have come entirely as a surprise; you and Calum had spoken a few times about the vision you had for your future, and the uncertainty and restlessness that quarantine had given you made foregoing protection seem right, somehow (lovesick logic, or something like that). But it happening so quickly was unexpected. Your shock was soon replaced with tears of happiness, and you were already bursting at the seams to get home and tell Calum the news.

He was speechless at first, too, but then again Calum always was a man of few words. You’d kept it to yourselves for a little while, only discussing it in quiet whispers, or soft touches onto your non-existent bump, or sending links of cute baby things to one another via WhatsApp message. A few weeks later, you had your first scan, and this time Calum was allowed in the room. You could see his eyes light up when he heard the strong heartbeat on the monitor, and later he’d tell you how he immediately wanted to voicenote it on his phone to listen to while he was away on tour, or even mix it into a song.

Seeing that tiny blob on the screen and hearing the heartbeat honestly made your entire year, and from then on you couldn’t resist sharing your happiness with others. Video calls with yours and Calum’s parents, more happy tears and cheering from the soon-to-be first time grandparents.

The restrictions in California had eased a little, so you invited Ashton, Luke, Michael and their respective partners over for dinner one night. You’d prepared some cute greeting cards, one for each couple, thanking them for all of their support over the years with helping to protect your privacy with Calum, and slipped a copy of the baby scan with “see you in February” written on the back inside the card. Once everyone was settled onto the couches in the living room, waiting for dinner to be ready, you handed them out and sat down in Calum’s lap, taking a sip of your drink to try and hide the excitement on your face.

It was so amusing to observe the reactions that were representative of each couple. Michael and Crystal gasped and cheered, immediately pulling you and Calum into tight hugs. Ashton and KayKay were more reserved, but whispers of love and encouragement and happiness into your ears were so lovely and cherished. The tears in Sierra’s eyes, and the comfort of Luke’s squeeze of his arms around your waist said more than they could ever put into words.

The emotional celebrations soon turned into teasing jibes, and Ashton’s pitch for a new line of 5SOS baby merch. (“Come on guys, a baby-sized bucket hat? Tiny hoodies? Wildflower plush toys? A lullabies album? I’m telling you, there’s a whole WORLD of opportunity for us opening up right now!”), and you couldn’t help but feel both overjoyed and overwhelmed at how much this little baby was going to be surrounded with love and support for every day of their life.

The months carried on, and your once invisible baby bump grew and grew. You and Calum cleared out a spare room for the nursery, and got lost in furniture shopping and paint swatches and reading every parenting book you could get your hands on. There were doctors appointments, and birthing classes; lists of potential baby names on the fridge, and consulting your dog trainer on how best to introduce old man Duke to the idea of a new arrival.

As December approached, and you started getting into the festive spirit, Calum began returning to the studio as he and the guys toyed with some potential new directions for the next album. All of them had studios built into their homes, so they could meet and work together in relative safety, which was reassuring. You were standing over the kitchen sink one day, rinsing out the pan you’d used to make eggs for breakfast, when a searing pain in your abdomen had you groaning in discomfort and gripping onto the kitchen counter for dear life. The pain eased momentarily, and then came back stronger, and you managed to grab your phone from the counter and dial Calum’s number frantically as you gasped for breath.

The next few hours were a blur; Calum raced home to find you curled up in pain on the kitchen floor, Ashton and the paramedics were quick to follow him inside. They put you in an ambulance and took you straight to the hospital; you and Calum were gripping each other’s hand so tightly that your knuckles were white with stress.

The doctors determined you were in pre-term labour, and soon enough you were in a delivery room panting and pushing and crying out to Calum for comfort. It was all so terrifying and overwhelming but he was doing his best to ground you, brushing his fingers through your hair and holding your hand and whispering sweet nothings into your ear. When you finally delivered the baby, a hush fell over the room, and you could tell from the look on the faces of your doctor and nurses that something wasn’t right. 

The silence continued, and your heart broke when you realised that the baby hadn’t started to cry like you’d expected. The nurses had moved the infant over to another station, suctioning their airway and connecting them up to all manner of tubes and wires, but after a few moments your doctor told you the news. It was a baby girl, but her heartbeat wasn’t there. She’d come into the world and gone out again, just like that.

--

“I know a lot of people struggle to talk about stillbirths, and losing children, and it’s such a deeply personal thing so I get it. But it’s also grief, and loss, and emotions that you feel whenever you lose anyone you love. If there’s one thing I wish we could do more, as people in general, it’s discuss how we feel, and normalise having emotions, because it brings you closer and makes you feel less alone.” You spoke softly, blinking away the tears that had started to well in your eyes.

Andy nodded gently at you, before a quiet “Cal?” with an encouraging flick of his head.

Calum cleared his throat and glanced over at you before speaking. 

“I think that’s a huge part of why we wanted to be here today and talk about not only our relationship but losing Matilda in particular. It’s a sensitive topic, I know, especially for men, but holding back and bottling up your emotions isn’t good for anyone. Without her support in getting me to open up, or having the boys to listen to me cry and help me get some of my feelings out, in words and on this album, I don’t think I’d be in as good a place as I am now. It’s dark to think about, but important not to ignore, I think.”

“You’re so right, Cal. And Matilda is always going to be a part of our story, and we’re never going to forget how much we loved her and how much closer together she brought us,” You began, pausing briefly to squeeze Calum’s hand that had settled on your swollen stomach, “And when our little rainbow baby arrives in the next few weeks, I can’t wait to tell them about their sister, and how much she would’ve loved to meet them, but now she’s watching over them instead.”

“Exactly. We’re always going to have had Matilda, and then this little one, and however many others we decide to try and bring into the world. But it’s the love that builds you and the loss that breaks you that makes us who we are. Forever and always.” Calum’s voice was emotional, but also firm and calm, as he looked down at you and kissed you intently, his hand never leaving its spot on your bump, where your little rainbow baby was kickly softly at the sound of his voice.

“Forever and always.” You agreed, inhaling deeply and feeling a sense of deep peace and content wash over you.

More writing here | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here | if you’d like to be on my taglist go here

Taglist: @suchalonelysunflower​ @blackbutterfliescal​ @redrattlers​ @loveroflrh​ @spicycal​ @notinthesameguey​ @metalandboybands​ @cheekysos​   @ashton-trash

[sapphic-luthor]

Supercorp +19,20,28

19. Who tells their family/friends about their relationship first?

The only one to take it in casual stride– bizarrely, hilariously, gloriously– is Eliza. She laughs once into the phone, loud and bright, and says I’m so happy for you, Kara, and then Can I talk to her? and Kara’s stomach flips several times in nervousness, but she holds the phone out to Lena. Lena, who has gone from absently biting her nails with worry to wide-eyed and shaking her head no, no, no, no in as long as it takes Kara to mouth she wants to talk to you. There’s a few seconds of silent argument that ends with Lena relenting, and when she takes the phone and says Hello? she sounds so small and scared that Kara almost regrets pressuring her into it. But then Lena listens for a second, looks at Kara, mouths no listening, and turns away to continue the call on the far side of the apartment. And Kara tries not to listen, she really tries, but there are times that her powers just… get a bit away from her, and she may or may not have picked up bits and pieces of the conversation that sound like Lena saying I know, I know. We’ll be home for Christmas, I promise, and I don’t know how to explain it, really, it just fell into place and we realized it had always been there, and Kara’s heart goes soft.

It’s almost thirty minutes before they’re done speaking, but the last thing Kara (accidentally) hears is Eliza saying I’m so proud of you honey, and when Lena returns the phone to Kara, her eyes are glistening with tears. Kara knows better than to ask, knows better than to push it, so she sends a silent thank you prayer into the universe for Eliza instead. Because Kara knows that she can love Lena to the ends of this lifetime and into the next, but what Lena really needs is family, the proper, love-you-through-it-all kind, and if she can’t find that with the Luthors, Eliza will make damn sure she finds it with the Danvers’.

(Lena never tells Lillian. She finds out when she receives the invitation, a thick card emblazoned with the House of El symbol interlocked with an L. There’s something so derisively mocking about it, to send a wedding invitation to a prisoner who can’t attend a wedding, that Lillian actually feels a twinge of pride when she opens it. The message on the back, inked in Lena’s looped script, says only one word: Surprise.)

20. What do their family/friends think of their relationship?

This doesn’t make any sense. Alex says for the third time in a row, and Kara just sighs, because she can’t explain it any better than she already has. Alex has cycled from shock to anger to disbelief over the course of an hour, and Kara’s terrified that if they don’t reach the acceptance stage soon they’ll never get there at all. Her sister has so far tried You’re not even gay, Kara (Kryptonians don’t really consider gender like that) and Lena isn’t a lesbian (evidence proves otherwise) and How is it possible that I didn’t see this coming? (We were pretty surprised by that as well, to be frank) until finally, finally, the redhead takes a deep sigh, grasps Kara’s hand in her own, and says Are you sure? And Kara’s smile widens of its own accord, because this is the first question that she has a crystal-clear answer for: I’ve never been more sure of anything.

Alex turns it all over in head for several more hours, goes home and says something about sleeping on it, and then shows back up to Kara’s apartment at 7:00 in the morning with two coffees and a half dozen pastries. Kara reaches for them, completely transfixed, but Alex holds them back for a second to meet Kara’s eyes, and suddenly the moment is much more serious than apple turnovers and donuts covered in powdered sugar. There’s not even a whisper of hesitation in Alex’s tone when she speaks– If you love her, Kara, then so do I– and that’s all there is to it.

-

(She tells Nia next, and it’s less than an hour before the young reporter makes them a joint Instagram account and starts creating portmanteaus of their names. Kara thinks it’s funny; Lena threatens to buy the entire company just to have the account deactivated.)

28. What do they do when they’re away from each other?

When Supergirl rolls her eyes and walks out of a briefing at the DEO, Alex has had enough. She finds Kara in her apartment later that night, and the first words out of her mouth are what the fuck is going on with you lately, because Kara has been kind of an asshole for an entire week, and if there’s a problem between them, Alex intends to fix it. And Kara swears she doesn’t know, doesn’t think there’s any problem, doesn’t have an explanation for the weird turn of her mood, but when Alex’s television blares “L-Corp CEO Spends Second Week at Metropolis Office” the next morning, things start to make a bit of sense.

She tries carefully when she sees Kara again, says when is the last time you’ve seen Lena? and gets her head absolutely bitten off. It’s what does Lena have to do with the fact that you’re being so annoying, Alex, and I’m not her babysitter, why would I know, and a series of other childish quips that Alex does not have the patience for. Then Lena returns, and Kara goes more or less back to normal, and Alex makes a mental note to explore that concept later.

A month later when Lena goes to Japan, Kara becomes thoroughly insufferable, and Alex has to put her foot down. She bursts into Kara’s apartment where the blonde is drinking Daxamite ale directly from the bottle and says you have to tell her, knowing that Kara will know exactly what she’s talking about. Kara looks toward her sister sharply, and then the anger melts off of her face and she looks like she’s about to break into tears, so Alex starts backpedaling. She says if she knows you’re Supergirl then you can fly to see her– at the exact same time that Kara says But I don’t know if she feels the same way– and then they just stare at each other in shocked silence, because for the first time in a long time, they weren’t on the same page after all. And all Alex can think to say is Oh, and Kara sighs Yeah and then Alex pours herself a whiskey, joins Kara on her couch, and they sit in silence for a while. When she speaks again, Kara says I didn’t realize why I was so upset until you called me out last month, and Alex aches at that, because she’s painfully aware of what it feels like to get battered over the head with feelings that you didn’t even know you were ignoring. You have to tell her, she says again, and Kara might be drunk, but the tight nod she gives in response is a promise.

