#mirror squad circuit

[levi-venn]

The Short Answer First!

"How exactly did they get into the hands of hemlock?"

The Mirror Squads was put on ice during the Clone Wars after Headshot tried to start a rebellion inside the GAR. Hemlock scooped them up during the evacuation just before Rampart destroyed Tipoca City.

"What do they think of Omega or the Bad Batch themselves?"

A fic emerged out of this question focusing on one of my favorite Batchers and my favorite Mirror Squad soldier. 

If you (or anyone!) would like to see more "Broken Mirror" stories, let me know who you'd want to see next! I’m always happy to scribble these out (I’m in Editing Hell with the sequel to my shyRobot book and I need BREAKS!!)

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Broken Mirrors: Circuit & Tech (cadet)

Tech was very impressed with himself for two reasons.

First Reason: This self-imposed recon mission went on for a whole month now, and Tech had yet to be detected by The Target.

Second Reason: Tech had successfully kept these recon missions a secret from his brothers. This was an astounding accomplishment considering Crosshair’s sobriquet for him was “Tech the Snitch”.

Tech had informed Crosshair that informing Hunter of potential problematic situations is not “snitching”. Crosshair responded by putting him in a headlock. 

Regardless, Tech would not snitch on The Target. At least, not until he understood what and who he was. 

As far as Tech could tell, The Target was a clone, and most certainly a defective one.

If this was the case, why was he kept separate from the rest of Tech’s batch? And why did Nala Se insist that after Memento’s passing, only four of his batch remained?

Until he could answer these questions, Tech would continue his recon mission. 

Using the ventilation shafts, Tech traversed over the Regs' bunks, the mess hall, and slid down several slanted shafts towards his favorite place in the whole facility: The Data Lake.

A cornucopia of knowledge. Shelves stuffed full of dusty tomes and between pristine holobooks, recycled air filled with the musty smell of history and aged flimsies, the soothing hum of low lights in the floors and distant roar of the ocean below.

And this is where Tech found The Target once again.

Crouching in his usual spot, safe in the shadows atop a shelf bare of any books, Tech was safe to observe the clone.

The clone was taller and lankier than an average Reg. His movements were quick and deliberate. Long fingers snatching books, light feet that hardly touched the ground as he moved from shelf to shelf. He was twitchy and erratic and noisy. His leg shook when he tried to sit. He hummed curiously when he seemed to find something pleasing in a book. He snarled suddenly as he'd throw a tome across the Data Lake's floor.

It was unclear if the clone was safe to approach.

And when the clone muttered to himself, occasionally letting out a brief, high-pitched laugh, or perhaps a choked sob.

Tech didn't intend to meet him anytime soon.

***

Circuit let out a pained laughed. 

The Data Lake was bone dry of the information he sought. A cruel irony that all he needed was something to help quiet his mind, focus himself inwards, give him a few moments of reliefs.

Every book suggested mediation, a warm glass of blue milk, a reflection inward. 

I am trapped within a body that won’t rest, in a mind that won’t hush. Silly books, I am very inward. Too inward. Please...please let me out...

He flung the holobook behind him and leapt to the next shelf, fingers gliding across each spine while his glowing red goggles scanned the titles, flashes of synopses whirring in front of his eyes far quicker than a Regs’ eyes could read.

The little one was here again tonight. Watching him. As if shadows could hide him from Circuit.

The cadet was clever enough to stay hidden, but brave enough to return to this place. The cadet had no idea how lucky he was that it was Circuit he found. Void or Striker would have eaten him alive...metaphorically...probably.

“You’ve been watching me.”

No reply.

Circuit looked up at the darkness where he knew the little one hid. Too scared or too smart to move. Circuit’s helmet and gloves were still on one of the study desks. He would not be a complete shadow…but still…

He fell back into the darkness between the high shelves, skittering around the room, letting the echoing acoustics of the Data Lake mask where he moved. Deftly he climbed the shelves, avoiding cones of illumination, skirting the cadet's line of sight until...

...he was just behind the cadet.

“There you are.”

The cadet yelped and spun, hand reaching for his hip where a blaster would have rested had he worn a belt tonight.

Circuit crouched like a gargoyle inches from the cadet’s face, studying him with unblinking brown eyes behind red lenses. The cadet's eyes were round eyes, magnified behind yellow-tinted goggles. He had a paler pigmentation than his own, lighter brown hair, thinner and straighter.  

But the same brown eyes. Same wild-eyed wonder in the face of Fear.

Fascinating...

He could see his own reflection in the boy’s goggles, the gaunt cheeks, square jaw, a ghost of a Reg.

A ghost of this boy perhaps? A living spectre? A preemptive haunt?

He let out a sudden, unhinged laugh that shattered like broken glass against the soft silence of the room.

The boy recoiled, clutching his legs.

“You’re not a Reg.”

Circuit’s lip curled. Crunch often complained his smile was menacing, but it couldn't be helped. Humor always pulled back his lips to bare his teeth. 

“And neither are you, little one.”

“You're a defective clone then.”

“Defective…” Circuit hadn’t slept in fifty-four hours and his neck felt rubbery, he let it roll around briefly before looking at the cadet again. Crunch once said he looked like a marionette with its strings cut.

He liked puppets. They felt...relatable.

He didn't fight his brain as it unraveled again...

“...Deficient, yes. Demonstrative and devilish. Defiant, but dependable. Demanding. Devastating. Dev...dev...Did you know that Devronian horns continue to grow post-mortem?”

The boy perked up suddenly. “I did know that. Did you know that in Devronian culture it's customary to mount their horns of the deceased's tombstone?”

“I did,” Circuit hunched like a gargoyle, his back arching in delight at this exchange. “Did you know that a Devronian soldier's tombstone is often comprised of common cement and the bone dust of their enemies?”

The boy cracked a smile. “No…no I did not. That is fascinating.” He paused then extended a hand “I’m Tech.”

Circuit regarded the hand. It was still shaking from fear...or adrenaline…or both.

“Circuit.”

He took Tech’s hand, but did not shake it. He simply held it and squeezed, willing it to stop trembling.

Stop shaking.

After fifty-four hours of no sleep, his own hand was shaking, too. On missions he took stimulants to calm it. Now...it just vibrated freely.

Tech seemed to notice this and he put a small hand over Circuit’s as if having the same thought.

Stop shaking.

The shaking stopped. Circuit felt...not calm...never calm...

...his shoulders sagged.

“What did they do to you?” Tech asked, quietly.

That question. Such a question. Where to begin? Where to end? When does it end?!

It was as if a hundred flies were plucking at the spiderweb inside his mind, calling attention to a hundred different scenarios, experiments, trials, tears, and terror, and please...make it stop...

He squeezed Tech’s hand tight and pushed through the Noise so he could speak. 

“They put Everything in my head.” Circuit laughed at the sudden thought of a Kaminoan scientist opening his head up like a pickled meiloorun jar and pouring an ocean of Thoughts inside.

“So much. Too much. All of it. It doesn’t stop. They made my mind exceptional. Then overclocked it to madness.”

He released Tech’s hand before he could accidentally crush it and sat down, drawing his knees to his chest. 

“I…” Tech’s words were slower than Circuit’s, methodical, and Circuit could see those bright brown eyes move rapidly as he absorbed the information he received. “...also have an exceptional mind. It processes information far faster than Regs and I am able to retain 99.88% of information provided to me.”

“How is the Noise?” Circuit asked.

“The what?”

Circuit tapped his temple with two fingers. “The Noise. The Thoughts. The Waterfall of Information that gushes so loud it roars in a silent room.”

“There’s…no noise.” Tech thinks for a moment. “Or…maybe I’m the Noise. My brothers say I talk too much and fill their head with useless facts. I talk a lot because there is a lot to say and…” Tech frowned a little. “...I can’t  help myself.”

Circuit tilted his head to the side. “Headshot says I should talk more. That all those thoughts fill my head like hot air in a balloon and one day I’ll pop.” Circuit’s voice cracked as he laughed. “But...I’ve already popped. I pop every day. Popopopoppoppoppoppop.”

Tech reached out and grabbed Circuit’s hand again and squeezed it hard. 

Circuit quieted. His head bowed.

“Will we join your squad?” Tech asked. "When we're older?"

“No.” More words bubbled in his head - Nononononono - but Tech’s firm grip anchored him.

“You sound very sure. How do you know?”

“Because we are the trial run, the first pancake, a sample size, and you and your brothers are the Real Batch. The Success. You’re flawed perfectly and we are perfectly flawed.” Circuit giggled, but he forgot what was funny. He sighed…he was tired… “My brothers don’t understand. Every exercise we complete, every mission we execute, every success and win are all for you. When they push us to our limits, that data is used to pull you up to your potential.”

Circuit looked at Tech and felt an odd sense of pride. “You are the Real Batch. We are just a mirror, trapped in a foggy mirror. A dull reflection to what you are and will become.”

Tech’s eyes dropped a moment, his pupils quivering slightly as he ingests what Circuit told him. 

“Did…Memento have a mirror?”

“Yes. His name is Void.”

“We lost Memento because of his defects.”

Circuit squeezed Tech’s hand only to find that Tech was clinging to him just as tightly. “I know you did, little one. I’m sorry.”

“It was predicted that he wouldn't live long past adolescence," Tech said, and Circuit was sure he heard a small sniffle, though no tears were perceived. "But thank you.” After a moment he asked. “Is Void healthy?”

Circuit’s laugh snapped like fire popper and it echoed through the Data Lake. “What is healthy to a defective clone?” His laugh quieted, shriveling into a weak sigh. “He is as broken as any of us, but he will live as long as we are allowed to survive.”

“Are you worried they’ll retire you?” Tech asked.  

Circuit shook his head. “We are useful still. They will stress test us until we die or until we are relocated for additional experimentation. My brothers want to believe we will be a part of the upcoming war, but…I believe our journey will end elsewhere.”

“Perhaps I can help,” Tech said. “You can meet my brothers. We can be one big squad.”

More pride gushed into his heart so suddenly Circuit wondered if it would burst from his chest, a fountain of blood and happiness. He suppressed another maniacal giggle. “That’s a nice thought, but we are not the main characters of this story, Tech. We crawl so you may run. It is how it is.”

“How long have you known about us?” Tech asked.

Circuit grinned. “Since you were a legume in a tube.”

Tech frowned. “Why have we never met?”

Circuit’s tired head rolled around again. “It is safer this way. We are not safe. You are not safe with us.”

“What do you mean?”

Circuit pulled his hand away to roll up his sleeves. He showed thick lines of scars overwritten by erratic, intricate artwork of vectors and circuits and formulas. Scars were overwritten by new ink, overlapped with newer scars and scratched over by even newer ink. “Saying that we are unstable is equivalent to saying the galaxy has a few stars in it.” 

Tech’s brown knitted upwards and he reached out to take Circuit’s hand again. Circuit fought his impulse and pulled farther away.

Safer. Better this way. For him. All of this is for him...

“Will you be here tomorrow?” Tech asked. 

Circuit should've said no. He should never return to the Data Lake, sever this connection before it got too strong.

Before I feel too Real.

“I will…If I am not sleeping.”

“Oh.”

Circuit sneered. “...that was a joke. I never sleep.”

“You’re...insomniacal?”

“An insomniac,” Circuit gently corrected.

“Ah of course. An insomniac. Did you know that Insomnia causes hallucinations?”

“Yes, are you a hallucination?”

Tech gave a short laugh and shook his head. “No.”

Circuit offered his hand for a final shake. Tech clutched his hand and squeezed it tightly. “I hope sleep finds you tonight.”

Circuit watched Tech slip back into the ventilation shafts, then he returned to his own brothers in a bunk at a safe distance from where the New Batch slumbered.

Instead of crawling into his own bed, he slithered into Crunch’s bunk. Crunch’s loud snores halted with a snort and he blinked sleepily at Circuit. 

“Wot?” Crunch asked.

“Hold hand,” Circuit demanded, plopping his pillow beside Crunch’s. Short words worked best with Crunch’s brain, a brain that was as loud as Circuit’s, though far thicker.

“Mmmph.” Crunch wrapped his large mitt around Circuit’s hand and squeezed to point it almost hurt. He then resumed his chest rattling snores.

The physical contact seemed to scare away the bothersome flies plucking at Circuit’s mind. In fact, the Noise was quieter than it had been since he was ripped from his birthing tube. 

He slept for two hours.

It was glorious.

[adhd-coyote]

Coyote’s OC Masterlist

Those with a * next to their names are not clones.

coyotes clone chaos - All posts featuring my clone ocs

193rd General Adai Na’Kala* Commander Sil Captain Badger CMO Bubbles ARC Trooper Twins - Azalea “Azzie” & Oleander “Ollie” Isu Squad - Smoke, Mirror, Wraith Nebula “Nebbie”

212th Tooka Pesky Rain Chomps Vent Squirrel Kneecaps Drake

Coruscant Guard Firefly Blush Mouse Trot Rabbit Dahvi Kas Chatterbox Shortstack Sparks Carmine Pudding Artist

104th Captain Miko Nerves Ignition “Iggy”

91st Lieutenant Fable Hyacinth “Cinth” Screech

41st Sergeant Flick Petrichor

327th Sergeant Scope Hotshot

404th - Krell’s Battalion Lieutenant Lace Spooks Spider

Paws’ Pirate Crew Paws Hyela* Janki* Zhana* Kora* Vaxu* Pax*

Runaways - Shiver, Cabu, Mirda, Circuit, Tubie/Moth

Siren Squad - Whistle, Chirp, Chitter, Hiss, Click, Trill, Bark, Howl

Petal Squad - Darling, Sweetheart, Dear, Honey, Sugar

Freedom Squad - RC-6173, Condor, Crumbs, Vila

Others Crybaby - Alpha clone Kess Etara* & Lynx - A Sith & her clone boyfriend Lovey Dovey - Deserter

Kalaar Hett’tra* - Mandalorian bounty hunter

[agoddamn]

Now that it's been out for a bit, EDA thoughts:

Overall pretty fun. It's nice to have a mission type that gives enough pressure that it forces you to be a squad. That said, my personal beefs:

Arsenal selection RNG could use some tweaking. If they're not gonna offer preset loadouts like Circuit, they could at least weight the options a little harder to shit you actually have invested. "But some tryhard could manipulate the RNG by selling all their weapons!" Yeah, so? A tryhard can already dumpster this mode by having one (1) friend who can carry. I like being pushed to use lesser-used weapons, but when I get 9 options with no potato or forma I just opt out of the system entirely by using the archgun summon

A couple of the modifiers are just unfun. The biggest culprits to me are Abbreviated Abilities and Liminus. Abbreviated Abilities doesn't limit ability use so much as disable it. -75% duration is just too much. If it were -30%? -50%? A number of abilities are just not designed to function at all at -75%. I tried to run Styanax with it and found out the hard way that his jumping up to use his 4 is counted as part of the ability and therefore Abbreviated Abilities made his 4 completely unusable, because even with Primed Continuity and a yellow casting speed shard the ability would end before he started throwing spears

Liminus play a role of keeping pressure on you to move and punishing camping and clumping up. This is theoretically fine. In practice, when they spawn on modes that necessitate camping and grouping up like Mirror Defense or Survival, they can make shit borderline unplayable. They punish good player behavior.

