#but have you tried peeling off the face of your clone and massaging it into your skin?

[bluemoonbabes]

In 1.08, Agent Brill peeling off other Brill’s face and using it as a facial mask reminds me of those smiling salami slices.

It’s his skincare routine 💅✨

[prince-toffee]

Villains

Part One

Hordak’s heavy steps echoed across the hallways as he marched alongside four rows of his personal guards, his most skilled and deadliest warriors, two rows on his left and two on his right. In their hands they firmly gripped stun-batons and stun-staffs. Hordak himself had no weapon except for his own bare hands, enhanced by his exo-skeleton armour, plating coating his chest, cables coiled around his thin weak arms, like a secondary thick layer of muscles, and metal boots enhancing his speed. The symbol of the red wings of the vampire were painted onto every armour of every soldier of the Horde.

The reason why Hordak had gathered his guard and set off to the Black Garnet Chamber was because of an act of treachery, and betrayal. Shadow Weaver had taken up the sword against him, so to speak. The clone lord had employed the sorceress for her professional and prideful knowledge of magic arts and his own lack of such knowledge. He was far more of a man of science, he knew things about space and machinery no one else on Etheria did. Well maybe one person did, this Entrapta seemed to be more of Hordak’s speed. He did not know much about the Princess of Dryl, but she seemed bright, she was a rare blessing among the people of the planet he was trapped on. She was a scientist, a true scientist, very little of those on Etheria. Her language he could understand. She was the only person that could hold a proper conversation with him, that was something he quite enjoyed, even though they had only spoken once or twice.

She was one of the hostages Shadow Weaver was holding in the chamber room. The other hostages frozen in place by her dark magic included both Force-Captain Scorpia, recently assigned to that division for her professional expertise to help increase efficiency, and Force-Captain Catra to whom the ex-Scorpion-Princess was assigned to as Catra seemed easily distracted, unfocused, and strangely obsessed with her archenemy. Hordak remembered appointing the Magicat the new Force-Captain, it was in their first interaction. He remembered Shadow Weaver dragged her ward into his throne room hopeing to embarrass and berate and insult her, Hordak didn’t care about such pettiness. From what he understood they were one Force-Captain down, as one of Weaver’s wards had deserted the Horde. So he simply appointed the second best fitting candidate, the records and grades claimed that even though Catra was the most absent and late person on the team, when she decided to show up she showed she was skilled in combat, strategy-crafting, leading, and thinking outside the box. She seemed right for the pick.

Hordak always had a sneaking suspicion that there would come a day when Shadow Weaver would try to betray him, but he had hoped that their promise of mutual destruction would have prevented the either from crossing the line. Weaver needed to leech off of other sources to survive, she usually resorted to people in her earlier days before bowing in front of the Horde and Hordak, afterwards she only needed the Garnet. Hordak had given Entrapta the go-ahead to study and use the Garnet in any way she wished as her experiments seemed to increase the overall efficiency of the Horde. Shadow Weaver didn’t like that. She choose to fight back.

Hordak and his soldiers reached the door leading to the Garnet Chamber. The young general reached out with his claw hand, his greyish-blue talon pressed a green button, waiting for the button to instruct the metallic door to slide up. Before the door itself could open up the metal slab burst open and peeled back like a banana, a black and crimson shadow claw grabbed him. It’s own talons tightened around him forcing out a scream from him. And he was yanked inward into the chamber, he fell onto the cold floor, or at least it should have been cold, but it was getting hotter, no doubt due to the electrical magic expelled by the dark sorceress.

He growled. Before he could get up onto his own two feet the darkness latched onto him, flinging him up into the ceiling, forcing him to crash against various wiring and cables that dislodged and fell down with him. He began to breath heavily as pain shot throw his body.

The troops moved forward to engage, but were frozen by Weaver’s magic almost immediately, like the two Force-Captains and Princess on the side, all simply looked on in fear as the Mysticore witch overpowered the Lord of the Horde. Tendrils of magic wrapping around his frame, tightening and crushing both him and his suit. He got a few good hits off on the woman, one punch braking a shadow construct, the second punch making contact with the witch and the impact threw her across the room. He knocked the wind out of her, that slowed her down as she tried to catch her breath. Bent over, eyes down, hands on her knees, she didn’t see another fist flying in her direction. The hit shattered her mask, pieces of the mask, spit and a single red droplet flew into the opposite direction of the punch. Luckily all the teeth were intact. That got her real angry.