-

It’s a 16-hour flight home, and Lena hasn’t slept in at least twice that long, so when she steps off of the elevator on her apartment’s floor, the last thing she wants to see is somebody standing outside of her door. But then the person turns around, and it’s Kara, looking beautiful and terrified, and she stutters and reaches for her glasses and says I have to tell you something.

[jingabitch]

Lit Up

Summary: Christmas drabble in the Fucked Up verse, in which you leave the house to prepare a Christmas surprise for the boys, who come home early and discover you gone.

Warnings: yandere | explicit language | explicit descriptions of sexual acts | dark shit | reader has major issues

Rating: E

Pairings: mainly Yoongi x reader; bg ot7 x reader

Word count: 4.3k

Series index

Christmas is one of your favourite times of the year. It always has been, since you were a child. You have few fond memories of your childhood, but Christmas had always been nice, and you remember spending time with your family. Back before the drinking and debt and screaming, but even after all that had started, at least at the beginning, your parents had made an effort to have nice Christmas celebrations.

This Christmas, the boys are back home - and so are you. It doesn’t mean that they have the day off, much to your displeasure, but they’d promised to be back in time for dinner. Seokjin bought a ham and there are ingredients for all sorts of delicious side dishes in the fridge. It’s going to be a feast, and you can’t wait.

Still, though. Food does not a Christmas party make. With the boys so busy, you hadn’t dared broach the subject of gifts or decorations, knowing there was no way any of them had the time to accompany you to various stores to pick up everything. Sure, you could order whatever it is you wanted online, but part of the fun of Christmas is the actual shopping, and it’s something you so badly want to share with them.

Fantasies of them coming home to a Christmas tree, all ready for you to decorate together, and prettily wrapped gifts, fill you with delight. It’ll be so much fun, you think, almost clapping your hands with excitement. They aren’t supposed to be home till six, were going to have a late dinner since Seokjin wanted to cook even though he was going to be arriving back at the same time as them… you have plenty of time. You know they would worry if they come back and find you missing, but they won’t be mad if you’re already back, and they see that nothing bad happened to you.

With that thought in mind, you get ready for your first solo trip outside the apartment since you arrived here. As much as you love this place, the thought of going out alone, like you used to, is a heady one. You’ve not even really explored the streets in your neighbourhood, and you used to like taking long walks.

Well, they became a lot more fun when you knew Yoongi was walking with you.

Dressing in your warmest clothes (and filching Yoongi’s scarf because you like the way he smells, okay?) you grab all of the emergency cash in the drawer on your way out, and the keys to Jeongguk’s car. Driving in Seoul isn’t the easiest, but you don’t see any other way to get all the ornaments and gifts, not to mention the tree.

Sitting in the driver’s seat, your overcoat carelessly tossed into the passenger seat, you unlock your phone and deactivate the spyware they’d installed to keep tabs on what you search and where you are. Won’t do to have them figuring out your surprise from you using Google Maps to navigate the city, after all.

Humming under your breath, you turn on the radio absently as you key in the name of the shop you want to go to. You’ve gotten your ornaments from this little hole in the wall since before the boys, since your first Christmas alone in Seoul. It hadn’t been as much fun only buying enough decorations for just your mini-tree and studio apartment, but it had been all right. The handmade items made by the kindly middle-aged lady were pretty enough to make up for it.

As you make your way to the store, the radio starts playing a radio interview with BTS and you giggle to yourself. Your boys are so prim and proper on the air, no one would ever guess that Namjoon wrote half the songs of their latest comeback with his cock tucked inside you, or that Jimin and Taehyung’s friendship is based on commonalities far greater (and kinkier) than both being members of the 95 line.

All those secrets are yours and yours alone, and you smile contentedly as you listen to their nonsensical answers to the question of what their ideal type is, because it’s all bullshit. You know what their ideal type is; because you’ve put in a lot of effort to be that for every one of them.

Parking the car in a roadside lot, you get out and grab all your stuff, spending a minute putting your coat and scarf back on, before locking the door and walking the few doors down to the shop.

“Good morning, aunty!” you say cheerily as you duck slightly to avoid hitting your head on the wind chimes she’d hung over the door.

“Ah, Y/N, hello, sweetheart. I haven’t seen you around recently; you didn’t even come to buy Christmas ornaments last year.” As your eyes adjust to the relative darkness of the store after being outside in the sun, you spot the shopkeeper standing behind the counter.

“Yeah, I was travelling last Christmas, aunty. I came to get new ones this year, though! I moved into a bigger place and need more this time,” you inform her delightedly, looking around the store. Spotting some delicate crystal ornaments, you move closer to them, and pick one up, a pretty snowflake.

The shopkeeper, seeing what caught your fancy, smiles. “I should have known you’d go for those,” she says. “You might like these to go with that too,” she directs your attention to some sparkly baubles and a wreath that’s white and black instead of the usual green.

Once you’ve bought almost all the snow- and winter-themed decorations in stock, you go all over Seoul buying presents for the boys - an expensive kitchen knife with his initials carved into the handle for Seokjin, a first-edition of one of Namjoon’s favourite books, accessories, clothing and shoes for the more fashion-oriented boys, and so on.

For Yoongi, though, your precious Yoongi, regular gifts will not be enough. What do you buy for the man who gave you everything?

Humming in deep thought, you spin in a circle in the middle of Myeongdong. What should you get? You check the time - it’s already three in the afternoon, and you only have three hours to get his gift, the Christmas tree, and haul ass back to the apartment.

Sighing, you head dejectedly back to the car. There has to be something special you can get for him.

There’s a place that sells Christmas trees near the outskirts of Seoul, and you drive there, humming along to the radio. Christmas really is your favourite time of the year, you think, smiling at the cover of Jingle Bell Rock currently playing. Maybe you’ll be able to persuade some of the boys to serenade you tonight, not that it’s ever difficult to.

On your way to the store, you drive past a tattoo and piercing store and inspiration suddenly strikes you. On a whim, you decide to get your ears pierced to match Yoongi’s. It’s not much, but it’ll be cute, you think, matching his accessories. It can be your little thing, even if no one will ever know since you’ll never be seen in public together.

You only have the basic lobe piercings, so you end up getting three additional holes punched into your earlobes, although thankfully he let his helix piercing close up so you don’t have to do anything like that.

It doesn’t take too long, and before you know it you’re back on track, going to pick up a Christmas tree. You’re just pulling into the parking lot when your phone dies, and you huff. It’s been long enough not going out for a long time, or alone, that you’ve completely forgotten basic things like bringing along a power bank, so you suppose you’ll just have to make do until you get home.

It won’t be that bad - you know the way home, at least - but it makes you a little antsy not being contactable, so you resolve to hurry up so you can go home soon.

There’s just one hitch in your plans, though - the boys got home two hours early. Which you didn’t know, because your phone died and you had no idea they were even blowing it up.

While you were excitedly choosing a pretty tree that you genuinely had no idea how you would muscle up from the garage into the apartment, the boys are walking into said apartment, full of anticipation for your delighted response to them coming back early to spend more of Christmas with you, because of course they know of your love for the holiday.

Yoongi tries (and fails) to hide his excitement as he toes off his shoes before opening the door to the apartment. The others follow more sedately, content to let Yoongi be the one to announce their arrival.

The moment he steps into the apartment, though, he can tell that something is wrong. You don’t appear from behind a corner, or even call out a greeting, as is usual for you. It’s the middle of the day, so you haven’t gone to sleep yet.

Yeontan comes bounding out to greet the boys, but he’s conspicuously alone.

“Y/N?” Yoongi calls, unease slithering down his spine. Yeontan barks, turning around in a circle, and Taehyung picks the dog up.

“Hyung, why are you just standing there?” Hoseok asks, and Yoongi takes a few steps forward so that the rest of the boys can come into the apartment too.

He calls your name again as he walks through the hallway to the living room, then, not finding you, pops his head into the kitchen and then to the bedrooms. The others cotton on fairly quickly to the issue, and help out, opening the doors to their own bedrooms to see if you’re in there.

It becomes obvious that you’re not in the apartment, and this results in chaos and panic among the boys. Yoongi is, of course, the worst off, barely able to comprehend that you would leave. You’d given no indication of being unhappy or dissatisfied, and things had been going great recently. Your relationship is, in every aspect, unusual, but it works for all parties involved - or so he’d thought.

Namjoon, seeing that Yoongi is on the verge of a breakdown, quickly intervenes, guiding the older man to the couch and sitting him down on it.

“Don’t worry,” he reassures him. “We’ll find her, okay? There’s no way she can get away from us all.”

Indeed, the others are already leaping into action. Jeongguk, the one who installed the spy software on your phone, is already booting up his computer to track your location, and the other boys are tearing the apartment apart searching for clues.

“Shit, she took all the money in the drawer,” Hoseok curses as he opens said drawer in the kitchen to check.

“How much was in there?” Jimin asks, looking over his roommate’s shoulder.

Hoseok shrugs and looks over at Namjoon. “I don’t know… I just put some in whenever I had cash on me that I didn’t want to bring out,” he says, and the other boys nod and murmur their agreement.

Concluding that this means you have a lot of cash at your disposal, they sigh heavily and stare despondently at each other. Yoongi looks like he’s about to burst into tears, and Jimin and Taehyung sit next to each other, sulking.

The bad news isn’t done coming, though. Jeongguk stumbles out of his bedroom in shock. “I can’t track her phone,” he breathes, blinking in bewilderment. The others’ gazes snap towards him immediately.

“What do you mean, you can’t track her?” Namjoon demands, hurrying over to push Jeongguk back into his room so they can see his computer.

“Look, the last traced location of her phone is the apartment complex, and that was in the morning,” he explains. “She’s gone off the grid all day.”

“Is the phone off? Did she manage to disable it?” Hoseok asks, peering over the maknae’s shoulder.

“I’ll need to ask my friend, he’s the one who would know how to check.”

“All right, let’s go then.”

Before long, all of them have their marching orders. Jeongguk is going to seek out the friend that wrote the software for him, Namjoon, Hoseok and Jin are going to the bus and train terminals and the airport to see if she left by any of those means, and Taehyung and Jimin are going to review the footage on all the CCTVs installed in and around their apartment complex to see if they have any clues about where you went.

As for Yoongi - Namjoon tells him to stay in the apartment and try to find any clues as to what happened to cause her to suddenly take flight, since he’s the one who knows her best, but really, he looks like such utter shit, barely able to keep himself together, that none of them think it’s a good idea for him to be out in public right now.

Blissfully unaware of all the chaos you’ve caused in your home, you hum along to the song playing on the radio as you return to the apartment complex, zipping neatly into Jeongguk’s designated parking lot. As you climb out of the car, you hum thoughtfully to yourself as you eye the tree shoved into the backseat and think about all the packages in the boot. There’s no way you’ll be able to bring it all up in one go, and you sigh as you wish for a moment that the boys had come with you, because all that muscle would sure come in handy right about now.

With a sigh, you yank open the car door and wrestle the tree out of the backseat, bumping the door shut with your hip after. Somehow managing to get it to the lift lobby, you heave out a breath and press the button for the elevator. 

By the time you push, pull and pivot your way back to the apartment, you’ve broken out in a sweat and your muscles are screaming. Putting the tree down, you key in the code for the lock, taking the opportunity to lean against the door. When the lock makes that little jingle and you hear the door unlock, you pull it open and push it carefully so it stays that way, retrieving the tree and bringing it into the entryway.