Yeah yeah, "but you can just drop that modifier and forget the vosfor!" I do! I drop Abbreviated Abilites/No Gearwheel/No Operator every time they show up. But I want to opt in to the limitation system! Not just for rewards, but because being pushed is fun! But there's a point where being pushed turns into just being boring tedium, and for me that point is where the vast majority of buffs are unusable + immortal guys with no counterplay except "move" (but they can teleport so that actually doesn't necessarily work and also the game mode punishes you for moving).

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

Chapter 12: Interlude (Second Chances - Hunter x reader)

Interlude. A pause between acts. In Mando'a, the closest translation might be, acyk, or 'between.'

Chapter summary: Hunter grapples with his feelings.

Chapter warnings: pining, emotional immaturity, clones deserve better, anger, a single punch is thrown, probably too many nicknames thrown around; if I missed any please let me know!

Word Count: 4,759

A/N: I hope I did him justice, y'all! This took a lot of effort so I apologize for the 'late' post (it's still Sunday where I am so it counts!), and I appreciate all of you who voted on that poll and who encouraged me to explore our stubborn little shit, Hunter. Love you all.

Read it here on AO3!

< Previous chapter | Next chapter >

HUNTER

The cockpit door opens and shuts in the otherwise still silence of the Marauder. Hunter stares, unblinking. Without needing to look, he knows it’s Echo; the soft whir of servos, joints, and circuits precedes the man wherever he goes, though Hunter suspects he’s the only one who can hear it. In his periphery, Echo takes a seat in the co-pilot seat and mirrors Hunter’s posture. One foot propped on the control console, arms folded over his chest, head tilted back against the headrest. 

“Can’t sleep?” Hunter asks, voice low. The others are asleep, and he doesn’t want to wake them. They deserve their rest. His thoughts flick to Nav, asleep in his bunk—his sheets are going to smell like them for days and he can’t even find it in himself to be annoyed. Omega had asked to have her room to herself for the night, and without a second thought, Hunter had given Nav his rack and took first watch. He told himself it was what a good leader does for his squad. But the unfamiliar thrum of nerves pinging down his spine seems to whisper, Liar. 

Wrenching himself out of his thoughts, he glances over at Echo. His brother’s skin washes pale in the light of hyperspace. 

Echo meets his gaze and offers a weary smile. “Something like that.” 

The exhaustion on Echo’s face reflects the tiredness that seems to have taken up permanent residence in Hunter’s bones. His headpiece removed, Echo rubs idly at the reddened skin where the heavy metal normally rests. They share a brief, understanding look.

“Wanna tell me what’s on your mind, trooper?” Hunter asks. It feels...familiar—good—to have something concrete to focus on. To be here for a squadmate. For a brother. Something he’s done a hundred times before, and will do a hundred times more. 

Echo sighs, propping his other foot up. “I’ve been thinking...”

“Always a dangerous idea,” Hunter mutters, reflexively, before he realizes it’s out of his mouth. He swallows against the sudden flare of anguish in his chest, tightening right over his heart. Pushing thoughts of Crosshair away, he gestures for Echo to continue.

“Right,” Echo says. “Well, anyways, the next time we hear from Rex, I’m gonna go with him. Help him.” 

Eyes sliding shut for a brief moment, Hunter turns away from Echo. He allows the burst of mingled panic, dread, sorrow, anger to skitter across his skin, burrow into his bones. Then he shoves the feelings down. Echo’s clearly been losing sleep over this. Far be it from Hunter to weigh on his brother’s consciousness any more. “Had a feeling you might decide on this. Are you sure you want to wait until he reaches out?” 

“I don’t want Omega thinking I’m leaving her,” Echo says. He gazes out the viewport in silence, before continuing, “Or Nav, for that matter.” 

“Nav?” Hunter frowns at the jealous pang that stabs his chest, the growling, possessive creature in his heart coiling in defense.

“You can’t kark things up with Nav, Hunter,” Echo says. Hunter’s not sure he’s ever heard Echo so serious about anything, not since they left Kamino, not since the Empire. “The squad needs them. Especially when I’ll be gone.” 

Hunter bristles at the implication that if anything goes awry with Nav, it’ll be his fault. He’s not the one hiding from his past—and Maker knows he wishes he could. Not trusting his voice, he elects to stare out at hyperspace once again. 

“I know you don’t fully trust them,” Echo says, voice soft. “And you’re entitled to that feeling. But don’t—” He stifles a yawn. “Don’t throw away a good thing over pride.” 

“It’s not pride,” Hunter bites. “It’s a matter of safety. Omega’s safety.” 

Echo lets the silence draw out for several moments. Hunter’s skin warms where Echo’s stare burns into him, until he squirms, uncomfortable. “What do you want from me, Echo?” 

“I want...” Echo sighs, drawing his hand over his face. “I want you to be honest with yourself, Sarge.”

Hunter narrows his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Do I need to spell it out?” 

Echo’s question hangs in the air, prickling at Hunter’s awareness until he can’t focus on anything else. He’s torn—so very torn. Nav has been a welcome addition to the squad; adaptable, easily molds to whatever it is that the mission requires, gets along with the entire team. And they’re good with Omega, which sets Hunter’s heart smoldering. But. Doubt still wriggles at the base of his skull. Every time they’re asked about their past, their relationship with the Empire, their knowledge, they glance away. Hunter can feel, every time, the way their heart rate accelerates, smell the sweat that dews on their palms. They’re avoiding something, and it makes him anxious.

Thudding his head back against the worn leather headrest, Hunter heaves a sigh. He’s not good at this. He doesn’t know how to handle the way that Nav makes him feel, the warmth and safety and appreciation flying in the face of every instinct instilled in him since the day he was decanted. How does he get past that? 

“Think about what I said, Hunt’ika.” Echo claps a hand on Hunter’s shoulder.

Hunter doesn’t need to ask which part Echo means, too distracted to wave away the affectionate nickname. He’s no closer to an answer when he wakes Nav for the second watch, falls into his bunk, and inhales their warm, comforting scent. Asleep before his eyes even close, he dreams fitfully of Nav, just out of reach and beckoning him in with that kriffing smile of theirs.

Quiet giggles emanate from the ’fresher as Hunter climbs the Marauder’s ramp. The thick, humid air of this planet—its name already forgotten, unimportant—sticks to his skin in a way that sets his nerves on fire. Too many things going on at once. Too many thoughts crammed into his brain, not least of which is Echo’s decision to leave with Rex. Hunter needs a break. A few minutes in the familiar, stale air of the ship will do him some good. Wrecker’s booming laugh startles a few birds in the trees around this small clearing. Hunter winces in pain, shoulders tightening. 

Muffled words and more giggles draw him into the belly of the ship. He’d been wondering where Nav and Omega had gone off to. After dinner, the pair of them, sharing conspiratorial grins, had announced entirely too casually that they were going to work on Omega’s studies. Hunter had watched them from his place across the fire. He’d clocked the joy etched into Omega’s face. Somehow, he didn’t think any studying would be getting done. With a shrug, he’d taken another sip of scalding caf, and returned his gaze to the star-studded night sky. 

But as he stalks towards the ’fresher, he has to wonder just what trouble the two of them are getting into. Nothing good, if they’d tried to hide it as much as they had. 

He pauses outside the closed door, head tilted to listen in. Between laughter, he catches the awed tone in Omega’s voice when she says, “It’s so pretty!” 

“You’re so pretty, ad’ika,” Nav says, voice hushed. 

Omega’s delighted laugh draws a smile to Hunter’s face. She says, “Where’d you learn that word?” 

Nav hums. “Hunter.” 

“I didn’t know he’s teaching you Mando’a!” 

“It’s...new,” Nav says. Hunter can practically picture the small smile that plays along Nav’s lips when they’re trying to hide it. 

“You’re good for him,” Omega says, her voice suddenly serious. 

He should leave now. This isn’t a conversation he’s meant to hear. But he can’t make his feet unstick from the durasteel floor. His heart thuds in his chest, and he nearly misses Nav’s next words.

“I’m glad you think that, kiddo.” They clear their throat. Even through the closed door, Hunter senses the spike of nervous energy. “Is it okay that I called you ad’ika?”

Omega’s voice is muffled when she answers; Hunter pictures her hugging Nav. “Of course.” 

“Great.” Nav sounds like they’re smiling now, too, tense anxiety fading as quickly as it came on. “Should we go show your vode and buir your new look?” 

Hunter’s brain freezes on the word buir. ‘Parent.’ Father. He’s only ever considered Omega as family, but hearing Nav express it like that—it feels so much more...true, more intimate, in Mando’a. The ’fresher door slides open. Eyes widening, Hunter flinches, realizing his mistake. Before him, with a massive grin on her face, her eyes sparkling with pure happiness, is Omega. Her hair shines a vivid shade of red. His jaw drops.

Omega’s expression morphs into something akin to shock. “Hunter!?” 

Nav’s eyes flicker over his face like they’re trying to read his mind. “How long have you...?” 

“Not long,” he lies, unable to look away from Omega’s hair for very long. “Just needed the— what happened?” 

“It’s hair dye,” Nav explains. 

Omega’s face falls. She picks at a stray thread on her skirt. “It- It was my idea. Don’t be mad at Nav.” 

Hunter raises a hand to cut off whatever Nav was about to say; their eyes flash in concern. Trying to ignore the strong scent of ammonia, Hunter lowers to his knees, taking both of Omega’s hands in one of his own. He tilts her chin up with one finger. Her eyes are wide with apprehension. 

“Why would I be mad?” he asks. 

She gives a half-hearted, one-shoulder shrug. “I dunno. Because it’s different.” 

“It is,” he says with a gentle smile. “But different doesn’t mean bad. It...” He trails off, searching for the words, wanting desperately to live up to the title of buir. Drawing in a steadying breath, he squeezes her hands. This is important to her. He could see it in the radiant joy before she realized he’d been standing there. “It suits you. Makes you look older. More serious.” 

Visibly thinking, Omega searches his face. After a moment, her eyes soften and shimmer with joy again. “You think so?” 

“I know so.” He glances up at Nav and gulps at the inscrutable expression on their face. “I bet the others will love it, too.” 

Omega crushes him in a hug, burying her face in his neck. “Thank you.” 

His eyes fall shut as he embraces his daughter, his ad’ika. Warmth fills him, every curve and joint and limb. When Omega pulls back, he gives her a gentle push toward the ramp. She runs without a second’s hesitation. 

“You were being serious,” Nav says above him as soon as Omega is out of earshot. There’s an odd note to their voice. It takes Hunter a moment to recognize it as surprise. He marvels, for a moment, that he’s still learning things about them, how their voice sounds, how their bio-signal feels this close.

“Wouldn’t lie to her about that,” he says, straightening up. 

Nav purses their lips as they look up at Hunter. Against his skin, their bioelectric signature thrums. It had taken him weeks to get used to their presence: their scent, their sense, their closeness. As with a lot of other things, Hunter has been avoiding a conscious appraisal of how it makes him feel. But here, now, standing in the small hallway with Nav, gazes locked, he tries to put a name to it. He wants to put a name to it. He wants to know everything about them. 

And therein lies the crux of his problem. Swallowing back the rising tide of comfort, Hunter closes off his heart again. 

Like they can sense his feelings as easily as he senses theirs, Nav exhales a small laugh and drops their gaze. “Thank you.” 

“For what?” he asks. 

Nav shrugs, shuffling their feet. “For trusting me with her.” 

“She’s capable of choosing who she trusts,” he says. 

Nav grimaces, and Hunter groans internally. Di’kut. 

“That’s not— I meant—” 

“S’okay, Sarge,” Nav says, cutting him off with a tight smile. “I’ll see you back outside.” 

He doesn’t stop them as they shuffle past. The stink of ammonia burns in his nostrils. 

Anger swells in Hunter’s chest like the rising tide; quiet, quick, and dangerous. His hands shake at his sides where they’re clenched into fists as he stalks back through the dusty village to the Marauder. He can feel his squad—no, his siblings—trailing after him, but their presence is an afterthought. Every fiber in his being screaming at him, molten betrayal melts his nerve endings. I should have known. 

When he’d asked Nav, days ago, to finally bare their truths to the squad, he’d nearly been expecting something horrific, something so dangerous for the squad that he would have to snuff out his feelings and leave Nav behind next time they returned to Ord Mantell. Instead, he’d been grateful to learn that Nav didn’t have the worst-case past Hunter feared for months was the case. He finally felt he could let the walls down around his heart, open up a bit more. 

And now this. 

Bad enough that they’d all been tricked into taking a truth serum, but worse that it had taken the karking drug for Nav to be fully honest with them. Honest with him. Months of this quiet, uncertain relationship he yearned for—dashed in a matter of sentences.

Villagers scurry out of his way. Under normal circumstances, he’d feel apologetic; but today, right now, his eyes ache from the residue of stun sickness, his stomach churns with the remains of the truth serum, and his heart feels displaced. Somehow both too big and too small, twisted around and fractured. 

“Hunter,” one of the others calls as his boots clang up the ship’s ramp. 

“Let’s go,” he spits over his shoulder. They don’t deserve his anger, but it has nowhere else to go. It swirls inside him, amplifying and doubling over and crying to be released. 

“But Nav.” Omega’s voice is small and upset. “They really have to stay here?” 

“We’ll come back for them,” Echo reassures. 

No we won’t. Hunter grits his teeth. Is the roaring in his ears the sound of his blood, or the engines powering up? He can’t tell. As the ramp seals shut, he releases a short huff into the soothing, familiar darkness of the cargo hold. He shoves the heels of his palms into his eyes. Colorless light explodes in his mind. 

“Go check on Tech, ’Mega,” Echo murmurs. 

The girl’s footsteps retreat, and then are muffled entirely as the cockpit door swishes shut. 

“Echo—”

“Hang on, Wrecker.” Echo clears his throat. “Hunter.”

“What?” he snarls. How are they all so calm about this? How are they not being torn apart by a vortex of anger like he is? 

“Look at me, vod.”

Echo’s tone brooks no argument. Hunter, exhaling a long breath, lowers his trembling hands. 

“What?” he asks again. Dimly, he’s aware of Wrecker’s large frame blocking the entrance to the cockpit, concern drawn along the lines of scar. But right in front of him, Echo looks as composed as ever, the only hint of emotion two spots of color high on his cheeks. 

“You know what,” Echo replies. “I thought we had an understanding.” 

Hunter bares his teeth. He’s in no mood for riddles. “What the kriff are you on about?” 

“That you wouldn’t kark it up with Nav.” Echo gestures helplessly to the closed ramp. None of the three of them react as the ship lurches away from the arid planet. “Remember that?” 

“I never agreed to anything.” Hunter laughs bitterly. “I don’t see how this is even my fault.” 

Echo’s fist connects with Hunter’s cheekbone. Pain spikes deep into his face and throbs in his eye, summoning tears against his will. He staggers, clutching his face. “What—?” 

“Hey!” Wrecker cries. 

Shaking his hand out, Echo motions for Wrecker to settle as he glares at Hunter. “What Nav did isn’t right. You’re justified in being angry about it. But Nav isn’t Crosshair, Hunter.” 

“Crosshair?” Hunter shakes his head, mind reeling. Scorching anger clashes with scattered confusion intermixes with a dull ache from the blow. “Get to the point, Echo.” 