The dark woman drew back her arm, a small black sphere appeared a few centimetres above her palm, red veins of electricity crackled around her hand and the sphere grew to the size of a bowling ball in seconds. And from it shot out a beam of black that hit Hordak directly in his chest. The pain and sensation it inflicted apon Hordak was indescribable, cold like the vacuum of space, while simultaneously burning like being in a whirlwind of a wildfire. He was pushed up against a wall and the dark beam kept him in place, the black mass spread across his body like a thick dense clay. The cold and the burning spread with it. His deep screams and yells increased in volume. Pain like a thousand knives stabbing his nerves.

“We had a deal! You stay out of my way and I stay out of yours! Simple! The Garnet is mine! No one else will touch it!” The black and red mass coiled and spiked, Hordak screamed so much he ran out of breath. “Watch! All of you!” Shadow Weaver turned to the guard troopers and the trio. “Watch as your leader and ‘Lord’ is defenceless, the conqueror conquered!” The clone general attempted to struggle against her hold, but it was all for nothing. The witch noticed the movement and had enough of this, she clamped her fist closed, tightening around the sphere, stabbing her fingers into it, and then flicked them out from the sphere. Like manipulating a voodoo doll, the black mass tore Hordak’s armour apart like plastic. “You were told to fear the Hordak, made believe that he was powerful, terrifying, a demon among men! And yet, all a lie! Look at him, your frail, weak, and sick ‘Lord’! This is the liar and fraud under whom you kneeled! Reject, banish this pretender! And pledge your loyalty to me!... or else.” She turned to Hordak for the finale time, and she blasted him out of the room through the wall, outside.

The soldiers were freed, and they quickly kneeled to the Shadow Weaver, very obviously out of fear. Catra, Scorpia, and Entrapta did so as well. And Hordak, several metres outside and below the point from which he was launched. His last moments of consciousness were that of the hole he was pushed through, a crowd gathering around him and a faint chant, “All Hail The Shadow Weaver.” And then the darkness took over.

“And how’d you make it out of The Fright Zone? All the way here? To BrightMoon?”

“That, I entirely do not know. I remember passing in and out of consciousness I... they must’ve dragged me out of my fortress and threw me out into the desert, to let the elements claim me. There one of your scouting groups found me, correct?” The trapped clone looked past the She-Ra at the BrightMoon’s angel Queen. Angella confirmed the latter half of the story, past that she had no idea. The moment the lilac skinned, feather winged, immortal Queen was given the report that some of her woman somehow managed to capture her nemesis and the leader of the Evil Horde, that moment ranked as one of the strangest in her life. She practically leaped off her golden throne and sprinted through the halls to the front of the castle. And true enough, there he was, bleeding and chained.

Hordak was thrown into the castle prison, or so they called it, but where the clone expected cold metal bars, hard floor, greys and other dull colours, and small claustrophobic spaces. Instead he was greeted with bright pinks and purples, soft pillows and blankets and armchair. He was confused. The only aspect of the location that suggested its own true function and purpose was the thin transparent glass-like, curtain, veil-like force field, a pretty rainbow effect coated the structure.

He did not know what to think of the ‘cell’. It was... nice. Even though the Queen acted like it wasn’t. He was pretty sure that the room was some sort of guest room, it looked too nice for a basement, but that was BrightMoon, they probably have storage rooms larger and grander than most rooms in The Fright Zone. “It is a prison!” The angel Queen argued. After the Queen’s long elaborate speech about how Hordak was a monster and the Horde was an evil unparalleled by anything in BrightMoon’s history, and how he should have been ashamed of his actions and that if she was like him she would’ve killed him where he stood, after all that the She-Ra entered.

“It’s just Adora.”

“Very well, She-Ra Adora.”

“Ugh.”