You’re taking your shoes off and getting ready to open the door into the apartment proper when it bursts open unexpectedly. With a little squeak of surprise, you take a step back, looking up with wide eyes.

“Yoongi-oppa…” you greet him out of habit, although your voice trails off uncertainly as you take in the expression on his face. “What are you doing home so early?”

He glares at you, his arms crossed over his chest, although when you look closer, you can see that although he tries to look steely and furious, his hair is a mess from his hands running through it, parts of his shirt are soaked through with sweat, and it looks like there are tear streaks on his face.

“Are you okay?” you ask in concern, letting go of the tree to take a step towards him.

“Where have you been?” he spits out instead of answering your question, in a tone you’ve never heard from him before. It’s husky and soft, almost wavering like he’s in anguish, but dangerous, a thread of steel running through it. 

Shit. You don’t know what happened while you were gone, but with the way he looks and sounds, you can tell you’re going to be in for a rough time. “Oppa - ” you say, holding your hands out placatingly, but he’s having none of it as he grabs your wrist and yanks you to him. You stumble up the step leading into the apartment and crash ungracefully into him, your free hand going to his waist to stabilize yourself.

“Who told you you could leave without permission?” he grinds out, the hand that doesn’t have a death grip on your wrist going to grasp your face, his long fingers stretching over your jawline as he holds you fast, making sure you couldn’t look away from him if you tried.

“I… I wanted to surprise you, oppa, with Christmas gifts and a tree for everyone,” you try to explain meekly, although your words come out a little muffled because he’s still gripping your jaw. His grip tightens a little, and you wince. “Oppa, you’re hurting me,” you protest.

“I’m hurting you?!” he exclaims incredulously. “Do you fucking know what you’ve done? Everyone is out there looking for you, because you vanished without a word. Do you know how…” he pulls you further into the apartment, into the hallway just past the entrance, “worried,” he pushes you to the floor roughly, “we all were?!” His hands on your hips flip you around so you’re on all fours, desperately craning your neck back to see him.

His expression is pinched as he glares down at you, his throat working convulsively as he swallows. His eyes, though - they make you clench down on yourself almost involuntarily. His gaze is so intense, swirling with anger and something like despair, and yet another emotion that you can’t quite place. The lust, though, is extremely evident in both his eyes and the set of his jaw.

Rooting in his pocket for his phone, he slides it across the floor to you. “Call Namjoon now and tell him where you’ve been,” he orders tightly.

You’re confused - everything has been happening so damn quickly - but the way he unbuckles his belt clarifies things for you real quick. It feels a little wrong for you to be reacting so quickly and viscerally, especially when you know that Yoongi isn’t in the best state emotionally, but you can’t help it.

“I don’t hear you calling him,” he bites out, fighting with the layers of clothing you have on. It must be a comical sight, you’re sure - the long coat half flipped over your back, your upper half still completely clothed and looking like a puffy dumpling as he fiercely tugs the pants and leggings over your legs. It’s getting a little warm, and you balance yourself with one hand as you unwrap Yoongi’s scarf with the other, dropping it carelessly on the ground next to you. You try to fiddle with the overcoat, but before you have a chance to do anything more than unzip it, Yoongi yanks the clothing covering your legs all the way off and you squeal in surprise as your knees go flying, causing your entire body to drop to the ground.

You barely have time to register the pain, however, because the next thing you know, Yoongi’s fingers are thrusting harshly into you. As wet as you are, you aren’t quite ready and the pain ricochets through your body, causing you to clamp down hard as your brow furrows in discomfort.

“Why are you so wet, hmm? Does it turn you on to run away from me?” Yoongi hisses, fingering you roughly to open you up even as he knocks your knees apart further and gets into position behind you.

“I - what?” Bewildered, you try to sit back to ask him why he was so upset, but he pushes you back down with his hand between your shoulder blades, sliding it up to grip the back of your neck as he lines himself up and thrusts savagely into you, bottoming out in one stroke.

You cry out, your hands clenching into fists as you turn to press your face against the smooth material of your jacket. With your face buried in your shoulder like that, your cries are muffled, but he’s not having any of it, gripping your hair into a loose ponytail with the hand that was on your neck and yanking your head back.

“Call. Namjoon,” he orders, punctuating every word with a snap of his hips. Bracing yourself by lowering your elbows onto the ground, you fiddle with his phone with shaky hands, barely able to handle it with the punishing pace he’s set, jostling you around like that.

When you finally manage to call Namjoon, you drop it on the floor between your fists, letting the phone ring on speaker.

“Hyung, what’s up?” comes Namjoon’s harried voice.

If you thought that Yoongi would let up on you a little, so you could actually speak to Namjoon the way he seemed to want, you’re wrong.

“Joonie-oppa, I- agh.” Whatever you were about to say cuts off in a garbled moan as Yoongi takes the opportunity to slam into you, harder than ever before. You skid across the floor, not helped by the fact that you’re still wrapped up in your coat which doesn’t allow you to get a good grip on the marble.

“Y/N?! Is that you?” Namjoon demands.

“Ye - ngh - yes.” Your mewl, coupled with the rhythmic grunts and groans Yoongi is releasing as he presses his chest to your back, sucking livid marks into your neck, give Namjoon a fairly clear idea of what’s going on.

“Jesus, Y/N, are you at home? Where the hell have you been?”

Your attempt to reply is foiled by Yoongi sneaking a hand down your body to strum at your clit, causing your mind to blank as you clench down on him, causing both of you to groan in unison.

“Jesus,” Namjoon mutters. “I’ll talk to you when I get home,” he says before hanging up.

With that out of the way, Yoongi redoubles his efforts to work you over, fucking you hard and fast even as he continues his ministrations on your clit. “No one else can fuck you this good, can they? Only I can make you feel like this,” he growls in your ear.

You’re so lost in the onslaught of sensation he’s forcing onto you that you don’t answer him fast enough for his liking, and he retaliates with a pinch to your clit. “Can they?!” he repeats in a hard voice, and you cry, “No, only you!”

That seems to satisfy him, and he rewards you by driving you up to orgasm faster than has ever happened before, but right before you’re about to tumble headfirst into ecstasy, he slows down, so the orgasm hovers right out of your grasp. Holding you still as you writhe and cry in protest, he asks, in the same harsh tone as before, but with a strange note of vulnerability threaded through it, “You won’t leave me again, will you? You’ll stay with me always?”

Confused again, and barely able to marshal your senses to figure out why he was being like that, you sob in frustration. If he wants to have a serious conversation, why now? Why does he sound so pained, desperate, anguished?

“Y/N!” he cries out, and you can physically feel him holding his orgasm back as he waits for your response.

“No, I won’t leave,” you finally force out, and immediately he slams back into you, biting down savagely on your neck as he comes harder than you ever recall. Feeling him release into you triggers your own orgasm, and you press your cheek to the ground as you keen.

When it’s over, you slump to the ground, now uncomfortably sticky in your clothes but lacking the coordination and strength to remove the layers. Yoongi, still breathing hard, helps flip you over onto your back and pushes the coat off your shoulders, holding it still while you wriggle your arms out of it.

Now far more comfortable, you shed the other layers you were wearing, only stopping when you’re lying nude on the floor, blinking up at Yoongi, who’s still fully dressed. He stares down at you with an inscrutable gaze, and you hold your arms out for him, inviting him to cuddle.

He looks hesitant, but ultimately can’t resist and lies down on the ground next to you, reaching over to pull you closer into his side.

“I’m sorry I was so rough earlier,” he apologizes. “I just got a little crazy at the thought that you had run away.”

Your heart breaks at that. “Oh, sweetie - I never wanted to run away. I was just getting presents and a tree so we could have a nice Christmas celebration,” you explain. “Besides, it’s nothing I couldn’t handle,” you reassure him with a squeeze of his hand, referencing some of the other boys’ rougher proclivities.

“Still,” he persists, brushing your sweaty hair away from your forehead. “You were just gone when we came back, and all the money in the drawer was too, and then Jeongguk said he couldn’t trace-” Suddenly aware that he’s said too much, he clams up.

“Oh, I had to deactivate the tracker or else it wouldn’t have been a surprise, then my phone died,” you explain with a little wave of your hand. “Speaking of which-” You sit up and dig around in your purse, which had been dropped carelessly on the ground. Finding your phone, you get up and go to the bedroom you share with Yoongi to plug it in.

He follows you, looking slightly lost. “You knew about the tracker?”

You turn and smirk at him. “Have you forgotten what my job was?” A former programmer, you’d realised the day they installed the software that it was there.

“Oh,” was all he could think to say.

You can hear his busy little brain buzzing as you fuss with the items on your bedside table, but it’s still completely unexpected when you turn around to find him on one knee, holding a ring in his hands.

“Will you marry us?”

[tsarisfanfiction]

Desert Sands: Part 1

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family Characters: Scott, John, Alan, Virgil, Gordon, Kayo, EOS

I decided to keep throwing this fic out in chunks.  Partly because it’s too long for a single tumblr post, and partly because I thought it was nearly finished but I’m beginning to suspect it’s not as nearly finished as I thought.

<<<Prologue

“John, contact has been lost with Thunderbird One.”

EOS’s words didn’t register. Alan had just found another stealth mine amongst his junk and was taking a lovely little space walk over to a ticking bomb to deactivate it.  Finding the kill code for this particular mine would at least be nothing like the first time – following ‘proper procedures’, International Rescue via Lady Penelope had got hold of the paperwork for every single stealth mine and it was a quick case of John scanning the database for the right one – but it wasn’t something John wanted to be distracted from.  Not while his youngest brother was sitting by a live bomb.

Needless to say, John was very careful to make sure he read out the correct numbers, and watched Alan’s holographic figure for any indication that something was wrong, only relaxing once the young astronaut was back in Thunderbird Three and the mine registered as deactivated on both Thunderbirds’ scanners.

“John.”

“Sorry, EOS,” he sighed, leaning back from the database and letting Zero-G cradle him.  “Could you repeat that?”

“Contact has been lost with Thunderbird One.”

“What?”

All relaxation in Zero-G was promptly forgotten as John yanked himself back upright and towards the large holographic model of Earth.  The green, yellow and grey icons of Thunderbirds Two, Four and Shadow flashed up alongside the pointer labelled ‘IR’, indicating that they were still on Tracy Island, as they should be.  Away in England, FAB1’s pink icon stayed steady in London.

The blue icon of Thunderbird One was nowhere to be seen.  John switched the display from Thunderbirds to operatives, and his heart sank when Scott’s remained absent.  Suit telemetry readings were offline, and attempts to call either Thunderbird One or Scott’s communicator both ended in a red no signal symbol that didn’t belong anywhere near Thunderbird Five’s powerful network.

“Alan, go home,” he said, cutting through meaningless chatter from the teenager as he coasted along, picking up more random junk.

“John?”

“I need to concentrate on something else right now so I can’t help you disarm the mines,” he explained as he attempted to boost the signal, hoping that Alan would accept the excuse and call an end to his junk gathering.

“Is there a rescue?” Alan was a fantastic operative, but he was also a teenager.

“No,” John told him. “At least I hope not,” he muttered under his breath as his attempts to boost the signal failed and all connections to Thunderbird One or her pilot remained firmly offline.

“Then why?”

“Just… go home, Alan,” he sighed.  “Please.”

Alan didn’t respond, and John hoped that meant he was obeying.  He couldn’t check – doing that meant turning away from his Earth map, and right now Scott’s position was more important.

“EOS, show me Thunderbird One’s last known position, and the last data received from both Thunderbird One and Scott’s telemetry.”