“If you really think that Nav was lying to us or putting us in danger on purpose, then you’re more of a di’kut than I thought,” Echo says. His eyes spark with defiance. “I know this feels a lot like what Crosshair did. Trust me, I know. But Nav didn’t betray us. Nav was protecting themselves. There’s a difference.” 

Chest heaving, Hunter probes gently at the bruise already forming below his eye, and winces. Suddenly, he feels very, very tired, and very, very small. As the anger cools in his limbs from lava to obsidian, he feels so much older than his ten years. Like his accelerated aging is finally catching up to him. He drops his gaze from Echo’s. Sinks into one of the jump seats. Cradles his head in his hands. 

“I’m sorry I hit you,” Echo says. 

“Wish I could still get you court-martialed,” Hunter mutters. “Insubordination.” 

Echo barks a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah. Well. You deserved it.” 

The cockpit door whooshes open and closed again, and when Hunter glances up, he’s alone. Grimacing against the pain in his face, he sighs, slumping forward. The anger is gone now, but in its wake, his body still burns with emotion. They scrabble over one another, clawing painfully into the walls of his heart, suffocating his windpipe, crowding his mind. It’s too much. And the ship still smells like Nav, warm and comforting and painful. 

For the first time in a long time, Hunter scrunches his eyes shut and cries.

Two weeks pass in a blur. Rex calls; Echo leaves with him. They rescue a Jedi, the first they’ve seen since the order came down from the Emperor himself to murder them all. Their ship gets stolen, and they steal it back. Hunter barely remembers most of it. He moves on auto-pilot. On missions, it's only his years of training, ingrained in his very being by the Kaminoans, that keeps him moving.

In between, he’s listless. 

He hates it. 

Omega has withdrawn from him, spending more of her time with Tech, nose buried in her studies or under the control panel as Tech teaches her everything he can. Sometimes, at night, when Hunter tucks her into bed, she looks like she wants to ask him a question, but she never does. Her words from a few weeks back replay in his mind constantly. You’re good for him, she’d said to Nav. 

For his part, Wrecker seems to be adapting to the rapid changes in the squad fairly well. He grumbles about the extra shifts at night, and occasionally bemoans the lack of support on missions, but Hunter knows that his vod is otherwise okay. Tech, too, accepts the changes in stride and adjusts accordingly. 

But Hunter can’t move past any of it. At least Echo understood Hunter’s responsibility, more than he thinks Wrecker or even Tech do. And Nav.... 

It’s been two weeks. When he lies in his bunk at night, he swears he can still smell their scent, the faintly sweet soap they used and the tang of their sweat, like it’s trapped in the fibers of his pillow from the singular time they slept on it. Maybe he’s imagining things. Either way, he didn’t realize how attuned to their presence he’s become until now, when they’re gone. He finds that he nearly misses the way that their unique bioelectric signals constantly lapped against his awareness like ripples in a pond. If he’s honest with himself, he doesn’t miss Nav. He needs them. 

He doesn’t know if he wants them to comm the squad or not. If he really sits and thinks about it—which he tries to avoid, at least until his exhausted body betrays him and keeps him awake longer, his mind churning—he’s still so angry. The memory of Nav blurting out the real truth about their past is burned into his brain, and it makes his chest hot every time he relives it. If he never sees Nav again, he thinks he could be okay with that. 

Except he wouldn’t be. 

And he hates it. 

He can’t help the nearly obsessive way he counts the days since he left Nav behind on Iridonia. Today marks day number twelve. Grinding his teeth at the thought, he tosses and turns in his bunk. His knee collides with the durasteel wall with a dull thunk and a soft hiss of pain. He rubs at the joint, glaring at the wall like it’s his fault he can’t sleep.

Ever since Bescane, ever since Hunter chased after Nav to ask them to stay with the squad, to become part of the team, he’s been thinking about the future. It’s not something he’s used to. He never really had the luxury or the reason. From the moment he could speak, walk, hold a blaster, he’d been forced to think only about his squad, himself, and the completion of the current objective. He’d endured countless hours of torture disguised as medical appointments to hone his enhanced senses. He’d survived commando training to sharpen his reflexes and prepare his mind for the traumas of war. Through all that, he’d taken the brunt of the scorn from the regs, keeping his brothers shielded from the worst of the vitriol hurled their way. The future only ever consisted of the next mission. 

He used to know his place in the galaxy. And then the Empire happened. And then Nav happened. 

He wishes he could claw out the ache in his chest every time he thinks about Nav. 

Sighing in frustration, he yanks the coarse blanket up over his head and tries to let the gentle warmth of his own breath soothe the tightness in the core of his being. By some miracle, it seems to help. 

He jerks awake some indeterminate amount of time later. Disoriented and groggy, Hunter peers around the cargo hold, sure there’s danger nearby. His fingers close around the hilt of his dagger beneath the pillow before he consciously registers the action. With a few steadying breaths, he props himself up on his elbow. 

“Sorry to disturb you,” Tech’s voice whispers out of the darkness nearby. “I thought you would want to know.” 

“Know what, Tech?” Hunter’s tongue is thick in his mouth, throat dry and hoarse from disuse. 

“Better come up front.” Tech’s tall form, a shadow against shadows, retreats away from the racks to the cockpit. 

Groaning softly, Hunter swings his legs over the edge of his bed. A glance back shows Omega’s softly snoring form curled around Lula in her makeshift room. Above him, Wrecker shifts in his sleep, muttering incoherently. No alarms blare. Nothing else feels out of place. What’s so important Tech couldn’t wait until shift change? 

Hunter shuffles to the cockpit. Tech is perched at the edge of the pilot’s seat, the bags under his eyes mirroring the ones Hunter knows rim his own. 

“What’s this about, Tech’ika?” Hunter asks, crossing his arms against the chill air. 

Tech adjusts his goggles and clears his throat. Deft fingers fidgeting with the clasps of his chestplate, he appraises Hunter’s expression for the space of a heartbeat before swiveling the chair around. 

“I received a message,” Tech says, matter-of-fact as always. 

Hunter’s breath catches. “Echo?” 

“Negative.”

Turning a few knobs, Tech raises an expectant finger as a simple, coded message chirps to life through the cockpit speakers. Hunter’s eyes narrow as his foggy, exhausted brain tries to make sense of the series of beeps and blips. 

“R-J-C-D-C,” Tech translates smoothly. “I believe it is an acronym for the Republic Judiciary Central Detention Center, though I highly doubt it retains that name now that the Republic is gone.” 

Hunter frowns, brain taking too long to process this. “Republic Judiciary.... Isn’t that on Coruscant?” 

“Yes.” Tech splays his hands. “The signal was weak, but this is all it transmitted.” 

“When did this come in?” 

“Only a few minutes before I woke you.” Tech toggles the switches again and the coded message fades to silence. 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Hunter sighs. “Can you just tell me what was so important about this message that it couldn’t wait?” 

“Ah.” Tech grimaces, a rare expression on his otherwise subdued features. “The message was transmitted to one of the private frequencies I wired several months ago.” 

Hunter blinks. And? 

Tech huffs. “This particular frequency was keyed into a comlink I gave to (y/n). To Nav.” 

Hunter’s heart stills for the span of three seconds before slamming against his ribcage in a frenzy. “Nav? Are they— why would they transmit—?” 

“I am not certain,” Tech says, eyes peering up at Hunter, scrutinizing. “But if they are indeed being held in a Coruscanti prison, then as captain of this ship, I require orders.” 

Mouth gaping, Hunter snaps his jaws shut with an audible clack of teeth. His eyes narrow in suspicion. Something doesn’t feel right. “You’ve never asked my permission before, Tech.” 

“Given your reaction to our Navigator’s intentional twisting of the truth, I felt it wise to act in accordance with your wishes,” Tech explains. “I, for one, have no thoughts one way or the other, but I am aware that Omega misses both Echo and Nav fiercely. Having Nav back would also bring our numbers back up, and lessen the strain on all of us.” 

Slumping against the back wall, memories clash within Hunter’s brain. You’re good for him, Omega’s words echo, overlapping with Echo’s admonition, The squad needs them. 

“I don’t know what to do,” he mumbles, lips numb. 

“I beg to differ.” Tech regards him with a curious, guarded look. “You have not led us astray thus far. Whatever your decision, I know it will be the right one.” 

Knees trembling, Hunter slides down to the floor, breaths coming in short gasps. Kriff, he hasn’t had a panic attack since he was a cadet—the tense, frozen sensation is no more pleasant now as an adult. He was made to lead, quite literally engineered for it, but he doesn’t know if he wants this responsibility anymore. He holds the lives of all of them on his shoulders, perched precariously, ready to fall into ruin at his slightest misstep. 

“It’s not my decision to make,” he grits out, screwing his eyes shut against the fear that locks his muscles in place. “Take a vote. Majority rules.” 

When Tech returns a few moments later with a sleepy-eyed Omega and yawning Wrecker in tow, Hunter has managed to calm the flighty sense of terror in his core. He remains seated on the floor. As Omega plops down in his lap, he has to stifle a sob, wrapping her small frame in his arms. Her faded red hair no longer smells of ammonia when he presses his nose against it and breathes deep, needing something familiar to cling onto now. 

“Hunter?” Omega’s voice is thick with sleep. “What’s going on?” 

“Tell them,” Hunter orders Tech, eyes downcast. 

Tech explains the situations in many fewer words than he’d used with Hunter, much to Hunter’s annoyance. The brief spark of irritation is snuffed out as soon as Omega gasps. She twists in his embrace, her eyes wide and hopeful. 

“We have to go get Nav,” she says, so firmly that he almost wants to accept her word as final. 

His eyes flick between Wrecker and Tech. He needs them all to say it first. 

“I miss ’em,” Wrecker says with a soft sniffle. “I agree with ’Mega.” 

“I concur,” Tech says. He raises his eyebrows to Hunter expectantly. 

Swallowing against the lump in his throat, Hunter nods slowly. “Majority rules.” 

Omega frowns and moves to stand up. Hunter catches one of her hands, meets her gaze. He doesn’t think he can take it if she pushes him away again. 

“Meg?” he asks, voice breaking. 

“Do you want Nav to come back?” she asks. Tears shine in her eyes. 

He closes his eyes, drops his head. What does he want? He wants to sleep. He wants his squad to be safe. He wants to stop fighting. He wants to be able to just live. He wants his brother back—Echo, Rex, Crosshair. He wants to pretend the rest of the galaxy doesn’t exist. He wants his family whole. 

Nav is family. Nav is his family.

“Yes,” he whispers. “I want them back.” 

Without hesitation, Tech throws the lever and the ship lurches out of hyperspace, pivots to port, and reenters the gentle blue light. “Course set for Coruscant.”

Taglist: @the-hexfiles @fjordg @idoubleswearimawriter @skellymom

[ara-kani]

I wish I was good at art cuz if I was I'd draw a million pictures of K Bladerunner with Harley Quinn Suicide Squad as a crossover.

Have Harley take the place of Joi but play up that she's the police partner to K and less of a love interest. Whatever she swings her bat through short circuits. Have K stop Harley from sacrificing herself for other people, unlike the original K with Joi. Its like the mirror image to Barbie, both thematically and aesthetically. They get to the memory facility and inside is Natasha Lyonne as Dr. Pamela Isley, who can't leave the lab because the poisoned LA air would immediately kill her plant-based physiology. Hologram Harley phases through the glass and kisses her in a bisexual awakening. Cillian Murphy plays Luv (still gets his nails lasered on). The villain is just Jared Leto. Not Niander Wallace and not Joker. Just the human Jared Leto (but keep the weird eye implants and the tattoos, I think they're funny)

[zinzinina]

I was wondering... How do you think Delta Squad would react to seeing the reader in lingerie for the first time? 👀

Ohhh anon! I love this; thank you for sending such a sweet prompt to me! 💕 I’m so sorry; this has been sitting in my inbox for months and you’ve probably forgotten sending it, but I just rediscovered this today and felt a little burst of inspiration! x

Pairing: Boss x F!Reader, Fixer x F!Reader, Scorch x F!Reader, Sev x F!Reader Word Count: 1k Rating: 18+ Explicit Warnings: Lingerie, slight praise kink, some body worship, non-explicit mentions of penetrative sex, implied oral sex (f receiving), anything else I’ve missed please let me know.

Boss:

You won’t get much of a dramatic reaction out of Boss...mainly because he’s the one who bought you the lingerie in the first place

And you might be wondering how he managed to get his hands on such a beautiful set when he’s both time-poor and, like...poor-poor

But he considers it well worth calling in every favour he’s owed from vod and civilian alike when it comes to making you feel just as special as those girls living in the Upper Levels, all draped in silk and lace

He knows he can’t give you fancy dinners and romantic weekends away, though he’d give you all of that and more if he could

Boss would give you one of the diamond moons of Jelucan if if were remotely possible

So as soon as you step shyly out of the bedroom dressed in his gift, a slow, proud smile stretches across his features

He can’t quite believe you’re his; only his

All of his sternness melts away as you run your hands over your body, your eyes fixed to his

“There’s my girl. Bid mesh’la, ner cat’ra. Can you turn around? Show me how good you look, ad’ika. Just like that.”

And then later that evening, when he’s buried inside you, he’ll hold you facing toward the mirror so you can see exactly how beautiful you look with your eyes rolling back in your head from pleasure, dressed in the lace he chose for you

Fixer:

Fixer is so strictly no-nonsense that his reaction is alarming at first

You’re worried that something’s wrong with his brain, as though he’s experiencing a short-circuit somewhere in there

You’re still standing, your robe loosely open, as he stares at you

“Fixer? Are you okay?”

You’re rewarded with the sound of his datapad hitting the floor, his jaw hanging open

“What is—when did you—osik, cyare.”

You step closer, feeling a rush of affectionate amusement as he blinks at you

“They’re new. Do you like them?”

He manages to snap his mouth shut, then he starts shaking his head

At first, you feel a wash of self-consciousness

Maybe he doesn’t like it? Maybe he thinks you look ridiculous? But then his hands are on you, his fingers feeling around the tops of your thighs, dipping beneath the edges of the flimsy garters with a frantic clumsiness

“Hey, what are you doing?”

He looks up at you. “How do I get this off?”

Your face falls. “Because you don’t like them.”

He frowns, bewildered

“No. Because if I don’t get these off you, right now, I’m going to ruin them.”

Understanding blooms in the same second he yanks you down onto his lap, leaving you squealing in surprise

Scorch:

Scorch had been complaining all afternoon about his stomach growling in the lead up to your dinner date 

You don’t get to have nice date nights like this very often, with him away so much and with your own work schedule sucking up most of the free time you have

So you’re determined to make the most of it: new shoes, new dress, new underwear

You spend far longer than usual getting ready, paying careful attention to your hair, bending to lean in close to the mirror 

Which is when you hear him behind you

“Babe. Holy fucking shit.”

You glance over your shoulder, and he’s standing in the doorway, gawking at you

You snicker at the way his eyes are nearly falling out of his head at the sight of you standing in your underwear, half-ready and embarrassed

“Scorch, come on, quit fucking around! You need to go get ready—”

And then he’s on his knees in front of you, his hands on your thighs

“Babe. Babe, step on me. Please step on me. Holy fuck. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.”

You laugh properly this time, trying and failing to cover your face with your hand

“We’re going to be late! I thought you were starving, remember? What about dinner?”