She massaged her templates, her very brief irritation was cut even shorter by a sharp ‘HA’ that escaped from the snickering Glimmer. “The Mighty Evil Lord Hordak, King of Horrors, the Baron of Bedlam, and the Master of Mayhem? Really? I’m kinda disappointed. You were our greatest enemy? Hahaha, can you even do one push-up? Let me guess Weaver uses your arms to pick broccoli out of her teeth? HA!” Hordak’s face remained blank, unphased, and unamused.

None of them noticed his pupils shifted as they were covered by crimson red lens, and they shifted to Adora. Curiously the She-Ra didn’t engage or enjoy the roast, even the stoic Queen and the Head-Sorceress both held cheeky smiles, but not this Adora. Her eyes remained fixed on him.

The difference between Adora and everyone else in that room was the fact that she was from the Horde. Adora had been with the Alliance for almost a year, it was only a few months ago she was still living in The Fright Zone, studying war under the symbol of the Horde. For most of her life she perceived Hordak as their leader, as a strong, righteous hero, a saint who sought to quell chaos in the world and install control, order, and peace. Adora and all the other cadets all their lives looked up to Hordak. To look down on him now didn’t come to her naturally. All her life she wanted to impress him and now she was told to insult him.

“Could you leave us?” Adora’s genuine and semi-serious question shocked everyone in the room. Glimmer was the first to argue, and was the most vocal about it. The Princess of BrightMoon found the request outrageous. Even Angella attempted to oppose her choice, placed a hand on her shoulder, told her Hordak was a manipulator and a conqueror, he could try to trick her. When she realised there was no dissuading the young woman she let off. She ended with telling the young She-Ra to be careful. Angella motioned for Casta and Glimmer to move out of the room.

Glimmer was the last individual to leave, she turned around and she stuck her tongue out, “You better watch yourself toothpick-arms! If you touch a single hair on her hair-!”

“I got this Glim! Thanks!”  Adora interjected, giving her a thumbs up. Glimmer squinted and walked backwards out of the room. And so Adora and Hordak were the only ones left. A tense silence filled the room. Neither really knowing what to say. Hordak didn’t know why he suddenly felt so uncomfortable, perhaps it was the look the girl gave him. She looked... disapproving, or disappointed. “The war could be over soon. At least that’s what all the others think, but if what you say is true, when I think the end of the war is further away than ever... You know, I don’t know if you know, but I was her ward, I think I was her pet, her favourite. It was hard to tell with her twisted version of ‘love’ if you could call it that. She certainly put everyone else down around me.”

“She certainly felt, in her mind, that you were ‘special’ in some way. She said so when I returned to The Fright Zone with you, and you two met for the fist time. Therefore I can definitely see that sort of favouritism forming.”

“...Wait... when ‘you’ first brought me back to The Fright Zone? D- Do you know where I come from?!” That exclamation gave Hordak pause. He wasn’t sure how to approach the subject, he was trained in the art of war, to combat opponents on battlefields of any kind, he could withstand the void of space, and his mind altered to form battle strategies and tactics in milliseconds, of course all of those enhancements have been long lost because of his defect. But this, he was not prepared for. He adjusted his position on the soft fluffy armchair, no matter how he moved he felt his backside sink into it. He awkwardly cleared his voice, that unintentionally brought Adora’s focus back onto him.

“I... well... yes... I” Hordak was not a liar. In fact Hordak himself had no concept of lying, he didn’t know how to, the clone was loyalty personified. It was figuratively and literally beaten into him. So he had to be careful about what he revealed, he may have been truthful, but he wasn’t stupid, arguably. He didn’t want to show all his cards. So he choose to keep his portal secret, same with his origin. So as he replied he choose to leave some key information out, “I was the one who found you, my personal computer picked up an anomaly, a strange, powerful energy surge.” Hordak noticed Adora’s eyes widened, her mouth was gradually opening wider and wider, as she began to lean forward in captivation. “And, uhm, [clears throat] at the time I was not sure what I found, I did not know what you were. But in the middle of a field of quadrant PT5-5-03 in the west region of The Elder Forest, there I found a crying infant and that was you. And so I brought you back with me to The Fright Zone. I had no use for you, and the noises you were making were causing my anxiety levels to rise so I handed you to Shadow Weaver, my Minister of Magicks.”