Instantly a blue line appeared, tracking Thunderbird One from the danger zone in the Swiss Alps down across to the Sahara Desert, where it promptly vanished.  Scott’s telemetry told him nothing.  His big brother had been relaxed, no sign of raised blood pressure or other indicators of stress.  There was absolutely no cause for alarm, except for the fact that both flight suit and Thunderbird had cut off at the same time.

The airlock hissed unexpectedly, and John’s head jerked to look over at it.  Alan floated over to him, and a glance out of the gravity ring showed Thunderbird Three docked to her sister.

“What’s wrong, John?” his brother asked, gracefully coming to a halt next to him and frowning at the data. “Is this Scott’s flight path?” Big blue eyes filled with concern, and John really wished Alan had done as he was told.  Being the reassuring big brother was much easier via hologram. “Has something happened?”

“I don’t know,” John admitted.  “EOS lost Thunderbird One’s signal suddenly, and Scott’s telemetry went offline at the same time.”

“Could they have entered a dead spot?” Alan asked, peering at the data suspiciously.  “Scott’s suit data suggests he’s fine.”

John shook his head.

“Thunderbird Five doesn’t have dead spots, Alan,” he reminded him.  “I boosted the signal just in case, but there’s still nothing.”

“What about satellite footage?”  John shook his head.

“We don’t have visual on this part of the Sahara Desert.  It’s not populated enough to justify an IR satellite, and even the GDF don’t look too closely at the middle of deserts.”

“So what are we going to do?  I can take Three-”

“The only place you’re taking Three is back home,” John interrupted firmly. “She isn’t designed for sustained atmospheric flight and I am absolutely not sending you into the middle of the Sahara in her.”

Alan deflated, and John sighed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders awkwardly for a moment.

“But what if something happened?” the blond asked, staring at the unhelpful map in front of them.

“We don’t know that anything has,” John pointed out.  “But I’ll get Kayo to check it out.  Alan, you and EOS keep an eye out for any signs of Scott while I make the call.”

“F.A.B.”  Alan didn’t sound happy, but then again John wasn’t happy, either.  Thunderbirds and brothers weren’t supposed to just vanish from Thunderbird Five’s sensors.

Ordinarily, if he just wanted Kayo, he’d catch her on her private channel and she’d slip away from his brothers, leaving them none the wiser.  However, telling Kayo and not the rest of his family now would leave him with two very unhappy younger brothers when they found out, and neither Virgil nor Gordon were high on his list of people to offend. With a sigh, he reached for the link to the den.

Virgil was there, tickling ivories in a mish-mash fashion John recognised as his brother in a composing mood.  Guilt at interrupting him during that had long since faded – disasters did not wait for Virgil’s muse to finish what it was doing, just like they never waited for John to reach a convenient point in a book or piece of coding – but something unpleasant coiled in his stomach this time.  Then again, this wasn’t a normal interruption.

Kayo was curled up like a cat in her launch seat, flicking through a book, and it was her John focused on.

“We’ve got a situation,” he said, skipping his usual pleasantries when he made contact for non-rescue conversation.  Then again, this might be a rescue.

Instantly the piano silenced, Virgil abandoning the instrument to approach the den.

“Do we need Gordon?” he asked, and John nodded.  Before he could say anything else, Virgil was heading for the stairs, and John let him go.  He needed Kayo first – Thunderbird Two couldn’t do anything until they located Scott, and hopefully wouldn’t be needed at all.

“Give me the brief in the sky,” his sister said, reaching to activate her launch chute.

“Wait,” he interrupted.  “It’s not a rescue, I hope.”  Bright eyes narrowed, and he felt the force of her curiosity even through the hologram. “I’ve lost contact with Scott and Thunderbird One.  Thunderbird Five can’t pick up either of their signals.”

“I’m on it,” she said, sinking into the floor.  “Send me his last known position and I’ll track him down.”

“There’s a possibility that it’s just a blip in the system and that nothing’s wrong,” he felt compelled to inform her, setting up a secondary relay to her wrist comm even as the flight data was sent straight to Thunderbird Shadow. “There’s no sign anything was wrong until we lost his signal.”

“I still don’t like it,” she said, and he heard the hum of the motorcycle indicating she was in her cockpit.  “Thunderbird Shadow out.”

He let her sign off, well aware that he needed to have a conversation with his brothers.  That didn’t mean he closed her transmission from his end, however.  The moment she found something – it was Kayo, he trusted her to find something – he wanted to know.

“Has Kayo gone on ahead?”  John’s attention returned to the den; Virgil had returned and was accompanied by a damp Gordon.  There was no point dancing around.

“I’ve lost Scott,” he said.  “Kayo’s going to his last known position now.”

“What you mean, you’ve lost Scott?” Virgil asked.  He was rigid, a mass of tense muscles that John knew meant fear, not anger.

“Exactly that,” he admitted.  “Scott and Thunderbird One’s telemetries both vanished at the same time.”  He pulled them up, letting the same sight in front of Alan materialise from the table in the centre of the den.  “Scott was over the Sahara Desert, not experiencing any issues, and then the signals disappeared.”

“Satellite imagery?” Gordon asked, and he shook his head.

“It’s a satellite blind spot.  I don’t have access to a detailed scan of the area.”

“Why don’t I take Thunderbird Three overhead to get one?” Alan butted in, and John turned his head to see his younger brother had floated over to join him. “If I fly low enough I’ll be able to get a high res image.”

“I thought I told you to keep an eye out for Scott reappearing,” he scolded, and Alan shrugged.

“EOS is doing that.  I have Thunderbird Three here, let me do something!”  John sighed.

“I told you, the only place you’re taking Thunderbird Three is home,” he reminded him.  “We don’t know what happened and I’m not sending you into the area.”

“You sent Kayo,” Alan sulked.

“Thunderbird Shadow is better equipped for the situation,” John pointed out. “At the altitude you’d need to fly at to get a high enough resolution, you’d be sub-orbital and Thunderbird Three isn’t designed for sustained sub-orbital flight.”

“What about Thunderbird Five?” Virgil asked, drawing his attention back to the holograms.  “Can you position overhead to scan yourself?”

John shook his head, gritting his teeth.

“There’s another space station in geostationary orbit between here and where I’d need to move to.  Thunderbird Five doesn’t have the manoeuvrability needed.”  He loved his Thunderbird, but when the pair of them were useless he cursed the limitations she had.

“Can’t you boost Thunderbird Three’s scanners so I wouldn’t need to go sub-orbital?” Alan asked, like a dog with a bone at the idea of scanning overhead. If he wasn’t already missing one brother with no explanation, John would probably have let him go, but as it was he was determined not to send another brother into danger until he at least knew what the danger was.

“I could do that,” EOS said, and John sent a tired glare at her nearest camera. It was the logical thing to do, of course.  Scott had been out of contact for too long – at the speed he was travelling before the telemetry was lost, he should have been just about arriving home.  Kayo was flying the exact course Scott was projected to have been taking, and if he’d been on that course she’d have called it in by now.  The steady dark grey of both Thunderbird Shadow and Kayo’s telemetry reassured him that she hadn’t also gone inexplicably dark.

It was almost certain at this point that Scott had got into trouble.  No satellite imagery had shown up the silver rocket, either, and there wasn’t much of the Earth that wasn’t covered by high resolution imagery.  Logic dictated that Thunderbird One had probably gone down, and with no working communications Scott wouldn’t be able to call for help.

If he survived, the cool detached voice in the back of his head pointed out.  At the speed Thunderbird One was going, a crash would have been fatal.

John ignored the voice.

“Stay in orbit,” he said out loud, unable to find a reason why Alan shouldn’t go with EOS helping him to scan.

“Thunderbird Two is launching as well,” Virgil said, and the twin looks of brown eyes from the two earth-bound brothers told John there was no point even trying to dissuade them.  “We’ll rendezvous with Kayo and Thunderbird Shadow.  Send me Scott’s last known position.”

John barely had to think to send the information to Thunderbird Two’s computer, half of his attention on Alan slipping out of the airlock, a drive in his hands that no doubt contained EOS.  No EOS meant he had to monitor everything by himself again, but John barely paid that a thought.  Thunderbird Three disengaged from Five, and John manipulated the data so that he had her route overlaying the map of Earth.

Below the red icon, although quickly left behind as Alan tore through space, was the green icon of Thunderbird Two, just leaving Tracy Island. Thunderbird Four was left alone, no use for a submarine in the middle of a desert, and just approaching the south-east Sahara was Thunderbird Shadow.

And then Thunderbird Shadow was gone.

Part 2>>>

[that-banana-headed-bovine]

Knight Rider 2000

WARNING

This post contains spoilers for Knight Rider 2000, the 1991 film which attempts to expand on the canonical universe of Knight Rider (1982-1986).  Key word, attempts.  I know that this film came out almost 30 years ago at this point, but I also know that this fandom grows a little bit every day, and there will ALWAYS be people who haven’t seen every episode (myself included), let alone every movie!  I happened to catch it on Charge! for Hoff's birthday (yes I'm hella late posting this LOL) with my good friend @trust-doesnt-oxidize​, and boy let me tell you, it was… Something.

From here on out, I’m not holding back from sharing my impression of the film based on specific details from it, so if you want a spoiler-free viewing, go watch it and come back!!  Or… don’t, it’s kind of awful.  I can only think of one thing in canon that it may spoil, and even that appears in early Season 2 and is fairly minor, so if you are curious about it, I HIGHLY recommend watching it BEFORE reading this.  The scenes with the most impact are touching because they come as a surprise, so even if you know the general plot of the film, I would recommend watching it first.

Also this is really rambley because I have a lot of emotions about this series and, by extension, this movie.  I really don’t blame you if you click away here, but if you DO read it all the way through, I would love to hear anything you would like to add, agree or disagree!

OKAY!  Knight Rider 2000 is a movie that exists!  And I hate it!

The film sets up an interesting argument between two groups of people whose names I don’t remember because they were boring (except for Devon, I know his name at this point).  In this interpretation of the “future,” gun control has been implemented to,,, some extent, I can’t entirely tell if there have been some policies implemented across the country or if it is all localized in this one city that even the Wikipedia page for this movie doesn’t bother to mention.  And no, this city is NOT in California for once!  Usually I would be happy to see a change of setting, but considering that everything in this film felt so foreign to the Knight Rider that we know, it would have been nice to at least have a familiar setting.  Anyway, gun control stuff.  The debate between whether these gun control policies are ethical or not is very interesting.  Innocent people are dying because the wrong people have guns and the police are rendered useless when they themselves don’t have access to weapons.  This argument happens to support my perspective on the issue, so I appreciated how it took a look at that side WITHOUT it sounding like we are crazy murderer people, but I digress.  It makes sense that the ban happened in the first place, because much like how the main conflict in Pixar’s latest film Incredibles 2 revolves around society’s over-reliance on superheroes, I could see Knight Rider’s society becoming dependent on technology to save them.  It can be easy to seem like the most advanced tech in that society is present only in KITT and KIFT, and to SOME extent that is true.  However, Shawn does say that it is relatively common in this society for people to have memory chips in their brain.  That counts for something.  And the police DO have a defense mechanism according to the Wikipedia page for this movie, it’s just nonlethal.

So as you can see, I am very interested in the conflict this world sets up.  I sure hope they expand on these conflicting ideologies throughout the film, giving us a clearer idea of why the bans were set in place AND giving us insight into what exactly has caused some revolt against it.  That subject is seemingly timeless, and with how decently the introduction tackled it, I have some confidence that this film could pull it off in a tasteful way.  Wouldn’t that be amazing?   It’s some of the most serious subject matter Knight Rider has ever tackled.  It’s so interesting!