At first you think he’s too busy pressing his lips to the thin fabric covering your cunt to respond, but then he grins up at you

“Forget dinner. I got something way better to eat right here.”

Sev:

You’re laid out on your bed, your eyes rolled closed against the feeling of Sev taking his time in slowly kissing every inch of you that he can reach

Which isn’t much, because he’s yet to remove a single stitch of your clothing

You don’t like to hurry him, no matter how desperate you get, because the way that he kisses you never fails to make you see stars

As he gently loosens your clothing, you sigh, leaning back and waiting for his lips to trail lower

But then he pauses, and you glance down, momentarily confused

He’s staring at your body as though he’s never seen it before, and you remember belatedly putting on the fine shimmersilk set this morning; one you’ve never worn before, so soft and comfortable that you’d forgotten it was even there

He’s still neither speaking nor kissing you and it takes you a second to understand his silence

Sev spends a lot of time telling you how beautiful you are; often with his customarily severe, almost-too-much intensity

Even when you aren’t; even when you’re tired and sweaty and sick and halfway through dirty, unglamorous tasks like cleaning the ‘fresher

But now, he doesn’t say a single word

Which is how you know that right now, to him, this is the most beautiful you’ve ever looked

Not using my usual list because this is a bit niche. I’m just tagging a couple of pals who interacted with my last RepComm headcanons and who might be interested (no pressure of course!) x @mandaloriandin @dikut @stalinsthirsttrap @imalovernotahater @saradika @lackofhonor @thirsty-void @just-some-girl-92 @fractiouskat @hardcasey @chewychewyque

[chatonne-rousse]

The Transitive Property of Crushes

This is my Gamma Squad Secret Santa gift for the wonderful @thesquipproject! Squip, I hope you enjoy this Marichat romp where they're both so unbelievably stupid that it's clear they're made for each other.

Please imagine this during their respective bathroom scenes with their kwamis.

Read it on Ao3 here.

***

The ride to school is mostly silent, aside from the swish of Adrien's jeans against the seat as he jiggles his knee incessantly. His bodyguard looks at him in the rearview mirror but Adrien is deep in thought.

Last night was...unusual. Eye-opening. Life-changing.

He can't take back what he knows and doesn't want to, but that one revelation led to a multitude of other questions that he simply doesn't have the answer to at the moment.

Marinette is Ladybug.

He saw her with his own two eyes, on the way home from yesterday evening's akuma fight as he vaulted over the Place des Vosges. Ladybug had a head start and he truly did not mean to follow her - didn't even know he was, honestly! - but he was headed back to a photoshoot in the opposite direction from home and somehow they'd crossed paths.

He couldn't miss the pink flash of her detransformation behind a bench (nor could he stop from thinking that was probably not as inconspicuous a place as his lady thought it was), and when Marinette walked toward home talking to her purse, well, that sealed the deal.

The entirety of last night was spent analyzing every detail of their relationships, both civilian and superhero, and he's headed to school now more in love but also more confused than ever.

The car stops at the curb in front of the school and The Gorilla gives his charge a little smile in the mirror. Adrien waves at him and exits the car with a deep, nervous breath.

"I feel so weird, Plagg," he whispers to the kwami hidden in his shirt. "Everything is different now."

"No, it's not. It'll be fine. Just be normal, kid."

"Normal how? Chat Noir normal or Adrien normal?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Plagg grumbles. "Maybe try normal like someone who doesn't talk to the inside of his overshirt. That kind of normal."

"Okay. Okay, I can do that." Adrien shakes out his hands and bounces twice on his toes before heading up the stairs.

Plagg just shakes his head.

***

Marinette makes it to class just in time to plunk a bag of croissants down beside Alya's notebook on their shared desk before the bell rings. She breathes a sigh of relief and settles in.

"Damn, I can smell the butter from here," Nino says, turning around with hopeful eyes.

She inclines the top of the bag toward him. "Go ahead, they're for all of us."

Alya snags one first. "Oooh, don't mind if I do."

"Are they really for everyone?" Adrien asks. His voice is soft and his cheeks are pink and Marinette is so struck by him that she can only nod in response.

Nino's sound of enjoyment borders on obscene, and Alya scatters crumbs everywhere when she nudges him in the shoulder.

"Why am I suddenly jealous of a croissant?"

Marinette giggles at her best friend and takes the last one from the bag. She's just finishing her first bite when Adrien twists in his seat and rests his forearm on her desk.

"Thank you, Marinette. You're always so thoughtful. You really are amazing."

"No, you're amazing," she hears herself say, her brain short circuiting. "I mean, it's amazing that...croissants! Croissants are so buttery." She takes a big bite and makes a noise akin to Nino's from a few moments before. "Mmmm. Amazing."

Please let me choke on this croissant and die, she thinks, before Alya kicks her under the table.

She swallows very carefully to make sure she doesn't actually choke. That would be super embarrassing. More embarrassing than the last ten seconds, even.

"You're welcome. I love to share food from the bakery."

(Did she just say 'I love you'? She isn't sure. She might have. Oh, no.)

"Well, it's always delicious."

(Apparently not. Crisis averted.)

"Thanks," she breathes.

When he turns around, Alya gives her a thumbs-up. "Good job," she mouths silently.

One bowl of word salad, two complete sentences. Not bad for the first few minutes of class.

(click here to read the rest on Ao3)

[uno-writing]

Prom w John bc I've decided to reread yet again.

Candy anon you kill me. Legit you killed me, we are once again on the bus and my bestie is too used to me to react but she gave me a side eye.

- Boba anon 🧋

Don’t tempt me…I’ll end up rereading again🍿🥤🍭🍬🍫🧋

*Tbh…he kinda… forgets to ask you…

*Like he was so nervous and spent hours pretending to ask you in the mirror that he just tricked his brain into thinking that he already asked you

*So when you mention that you’re not going, or say how you were thinking about going with friends, or how someone else asked you and you’re thinking about your answer he just kinda buffers and blurts out “go with me”

*Now you’re both shocked bc he didn’t mean to say it like that and you’re shocked he’s asking you

*He’s awkward now and he’s trying to play it off but he’s way more shocked when you agree

*You have to convince him to wear a suit

*He doesn’t want to and insists that he can just wear his normal clothes

*When you finally convince him, he’ll kinda panic bc he doesn’t know anything about suits

*First he tries to call and ask his dad but his dad is too busy gushing about John going to prom

*And then he asks Sera bc he knows she’s fashionable and rich and might know about suits

*She does. But she knows someone who knows more and who would be very willing to give John at least one occasion of good fashion

*So she tells John to go ask Arlo (ik how much you all like sass squad lol)

*John says no and tries to convince her to help him and she says she will, after he asks Arlo

*John’s still refusing until you send him pics of the outfits you’re considering so he can get a better idea on how to match his suit with your outfit

*And he finally bites his pride and goes to ask Arlo

*Arlo tells him no to begin with and when John asks him why, he says John can figure it out

*And then John looks at a tux website and finds the most hideous tux he can and tells Arlo that’s the one he’s getting

*Arlo’s control freak trait along with his fashion sense kicks in and he tells John that he’ll help him

*Don’t get me wrong, Arlo would willingly and happily let John self sabotage like that

*But Remi convinced Arlo to go and Arlo doesn’t want to look at that ugly suit all night

*So with Arlo and Sera’s help, John finally gets a nice tux that fits him well and it’s not ugly or anything and it matches your outfit, but doesn’t match it to the point that it’s cringy *William flies in specifically to get pics of you and John together before prom and have his teary eyed parent moment about how his kid’s all grown up now

*John’s very embarrassed bc this is probs the first time you meet his dad in person

*He’s a lil clumsy when it comes to dancing, but he’s got spirit

*Doesn’t look at you a lot bc you look so very nice and he’s trying to avoid his brain short circuiting

*He does try to compliment you a lot, but he’s nervous and he’s overthinking so his compliments are really choppy

*He knows you’re getting looks from people bc you look so nice so he tries to stick around you all night

*He’ll also probably have a hand on you somewhere and glare at anyone looking

*If you feet start to hurt, he’ll carry you back to your place

*Would also probably get food with you after if you’d like

[larenoz]

There Has To Be Three - Updated

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

Originally posted as part of @rnmmarchformeta but updated to reflect some new additions. Only three eps in and already enough for an update!!

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

From the very beginnings of the show, symbolism related to the number three has been present.

The most obvious example of this is the mysterious symbol seen throughout the show. We see it displayed in the town lights when the power returns after Max causes the blackout. It has recurred so often in their lives that both Max and Michael have it tattooed on their bodies.

It is initially described in terms of being a beacon. In 1.09 Songs About Texas, Max sees the symbol on the flyer for the Indigenous faith healer, Arizona. It’s here that Max learns about the way the symbol mysteriously forms near certain people, and its link to the silent woman on the reservation.

We later learn that in addition to its role as a beacon, the symbol is used as a lock. It is the Pod Squad placing their hands on their respective circle on the symbol that unlocks Mr Jones’ cell.

And again, we see the number three associated with a lock and key on the box used to house Tripp’s diary left to Patricia.

But is the power of the design intrinsic or is it what the design represents?

Does the symbol in fact represent an important cultural or biological concept for the race of aliens to which Max, Isobel, and Michael belong? Join me dear readers on my journey into the “aliens need to be in groups of three to form stable relationships and be happy” head canon.

Could it be possible that the aliens only function successfully when they form relationships, be they romantic, sexual, platonic, sibling etc when it contains three people?

We see many different groupings of people, that don’t seem to work properly until they are together or that when fractured, bad things happen.

Pod squad - Iz, Michael, Max

Science Bros - Liz, Michael, Kyle

Family - Liz, Rosa, Arturo

Family - Liz, Rosa, Kyle

Friends - Liz, Maria, Alex

Barn Crew - Nora, Louise, Roy

The Parents - Mimi, Jim, Jesse

Manes Men - Alex, Flint, Greg

In 2.05 we are given an answer by Max:

“The thing is, there has to be three. Okay. There’s always three. Until the end.”

“Cause it’s all broken without three.”

This is confirmation from canon that at least for the Pod Squad, three is the magic number.

The question then becomes was Max talking only about their specific situation or is it indicative of the wider cultural/biological alien imperative?

In terms of the Pod Squad, even though they are together physically, emotionally they are distant. The events surrounding Rosa’s death break the trust within the group and the closeness they had before that event is lost. It’s only once those secrets are out in the open and they begin to repair their relationship as a group, that they each start to heal their other relationships as individuals. Obviously, there are other events impacting their individual circumstances but the point holds.

Could this within its full cultural manifestation be that triads are the norm for the aliens? And that the 2.06 threesome is them unwittingly falling into the cultural norms of Michael’s society?

Does the threesome between Maria, Alex and Michael happen because they were already the most likely (basically people who are all outsiders in some way and therefore already breaking societal norms) to be open to unconventional relationship structures and therefore more open to acting on the drive towards a triadic group?

Originally posted by rosaortecho

Like for Kaliz, Kyle provides that balance, cause Max isn’t great at setting boundaries with Liz.

And even with Alex, Maria and Liz, their friendship was broken until they all came back together.

Even in non-romantic/sexual situations the characters tend to work better in groups of three. It isn’t until Kyle, Liz and Michael all start working together that they start making headway on healing Max and it’s only when they all contribute something equally (Liz regrowing the heart, Michael making the pacemaker and Kyle conducting the surgery) that they finally succeed.

I like that alien culture isn’t just a replication or mirror of our world. And that the differences provide a lens for us to examine our own cultural defaults. - eg monogamy (which historically hasn’t always been the default even in the West). Canon has explicitly questioned the assumption that the aliens experience sexuality in the same way as humans. Michael says in 1.11 Champagne Supernova:

“Oh, we are literally aliens, and you’re gonna hold me to some outdated binary of sexuality?”

And Isobel in 2.07 Como La Flor:

“I mean, what does an alien care about human gender constructs?”

It isn’t such a stretch to suggest that how their society structures its intimate and familial relationships is also different than humans? If aliens aren’t monosexual by default, it’s highly possible they aren’t monogamous by default either.

While allegory plays an important part in the storytelling of the show, I wish that they would also take advantage of their sci-fi setting to explore other aspects of the aliens’ culture. Use the sci-fi genre to explore how they are different as much as how they are the same as humans. The story so far has given us so many elements that could be used as a what-if starting point for exploring different possible experiences. For example, how The Expanse has shown that as humanity expands into space different distinct culture develop. In the show, we see the exploration of a polyamous Belter family that Drummer finds herself in - the #PolyamBelterFam

Realistically, we aren’t going to see this. Even though hey even went as far as having portraying a canon threesome but stopped short of fully exploring the potential of this event by giving us a fully realised polyamorous relationship.

Nevertheless, I don’t think we’ve seen the last of the “three” symbolism and it’s going to be interesting to see if it gets developed further.

Update 11 Aug 2021 (Post S3 Ep 3):

So only three eps in and we already have new "There Needs To Be Three" content. Let's start with the most obvious!!

Our introduction to the home planet of the Pod Squad gives us this image of the night sky with Three Moons!! Which are sort of in the same configuration as the lock symbol?

In the dialogue of the show, Isobel actually uses the term "Triad" to describe the pod squad:

"Okay, you're right. We've all been hiding things from each other. And it has to stop.

We're not strong unless we're together. It's like you said; there has to be three. We're a triad."

(text courtesy of Saadiestuff transcripts)

In S3 Ep 3 we see Michael coming to possession of some enhanced turquoise. He ends up giving pieces to Alex, while Isobel also gets a piece. Both Michael and Alex use their pieces to boost or interact with some alien technology, while Isobel's piece enhances her empathic power.

This one is purely theoretical at this point, but what about the Lockheart Machine and Jim's Radio - is there a missing third machine to complete a machine/circuit?

[levi-venn]

Mirror Squad

An HC I need to get out of my head so I can move on with my life (Hah, jokes on you, Levi, Bad Batch is your life).

So...Hemlock created a mirror image of the Bad Batch called the Mirror Squad, but it's not what you think. Turns out these clones were the ORIGINAL Bad Batch.

Their names: Crunch (Wrecker), Striker (Hunter), Circuit (Tech), Void (Echo/Memento - See Notes), and CX-2 aka Headshot (Crosshair).

Striker and Hunter

Circuit and Tech

Void and Echo

Crunch and Wrecker

Headshot and Crosshair

The Mirror Squad - Origin Story Concept

The Mirror Squad were the first batch of Experimental Unit Clone Commandos created on Kamino: Striker, Crunch, Circuit, Void, and Headshot. They were decommissioned due to their rebellious and unpredictable nature which made them a liability rather than an asset to the future Clone Army.

Because the Experimental Clone Program was an expensive endeavor, the Kaminoans did not decommission these clones, but rather put them in stasis for later research. They tried again another batch of experimental clones and this time only four clones survived: Hunter, Tech, Wrecker, Memento (see note) and Crosshair.

Note: Memento did not survive past his cadet years. Void and Echo's parallel are a coincidence.

When Kamino was evacuated, Hemlock scooped up the original Bad Batch squad, still in stasis within their pods. These clones were the first to be brainwashed and reprogrammed by Hemlock. Although their memories were wiped, their instincts to work as a cohesive unit remained.

Technically, the Bad Batch is a mirror image of what the original Clone Force 99 almost was, but this squad's official name is Mirror Squad.