Adora’s face betrayed the fact that she was disappointed, and the story was quite anti-climatic sooner than her raised volume did. “That’s it?! Not that I wanted you to, but I was expecting you to have stolen me from like a cradle or something. I kinda hoped you’d know where I came from.”

“I do not... I... am sorry?” That was true. He did not. Hordak’s confusion was apparent, he didn’t know how to react to the hero’s theory. And so they stood and sat there for a moment longer, neither saying anything. In that quiet moment Adora realised that the bat lord wasn’t... scary. I mean it was ‘Hordak’, so the name itself was scarier than the actual man, as all her life the name was taught to the cadets as a monstrous horror entity, ‘Hordak’ was a King who sat on top a throne of skulls and he ate hearts and everything died around his step, he had two heads, and he breathed fire. That was ‘Hordak’.

But the man that sat uncomfortably in front of her was no such thing, he wasn’t ‘Hordak’, not ‘The Hordak’ she was told to believe in, all those cadet scary stories they all told each other all kind of seemed non-sensical now, she had to admit. The man she was looking at was thin, slim, in a not healthy way. He looked like a skeleton, like a weak breeze could push him over. He himself looked weak and fragile, sickly even. Now she was getting worried just scanning over him, she thought maybe she should’ve offered him like some mint tea or warm towels or... or something.

“You’re nothing like what we expected.”

Hordak raised his brow ridge, “How do you mean?” He didn’t know why he asked, he shouldn’t have asked.

“I- no offense, but, uh, I thought you’d be a bit scarier, you know ‘a horror of biblical proportions’ something like that?”

“Sorry to disappoint.” He replied awkwardly.

“Yeah, no, no, it’s cool.” She scratched the back of her neck, “Soooo uh... oh did you say you didn’t know ‘what’ I was? I mean I haven’t ever seen your species around, in The Fright Zone or any kingdom I’ve been to while with the Alliance. Do your species n- eh, how do I not make this sound weird, not have babies? Do you guys grow out of cabbages or are delivered by storks, hehehe?” Her attempt at humour flopped as she noticed he didn’t seem to get it.

His eyes darted around the room as if he was thinking of how to articulate something, ”No we... people like me... we are not children, we are in this state all our lives, from gaining consciousness to death.”

“So where do you come from?”

“...That is enough. Leave me.” That was a shame, Adora thought they were getting somewhere, but the cold and the lack of emotion returned. He dropped the eye contact, he stared down at the floor, he turned into a statue, no slight motion betraying the fact he was a real person. Adora tried to start up the conversation again few times, to no avail. Hordak revealed too much already. So Adora left the room.

[vinciwolf]

I love echo. He's the sweetest clone in the world. I was thinking about the s/o (who is a medic or maybe a Captain?) being harassed by some drunk at 79's. Maybe the drunk even grabs the reader and echo goes protective boyfriend mode. The reader would be shocked, echo has never become so protective before, and she likes to know she's safe.

“In Safe Hands”

Pairing: Echo x fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, drinking, harassment, assault, violence, fluffy ending

           Echo drapes his arm around your shoulder. His warm embrace made you lean closer into his comfortable body. You swirl the liquid in your drink and sigh contently. This was a very rare occasion for you two. Off-duty drinks and sharing a quiet moment together was hard due to being a medic and Echo being a clone trooper.

           When he returned to Coruscant, the clone requested for you to join him and Fives at 79’s. You beamed when he got off his air speeder and ran towards you at the cantina entrance. He picked you up and twirled, making you giggle. Now you two relaxed in a booth and decided it was a good time to get drunk for once.

           Your body tingles from the alcohol, but you weren’t drunk. As for Fives, his speech is barely starting to slur. His bubbly giggles fill the space as he lists off corny jokes to you both. Echo shakes his head. You smile when he gently kisses your temple. All of a sudden, your bladder screams. You moan as you peel yourself from your comfortable position against Echo.

           “Do you need me to go with you?” Echo’s voice is soft and filled with bliss.

           “No, s’kay,” you teeter a little as you stand up.

           “I’m not that drunk… yet…” you point finger guns at your lover and sheepishly grin.

           Echo nods. You make your way past several other clones dancing to the cantina music. Everyone was having a good time, aside from the swollen bladder in your gut telling you to hurry. You jog as fast as your heels allow you and finally make it to the refresher.