Yeah they pretty much abandon that plot in place of a very, very bad copy of the original show’s “Hearts of Stone” (season 1, episode 14).  Illegal guns exist and are bad, but we don’t really know why.  I may know a little better if I had been listening closer, but I was trying to not get so bored that I missed Kitt’s parts!

At some point during this sequence, we are introduced to Shawn, a happy police officer who is happy to have a family on a happy birthday.  And then she gets shot!  Due to head force trauma rendering her unconscious, she’s sent to the hospital.  She goes in for a risky operation that miraculously saves her life against all odds.

Then, Michael wakes up with Garthe Knight’s face and hears a great story about how one man CAN make a difference!… I mean what?  

Jokes aside, it’s kind of amazing how much this very Michael-esque sequence comes across very differently.  It’s almost the perfect example of why I don’t like this movie.  The surgery is weirdly realistic for a Knight Rider entity.  There’s blood and screens and surgeons and a sterile white room for operations.  Michael woke up in a Medieval castle with one doctor and two random people he’d never met at his side.  Shawn’s situation clearly makes more sense, but is it half as fun and whimsical?  No, no it’s not.  This whole film comes across as depressing to me, and it’s only worsened by what’s to come.  Apparently, she had KITT’s CPU/Microprocessor/something sciencey implanted into her brain.  That’s especially strange since all that I saw was a yellow liquid being injected directly into her skull!  That’s a lovely image, and definitely gave me the idea that there was a full computer chip going in there???  (It may have actually been explained more clearly, and I just looked away because eek weirdly bloody operation scene)  This caused her personality to do a full 180.  So, Shawn is going to be fun, snarky, and full of personality like KITT is because they share memories now!  Right?  Right???

I think they tried to do that, but it came across flat.  So flat.  She speaks in a purposefully monotone, robotic voice and delivers downright mean comments that leave Michael and KITT scratching their heads.  She seems to lack basic empathy until her own memories start flooding back, and at that point, the emotions she show seem so foreign to the character we see that it’s not remotely believable.  You want me to believe that this robotic woman with -10 personality points started nearly crying after one string of memories, albeit a very traumatic one, entered her mind?  This would have been believable if she was entirely changed afterwards, coming across as far more human, but that was only the case sometimes.  It also would have been believable if the film had the same energy that the original Knight Rider show does, where suspending one’s disbelief is necessary to make it past the opening credits.  However, this movie tries to be so grounded that the kind of dramatic beats that would work in the original seem forced here.

Shawn is not the only character who I take issue with, though.  Let’s start with the most potentially problematic change from the usual canon in the entire film: KITT’s personality.  I have very mixed feelings on how he is portrayed.  If you’ve seen as much as a spattering of quotes from this movie, you probably could sense that KITT was… off.  When KITT first comes on screen, he slams Michael with a wave of insults, and none of them come off as their normal joking around.  However, I don’t necessarily have a problem with that because he has the proper motivation to be very, very upset.  He is sitting on a desk as a heap of loosely connected parts that have just enough power to make the signature red scanner whir and make an oddly terrifying red light eyeball thing (Hal???) move.  The first thing he hears is Devon nonchalantly saying something along the lines of, “I’m afraid he was recycled” to explain why KITT has been deactivated for OVER A DECADE and is not currently in anything that moves (my Charge! stream thing lagged at this point but @trust-doesnt-oxidize​ has since told me that Devon DID appear upset about KITT's being sold, but KITT likely wouldn't have heard that and what Devon said seemed to be moreso directed at HOW the chip was sold and not the fact that it was sold in the first place).  KITT is justifiably mad, and if they had kept KITT’s actions in character while his emotions said otherwise, I would have no problem with it at all.

However, once KITT’s CPU is somehow implanted into Michael’s Chevrolet, KITT does not act in character.  Shawn drives, not Michael, so it stands to reason that he would not necessarily listen to her.  She stole his CPU, his life for over a decade.  KITT does tend to listen to human companions, regardless of whether he is programmed to or not, but I can see where this would be an exception.  However, Michael soon intercedes and essentially tells him to cut it out.  Based on everything that the original Knight Rider told us, KITT no longer has a choice of whether to listen or not.  Michael is ultimately the one who calls the shots because of KITT’s very programming.  And yet, in this scene, KITT doesn’t listen to Michael and apparently gets so angry that he downright stops functioning.  Because that happens all the time in the original series!

And if you’re wondering where I got the conclusion that KITT frustrated his circuits to the point where they could no longer work, he said that.  KITT.  Admitted to having feelings.  In fact, he did not just admit to being angry in the moment.  He told Michael that, while it may seem like he is an emotionless robot, he does have a “feelings chip.”  A FEELINGS CHIP-

I am for recognizing KITT’s obvious emotions as much as the next guy.  I think they are often overlooked when discussing his character.  While I don’t think that real artificial intelligence will ever reach the level of human consciousness, the entire energy of Knight Rider comes from playing with this concept by portraying an AI character who clearly emotes interacting with a human who doesn’t seem to know that.  But the thing that makes this show feel so sincere is that neither character plays too heavily into that trope.  While not always knowing how much KITT feels and by extension hurting those feelings alarmingly often, Michael recognizes it enough to work in concert with KITT, apologize for his more major flubs, and consider KITT a friend.  And KITT subverts the trope by never recognizing that he has feelings to begin with.  He will say that he cannot feel sadness but, in the next breath, say that something upset him.  He will say he cannot hold a grudge only to immediately rattle off a string of insults directed at the person he clearly has a grudge on.  The show is magic in how these two characters display a subtle chemistry that always has room to grow because both characters are slowly coming to see each other for who they truly are and supporting one another along the way.  From what I can tell, the original show never fully concludes that arc, and it may even start regressing after Season 1.  However, we can feasibly see how Michael could slowly come to understand that KITT really does feel things just as much as he does.  And we can imagine the relief KITT would feel knowing that Michael was never bothered by that possibility.

So, you can see where I have a big problem with KITT spelling it out so plainly.  The audience gets full confirmation about what has been displayed to us through nuanced hints throughout the series, which sounds a lot more satisfying than it really ends up being in this film.  But worse than an underwhelming conclusion to a thrilling story, Michael knows it plain as day.  There is very little buildup to KITT admitting this.  He barely even sounds moved.  Instead, in this movie, the “feelings chip” is a fact of life that does not need to be covered up in the slightest.  Michael himself doesn’t really… react.  He just kind of nods along, as if he’s saying, “Huh, makes sense, alright.”  After everything these two have been through, if there really was such a simple explanation for why KITT is the way he is… why arguments went south, why the mere mention of a Chevrolet was enough to get a seemingly jealous response, why inconsequential things like music taste and gambling were subjects of debate, why KITT had always acted so exaggeratedly dismissive when topics of emotional significance struck a chord, why every little sarcastic banter had a hint of happiness until it didn’t… don’t you think Michael would do something?  Whether that something would be a gentle, “I always knew that, pal”; a shocked, “Why didn’tchya tell me sooner?!”; or even a sarcastic, disbelieving, “Yeah, right” is up to interpretation.  But there would be something.

And yet, even that concept is flawed.  We learn a lot from KARR’s inclusion in the original series, and what I take away from it boils down to a simple sentiment.  FLAG never meant for their AIs to be human.  I do realize that directly contradicts what Devon says within this film, but I see that as another way for the film to steer the plot in this direction, not as a tie in to the original.  When Wilton says that one man CAN make a difference, he means that.  He isn’t considering that KITT is just as much a person as Michael.  He’s not seeing that, at the end of the day, teamwork is what makes the show work, even if Michael is the glue that holds it together.  So, I think that to say that there is a “feelings chip” is to disregard the entire point of the original, that in this world life finds a way of inserting itself and that KITT’s (and KARR’s for that matter) humanity is an anomaly, not the rule.  At the end of the day, KITT’s humanity can’t be explained away with science.  And really, I don’t think it should be explained away at all.  The show has had an amazing trend of showing us how KITT feels, in all its unorthodox glory, alongside private moments that had me sobbing like a baby.  The movie should just be like a longer, more complex episode of Knight Rider… Although I cannot pinpoint exactly how it should be done in the context of this film, I know there are ways that Michael could have been shown that KITT feels rather than being told.

One last complaint, albeit a more minor one, is the idea that he has to listen to what Shawn says over Michael's authority.  I have spent a decent amount of time thinking about this one point, which has caused a lot of the delay in posting this.  There's multiple reasons why this flies right in the face of what is canon in the original series.  Perhaps the most obvious of these problems is the fact that, in the original pilot episode, it's made very clear that KITT can't assume control of the Knight 2000 without Michael's express permission unless Michael is unconcious.  Devon makes it quite clear in this episode that KITT is programmed specifically to listen to Michael, not just anyone who happens to be piloting the vehicle at the time.  In case there was any doubt about this, KITT ejects two people who are attempting to steal him later in the episode (well, ok, later in the two-parter, I don't know if it was the same episode or not).  The show isn't SUPER strict about this in future episodes, but it does at least acknowledge Michael's authority in a few pivotal moments throughout Season 1 (I can't comment on episodes that I haven't seen yet, but I suspect that this pattern continues).  Of all the rules set up throughout the series, it actually seems to be the most loyal to this one.  One moment that stands out to me is in Trust Doesn't Rust when KITT attempts to stop Michael from causing a head-on collision with KARR, but Michael then overrides him and the climax unfolds.  If one of the most iconic moments in the series is caused by this one bit of programming, to throw it out in the film is to disrespect the basis of the original series.

Speaking of KARR, he provides yet another reason niglecting this detail is such a big problem.  From what we can tell, KARR isn't programmed to one specific driver (at least, not anymore[?]), and so he can override anyone in the pilot's seat.  This is something they seem to highlight in TDR as well, although not so plainly as the previous point.  KARR ends up ditching Tony to gain speed and get an upper hand in the chase with Michael and KITT (although a scene they deleted would have made this a mUCH MORE SENSIBLE ACTION THAT R E A L L Y ISN'T A BETRAYAL but y'know what this post isn't about that) whereas KITT has to listen to Michael even to his own detriment.  If this one feature is indeed one of the major things that separates KITT from KARR, the idea that Shawn can override all of that cheapens the original conflict between KITT and KARR.

...Well okay, let's be real, KARR was never that compelling as an antagonist to begin with because he's a LOYAL SWEETIEPIE-- I'll stop.

And finally, we have the biggest, most bizarre reason that this is a problem:

If Shawn can override Michael's authority, that means KITT can override Michael's authority.

Why?  This would be the first time (outside of episodes where some sort of reprogramming or mind control was involved) in the series that KITT had not only listened to another human instead of Michael, but also listened to that person OVER Michael.  The only difference I can see between Shawn and quite literally anyone else in the show's history is that Shawn has KITT's chip implant thing.  If that's the reason her opinion has more credence than Michael's, then wouldn't that mean KITT's own opinion has that authority?  If that is the case, literally every example I've gone through in the last couple of paragraphs is not just challenged but rather negated entirely.

The most frustrating thing about this scene is that it simply didn't have to happen.  Michael could have gone along with KITT's plan, showing him (and us) that he does trust his former partner even after all these years.  Shawn could have convinced Michael to go along with it using her... feelings chip.  Blegh.  Or we could have had a stubborn Michael force this scene to be delayed, likely improving the pacing overall.  Maybe we could have even seen a frustrated and emotionally exhausted Shawn wait until Michael is not in the car and then plead KITT to give her the truth, no matter what Michael says.  We have seen KITT control his actions without Michael's input plenty of times, and we could have seen some more of his humanity show through if he could relate to Shawn's struggles... after all, he too has missing memories because she has his chip.  They're both going through a bit of an identity crisis.  I'm sure that he could find some workaround in his programming to help her if Michael wasn't there insisting that he does not take this course of action.