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 18 - Holy Ghost

Masterlist; Chapter 17

Summary: First few days in Tallinn are like a calm before the storm, while you and Neil are getting used your new dynamic. It proves to be rather surprising...

Warnings: 18+ (yep, she did it again because these two wanted to); swearing.

Author’s Notes: So ummm... I’m not sure what happened here and you’ll be the judges of that. All I can say is that I’ve been inspired by the skewed tie and that Tallinn will take at least two more chapters because they keep getting distracted. Hope you’ll enjoy! Feedback is always welcome as I’m not sure what I’m doing...🙈

The lovely edit has been provided by my amazing and talented friend @sh3tani​ (thanks for putting up with my bs 💕)

Despite technically being a Tenet agent for a while, the dramatic changes of pace in your life never failed to amaze you. After that careless morning in London, mere hours later you got the text from TP, sending you and the Cavalry to Tallinn. Minutes afterwards, Neil burst into your room saying that the younger TP called, giving him directions to run a few lab tests and then to meet him in the capital of Estonia, as well. Neither of you had any clues as to why but then that was rather expected. 

That is how you found yourself in a safe house in the suburbs of Tallinn. For security and convenience, you have joined Ives’s squad there while Neil booked a hotel room nearby to keep up the appearances before TP. For the first few days, the boss has not yet arrived in the city, and therefore, as Neil put it, there was much more room to maneuver. Whatever that meant.

Estonian safe house was a relatively vast apartment on the ground floor of an old brick house. It had six bedrooms furnished with simple Ikea beds, bedside tables, and a small wardrobe. There was also one bathroom (hell of an inconvenience for nine people occupying the place) and a kitchen opening into a living room with sofas and tv. The space was nearly barren save for the objects needed to survive for however long you were bound to stay there. On the day of your arrival, Ives sent you and Wheeler to the shop for the supplies, reasoning being that apparently you two had most brain cells in the whole team. You enjoyed the possibility to charge your introvert batteries before days spent with eight people, of which only two you actually knew. With close to no information concerning the point of the mission, the days have been spent idly chatting, playing games, and watching television. In Estonian, naturally. For you, a crucial part of the survival became continuous reception and the ability to reach out to Neil when needed. Which was often and soon became a passing joke among the rest of the company. Once Henrik tried to steal your phone and ended up with a bread knife pressed against his neck, the innocent fun ended. That was on day two.

Luckily you got your own room, while the others were forced to share. This you owed to the fact that you were not part of the squad and hence had the right to privacy. It proved rather useful the day when unexpected company came. You were busy trying not to burn the scrambled eggs on a scratched-up pan, half humming a song you heard on the radio. Despite the early hour, everyone was up and either moving about or outside on a run. If there was anything you have learned from the experience so far, it was that Tenet soldiers started the day early and were shit at cooking. Eggs, instant noodles, and oven pizzas were the menu staples. Sighing, you picked up the only clean plate left when you heard a commotion in the hallway. Not long after, a voice called out:

“Y/N? You’ve got a visitor” you did not like the amused undertone in that information.

“Yeah…?” hesitantly, you stepped into the hallway.

The cheeky grin was quite the sight at 9 am.

“Good morning, sunshine” you resisted the urge to break the plate on Neil’s head.

At least he brought coffee.

“Hey,” warily you looked at Michael, who was loitering next to you, interested in the situation “Should we…?” looking at the door to your room, you met Neil’s gaze.

“Naturally” he smiled and followed you in.

Only once you closed the door behind you both, blocking out the curious stares, you breathed out the air you did not know you were holding. You set the plate on the bedside table and grinned as Neil carelessly threw himself onto your bed.

“Thought I’ll get a kiss or something for all that awkwardness out there” you commented, eyeing the man sprawled on your mattress.

Briefly, you marvelled at how you have managed to become this comfortable with each other. But then almost having sex was bound to count for something. Supposedly.

“You will if you come here” Neil raised his head and extended a hand in an invitation.

Mournfully you glanced at your abandoned breakfast and crossed the space, intertwining your fingers with his. You were not surprised when Neil pulled you down onto the bed, only just managing not to lie on him. Feigning disappointment, he huffed and leaned in, kissing you slowly. Deepening the kiss, you tangled your fingers in his hair, bringing him closer. With legs interlocked, half-lying on the narrow bed, it was all too real. In moments like this, it was easy to believe that maybe it was meant to be. Breaking up the kiss, you opened your eyes to stare at Neil. In the soft light coming through the opened shutters, you could clearly see the darker rims around his blue irises. In the morning, his eyes resembled the colour of an ocean. The long eyelashes framing the eyes and the eyebrows, furrowed in concentration, gazing back at you. Your eyes then landed on his parted mouth, the corners turned down slightly, and the shape of his lips. You wondered how someone this beautiful could choose you among all the people in the universe.

“Your breakfast and the coffee are getting cold” he murmured, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Do you want me to get up?” running your fingertips over his temple, you reveled in the intimacy of the moment.

Neil smiled and raised your joined hands to kiss your knuckles.

“Not really. I like having you this close so I can stare” he admitted with a sheepish grin.

“Same, actually,” you mirrored his expression, dragging fingers through the golden hair.

It seemed like your London evening full of important conversations gave you more confidence. Suddenly it was not that scary to share your thoughts and feelings with him because there was a chance he will understand. Or at least not ridicule you. As though Neil was reading your mind, he asked:

“What are you thinking about?” you could tell he was genuinely interested.

That was enough to make you feel a surge of feelings towards him. Maybe it won’t hurt to say something… Taking a deep breath, you warned:

“Just don’t laugh,”

“I’ll do my best” Neil bopped your nose quickly, making your brain short-circuit for a second.

What even. Focusing all your attention on him, your eyes wandered over his face. Resting on all the features that made him the man you loved.

“Sometimes I just can’t get over how beautiful you are… like a bloody masterpiece” you cupped his cheek “And I’ve no clue why you’re so fixed on me” sighing dejectedly, you awaited a response.

If the slightly widened eyes were any clue, he was surprised by your admission.

“That was probably the best compliment I’ve ever gotten” Neil stumbled over the sentence.

So, it was worth saying. For another time, you left the discussion on how that could even be true.

“Have you seen yourself though? How could I not be fixed on you?” it was Neil’s turn to cup your cheek, making you blush.

The pure confidence in his eyes was too much to bear at the moment. Sitting up, you kicked him lightly, enjoying the affronted look.

“Now you’re being ridiculous” you moved to stand up, but Neil took hold of your waist, sitting up as well.

You were too close again, noses brushing. It was easy to lean in and kiss him. Only when you did, a knock resounded in the room. Fucking hell.

“Can I come in?” the cockney accent was a giveaway “I bloody hope you two aren’t getting up to stuff”

Despite yourself, you giggled with your lips still brushing over Neil’s, making him sigh. For a millisecond, he tightened his grip over your waist and then let go and moved an inch away. You looked at him for permission before calling out:

“Be our guest”

In an attempt to look as casual as it was possible, you grabbed the plate with your cold eggs and passed Neil his coffee. Sitting back down on the bed, you pasted a neutral smile onto your face. As if that would divert anyone’s attention from your tangled hair and Neil’s flushed cheeks. Ives opened the door and scrutinized you both quickly, not missing how you frowned upon the first bite of your breakfast. Then he gave Neil a quick pat on the back:

“Good to see you, mate” he perched on the windowsill for the lack of any other furniture “I was hoping you’d at least come to say hi” he gave you both a knowing glance.

Cursing your own inability to say no to Neil, you grudgingly finished the eggs and took another sip of the lukewarm coffee. Next time, food first, then kissing. No matter how irresistible the bastard might be.

“I was planning to, only…” the bastard in question shrugged before glancing at you shortly.

“Oh, I know. Priorities and all that” Ives smirked upon your deepening blush “I get it, believe me. Plus, seeing how often Y/N is glued to her phone, I reckon you two are doing good” he winked.

Sensing Neil’s growing discomfort, you shot back:

“Don’t talk about me as though I wasn’t here” it was hard to look threatening when staring at someone like Ives, but you did your best.

“Or?” he arched his eyebrow amusedly.

“I’ll shoot you”

The sudden tense silence got interrupted by Neil breaking into a laugh, collapsing against you. So much for pretending you could keep away from each other. Once he calmed down, he rested his head on your shoulder and said:

“And that’s why I like you”

You did not know it was possible to blush even more. And yet. Even though what he said was hardly a surprise, he never mentioned anything like that with others present. Before you could come up with any response, Ives commented:

“Aren’t you two cute, eh?”

Lord give me strength…  

“Ives” you warned, reaching for the gun you always kept in the drawer by the bed.

He laughed and raised his hands in defence.

“Okay, I’ll stop now” he glanced at Neil, who was comfortable enough, still leaning on you “Has he given you any more clues?”

You relaxed once the conversation steered onto more professional tracks.

“Not really. I ran the analysis on the gold bar he sent, and well, there’s literally nothing concrete there” Neil shrugged, “But I think it has something to do with the plutonium piece that went missing back in Kiev” he added.

“Is that part of the Algorithm?” you asked.

The topic has not really come up since your first conversation with TP in Boston, but from the information you got from Neil and others in the organisation, it seemed like the pieces were set in motion. In the Kiev Opera, another part of the compound has been lost. Maybe its purpose was to resurface in Tallinn so that you could take over.

“Yeah” Neil confirmed your suspicions with a curt nod.

“How… how do you know about this?” it was Ives’ turn to be confused, looking at you with palpable shock in his eyes.

Right… Sometimes it was hard to keep track of who knew what and why. And that was one of such moments. Straightening your back, you explained:

“TP told me. Apparently, I’ll have a role to play hence why I’m being dragged into this” glancing at Neil, who all of sudden looked rather sombre, you added, “Not only because of this idiot” giving in to the temptation, you ruffled his hair.

“…thanks” pouting, Neil moved away.

“Welcome” 

*** You have left the apartment and quickly checked the maps again. Neil set your meeting for a rather obscure park square in the downtown area of the city since that was where he was supposed to meet TP later. At first, you wanted to refuse, to tell him that it was risky to go for a walk with the boss nearby. But then, you knew there was not much point in saying no to something that tempting. It was enough that you might not be able to spend time together at all the next few days.

Just when you were sure you have gotten lost in the greyness of the apartment blocks and identical streets, you spotted him waiting on the bench. The icy wind was ruffling his hair as Neil stared at the pavement, unaware of your attention. You smiled at the sight of his brown and green outfit and those strange shoes; you have seen the brogues before in Oslo. Now that was something worth a call out later. Ending the scrutiny, you approached him and, as a means of greeting, brushed the hair away from his forehead. That worked, as it always did. The blue eyes snapped up to meet yours:

“Hello” you offered him a small smile.

“Tere, kallis” the grin combined with the strange words he uttered made you frown.

“I hope that was something appropriate”

He took your hand in his and pulled you down onto his lap. The happy sparks in his eyes were almost enough to make you ignore the cold and the embarrassment of the situation.

“I thought you said we’re going for a walk” forcing a stern tone was difficult with how Neil gently cupped your flushed cheek.

“That we are. But first, I wanted to get you up close and personal” he brushed his nose against yours tenderly.

“I see…” with the corner of your eye you could see an older woman observing you from the nearby bench.

With a start, you realised how very much alike a couple you must look to any passerby. Sitting on Neil’s lap, with his arm securing you around the waist and your faces inches away, there were no questions about the nature of your relationship. But, somehow, that was okay. A stronger gust of wind made you shiver, which he noticed straight away and pulled you even closer, your lips nearly touching. The blue of his irises and the depth of focus in them made you gasp. It was always like this with him, as though you were the only person in the universe that mattered.

“We’ll get going now, only…” Neil met your gaze with a silent question.

You nodded. He could do anything he wanted anyway. He met your lips in a slow kiss, relishing in the feeling for at least half a minute. You placed your hand on the back of his neck to bring him a little closer, suddenly grateful for the position he put you in. Then, just as the kiss threatened to get more heated, Neil broke the contact and leaned back, taking in your dazed expression. He always knew how to get to you.

“Now we can go” he smirked, and you had no choice but to slide off his lap.

As soon as you were both standing, Neil grabbed your hand again and intertwined your fingers. As usual. It did seem like neither of you wanted to pretend today, and instead letting yourselves explore the ‘not-quite relationship’ you got into. For once, the voices in your head were silent, seemingly agreeing to the new developments. You did wonder how long that was bound to last.

“Ives says hi, by the way,” you broke the silence, looking around the cityscape.

This part of Tallinn certainly was not as picturesque as the city centre, but it had to do. After all, your sole focus was Neil. Not much else mattered when you were together. If that did not confirm your feelings, then god knows what did. Sighing, you turned to look at the man in question.

“You told him we’re meeting up?” he asked with a slight crease between his eyebrows.

Confusion, then.

“No. I just said that I’m going out for a walk, and he told me to say hi to you” laughing at the idiocy of the moment you brushed your thumb over his knuckles.

In response, you got the signature Neil grin that was the beginning of your downfall all those months previously. Despite the absolute horror you felt during the initial conversation with Ives, now it was somehow less terrifying.

“Ah, I see” his tongue clicked thoughtfully, only making you laugh harder.

It was difficult to get the next sentence out.

“He also added that he’s surprised he’s not yet caught you sneaking out of my room at night”

The small snorting sound Neil let out made you want to kiss him right there, in the middle of the busy street.

“Why do I feel like he wants it to happen” he glanced at you quickly with an amused expression.

“Maybe it’s his thing” you retorted, savoring the laugh it prompted from your companion.

After that first morning in the safehouse, you have both decided to try and keep away from any rash actions or decisions while in Estonia. You certainly had enough of interruptions, and with the team sharing the space, it was all too precarious. Hence you have been meeting up outside, for strolls or lunch, talking about everything and nothing. Only now, that TP was around, it was bound to change, and you expected that this might be the last of those stolen moments.

“I’m sorry that we had to meet around here today” Neil interrupted your slightly melancholic thoughts “I wanted to take you out somewhere again, but he called, and I think it will be on soon” he lowered his voice to a slightly conspicuous tone, making you smile.

“It’s okay, at least that means I’ll know why the fuck am I even here” shrugging, you looked around at the shops you have passed by.

“For me?” Neil batted his eyelashes innocently while tightening his hold over your hand.

“Apart from that” this time you allowed him honesty “Don’t you ever get tired though? Of me?” the self-sabotaging voice contributed a question.

It was too late to take it back. But the way Neil looked at you then, with disbelief and fondness, was enough to excuse the moment on insecurity.

He stopped walking, making you freeze despite the streams of people going in both directions. You were like an island amidst a fast-flowing river. Neil forced you to meet his gaze by tilting your chin upwards. There was nothing playful in his eyes, just sincerity and love. And determination.

“Do you need me to remind you why that’s impossible?” you did not know when did his voice become so husky.

“Maybe” biting your lip, you searched his face, fascinated and curious.