           When you exit the refresher, you are pinned against the wall by a stranger. This was not a clone, especially not your clone. His breath is stale and reeks of booze. The drunkard grips your hip with a sluggish hand while leaning the other above your head. You squirm and try to get away, but he keeps you in place with his rutting hips. The tent in his pants brushing your leg.

           “How’d ya’say you pretty girl give me sum’tonight,” he brushes a finger under your chin and smiles.

           You swat at his roaming hands and slap him in the face. Something triggers in him, eyes focused now. He aggressively fires back with a backhanded smack across your cheek. The drunkard tightly holds your wrists and pushes you harder against the wall.

           “You girls are always so stiff,” he licks your neck and snickers at your struggle to break free from his tightening grasp. “Well, I can loosen you up. You need a real man to do it, not some clone.”

           “E-Echo,” you squeal and panic when the drunkard starts hiking up your top.

           “I never understood you girls! What do same-faced clones have that a real man doesn’t!?”

           A fist hits the drunkard’s chin, knocking him to the floor. You slide down the wall.

           “Manners,” Echo growls while massaging his knuckles, “We got manners.”

           Fives glares at the drunk fiend while helping you to your feet. Echo yanks the drunkard up by his collar and punches him in the gut. The man falls to the ground and tries crawling away, but the clone grips his hair and kicks him in the nose. The once proud drunk crumbles into a fetal position, holding his bleeding nose, and waves his hand in defeat.

           “If there’s one thing you got that we clones don’t have, it’s the complete disregard for consent,” Echo spits at the coward and turns around.

           You are in shock. What happened to the Echo who loves to read regulation manuals, the Echo who follows orders perfectly?  Even in the bedroom, he’s always been gentle and submissive. But here, he is displaying power you’ve never seen before.

           “Are you okay?” he snakes his arm around your hip, and you lean into his protective embrace.

           “Yeah, now I am,” you smile. Oh, you are not going to let this new information slide.

~

           When you and Echo return to your apartment, you tell your clone lover to sit patiently on the couch. You bounce back to your bedroom and slip into a matching set of lingerie. Echo’s eyes go wide when you step in front of him. You giggle when he desperately gets on his knees and kisses your stomach. You softly rake your fingers through his hair.

           “Stand up,” you purr.

           He frantically gets to his feet, waiting for instructions. You place your hands on his ass and gently shove your hips together, your knee massaging up and down Echo’s thigh.

           “What you did to that drunk at 79’s… how dominant you were back there,” you play with the hem of his shirt, hiking it up slightly. Echo’s breath shakes when your fingers tease his stomach. “Thinking about it turns me on.”

           You wrap your arms around Echo’s neck and brush your lips against his ear.

           “Do it again,” you bite his earlobe.

           Echo hooks your legs around his hips and gives your ass a rough squeeze.

           “Sir. Yes, sir,” he growls, smiling lustfully at you.

[rookieinbflat]

Stowaways

AN: I feel much better about this short fic than my last one, so I hope you guys like it too!

Ethan x MC (Levin Stern)

WC: ~2000

Levin is asleep in the front seat of Ethan’s Jaguar, she’s not been sleeping well since the start of the second trimester of her pregnancy, often complaining of headaches, nausea and back pain. All very common for a woman of her age, height and weight carrying twins but nonetheless, Ethan feels completely and utterly helpless to do anything to ease her pain. He tries to ease the uncomfort as much as he can but there’s only so much raspberry sorbet and shoulder massages can do. Levin is grateful never the less, she knows how far out of his way he goes to please her, like going to the linen store to get a soft blanket and cushion to keep in his car for drives like this. The older doctor doesn’t mind it when she falls asleep in the car, he loves driving, it's cathartic for him. He would drive across the country if he could. He plays Clouds by Debussy on the car's speakers and though he is yet to find enough scientific journals to confirm the long term neural effects of classical prenatal music exposure, he’s sure it can't hurt.