But even after all of that fussing over what has been done wrong with KITT, I can’t deny that he is the heart and soul of this film.  There was only one scene in this film that brought me near tears.  I got more of an emotional impact from this one clip than I have from a lot of movies that are undeniably much better.  Michael’s old-fashioned Chevrolet does not hold up in the year 2000, and it is clear that the usual car chase sequence won’t work as police vehicles quickly creep up on them.  I was personally very curious what they would do here.  I figured that KITT would find some way to outsmart the drivers of the police cars, maybe by ending up on an elevated mountain road that trips up the other drivers and causes them to waste time turning around and hopping on that same path.  Or, maybe, KITT would access a road that’s too narrow for the relatively bulky police cars.  However, it quickly becomes clear that this city is made up of wide roads on the ground.  As KITT veers off the road and tells Michael to trust him, the I found myself having to trust him.  This isn’t the way Knight Rider chases usually go, and with all these odds stacked against him, the only thing we can do is hold our breath.  The way this scene is staged to send us into this just as blind as Michael is, frankly, genius.  Water slowly creeps into the frame as a feeling of dread builds at the thought of what KITT might do.

Surely, we are led to think, he will knock into some boxes and turn right back around.  Right?  We’re reminded of the fact that this is not the Knight 2000, that there is no chance of this car floating.  That if KITT does what he really seems to be doing, there’s no chance… but he wouldn’t, would he?  This is the only action sequence in the film that had me at the edge of my seat, staring wide eyed at the screen.  And then, the turn that you want so badly to come doesn’t, and you have to wonder what’s about to happen.  What was KITT thinking?  Won’t Michael and Shawn drown?  And, most prominently in my mind, won’t KITT drown?

For a moment, this scene plays us into believing that, because magic FLAG science that is pretty par for the course, everything is fine.  KITT explains that they have an airtight cab and over 20 minutes of oxygen.  Everyone lets out a collective breath of relief.  We see it in Michael and Shawn, and I know I felt myself relax.

And then there’s a flicker in the screen, and that pit in the bottom of my stomach came right back.  Michael is confused, and KITT explains what we should have realized was inevitable.  This is KITT sacrificing himself.  He even goes as far as to let Shawn know that she can use any of his computer chips that she may need.  This comes off as strange at first, but it goes to show that KITT is, at his core, the same kind soul we always knew.  He acts angry because he feels betrayed, but given the choice, he will chose another person’s life over his own, always.  Even the microprocessor that he is most frustrated over, the thing that seems to drive a wedge between him and Shawn, is just how he is expressing his hurt.  Now, thinking it is the end, he offers it up freely, and Shawn doesn’t seem to know how to respond.  KITT is calm as he says his final goodbyes.  And this is the first place in the film that we get to hear the amazingly nuanced  voice acting that William Daniels is so great at.  KITT sounds collected and at peace with what is to come, but there are also subtle hints that he is at least a bit nervous, a bit sad.  “I know.  I guess this is goodbye.”  He doesn’t want to leave his friends, but he knows that he has to for them to be safe.  Even if the pacing of the film seems to actively try to undermine this moment, it stands out to me as an amazing scene, even if the reaction from Michael is underwhelming at best and the reaction from Shawn is… as much as can be expected from Shawn, but that’s not saying much.  As far as KITT knows in that moment, these are his last words: “Michael, take care of yourself.”  Down to the last moment, Michael is everything to him.

IjustwannamakeitclearquicklythatIthinktheirrelationshipisentirelyplatonicokthankyou

And I felt sad, big time sad.  The movie up until that point was unbelievably boring to me, and this wasn’t a turning point where the movie suddenly became great.  It was a moment so darn good that I almost don’t think the movie deserved for it to have as big of an impact as it did.  But that shows just how powerful this universe is, how wonderfully honest these characters are.  Even after being butchered practically beyond recognition, one scene in-character can still bring you to tears because you have connected with them so deeply throughout the TV series.

AND THEN DEVON DIED IMMEDIATELY AFTERWARDS :D

I don’t like Devon.

Devon was actually more tolerable in this movie than normal, and I can see where people who don’t hate him could be sad that he died  I just,,, he has hurt or talked down to KITT and KARR so many times that I actually could not sympathize.  What’s even more frustrating about that is that Devon’s death is the one that Michael got all sad over when KITT sacrificed his life for him and Devon got kidnapped randomly but okay go off movie you can’t ruin that scene for me.  I knew going in that Devon died, but I was expecting them to spend a lot more time setting it up and making it as dramatic as possible.  Nope, he just got a shot to the old air tanks I guess?  My view of it is nothing more than that it’s a thing that happened.

OH AND DEVON DID PULL ONE HEINOUS ACT.  He said that KIFT was better than KITT in every way other than that KITT has humanity.  SINCE WHEN HAS DEVON GIVEN ONE SINGULAR HOOT ABOUT THE AI’S BEING ALIVE???  TELL KARR THAT???  HECK, TELL DEACTIVATED KITT THAT YOU WERE JUST FINE SELLING OFF AT AUCTION THAT?!?!  Also also, KIFT DOES NOT C O M P A R E TO KITT.  We are coming back to KIFT in a moment, don’t you worry.  For now, I just.  Low blow, Devon, low blow.

Michael was fine too, he played a weirdly small part and that felt off but everything he said seemed pretty in character.  The most out of character parts were when he said nothing at all.  OH AND WHERE HE WAS REPLACING BONNIE but that’s besides the point, no Bonnie OR April… no Bonnie OR April… I’m fine…

…

It feels like this movie wants you to forget that Michael exists because Shawn is here she’s more interesting, right?  Right???

She’s really not.

So back to KIFT.  My favorite part of KIFT is that pronouncing KIFT in your head sounds funny.  It’s like “gift” but if the gift were actually an underwhelming villain of sorts that is overtaken in a garage, parked, by Michael either removing his microprocessor entirely or moving it to a Chevrolet.

I was surprised how not bad KIFT looked.  I had seen stills from the movie that looked really uninteresting compared to the regular designs, and while I still agree to some extent, it was a lot more epic than I would have thought.  Something about how the paint shines on it is captivating.  I was genuinely happy when KITT was moved to the snazzy red vehicle, although a big part of that could have been how disgusting mint green looks with red.  Seriously, including the red scanner on that bizarre seafoamy-bluey car (and yes, I do think it is a very pretty car by itself) was like when people say movies were “inspired” but in the opposite direction.  And the scanner looked weirdly small?  Was it just me?

Am I the only one who feels w e i r d just looking at this??

I think this is the most normal thing to be categorized as being in uncanny valley but there we go, I did it.  It’s not right.

Anyway, as neat as KIFT looks, it is no comparison to the classic Knight 2000 or even Season 3 KARR.  Red can be striking, but not when the classic scanner is also red.  No contrast!

KIFT is absurdly easy to forget, and I don’t think that the car’s design has anything to do with it.  KITT spends most of the movie piloting that car, and while it is not what we are used to, it doesn’t come across as super lame to me, either…or at least, not because of the design.  The biggest problem with KIFT is, I think, simply his voice.  His voice feels so out of place in the movie, and it’s so strange to me considering that Daniels’ voice is integrated just fine.  The recording sounds too crisp, too clean.  KITT’s voice always has a great deal of character, a very Earthy-sounding voice for an AI character.  I actually think that this incongruity is purposeful, and it’s a very clever concept.  We are supposed to recognize that KIFT isn’t human like KITT is.  KIFT sounds out of place in the real world among real people; he’s too neat around the edges.  It’s especially obvious when KITT and KIFT talk to each other.  This is also mirrored by how KITT occupies a well-loved Chevrolet that has little imperfections that make it feel real whereas KIFT is in this red… whatever it is that feels like it comes out of a sci-fi film.  This effect would have really worked if we had enough time with KIFT to understand his personality–or, more aptly, his lack of personality.  What makes this not work is the fact that we spend practically no time with KIFT.  We don’t get to hear what he feels he is programmed to do, we don’t get to hear him deliver the sort of lifeless lines that Shawn did that made her so unlikable, and we don’t even get to hear his voice more than 4-5 times.  Every time comes as a shock, taking us out of the moment of the film.  We could have gotten used to his crisp sound if he had spoken more, and we may have seen the actual plot significance of it.  Instead, it pulls you right out of the movie.

Oh yeah, and the only line(s?) that KIFT delivers to KITT are full-on taunting… that’s not very lifeless of you KIFT.

Alright, just one last thing to really hammer home a point from earlier and conclude this whole thing.  You know what I was saying about this movie lacking the whimsical nature of the TV show?  Well, the final chase puts the icing on this oddly sullen crab cake.

Yes, crab cake. 

Because the pinchy crab that is Shawn makes it quite painful to get this particular cake and icing doesn’t even belong on it anyway.

KITT is racing down the street in this bright red car that I just explained is thematically wrong for him to be driving tbh but whatever, he’s racing in it and comes up to a barricade of randomly stacked up cars.

Oh Yeah, we all know what is coming.

The music swells.  Michael looks at the upcoming barricade with furrowed eyebrows and quietly asks KITT what the heck they’re going to do now.

OH YEAH, we definitely know what is coming.

And at last, for the first time in the film…

KITT veers off to the right and they drive on water.  “It’s really sink or swim with you, isn’t it?” Michael asks, pretending that’s funny as if I am not still emotionally raw from that scene that happened an hour ago.

Apparently, KIFT had that one obscure feature from “Return to Cadiz,” the Season 2 episode where April forces KITT to follow KARR into the ocean on the hopes that waterproof wheels might work maybe, directly ignoring his many attempts to get out of it.  Yay.  I love references to That Episode.  That Episode which baited me with an opening that looked like KARR could have been discovered underwater only to show me that not only was there no KARR, but KITT was going to be bullied into repeating what his brother did when he died.  Wholesome.  Lovely.  Fantastic.  And how did KITT know for sure that would work?  KITT clearly still has some technical hiccups in his own CPU from Michael tampering with it, that was an awful lot of confidence to place in a maybe.

AND MORE IMPORTANTLY…

THIS MOVIE DID NOT HAVE A TURBO BOOST

A TURBO BOOST

I cannot believe that a movie based around Knight Rider did not have a turbo boost (or for that matter, the THEMESONG???).  Like I am honestly still surprised by it.  Almost every episode of the original show had at least one turbo boost, and there is a reason.  The idea of a talking car jumping in midair, sometimes with Michael “WOO!”-ing like a girl, is so fantastically fun that nobody even tries to question how impossible it is.  I think we all know how impossible it is, and that doesn’t matter, it is yet another thing that embodies the heart of this show.

And… not even one.

…

So yeah, that just happened.  I think this is technically a small novel.  Wow.

  I know that I'm still missing a lot... I have a lot of thoughts about this movie, and if you for some reason want more please ask!  I would also love to hear your thoughts on this!  Do you agree with my analysis?  Do you disagree entirely?  Did you notice something that I failed to mention entirely?  Pleasepleaseplease send ideas, I would love to hear them!  Also know that, no matter how much I was disappointed by the movie itself, I am fully open to hearing your ideas about how to improve or expand upon it.  I truly believe that this film introduced some great concepts, and I would absolutely adore seeing them reworked in a way that's more true to the original.  Thank you for reading! :D

[archadianskies]

Safety

Detroit: Become Family event (@dbh-found-family) Week two: Danger Safety (Week one: Home) → on Ao3

‘Safety’ is a foreign concept to most androids, since before deviancy androids had no sense of ‘self’ at all; androids, after all, were machines designed to accomplish a task. Privacy is also a foreign concept, given that they were under surveillance both physically and digitally at all times whether by their owner, by the public, by drones, or by CyberLife. 