Neil glanced at the teeth nibbling on your lower lip, and his tongue darted out, seemingly on reflex. Oh. When his eyes met yours again, you could see a hint of a new emotion there. He was hesitating for approximately 10 seconds before he started leading you again with purpose. Before you could ask a single question, he turned sharply into a non-descript alley between two crumbling buildings. It was empty save for a few pieces of trash lying around and a rusted door at the other end, with a metal padlock and a heavy chain. But your quick scan of the environment got interrupted by Neil wrapping his arm around your waist and pushing you at one of the walls. Just before your head could hit the bricks, he cradled the back of it, providing a safeguard. Ever so thoughtful. Wide-eyed, you glanced up at him to gauge the intention. The darkness and resolve you found were enough of an indicator.

“The walk will have to wait” he spoke before crashing his lips against yours.

The instinct kicked in instantaneously, making you respond by bringing him closer with your hand taking hold of his tie. Kissing Neil was like a fix for an addiction you did not want to fight against. No matter how urgent it was, you could always find a tempo that suited you both, neither fighting for dominance. It was like a dance where both were willing to lead and follow. Neil bit into your lower lip, drawing blood, tinting the kiss with that coppery taste. Fuck. You gasped into his mouth, shivering when his tongue ran along the split, licking off the droplets. It was enough to make you want more. As a payback, you caught his upper lip with your teeth, tugging at it lightly to remind him of the potential. But only when you pulled on his tie sharply, making Neil almost collapse against you, he broke the kiss with a groan. His eyes were hazed with lust, making you lightheaded the more you kept on gazing. The bloody shade of red on his lips made your pulse quicken. You still kept the hold on his patterned tie, making sure he was within your reach. His tongue darted out and licked off the remains of blood. That was a good cue to sober up. You released his tie and placed your hand over his heart, relishing in the way he was looking at you, as though you were a sight he could never have enough of.

“Huh…” you broke the silence and glanced at the entryway to the alley.

Thankfully no spectators.

“Is this all you’re going to say?” Neil’s perplexed facial expression made you laugh.

Sometimes it was fascinating to see him that disoriented after a kiss. Because it was a clear sign that not only you were affected by everything that transpired. Another reason to believe that maybe the feeling was mutual. Calming down, you started toying with his shirt collar. Even though heated kisses in dirty alleys were never your kind of thing, with Neil that too was exciting. And something you wanted to repeat.

“I mean… this is rather nice” you met his confused gaze and added, “Being with you like this”

Coherence for more complex sentences was nowhere to be found.

“I’m glad because I wanted that last hour of normalcy before we go back to the usual” Neil staggered over the sentence as well, making your heart stumble with fondness.

Pouring the feeling into your gaze, you grinned at him, running your hands over his shirt and lapels. You knew exactly what he meant. But still, with tongue poking out, you noticed:

“That sentence didn’t make sense, and yet I agree” the way his eyes darted onto your lips was enough to cause a resurgence amidst the butterflies.

Neil leaned in again, eager for another kiss. But you had other ideas, struck with the courage to tease him a little. You dropped your head and kicked him in the foot lightly. Just enough to bring his attention onto the subject of your scrutiny.

“The hell are those shoes though” you smirked upon his utterly lost gaze.

“What? You don’t like them?” the slight pout only made your grin wider.

With the hair in disarray, reddened cheeks, and pink lips, he was more than a sight to behold. And all that because of you. Wow.

“They look a little like you wanted to channel Pennywise or something” you laughed at his blank stare “Remind me to go through your wardrobe one day because you’re selling yourself short with those fashion choices” to emphasize the point you tugged on his tie again and frowned.

But it seemed like Neil managed to recover enough. He placed both of his hands on the wall, blocking your way out. The well-known smirk came back too. You had a feeling that you were about to lose this one battle.

“And yet here you are” he practically purred with a hungry look in his eyes.

You swallowed. Whenever he got like this, showing how much he wanted you, it was hard to think. Raking your head for a response, you settled on honesty again.

“That’s because I admire your soul” eyeing him intently, you added “And hair”

You tugged on the golden strands, making him whine in frustration. Good.

“And eyes” he met your gaze purposefully, a hint of a knowing smile on his face.

Of course, he’d know.

“Yeah” you raised your head.

A challenge he took without hesitation. Neil reached for the scarf wrapped around your neck and loosened it just enough to have access. Before you could do as much as exhale, his lips were on your neck and throat, attacking all the spots that were bound to make you gasp and search for something to hold on to. Cursing, you closed your eyes, letting yourself block everything that was not Neil and his touch. Soon his hands joined in with the exploration, brushing over your body, slipping inside the opened coat and underneath your blouse. Any resistance you might have had was slowly breaking. Blindly, you found his tie again and started to work on undoing the knot with shaking hands. Once you loosened it and undid the first three buttons, you slipped your hand underneath his shirt. You did not even know what you wanted to do. He was there, yours and in reach. That was enough to cause urgency. But any intent you might have had disappeared when Neil finished his study with a harsh bite over your collarbone.

“Jesus Christ…” you huffed and pulled him closer with a finger around his belt loop.

As his hips met yours, he raised his head and met your gaze shamelessly. Nothing but want and adoration. A sudden commotion on the street helped you remember the surroundings. Sighing, you pieced together a sentence:

“This is rather risky, don’t you think?” if anything, the unconscious way in which you bumped your hips against his again was a contradiction to the statement.

Your head was a mess. On one hand, wanting nothing but Neil, right here and now. On the other, doing anything like this in an alley spoke against the last bits of the reason you tried to preserve.

“Yes, but I quite enjoy the thrill” Neil brushed his hand over your stomach and smiled devilishly.

If your experience was anything to go by, and the way it felt when his crotch brushed over your hip, he too was rather invested. That thought gave you some needed courage to respond.

“You like being caught? Then I’m surprised you were so unsatisfied in Oslo” the cheeky smile and a quick touch of your hand over the front of his pants did it.

Neil swallowed hard and took additional few seconds to find words.

“More than being caught I like you. And everything we do... or could do” experimentally, he traced his finger along the line of your belt.

The goosebumps and rising tension within your core were good enough clues towards your feelings on the matter.

“Like what?” the breathlessness of your voice made you frown.

“Like this” in one swift motion, Neil undid the buckle.

Shit. That was enough to raise concern. You wanted him, urgently, but…

“Neil... do you seriously think fucking in an alley is a good idea?” you did know where that word came from, but it was pretty spot on.

“First of all, we’re not fucking. This isn’t that primal” for some reason the way he pronounced it only made matters worse, as did that smirk “Unless one day you feel like it and-” oh hell.

You placed one hand over his mouth, shutting him up, the other ventured into the pocket of your coat, where you always had the small hunting knife hidden.

“I’m going to stab you. Here they won’t find you for days” aiming for a threatening tone, you raised the hand from his mouth.

But not before he somehow managed to kiss your fingers. His eyes were dark, determined to make you break any internal rules you could have.

“Wow, you really have it bad for me” Neil whispered, getting ever closer, ignoring your threats.

Too lost in the strange conversation you have not even realised when he managed to unzip your jeans. Only once you felt his hand slipping between your thighs, you huffed with frustration. Thinking on reasons against letting him do it was getting increasingly harder.

“Neil” was the only warning you could manage.

All thoughts disappeared when he palmed you through the underwear. Searching for support, you put your hands on his shoulders.

“I just want to check if you’re still interested... still so eager,” the satisfied grin told you that it felt just as bad as you expected.

Like this, with him having direct access to check what was working for you, there was nowhere to hide. Once again, he managed to bring you to such a state with worrying ease. His whole body was pressing against yours, with one hand teasing you through the thin layer of clothing. The other has somehow managed to wrap around your throat. Not strong enough to apply pressure, but at the same time making you face him. And increasing the need you felt.

“You’re a bastard” the insult got muddled by the longing you could not hide from your gaze.

Neil caught it, grinning mischievously. The game was on.

“Well... it takes two and all that” he feigned nonchalance, arching an eyebrow.

You knew full well what he was implying. You could practically feel how drenched with arousal you were. Your underwear was wet to touch, thighs clenching around Neil’s hand. That was his cue to keep your legs parted by inserting his knee between them. Here we go again. You wanted him to do something. Anything. But he was resolved to keep you waiting, thinking about all the different ways to make the situation even more unbearable for you. To make you beg for whatever he was willing to give. Your futile attempt to grind on his thigh got stopped with a stronger grip around your throat and a glimpse of something darker in his eyes. You had enough.

“Why are you doing this?” the hoarse tone of your voice was rather shameful.

“Because I know that you actually enjoy it” Neil shrugged and met your gaze with playful sparks in the blue eyes.

You did not want to know how obvious it must have been for him. Then, he slowly stroked you there, earning a muffled curse.

“I would if you finished it for once” you breathed, letting the frustration take over.

The ache between your legs was nearly driving you over the edge now. It was too much. Neil was too close, and yet not close enough.

“I’m giving you food for thought, so to speak” he murmured.

His hand moved; thumb tentatively hooked around the hem of your panties. An offer to take it a step further any second now.

“That you are” you met his gaze defiantly.

If he was so determined to make you suffer, you might as well give him what he wanted.

“Have you been... dreaming about this?” Neil glanced down at where his fingers were getting closer to where you needed him most.

As though he needed to ask. Of course, you have thought about this scenario before. And many others too. After all, you had to somehow deal with those countless times when his pure existence frustrated you in every meaning of the word.

“Mhmm” you hummed, hoping that will be enough of a response.

The smirk was a reward.

“Good”

Unable to withstand the tension any longer, you kissed him hungrily, taking everything you could have. Soon enough, you were both gasping for breath, yet you did not want to let go. Biting, sucking, and nibbling on every part of his mouth available, he was your drug. With his hand still in a loose chokehold and the other so close to your pulsating core, Neil became the sole reason for your existence. Your knees buckled when he sharply tugged at your panties and touched you without the barrier of the undergarment. You broke the kiss and met his wild gaze, both shocked by the sheer pull between you. Only once he drew a finger between your folds, collecting some of the wetness, the moment got interrupted by Neil’s raspy chuckle.

“It’s quite flattering to see you like this and all because of me” you were not sure if you wanted to slap him or kiss him.

But then that was a usual thing with Neil.

“Just don’t get cocky…” it was hard to put together a string of words.

“Or?” his thumb touched your clit, and you hissed sharply “I already know how I’m making you feel”

To prove a point, he drew another gasp from you by starting a circular stimulation of the sensitive nub. You whimpered, suddenly aware of what a sight you must be for him. Utterly ruined because of kisses, touches, and words. You hated being at anyone’s mercy like this.

“Neil…” a weak plea made him meet your gaze “Please just…” helplessly, you tried to convey everything through the expression in your eyes.

He searched your face before letting go of your throat and instead cupping your cheek tenderly. The juxtaposition was enough to make your head spin.

“What do you want?” it was that question again.

Simple and yet not at all. Awaiting the response, Neil stopped all the movement, increasing your frustration and need. You knew that there was no way you could ever walk away from this as though nothing happened. You might as well have some relief.

“Help me before I lose my fucking mind” you breathed out, expecting the smug smile.

Instead, you got the most sickening grin you have ever seen on his face. But combined with the adoration in his eyes, you knew it was exactly what he wanted to hear from you.

“With pleasure” the words rolled off his tongue, and before you could prepare, he went back to stimulating your clit.

Your head almost slammed onto the wall behind when he picked up the pace. Even though you both knew that you hardly needed any additional preparation, Neil took his time, never taking his gaze off you. At the edges of your consciousness, you could feel the rising shame that was bound to consume you later. After all, this was the second time that you have asked him to help you like this. Surely, he would soon get tired of having to deal with your issues and never getting anything in return. But before you could follow that train of thought, Neil inserted a finger, and an unwanted cry rose in your throat.

“Jesus…” to stop yourself from being too vocal, you bit down harshly on your lip, bursting the barely sealed cut.

But Neil tilted your chin, meeting your gaze again.

“No need for that” he caught your lips in a short kiss “Don’t hold back”

Readjusting your hold on one of his shoulders, with the other hand you tugged on the tie you have messed up earlier. He took that as a cue to insert another digit. Too much.

“Christ, Neil” the breathless tone was a revelation even to you “You’re…” unable to finish the sentence, you moaned quietly.

Neil had no issues finding the perfect spot again, making you squirm and roll your hips, grinding down on that conveniently placed thigh. He thought of everything, it seemed. You did wonder how many times before he brought people to their downfall with those hands alone. But then, you would be lying if you would not admit that he had rather nice hands. And that you have not thought about this before Oslo.

“Glad it’s working, love” he commented upon a louder gasp from you.

For some reason, the nickname acted like a trigger. Feeling a surge of frustration, you bucked your hips against his, needing more.

“Don’t call me that” you spit the words out, relishing in the look of surprise in his eyes.

But he only needed a moment to shake it off before picking up the pace and curling his fingers inside you. Now it was close.

“What then?” Neil searched your eyes intently as though he was doing anything else but taking you apart with his two fingers and a thumb.

In response, you could only shudder, feeling your muscles tense in the anticipation of the near end.

“My love?” the proposition broke through the haze overwhelming your mind.

My god. Only with him, those two simple words could cause such an onslaught of feelings. There was something so achingly tender in his gaze that no matter the situation, your heart was set ablaze. He looked as though he was relieved to finally use those words. Suddenly, it was not just Neil lending you a helping hand in an hour of need. It was an act of love, further cementing your status as lovers. You were not sure whether it was that realization or what Neil has been doing to you that made the world explode before your eyes. Perhaps it was both. You only managed to breathe out a warning in the form of his name, but he understood.

“Look at me. I want to see what I did to you” he angled your chin again so you were forced to meet his gaze “So that I can remember this later” the husky whisper was the ultimate push over the edge.

Oh christ. You gripped his shoulder tightly and undid the tie, making it fall to the ground. Neil did not even notice, staring at you mesmerized. With the last bits of sanity, you took hold of his neck, bringing him close. The wave of pleasure made you tense up like a bowstring before you came with a shudder and a cry.

“Neil…” you got struck by the hope you saw in his eyes.

This time nothing was stopping you. No lips on yours to take over the words that were slowly choking you. The high he gave you took away all the inhibitions and worries. Neil was there, with you, a solid presence beneath your fingertips and an anchor to keep you from getting lost in your head. And that was enough.

“I love you” the three words were easy to utter for something you struggled to keep inside that long.

In response, Neil smiled and pressed his forehead against yours tenderly. The darkness in his eyes made way for pure happiness and conviction. Maybe this time it wasn’t a mistake.

“I know” he whispered and covered your lips in a sweet kiss.

Now that you were not holding back anything kissing Neil felt like absolution. You were never particularly religious, but he could be your eternal salvation, for the body and the soul. The only person you ever needed that much. 

Breaking the kiss with a sigh, Neil took a step back and retracted the hand that was still stroking your navel. You watched with a slight surprise as he glanced at a watch.

“Are you in a rush?” with cheeks burning, you took out a tissue and passed it to him.

He took it with a curt nod and cleaned his hand. As you observed him like that, with messed up hair, unbuttoned collar, and slightly flushed cheeks, the reality of the situation started dawning on you. Not only have you allowed Neil to finger you in a dirty alley, but also you have confessed your feelings in the heat of the moment. And yet, he was still there…

“Unfortunately, yes, the meeting is in ten, and I still have to get there” Neil picked up the tie from the ground and brushed off the dirt “Trust me, I’d love to continue with this…” carelessly he tied the knot and took a step closer again “But we should leave something for the future too” with playful sparks in his eyes he brushed the hair away from your eyes.

Oh my god.