They’re going to spend the weekend with Levin’s family in Fairhaven, she gets very homesick when she’s feeling ill and this week has been riddled with headaches and cramps. So he took the weekend off to spend it with her, even though she’s fully capable of driving and it’s still very safe, Ethan feels much more at ease when he accompanies her on trips like this. Her parents live on a small block of land only a few minutes drive out of Fairhaven, the land is lush and green and whenever they’re there, Levin and Ethan feel immensely at peace. The stress and weight of the hospital are not on their shoulders, they spend their days on the farm soaking up the sun or horseback riding, though Levin might have to wait a bit longer before she can get back in the saddle. Ethan loves it here, the smell of fresh cut grass is his favourite but it’s not something you smell often in Boston. Levin’s older siblings are spread across the world, so it’s only the four youngsters occupying the house but Isa has made sure that Levin’s room remains untouched, awaiting her next visit patiently. Ethan loves Levin’s teenage room, the decor is green and lush like a forest with stunning photos she’s taken from her global living adorning the walls, lit up by strings of fairy lights. He’d never imagined he’d love the look of a room like hers but that’s what it is: hers. Ethan feels like he’s taken a step inside her mind, the serene part of her brain, that dreams in the sound of crashing waves and foggy mornings, dew on the long grass and rain hitting the roof.

Ethan loves Levin the most when they’re here.

The drive to Fairhaven is without trouble or excitement when they arrive at the small hobby farm just outside of town, Ethan shakes Levin’s shoulder gently, surprised she wasn’t awoken by the bumpy trip down the dirt drive. Levin rubs her eyes and pulls on her scarf before stepping out of the car and as if on cue, the front door to the farmhouse blasts open and Isa and Edda run up to greet the pair. They’re about to attack Levin with affection until they stop just a couple of metres short, remembering the two extra guests, stowed away beneath layers of skin and cashmere.

“Woah, your belly is really big,” Isa has a look of awe across her face and Ethan chuckles, moving to tousle her hair. She has obviously dressed herself today as she sports a bright silver skirt with farm boots and a Batman shirt.

“Our little stowaways are getting pretty big aren’t they?” Isa wraps her hand in Ethan’s as he leads the Stern women back inside the house, where Levin’s mother is now standing by the door, holding the dogs from escaping out into the yard.

“It’s rude to call out someone’s weight you big dork,” Levin retorts to the ten-year-old who laughs softly watching Levin navigate the stairs going up to the porch with a careful pace, leaning back into her steps.

Edda pipes up beside her, she had the biggest, most beautiful brown eyes and anyone who’s ever seen them says so, “I think you look gorgeous Levy,” Edda is beautiful inside and out, she’s a soft, empathetic soul and a bit of a sad sack at times, but she levels out the craziness of the Stern clan. Levin squeezes her hand as she makes her way over to the door, her mum enveloping her in a warm hug, she smells like Christmas morning - cinnamon and nutmeg. She must be making cinnamon rolls.

“Oh my lord, Levin, look at you!” Kina exclaims and holds her daughter at arm's length, Levin will be the first of her children to give birth to twins, “How many weeks now?” She asks as she leads Levin into the warmth of the farmhouse.

“Twenty-six weeks, not long to go now,” Levin replies as she walks towards the kitchen, on the hunt for something - anything to eat. The pregnancy cravings have got her eating more now than when she stress ate her way through the medical entrance exams and the final season of True Blood. Levin plants herself on one of the cushioned stools surrounding the kitchen bench, pulling a banana from the fruit basket less Ethan throw a fit over her not meeting prenatal nutritional needs. “Actually, I was hoping you could come up to the city next weekend, Ethan is going away for a medical conference and I’ll need help setting up everything in the new house,” Levin asks Kina as she brews a pot of tea, Edda has disappeared but Isa remains faithfully and loyally attached to her sisters side.

“Can I come? I promise I’ll be the biggest help!” She looks up at Levin with puppy dog eyes.

Levin has already demolished the banana by now, “Gotta ask mum dorkface, she’s the one that’s got to deal with you,” She hands the banana peel to Isa who dutifully disposes of the scrap in the compost bin.

Ethan is leaning against the kitchen counter chucking to himself, Levin has Isa completely entranced, ready to go to war for her fearless older sister, no task is too big or small for Isa to show her unending adoration. He knows that Isa has the same effect on his Rookie, who just last week, cried when she heard that Isa had the flu and she couldn’t go and take care of her little sister.