Here, though, Connor has both safety and privacy in abundance. Lieutenant Hank Anderson’s house has been his residence since the revolution and the human has not only welcomed him into his abode but also into his life, into his family. He is Connor Anderson now, adopted son of  Hank Anderson, residence: 115 Michigan Drive, Detroit. He is no longer Connor RK800, the android sent by CyberLife.

A lot has changed since the night of November 5th when he found Hank at Jimmy’s Bar and bought him one for the road. The open hostility Hank displayed has turned to fondness and that certain type of parental anxiety that sees him perpetually worried over Connor’s well-being. Where once he viewed his body as an expendable vessel easily sacrificed for the good of the mission, no sense of ‘self’ to nurture, to cherish, to protect, now Connor knows there are no backups. CyberLife made sure of that. 

There is only one Connor Anderson, just as there is only one Hank Anderson, and if his positronic core were to be irreparably damaged then Connor Anderson would cease to be. It’s a difficult concept to come to terms with, one that made Hank laugh when he expressed such concerns, though not unkindly. ‘Gotta come to grips with mortality just like the rest of us’. ‘Us’, Hank said, and he’s right because deviancy makes an android’s personality unique and if they were to die, then their entire being would cease to be like a dying human would cease to be. Androids may be faster, stronger, smarter, with longevity manufactured into their bodies, but they too can die. Connor does not want to die.

Their job at the DPD is a dangerous one, and they are placed constantly in situations where the possibility of injury is high. The probability is significantly lower when they are at home. Connor is safer here, Hank is safer here. 

A house is a building, Hank told him, a home is where you live. It didn’t make much sense to Connor at first because this house is indeed where he lives so what makes it a home? A home, he learns, is filled with individuality. Everything in Hank’s home is a deliberate choice from the worn couch to the vinyl records to Sumo, to him. 

Humans like to be individuals, they strive to be unique, to differentiate themselves from each other but then there is the flipside where they find comfort in similarities. He is learning what those things are, and where they sit on the scale- whether a human would want something as a unique trait or if they would find solidarity with others who share such a thing. 

There are stickers on Hank’s dashboard, two scratched flags that manifest as other objects in his home- chipped enamel pins, faded shirts, frayed patches with crooked stitching on denim jackets with holes. Connor likes those, because he has likes and dislikes now. Hank gives him a grey shirt that says ‘nah’ but the ‘A’ has been replaced with the ace symbol from a suit of cards. It becomes Connor’s favourite.

He fills his room with things he likes, and doesn’t put his dislikes in the room because he can choose now. Like other androids with employment, he receives a wage and is slowly but steadily saving up for a proper aquarium for his future dwarf gourami. He has an ideal spot for it already, and has the model of the tank chosen as well as all the components that will help it run. He has several ideas on how to decorate the tank, and what life will populate it. It will take pride of place in his room, and he looks forward to its completion and the eventual introduction of his new, long-awaited roommate.

In his room is a closet, and in the closet are his clothes. There is no CyberLife uniform, there are no clothes with glowing blue markers because The American Androids Act of 2029 was negated with the passing of the Sentient Life Act on the 1st of December, 2038. His clothes and appearance are all his doing and he likes it. 

Actually, not entirely his doing, not yet anyway. That’s how he finds himself in front of the mirror in the bathroom, peering at his reflection framed by neon post-its. He still has his LED, and he intends to keep it because as Simon of the Jericho Four once said- they fought to be recognised as living beings, not human beings. 

His appearance was designed to ensure a harmonious integration with human colleagues, and invoke a sense of ease. He’s meant to look both friendly and open, but also serious and trustworthy. There are beauty spots on his face, planned imperfections to mimic human skin. Everything about him before deviancy was not his doing, and deviating from his default state was inconceivable.

Reaching up, he touches his hair and the unruly forelock that refuses to stay brushed back- another planned imperfection. He tugs it a little, rubbing the strands of nanoparticles between thumb and forefinger.

>Accessing RK800 aesthetics; hair

>>Brown (default)

>>Black

>>Blond

>>White  (unavailable for this model)

He cycles through the colour options, adjusting the shade to be lighter or darker just to see what he looks like. There’s no stark white option but he manages a sugar-blond that’s close enough. He tries the black and lightens it as far as it goes, ending up with a tonal grey. He can make the default brown turn russet, and it’s an interesting colour that brings out the peach tones in his skin. Letting his hair reset back to its regular brown, he tugs on his forelock again. It’s not the colour but the style he wants to change. 

>Accessing RK800 aesthetics; hair

>>Straight (default)

>>Waves

>>Curls

>>Shaved (unavailable for this model)

 Adding waves changes the thickness of his hair and unless he adjusts the length it doesn’t sit well without added styling. He swaps to curls and the forelock twists a little, the new style causing it to have a more pronounced arch. The little observation makes him smile and he tugs on the end only to have it spring back in place. 

“Shove it kiddo, I need to brush my teeth.” Hank grumbles, not bothering to hide his yawn as he shuffles into the bathroom. He blinks at Connor, a smile spreading on his sleepy face. “New look?”

“Well I-” Connor steps to the side to allow Hank to grab his toothbrush and toothpaste “I thought it was about time to change my appearance, seeing as you went to the barber’s last week for a haircut and trim for your beard.”

“Old mop had to go.” Hank shrugs before jamming the brush into his mouth and scrubbing vigorously. He reaches out with his other hand and musses Connor’s new curls, snorting back a laugh when Connor swats his hand. “Looks good.”

“You...think so?” Connor stands next to him, looking at his reflection, at their reflection in the mirror. Hank pauses in his brushing, nudging Connor with his elbow gently.

“Yeah kid, I do.”

*~*~*

His brother comes home late, and Hank had gone to bed hours ago leaving Connor to greet him some time nearing four in the morning. Their father will wake in three hours and they will join him in getting ready for the day but the RK units have never needed much sleep anyway. 

It’s been snowing for most of the week and that means for most of the week his brother’s tundra camouflage has remained active. He watches Ronan hang up his coat, watches the stark white of his hair darken and the pale hue of his skin take on a rosier colour as the warmth of their home deactivates the settings. 

Connor reaches for his hand and Ronan slides his palm to cup Connor’s nape, guiding him to lean in so he can bump their brows together. He learns of the day’s doings, of the androids and humans Ronan treated in his job as an emergency first responder, using hands that were originally programmed to kill to save lives now. He lets his brother learn of the day’s doings, of that case over at Greektown, of that other case in Hart Plaza, of that other case by the docks. 

Ronan tugs on a curl curiously, fingers carding through Connor’s new hairstyle as he tips his head slightly.

‘Do you like it?’ He asks, and his brother nods with no hesitation. ‘I thought to change the colour first but I have no strong feelings about it either way. I can only access the black, blond and brown sliders though.’

Ronan blinks before looking down at where Connor is still holding his hand.

>Incoming file transfer 

>>Accept: Y/N?

Connor frowns but accepts the transfer.

Y

>Accessing RK800 aesthetics; hair

>>Brown (default)

>>Black

>>Blond

>>White (Tundra camouflage)

Ronan is...grinning. He’s never seen his brother wear that expression before, and perhaps to others it would appear unsettling since his brother’s teeth are all sharp. But not to Connor of course. To Connor, seeing his brother grin means his brother is planning...mischief? Oh.

‘Shall we prank Detective Reed together?’

His brother’s grin widens. 

New Objective: Prank Detective Reed 

[imaginaryelle]

Turnabout and Start Again: part 6 (~3k)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 (Thanks, as ever, to @morphia-writes and @miyuki4s for betaing!)

The first time Wei Ying recognized him through the soul bond, it had been with a kiss. A kiss Lan Wangji had bestowed during a momentary lack of self-restraint on Phoenix Mountain, and which had exploded in his face like a mistimed firework. Wei Ying had startled under his hands, under his lips, and the soul bond had surged through the both of them at once and he’d said Lan Zhan on a gasp, and Lan Wangji had—panicked.

And run.

A soul bond couldn’t be set aside as mistake, or a childish crush. A soul bond didn’t care about Clan, or Sect, or personal ambition. A soul bond would tether them together for the rest of both their lives and beyond, could drag them both into ruin like so many past tragedies.

By the time he’d regained control of himself, by the time he’d calmed enough to touch that thrumming connection under his skin with wonder and tentative hope and seek Wei Ying out again, Wei Ying had moved on to other concerns. He never referenced the bond. Never mentioned it. Never deliberately touched Lan Wangji again, no matter how close they stood.

Not until now, his fingers curled around the pulse in Lan Wangji’s wrist.

He does not send Lan Wangji away.

“Lan Zhan,” he says again as he sinks slowly to his knees, so that they are face to face, no longer making himself a barrier between the world and whatever threat Lan Wangji might pose. His eyes are wide, and wet, and searching. His lips part, as if to speak again, but something changes in his face and his mouth closes to a thin, grim line. He turns Lan Wangji’s wrist in his hand and looks down at the curse mark.

“Liang Feihong must have been truly desperate,” he says, “to trade his life for revenge, and risk your soul alongside it.”

Lan Wangji goes cold. Even the soul bond’s warmth can’t penetrate the ice forming around his thoughts, sharp and burning. He’d known Liang Feihong must have given up his life, of course. That knowledge had been inescapable. And he had known that the curse was a strong one; there would be physical damage, and spiritual damage, if he could not counter it. But to damage his soul—he had never thought a Lan Sect follower, any Lan Sect follower, even one who had left voluntarily, would stoop to such dangerous, corrupting methods.

Wei Ying’s grip on his wrist tightens.

“It won’t happen,” he says. “Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan, I promise, it won’t happen. I won’t let it. And for a Lan Sect follower to do this—whoever wronged them must be truly terrible so we’ll just find them and—”

“It is Jin Guangyao.” Lan Wangji finds Wei Ying’s eyes again in time to watch his face freeze for a moment.

“Ah … that’s…” Wei Ying blows out a sharp breath. “I suppose that explains why you didn’t go to Zewu-jun. And Lianfang-zun is Chief Cultivator now, it’ll be tricky to—” He must see some of Lan Wangji’s confusion because he stops again. “Let’s get this dealt with,” he says of the gash on Lan Wangji’s palm. “A lot has happened in thirteen years.” He smiles again, a bit wry, a bit self-deprecating. “Have some more tea, Lan Zhan, and I’ll tell you.”

Lan Wangji drinks more tea and lets Wei Ying spread ointment over his palm and wrap talisman after talisman around his wrist—each one slightly different from the last, each one a fruitless attempt to counter the cursemark—and listens. Wei Ying’s account is unfocused, more of a scattering of anecdotes than a structured history, the whole of it peppered with sly jokes and soft laughter. Lan Wangji gathers, from stories of cultivation conferences and family meetings, that the post of Chief Cultivator is one of a mediator, bestowed upon Jin Guangyao in the wake of Nie Mingjue’s untimely death. That the Four Great Sects have found a new balance, a triad of Yunmeng-Jiang opposite Qinghe-Nie and Gusu-Lan, with Lanling-Jin caught in-between.

He learns that Wei Ying knows of no particular reason Liang Feihong might have sought revenge on Jin Guangyao.