“Can’t you for once… not do this” sighing heavily, you focused on readjusting the underwear and zipping up your pants.

Everything was better than looking into those blue eyes.

“Where would be the fun in that” Neil buckled your belt, just as quickly as he undid it previously “I must admit that after this, I’m curious to see how you’ll react once I do it properly one day… with my mouth and then…” he trailed off, fingers brushing over your stomach once again.

“Neil… don’t” using your own power, you brushed your hips over his “Or you won’t make it to that meeting” you glanced at his crotch knowingly.

“As tempting as that is… I’d rather not disappoint TP” with a final caress of your side, he took a step back again “Don’t worry about me though. I’ll deal with this later” he adjusted the trousers slightly “I’m used to it” the hint of a smile was enough to help you understand.

You gaped. It was hard to think straight again. Surely…not? Right?

“You- what? Because of me?” you stuttered, bewildered and perplexed.

“Yes, absolutely” Neil shrugged and attempted to smooth his hair “Pretty often, but then you’re quite the inspiration, my love” he winked, enjoying your sudden paralysis.

Now that sort of image was bound to keep you up at night. For some reason, you never thought that he would think about you like that, always assuming there were better fantasies to use in need. But maybe… maybe he had it just as bad as you did.

“I have to run” Neil kissed you on the cheek, bringing your mind back to the present moment.

“Does this… change anything?” you met his gaze, hoping he will catch on to the meaning.

“No, not at all” the soft smile contrasted the recent conversation tone “I’ll text you later”

“You better” you mirrored his smile, watching him disappear in the crowd.

Wow… Now that was an interesting walk. Sighing, you rested your head against the brick wall for a few minutes longer, trying to level your breathing.

*** You were not given much break from Neil that day. To clear your head, you went for a walk around the city centre, visiting curious shops, and spending time in a cosy café. Just anything that did not have to do with the blonde bastard was good enough to shut up your rebelling brain. After all, now he knew everything, and that was a dangerous situation. You did your best to ignore your phone for most of the day however when it buzzed on your way back to the apartment it was hard to resist checking. He did text just as promised:

“Did you miss me?” and then “I’ll have some news for you all later”

Maybe things, in fact, have not changed…

“Maybe a little” smiling, you keyed in the code to the door.

Inside, you quickly settled on the sofa with some indulgent crisps, about to tune into the team’s favourite Estonian soap ‘Õnne 13’, which you all watched every evening. It was terribly boring (especially when one did not understand a single word), and yet after a few days, you wanted nothing but to know what Alma will have for dinner that night. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

The latest dose of drama from the shithole called Morna got interrupted by your phone ringing. Neil, of course. Ignoring the offended stares from the other eight people in the room, you picked up the phone:

“Hey”

“Evening, my love” you could hear how happy he was to use those words.

Your heart summersaulted, making you exhale.

“I like the sound of that” grinning you walked out into the corridor to hide from the curious looks.

“Me too. Is everyone there with you?” jumping straight into the business was probably good for you both.

“Yeah. You’ve interrupted our shitty soap” at your adjective, a choir of outraged voices rose in the living room.

“My bad. Can you put me on the speaker? I could give you a run over the plan”

“Of course,” you motioned for everyone to gather around the table and put your phone in the middle “You’re on”

“Okay, so basically TP wants to take over the plutonium piece that is being transported through Tallinn in three days on its way to a nuclear depot in Italy. The point is not to let it get into Sator’s hands who thinks we’re cooperating with him”

“How will it be transported?” Ives propped his chin on his hand, listening intently.

“Reinforced truck with police escort front and back. Tracked via GPS” leaning back in the chair, you listened to Neil’s voice “Any unplanned stop or different turn and in come the reinforcements”

“What’s his plan then?”

“I believe he wants to take it out on the move with the use of a fire truck. Among others”

The hint of a smile in that sentence made you comment:

“So, you’re not the only crazy one around” earning a few amused grins from the people around, you briefly felt victorious.

Briefly.

“Something tells me you’re into that. Judging by what you let me do to you in that alley”

Fuck. A sharp gasp you let out made everyone turn to look at you. Gripping the edge of the table, you wanted nothing but to disappear. Or die. All the blood drained from your face as you stammered.

“Neil- you-” there was not enough air in the room “I-”

Wheeler shot you a worried look after you let out a small choking sound and spoke:

“Anyway…  why are we needed?” the professional tone made everyone turn their attention back to the mission.

You had to thank her later for saving your dignity. And life.

“To be on hand if things get dirty. I’ll send you the brief now it lists the details of his plan” Neil resumed the topic as though nothing happened “Tomorrow, I’ll call to let you know what exactly I need. That’s it for tonight, enjoy your evening”

Before anyone could make a move, you snatched your phone from the table and muttered:

“You’re dead”

You ended the call and stormed off to your room, slamming the doors. You could not believe his audacity to say something like that with everyone on the receiving end. The bastard ought to pay for that. Unable to calm down, with hands shaking violently and your head in absolute disarray, you grabbed the coat and made beeline for the exit out of the flat. It was pretty late for a solitary walk, but you hardly had anything to lose. Before you could make a swift exit, Ives’ stopped you with a hand on the arm. You met his gaze with impatience:

“So… how was the alley?” while he kept his face straight, the amused tone was there.

Bloody men.

“Fuck off” you shook off his hand and opened the door “I’m going out, and hopefully I’ll get killed. Don’t wait up”

Before you slammed the door in his face, you heard the parting words:

“Have fun”

The cold Estonian breeze was a welcomed sensation for your tired and thoroughly pissed off mind. You put up the hood of your coat and wandered off into the night.

*** Unfortunately, no one was willing to kill you. Around 1 am, you grudgingly made your way back to the apartment, relieved when no one was around to corner you. Once you were safe in your locked bedroom, you took out the phone for the first time in three hours. Unsurprisingly there were two missed calls and three texts from Neil, plus one message from Wheeler. She was checking whether you were still alive, which was a rather touching gesture, and so you replied to her first. Then, sighing heavily, you went through the texts from Neil:

“I’m sorry” then “But I wasn’t entirely wrong, was I?” and finally, “Are you alright?”

That son of a bitch…

“You’re so going to pay for this” you typed back and lied down on the bed. He was quick to reply, which meant he stayed up. Potentially waiting for you to reach out. Talking about confusing signals…

“I was hoping you’d say that” you groaned.

“After that disaster of a meeting, I went for a walk. Found a perfect spot for murder in cold-blood. You won’t even know what hit you”

Maybe that will do the job.

“You did. Only a lot earlier than you think”

It didn’t. Sighing, you cursed your inability to leave him on read.

“I’ve had enough of you today, g’night”

“I seriously doubt that, but good night, darling” and then “I hope your dreams will be as good as our little moment”

That surge of frustration was only made worse when you found a stray short blonde hair on your blouse while changing for bed. The idiot not only had your heart, but everything else too, it seemed.

[emelkae]

Word Find Tag

Thanks for the tag @pertinax--loculos! The words you gave might as well be tailor-made for WANNABE! Those words were: fade, waver, lurch, stumble, and fall.

Fade:

Sharpe didn’t see why this one needed to be built at all. The War Machines were a motley trio, but they worked fine in combat: Lug was close-quarters, Sharpe was long-range, and Circuit was the medic and the recon specialist. They didn’t need a “leader,” nor did they need someone who could do silly flips. Now the Engineer was just playing.

The gray one opened his eyes, which were Repair Unit white before deep green irises faded in.

“Assassin Unit ‘Claw,’” the Engineer said as the gray man rose slowly to a seat, “welcome to the world. You are to be the leader and protector of War Machine Squad."

Waver:

Briar held his breath at the roiling energy coming off his father. His expression was no harsher than usual, but a strand of hair wavered in his face as if he’d been shaking.

“Come, Briar,” he fumed. “You will no longer be needed as an assistant here.”

Did something happen? he wanted to say, but he couldn’t figure out how to phrase it.

He was saved by Circuit. “Is everything alright, Engineer?”

It seemed the androids could do what Briar could not.

Father spat, “No. I have been dismissed. Phalanx is not doing as well as we’d hoped. I’m to deactivate War Machine Squad tomorrow morning.”

Lurch:

The ground trembled again. Claw staggered, and the others went into a crouch. A deep rumbling multiplied as it echoed, the walls of the track room mirroring the sound into a roar; the ground lurched and the walls shook and everyone but Claw fell—

The track ripped open. Hell came up from the bottom.

Stumble:

“Let me go!” Sharpe rasped, his eyes wild.

Lug released him. Claw tried to calm him with a hand on his shoulder, but he jerked away from that too, sending both of them stumbling to the side so suddenly that they fell on top of each other. Claw’s knee might as well have shrieked in protest at the way it twisted. Circuit and Mobo rushed to help them to their feet, but Sharpe hardly registered their presence.

From the floor, he bit, “She’s New Union. She’s here to take us back to them. Don’t let her touch you!”

Fall:

Sharpe struck from his seat like a coiled snake, gripping the soldier’s throat and slamming him against the opposite wall, snarling into wide shocked eyes, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

Hands yanked at his armor. He shook them off until the soldier’s face had reddened and the tiny bursts of breath escaping his mouth had started to slow. When he released him, the human plummeted to the floor, grasping at his neck and coughing. The others surrounded their fallen squad mate and glared at Sharpe, who’d turned away and returned to his seat.

“That thing belongs on a fucking leash,” one of them whispered.

Tagging @wordwizards, @bloodywriter, @kjscottwrites, @lizartgurl, @authorlaurawinter, and @introversiontherapy! Your words are: animal, familiar, good, suffer, and please.

[hailbop1701]

Only The Beginning

Chapter 4: My Bad...

Alas, another filler chapter. The reader finally meets Dorian! The bickering and fluff is on point my friends and I hope I got enough tension in there for you. If not there will definitely be more in coming chapters!

Thank you to my lovely Beta Reader @toppysammy! 🥰

-H❤🖖

John’s grip is tight on your upper arm. Wincing slightly, you allow him to lead you over to his car. A handsome-looking android casually leans up against the passenger side door with his arms crossed. He looks at you curiously, obviously scanning you for ID; you give him a little smile when he doesn't come up with anything. John yanks open the backseat and shoves you in.

“Rude,” you mutter, straightening in your seat and pulling your messenger bag close. Looking into the bag, you check on the heavy drive that is nestled inside. It has a small crack but otherwise is undamaged. Sighing in relief, you blow a strand of hair out of your face. Both car doors open up in front and the two detectives get in, bickering. 

“Come on, John, you can’t be serious.” 

“You heard what they said; rogue android turned on the security team.” 

At that, you sink down in your seat feeling more guilty than before. John’s android partner rolls his electric blue eyes. “Security," he scoffs, "more like black market mercenaries. One of those men had a rap sheet longer than your attention span,” 

You choke on a laugh as John sputters and glares at the DRN; you had heard about this model, but it's a wholly different experience to meet one. John shoots you a hard look in the rearview mirror. 

“You wanna tell me what the fuck happened?” he barks, turning around in his seat so he can fully scowl at you. Clearing your throat, you think over your words carefully. To give yourself more time, you hold out a hand and introduce yourself to John’s partner. 

“I’m John's friend--” you glance at said man; he's losing patience. Grimacing, you amend, “I think…”

The android smiles kindly and takes your hand, “Dorian, John’s partner.” His deep and polite voice puts you at ease. 

Pulling your hand away, you look back at your angry best friend warily. You mull over what happened for a second before opening your mouth to explain, “Well, I figured out what happened to Julia Lawson, and it wasn’t suicide,” you jerk your head in the direction of the building. 

“The creepy death squad murdered her and staged it to look like a suicide. Which, by the way, was completely obvious; they did a horrible job. Whoever had the case was paid off to keep it clean-cut and closed."

Both men in the front seat looked shocked. “You mean you figured this out in, what, three hours?” John asks with a raised eyebrow. You simply shrug, “I have no red tape I have to constantly cut through. I talked to Julie's brother; he told me what I needed to know and I figured out the rest by using the internet. Breaking in was easy--” 

John cuts you off mid-sentence with a warning. He pinches the bridge of his nose, breathing out his frustration. Dorian looks at you like you're an entirely new species; fascination, amusement, and disquiet all flick across his face. Biting the inside of your cheek, you watch the two carefully. 

“Look, Julie stumbled upon something very big and I think you should know about it,” you offer, holding out your bag like an olive branch. John watches you closely for a moment before taking the bag and looking inside.

“A hard drive?” he asks skeptically, pulling it out and handing it over to Dorian to peruse. You shrug and gave a smirk, “I downloaded everything I needed on to that thing; Julie’s ‘suicide,' who ordered it, and the plans Julie overheard that caused her death in the first place.” 

Dorian plugs into the drive and the more information he obtains, the deeper his frown gets. “This is very...wrong,” he says with a wrinkle of his nose. 

You grimace, “Yeah, I forgot about that part; it’s also about Speartips. Horrible name for a private tech company by the way; it's the CEO getting down and dirty with underage interns and paying them extra to keep quiet.” 

Dorian stops looking through the drive and hands it back to John without a word. The android’s eyes are as hard as his partner's. John looks back to you, anger still in his gaze. Sighing, your shoulders slump. “If it’s any consolation, I didn’t mean to get caught by the mercs. The android was a new addition,” you defend quickly. 

“You threw him out a window,” John points out, losing patience with you. 

You throw up your hands, “HE started it! At least his body didn’t hit anyone."

John groans and shakes his head, “Pushing anybody off the fortieth-something floor is bad!” he scolds, starting the car. You scowl at John and cross your arms childishly, “Well, I didn’t like getting choked out. I panicked."

John winces at your words, his posture changing from tense and angry to sad and sympathetic. “I’m sorry, I know you wouldn’t have done any of that if you didn’t have to,” 

Dorian’s attention jumps back and forth between you and John, his eyes widening as he connects the dots. “You’re the one who--” he cuts himself off and looks at his human partner. 

John sighs heavily and taps his thumb against the steering wheel anxiously, “This is where the whole trusting me thing comes in.” He looks over at the DRN pleadingly. Dorian stares at John for a nano-second before nodding and keeping silent about the whole thing. He was no doubt currently wiping your presence from everything involving what just happened. From camera feeds to bystanders, taking pictures and selfies of the chaos. 

“I really am sorry,” you mumble, feeling guilty for more than just putting John in the position that he's now in. Your best friend looks at you in his rearview mirror. 

Pressing his lips into a thin line, his shoulders slump just a touch. “I know. You’ve been away from people--well, civilian people for a while. You have to be more subtle from now on, though, alright?” 

You grimace at John’s words but nod anyway, agreeing to what he's saying. This is his home after all. He built a life here; and here you were, wreaking havoc in that home like a maniac. 

“What now?” you say in a voice just slightly above a whisper. Dorian glances over at his partner, wondering the exact same thing. John purses his lips as he drives through the city. You can’t help your wry smile in response; he always makes that face when he is thinking hard about something. 

“We should get you settled into a place. I’ve been keeping an eye out and I got a message from a buddy of mine. There’s a little apartment right near where I live,” he says, handing his phone over to Dorian, who downloads the directions and information. 

“I guess you do want your bed back, huh?” you ask with a slight chuckle. John huffs and nods, “My couch is great and all, but it does get a bit uncomfortable after a while,” he mutters with a wrinkle of his nose. 