“I’m sure we could find something for you to do at the new house, maybe you could help set up the nursery?” Kina replies and Isa squeals with excitement, scaring the dogs and every human within a five-mile radius.

Ethan helps Kina make lunch, roast chicken with all the accompaniments and they take it out to the dining room to serve everyone. Marti, who is sixteen now has come out of her room to socialise, she’s studying hard to get into sports medicine and the ACTs are coming up soon. Jos, Isa’s twin brother, only speaks in four-word sentences and doesn’t sit still for long, he’s got pretty intense ADHD and keeping his attention for more than five minutes is more challenging than anything Ethan has encountered in his medical career. They sit around the table and debate on what to do for the rest of the afternoon - Isa wants to play board games, Edda wants to play lawn bowls outside, Kina thinks they should all sit in the sunroom and paint. Levin’s mother is an amazing artist, using art as her therapy on a daily basis, more often since she quit smoking cigarettes last year.

They decide on board games on the porch, so that Edda and Jos can run around as much as they please when they finish up with lunch, Levin forgoes boardgames to nap on the hammock, its the comfiest she’s felt in days. Isa and Ethan set up a game of Scrabble and as the game progresses, he’s sure this kid will run the world one day. How the hell does she know the word ‘liaison’?

“Are you excited for the babies?”

Ethan puts down his next tiles then looks up towards Isa, “I’m extremely excited but I’m also a little nervous,” he tells her truthfully, “I didn’t grow up in a large family like you and Levin, I haven’t had much experience with babies,” it almost feels like he’s talking to Levin when they have conversations like this, it’s like she has managed to clone herself into a pocket-sized version of Levin, though this version is almost more sassy than the original.

“I think you’ll be a good dad and me and Edda and Marti will help you, we know all about babies,” she nods with strong assurance, “plus you’re a doctor so you’re super smart so you can be good with babies,” Ethan chuckles at this as he tallies up the new score.

“I know a lot of babies in theory but the practice is a new field for me, Isa, I can tell you how many fingers and toes they have right now, but I don’t know how to stop them from crying when they come out,”

A look of wonder crosses Isa’s soft brown eyes, “You know what they look like right now?” Ethan can tell she’s completely forgotten about the board game as she leans across the table, “You have to tell me.”

Ethan leans across the table now too, resting his weight on his elbows, “Well,” he begins, “they have a thin layer of hair over them called lanugo which keeps them warm and they can hear things fairly clearly now - they know how to cover their ears if there’s a loud sound out here in the environment. They also open their eyes soon and they’ve fingerprints now as well,” the more he goes through the specifics of the babies life in utero, the more Isa’s face lights up, Ethan can see the cogs in her brain turning, trying to figure out what they look like and what it all means.

By the time they begin to finish their conversation, it’s well into the afternoon and almost time for the kids to wash up before dinner, the Scrabble game is long forgotten. Levin wakes from her slumber on the hammock and makes her way over to where Ethan is sitting, gently perching herself on his lap.

“You know we still haven’t thought about baby names,” Levin muses, interrupting Ethan from the trail of kisses he’s laying along her soft shoulders and neck. They haven’t asked the obstetrician about the sex of the twins, they want it to be a surprise.

“Hm, I guess you’re right, I haven’t been thinking about the names I do like so much as the ones I don’t,” he tells her, pulling her long hair back so he can kiss more of her décolletage, “but for what it’s worth, I like the name, Allegra,” Levin ponders this.

“I love that, I think its a gorgeous name, I like the name Laurence for a boy, Laurie for short,” she is hoping for two boys but she knows a girl would please Isa the most.

“Like Little Women,” Ethan points out, one of Levin’s favourite childhood books, she still keeps a copy given to her by her great aunt on the bookshelf, its pages yellow with age. Ethan would be happy with any combination of boys or girls, he just can't wait for the next and possibly most challenging chapter of his life to start. They sit out on the deck for hours, talking until Levin is almost falling asleep again. He takes her into the bedroom, turns on the strings of fairy lights and tucks a sleeping Levin into bed before sliding in next to her, the room is calm and peaceful with the soft, white glow of the lights as he places a kiss on her hair, “I love you, Rookie,” he murmurs into her hair, she smells like peaches and vanilla, “and our little stowaways.”