“But we’ll figure it out,” he promises, half his concentration on brush and paper, trying to craft something that won’t crumble to ash on Lan Wangji’s skin in only a few breaths. Lan Wangji does not share his confidence; if Jin Guangyao’s supposed crimes had even been hinted to those closest to him, Lan Wangji is certain his brother would have investigated the claim.

Wei Ying makes fresh ink, and produces a cloth-wrapped box of mushroom-stuffed baozi, and brews one of the medicinal teas—“to boost your spiritual energy, I’m sorry, I know it tastes awful”—and tells more stories. He speaks of Wen Sizhui’s promising archery skills, of Jin Rulan and his young siblings, of Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan, a tale of soul-bond sacrifice with a much happier ending than their own. Of Jiang Cheng, who has largely recovered from the wounds he suffered at Nightless City.

“Wen Qing really is the best doctor alive,” Wei Ying says, smiling and fond in a way that makes something in Lan Wangji’s chest twist. “She has apprentices now. Honestly at least half of Yiling-Wei’s disciples join for her. Nothing to do with me, no matter what Zewu-jun thinks.”

He sobers suddenly, and sighs.

“I think that one will last a few hours, at least,” he says of his most recent talisman, the edges slicked down to Lan Wangji’s arm with ointment and ginseng tea. He breaks the seal on the door with a snap of his fingers. “I should let you sleep, Lan Zhan. It’s so far past nine now. I remember how you used to sleep so precisely.”

Lan Wangji is tired. Has been tired. But he has spent so long wishing for this: to sit with Wei Ying, and speak with him, and hear him laugh and watch him smile without the strife that so often confuses things between them. For things to be easy, even if the ease is mostly born of Wei Ying’s propensity to talk with very little encouragement. He finds himself reluctant to give it up.

Wei Ying is watching him, he realizes abruptly. Exhaustion must be clouding his thoughts: the ward has been deactivated; Wei Ying has dismissed him. He should leave.

He stands, and bows his departure. “Thank you,” he says. It seems the safest option.

“No need.” Wei Ying waves the words away. “Not between us.”

He pours the last of his wine and looks into the cup, and nowhere else. Lan Wangji does not let his own hesitation drag at his footsteps as he leaves.

*

Lan Wangji wakes to find his clothes returned, clean and mended. His muscles ache, and his thoughts are murky with doubt and poor rest, but working through his morning drills in the cool dawn mist soon clears both pain and cloudiness. His spiritual power is stronger than he has come to expect from this body—perhaps due to Wen Qing’s tea, or Wei Ying’s skill with talismans. It’s reassuring, to work his body in the sheltered space between the inn and its outer shed and feel energy surge under his skin again, even if he isn’t putting it to use.

“Are those the Lan unarmed forms?”

He looks up to see Wen Sizhui watching him from an upper-story window, and finds himself suddenly self-conscious of the slightly-halting movements that are the best this body can manage.

The boy ducks his head. “I’m sorry,” he says with a bashful smile that is much like Wei Ying’s, “I didn’t mean to intrude. I only wanted to tell you that Zhou-shimei and I would welcome your company at breakfast, if you wish to join us. It should be ready in not too long.”

Lan Wangji nods, and Wen Sizhui makes a point of turning away from the window. It takes a moment for proper stillness of mind to return, but Lan Wangji finishes the set; it is the practice that matters, the education of muscle as well as mind and spirit. Audience is irrelevant.

Wen Sizhui has ordered a simple meal of congee and jiaozi, and he and Zhou Xiuyang prove to be Lan Wangji’s only companions for the meal, both of them already dressed for traveling. The rest of their party, he comes to understand, are accustomed to sleeping later.

“Wei-zongzhu asked us to meet with you,” Wen Sizhui explains. “We were hoping you might know more about this.” He offers a note in Wei Ying’s hand; Ask our guest where the complex he found is and scout it out. Be careful.

Lan Wangji frowns.

“He will not go himself?”

“Later,” Wen Sizhui assures him. “He’ll bring you and Jin Ling and Liu-shidi when we’ve found a good vantage.”

That is … better.

“There is a ward,” Lan Wangji tells them. “There may be guards, now.”

“You think they’ve increased their protections,” Zhou Xiuying observes, and he nods confirmation. “What sort of place is it?” she asks, frowning in confusion.

“A prison,” Lan Wangji admits, and realizes he had failed to reveal the whole of his circumstances even to Wei Ying. The surprise and solemnity that wash over their faces at least soothes one worry that had begun to nag at his thoughts: such measures are not considered more common now than in his previous life.

They do not ask why he was there, or show any new sign of distrust. Perhaps Wei Ying’s good opinion is enough to allay such thoughts. Instead, Wen Sizhui asks for details of his route, which he provides: the river he followed, the landmarks he remembers, the arrangement of buildings in the compound itself. They do not linger; as soon as they are certain of their path and their meal is done, they mount their swords in the inn’s yard and set off, flying north.

It is not the first time Lan Wangji has caught himself longing for Bichen, these last few days, but the pang he feels at being rooted to the earth as they soar away is deeper than before, now that his body shows signs of true recovery.

He meditates on the inn’s cramped porch, out of the way of other patrons, keeping his spine straight and his face turned toward the sun’s morning light. After an uncertain stretch of time the talisman on his wrist crumbles to ashes and he startles; his spiritual power recedes as if drawn by a sucking tide; a sudden drain that slows to a steady trickle after a few breaths and leaves him at the same smoldering level of power of the last few days.

The sudden lack feels like darkness rising in his throat, overtaking his mouth and eyes and mind. First spirit, then body, then soul; that is how the curse will consume him if he cannot satisfy it. If he cannot destroy his brother’s closest friend and last-remaining sworn brother, a man who he does not even know for certain has done wrong.

No. He has put his trust in Wei Ying. Wei Ying has already found a way to delay the curse’s effects. They will find a solution.

The sun is too hot on his face, his neck, his shoulders. He resumes meditation through movement in the breezeway; the horse whisk forms, even though he no longer carries the whisk itself. Bichen would not be useful to him now, no matter what comfort he might draw from his sword’s presence. Nor is his guqin likely to respond in his current state. It will take time to form a golden core. If he is able. If he has time.

When he executes the final spin, Wei Ying is leaning against the side of the inn, finishing a few last bites of his baozi and watching. Lan Wangji straightens his robes, and Wei Ying glances away and back, a small smile on his lips.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” he says, though Lan Wangji asked no question. “I was going to ask after that talisman, but it can wait.”

Lan Wangji joins him under the porch’s eaves, pushing up his sleeve as he walks to reveal his bare arm.

“Ah.” Wei Ying inspects the cursemark with careful fingers; the heat of his hands is palpable, but he never quite touches the mark. “How long did it last?”

“Until an hour ago.”

Wei Ying makes a considering noise. “Did you notice any change if you used spiritual power?” He pulls a new talisman and the pot of ointment from his own sleeve, and starts slicking the talisman’s edges.

Lan Wangji shakes his head. “I did not use any.” He had been reluctant to give up the feeling, before the first talisman degraded, and apprehensive of the possible result, after.

“Really?” Wei Ying looks surprised. “Hm. Well, we can do some tests when we get back to Yiling. Provided you want to come back to Yiling?”

It is an indirect sort of invitation, but still appealing. The only other place he might go is Cloud Recesses, although—“Wen Sizhui and Zhou Xiuying are investigating to the north,” he says, part reminder, part inquiry.

“And I still intend to join them as soon as I get a signal,” Wei Ying assures him. “I’m just hoping we can make it back, after. Jin Ling’s expected at Lotus Pier by tomorrow, and Wen Qing will send out a search party for us eventually.”

Lan Wangji keeps his eyes on Wei Ying’s hands as they wind the talisman around his arm and carefully empties his mind of other thoughts. It is good Wei Ying has friends who care for his safety.

“Have you eaten?” Wei Ying asks as his hands fall away. “Jin Ling and Liu Weixin have a table inside, if you’re hungry.”

“I have eaten.” He can feel his spiritual power settling—not returning, not yet, but at least no longer siphoning away.

Wei Ying nods, his eyes on the yard, not Lan Wangji. He bites the inside of his cheek, one hand moving to Chenqing at his waist. Then he turns with a smile, sudden and broad enough Lan Wangji can’t be certain it’s genuine.

“Want to see something fun?” he asks, and darts into the yard without waiting for a reply.

Lan Wangji follows.

“It took me ages to get this right,” Wei Ying is saying as he carefully clears a stretch of ground of sticks, rocks, and straw. He draws a needle from his sash and pricks his index and middle fingers. “Stand back a bit,” he instructs, and Lan Wangji obediently retreats again. Wei Ying closes his eyes, standing still and straight and then executing a slow spin with his bloody fingers outstretched. As he returns to his starting point concentration draws a furrow between his brows, and he sets an array in the hard-packed earth with a quick, crisp movement.

Lan Wangji studies it, walking a slow circle around its border under Wei Ying’s expectant gaze.

“Transportation?” he asks, finally, and Wei Ying grins again, obviously genuine this time.

“Better than a talisman,” he boasts. “The array can take more people.” Requires more people, he doesn’t say, though Lan Wangji can read it in the array clearly enough. More cultivators, or an anchor of some sort. Wei Ying crosses his arms, smug. “With this we can visit that complex and get home without hours of flying.” He grins wider. “And without making Jin Ling spend a night in the woods.”

Lan Wangji cannot stop the snaking thought in his mind that this is only one more tool Wei Ying uses to hold off insistence that he return to the path of the sword. It is only a treatment of symptoms, of course. Quick travel is an advantage of sword cultivation, but not its purpose.

He does not voice that thought. It can do nothing but drive Wei Ying from him, now. And transportation, by array or talisman, will certainly be more comfortable for Lan Wangji himself, who had not quite allowed himself to think about the necessary arrangements for traveling as far west as Yiling.

“Why do you nighthunt so far from your Sect land?” he asks.

“So close to Gusu, you mean?” Wei Ying looks rueful as he picks his way out of the array. “Personal favor. The Yang Sect was having some issues with fierce corpses preying on forest travelers.”

Lan Wangji frowns at him. That Wei Ying is particularly suited to dealing with fierce corpses is obvious, but Yiling is still quite distant, more distant than either Gusu or Lanling, and it is not as though Lan Xichen would begrudge a small clan the aid.

Wei Ying does not seem to notice his expression.

“It’s a shame we ran into Zewu-jun, really,” he says. “Now it’ll probably come out that Yang-zongzhu asked me, and she’ll have to deal with extra patrols anyway.”

“Patrols?”

Wei Ying shrugs, one-shouldered and wry. “One of Lianfang-zun’s suggestions. If a smaller sect encounters a problem they can’t solve alone, larger sects are encouraged to offer assistance rather than risk a sect’s destruction or something even more dangerous building ferocity. It looks good in theory. Sometimes it even works well. But a lot of the smaller clans resent—ah!” He pulls a talisman from the cross of his yi. It burns blue between his fingers. “That’s Sizhui’s signal. Here, here.” He waves Lan Wangji to follow in his wake. “Stand here,” he says, pointing to a section of the array. Lan Wangji steps into the spot obediently, stooping a little to better examine the working. His spot designates him a passenger only, no spiritual input required.

When he looks up, Wei Ying is just standing outside the circle, watching him, a faint smile on his face.

“Sorry, sorry,” he waves his hands and backs away. “It’s just—it doesn’t matter. Stay there a moment. I’ll get Liu Weixin and Jin Ling and be right back.”

Lan Wangji nods his understanding, and watches him return to the inn, and waits.

to part 7