Dorian smirks, “That explains the changes to your sleeping pattern,” he muses, making John scowl. “How many damn times--” he hisses, pointing an accusatory finger at the android only to be cut off by your snort of laughter. 

John’s lips twitch upward at the sound, the tense atmosphere of the car lifting as the car crawls through city traffic. “So, Dorian, has John ever told you the story about how he became addicted to noodles?” 

You immediately have the DRN’s full attention; John sputters from the driver’s seat unsuccessfully, trying to shush you. 

“Well, you see, it all started when he and I traveled to China and we stumbled across this little mom-and-pop shop. The food there was to die for, what was it called…” you trail off, trying to picture the little restaurant in your mind. 

“Little Bo’s.” John supplies with a fond smile.

You snap your fingers, grinning from ear to ear, “Little Bo’s! Oh, my gosh, they had some damn good food, and the owner was so sweet; she tried her best to teach John how to use chopsticks.” 

Dorian chuckles, “He still can’t use them,” he whispers none-too-quietly. 

John shoots him an offended look, “I can too!” he yells indignantly. 

Dorian rolls his eyes. “Not very well.” he mutters, ignoring John’s slight pout. You giggle and gently squeeze John’s bicep. 

“Maybe when I get settled, I’ll make you dinner,” you offer sincerely. You yelp when John suddenly hits the brakes and looks back at you with wide eyes. 

“Seriously?” he asks with a grin. You snort and nod. Dorian looks bemused at the action and his jaw practically drops when John holds out his pinky for yours. Grinning, you seal the promise. 

“Just let me know what you wa--” 

“Chicken and dumplings," he answers immediately. 

You snicker at the quick response. “I should have known,” you sigh with a shake of your head. 

Dorian is at a loss for words; he tries multiple times to add something but he can’t. He’s never seen his partner this relaxed and happy before (despite today’s events) and it's odd. However, it's a good kind of odd. John deserves happiness and that’s what you seem to make him. 

Just friends, Dorian mentally scoffs, smiling to himself as you and John bicker about the best dishes you've made in the past. Something deep within Dorian’s circuits says that someday you’ll end up being so much more. The heated discussion becomes a bit louder and suddenly changes to whose fault it was in burning down a rental in Rio. 

Dorian sighs. Maybe not today, but someday, he thinks ruefully before verbally stepping in to divulge how John once ate a slug in hopes to not offend an old Japanese man. 

Tags:

Everything:

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@lauraaan182

@writerdee1701

@stileslover13-blog

@cowenby2

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"Only The Beginning" :

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[cranehusbands]

evening glow

Crypto | Park Tae Joon/Pathfinder; unrequited crushes; canon compliant; apex rarepair week; 1791 words

a/n: honestly writing so much makes me feel like i’ve been posessed by the ghost of productivity. and at this point im not even gonna complain. day 4 of rarepair week!

cryptfinder was like... my original crypto ship, all the way back in season 3. idk why it got me so bad.. it just makes me really soft, i love the “someone will die” “of fun!” dynamic they have, and how crypto is like soft for only one (1) person and thats his robot. its cute

day 4 of @apex-rarepairweek, jealousy, is right here! enjoy!

likes < reblogs, any comments in the tags are appreciated

ao3 mirror in the reblogs!

Preview: Elliott was insecure, yes - he was the kind of man to trip over his own tongue and his whole thought would come crashing down with him - but he was intelligent, an efficient engineer and people person, an excellent businessman who knew what made people tick. He wasn’t a bad looking man either. He had a nice smile, the kind that lit up his whole face when it was genuine, the kind that made his eyes smile with him. And when he wasn’t wearing that god awful jumpsuit, he was almost attractive, well built and taken care of, putting a lot of effort into making Mirage as real as possible, though he was about as real as a gaudy, faux gold rip-off. But as Crypto watched the bar, where he was working pouring drinks, frantically guiding the much taller, clumsier robot, his eyes were not on Elliott.

With his coat pulled up to hide his face, and knuckles shaking from the grip on his glass, Crypto couldn’t tear his eyes away from the bar just in eyesight from his little corner seat even if he tried. They were supposed to be out here celebrating at the Paradise Lounge, with somewhat professional businessman Elliott kind enough to offer the champion squad free drinks (begrudgingly, to even him, which Crypto was incredibly smug about at the time, but almost thankful for now) after a great game that day. And sure, it was fantastic; a last-minute scan from Hack let them get the drop on the final squad, an EMP blast slowing them down just enough to catch them in the field of Anita’s Rolling Thunder barrage, while Pathfinder led the final assault and gunned the final guy down in his usual unnervingly cheerful way. He should have been happy about another win under his belt - it was enough to get people to stop asking questions about his skill, and sudden appearance in the games. But he wasn’t. He just kept staring at the bar.

 Elliott wasn’t an idiot. He knew that, despite his own insistence. No, Mirage was an idiot, but Mirage also didn’t have anything to hide. Mirage was a one-note, total bumbling fool, who Crypto was sure would short-circuit if he thought about anyone but himself. But Elliott was not that. Elliott was insecure, yes - he was the kind of man to trip over his own tongue and his whole thought would come crashing down with him - but he was intelligent, an efficient engineer and people person, an excellent businessman who knew what made people tick. He wasn’t a bad looking man either. He had a nice smile, the kind that lit up his whole face when it was genuine, the kind that made his eyes smile with him. And when he wasn’t wearing that god awful jumpsuit, he was almost attractive, well built and taken care of, putting a lot of effort into making Mirage as real as possible, though he was about as real as a gaudy, faux gold rip-off. But as Crypto watched the bar, where he was working pouring drinks, frantically guiding the much taller, clumsier robot, his eyes were not on Elliott.

 Now Pathfinder was an interesting case. A MRVN unit with slightly more awareness than the average one, though that was often misplaced. He was a lost soul, somehow finding his home in murder, where he made fast friends and fans alike, though that was never what he wanted. Still, he didn’t seem to mind, his demeanour never changing - he had that shrill ‘Hi, friends!’ drilled into the back of his head by now… but at least that was a hole to get all the fog out, when his own head was the worst place to be. He was almost thankful for it, in fact. He thought back to the game that day, the way Pathfinder looked over to him, the screen on his chest lit up with a warm, celebratory yellow, as he gave an excited wave, before his attention turned to Anita for a fistbump. He soon turned back, and offered Crypto the same, metallic fist… which he took, and returned the gesture, almost laughing at the way the robot seemed to rock back and forth in excitement. It was… cute, almost warm, not like his cold exterior… not like Crypto. Pathfinder was warm. Pathfinder was cute.

 And Pathfinder was over there, sharing his warmth with everyone else.

 Over the thumping bass of the music too loud to distinguish, he was almost sure he heard a gentle crack of glass, and even though he knew that he would never be strong enough to shatter it with one hand he still flinched with a start, checking his hand for any loose liquor that had spilt, before rubbing it against his coat. So maybe he was just a little jealous. Slightly. But was it because of the attention that the robot was receiving tonight, or was it because he could live so free, not bound by the bars of paranoia? It was absolutely insufferable. The hacker slowly held onto his glass again, taking a final drink and knocking his head back before placing it down quite harshly, enough to get a few heads to turn, before he shuffled out of the booth and stood to his feet, beginning to head towards the door.

“Hey, hey, Crypto, where you goin’?” From the bar, Elliott looked up, taking his eyes off of Pathfinder for the briefest of moments. 

“Home. Thanks for the free drink, Witt.”

“At least stay for another one, c’mon. I’m teaching this bag of bolts how to- wait, Path, no! Ah, dammit- not on my pants, you stupid-”

“Sorry, friend, these glasses are so small in my hands it’s hard to see when it ends.” The robot placed the whiskey glass down on the bar, excess spilling onto the counter as Elliott tried to clean the rest of the alcohol off of his leg with the towel over his shoulder.

“It’s- OK, then don’t hold it, it’s fine.”

“But you-”

“I have tiny human hands! I can do that! You’re… clumsy, and that’s… it's fine.” He gently patted Pathfinder’s small face with a hand, before turning his attention back to Crypto, unable to see the way his fists were clenched in the pocket of his coat. “One more. On me? C’mon, new guy.”

He gritted his teeth. The bar was loud, too many people were here as it was, he had already pushed the limits of what he wanted from tonight. Crypto opened his mouth to say no again, but he caught Pathfinder’s eye, staring at him from just behind Elliott, glowing in his warmth and kindness. The hacker closed his eyes, and sighed, pulling up a stool and sitting down at the counter, ignoring the bartender’s successful fist pump only to himself. This wasn’t for his benefit, anyway.

 After watching the trickster fumble a little more to try and help Pathfinder a little more, only resulting in more drinks spilling on himself and the floor, he was slid a hastily made glass of whiskey, before Elliott excused himself to go clean up in the bathroom - “keep the bar warm but don’t serve anyone, got it, Path?” he’d specifically instructed, to which Pathfinder seemed to ignore as he turned his attention to a couple of patrons trying to haggle drinks for free through flattery. It worked, bless his heart, as he managed to keep the pint glass steady under the nozzle, handing it to the woman who shot a flirty remark that flew right over his head.

He laughed from over his glass, taking a small drink, gagging at the aftertaste but doing his best to cover it by coughing and covering his hand with the side of a clenched fist, just as Pathfinder returned.

“Elliott knows so many great friends, I really like working here!”

“Ya, you… seem to fit right in.”

“Do you really think so?” He seemed to genuinely appreciate the comment, perking up a little bit. “Do you think I’d look nice in a bow tie and suit? Elliott has an image to maintain, after all - I wouldn’t want to ruin it for my very best friend.”

An image of tackiness and gaud, Crypto wanted to say, but he bit his tongue. “Do you even know how to tie one?”

“No!” The confirmation was said with such cheer that it almost made him smile a little. “Why, do you?”

He blinked. “...Ya.”

“Can you show me?” If the robot was anymore animated, he would have twinkles in his optic from his excitement. 

Crypto looked away, practically burying his face into his coat. “I… maybe.”

“Promise?”

“...Mhm.”

Pathfinder was practically glowing again with excitement, clapping his hands together, enough for Crypto to glance back over and bask in the warmth for a moment.

His shoulders lost their tension, he physically relaxed, and as the robot rambled on, divulging way too much about himself and his goals, he found himself… interested, and intrigued, offering insight as a man who was looking for someone just as hard, hardly noticing as one by one people filtered out, the other Legends heading home until it was just the two of them, and Elliott, closing up the bar.

 “You two good to get home?” He asked, twirling the keys to the Paradise lounge around his finger.

Crypto nodded, flinching a little as Pathfinder slapped a hand down on his shoulder.

“Crypto promised to share a taxi with me! I’m so excited!”

The trickster raised an eyebrow, a small smirk forming on his lips. “Oh yeah? Check you out, kid. Making friends. Wasn’t so hard to get that stick out of your ass, huh?”

“Ip dakchyeo.”

“Yeah, you too, buddy.”

The hacker zipped up his coat again and looked away, shoving his hands in his pockets and continued to wait at the door, for Elliott to usher the two of them out, and lock up, heading to his car and leaving the two of them, alone, in the glow of the streetlight and Pathfinder’s presence, as he quietly bounced in place.

“Are you not cold?” The robot asked, looking down.”

“Ah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm.”

Pathfinder blinked, before nodding to himself, taking off the warm scarf around his neck and tying it around Crypto’s, making the hacker flinch again.

“Wait, I said-”

“It’s OK, I don’t really need it.” He gently tied it, expertly creating a small bow from the side, where it practically drowned Crypto’s face. “It looks nice on you, friend!”

He swallowed, looking down at his feet, and mumbling a thank you, enough to satisfy the other legend to take his attention away. Once he did that, Crypto dared to bring up his hand, running his fingertips across the softest tartan he had felt in a long time, and the light smell of motor oil that lingered to the fabric.

 The taxi soon arrived, and the two of them got in, Crypto silently cursing Elliott to himself for not offering them a ride. It certainly would have made things a little less awkward. Did he know too much? The look he gave him certainly seemed like a catch on. He wasn’t here to make friends. He knew he wasn’t. But the draw of some people, or robots, was almost too much for him to bear, it seemed, as Pathfinder talked his ear off for the entire journey, voice more like music than white noise as Crypto stared out of the window, assessing his thoughts in the night, the evening he realised that maybe, just maybe, he liked Pathfinder.

[canonicallyanxious]

not sure if you do anything like this, But what do you think MNC!IsakandEven are doing right now?

oh man anon i have to tell you it’s been ages since i’ve even thought about making new cliches but it’s IMMENSELY COOL there are still people thinking about this fic and these boys!! so bc i was just so irrationally pleased about this ask i dug up some [very old like from 2018 rip] notes of some post-canon hcs i came up with and using those i’m gonna come up with a new list of 2020 appropriate hcs - hope you enjoy them :’]

[side note but this made me realize that 2020 is canonically FOUR YEARS after the end of skam s3 as well as the mnc timeline????? fuck me sdkjfnsdkf]

hmm not sure what the norwegian uni system is like or what quarantine life looks like over there rn but if they’re still in school then Even probably applied to film school after a gap year or two and isak is studying idk compsci or something [for the job security yk]

Even’s friendship with balloon squad still going strong! he’s actually a pretty integral part of their yt channel now, helps them with bts stuff and editing videos and they’re twitch streamers now too so he helps with their stream set up bc none of them [except for maybe mikael] know what the hell they’re doing

mikael made him sit down and do film school apps with him so they probably are going to the same program. Even realized he was into more of the visual storytelling aspect of things so he’s probably leaning more toward cinematography/editing, mikael still on the director track. 

isak is of course subscribed to their channel and comments on all of the videos that Even appear in and Even pins every single comment which baffles the channel’s other subscribers bc it’s always shit like “wow what pretentious hipster came up with this shit” and “congrats on being the token white boy” [”Isak,” Even says, kicking at Isak’s ankle where they’re sprawled all over their couch, “you’re a token white boy too”] and “lol ur ugly” [to which even responds using the hei briskeby account “<3” and everyone is like ??????????????????????????????????]

if they’re still in oslo they probably regularly have lunch with each other’s parents. For holiday get togethers they trade off between Even’s parents’ new flat and Isak’s mom’s house, and whenever Even’s parents come to Isak’s mom’s house there’s always lots of jokes about the house they used to live in like “oh HATE what the new neighbors are doing with OUR YARD” or whatever

they probably moved into a flat together 1 or 2 years ago, idk how expensive rent is in Oslo but as they’re both students i’m gonna say they’re probably in a flatshare of some kind. isak insisted on having his own room so he can have a space to go when he wants to sleep without Even hogging the blankets [still a point of contention between them almost a decade and a half into them knowing each other!] so technically on paper they have their own rooms but let’s be fucking real at this point isak’s room is less his room and more the room that has his X-box

for the first like week [maybe even the first month] their roommates were so very confused as to whether they were actually together or just really really close friends [they’re constantly bickering but also spend all their time together but also spend all their time together playing mario kart????] and isak and even probably like forgot to tell them [like they’ve always been “isak and even” u know and now they’re “isak and even plus bomb ass sex and lots of smooches” but still isak and even but they probably forget people they’ve just met don’t know that] and probably had an ongoing debate about it 

”Even leaves Isak little drawings on the bathroom mirror in the morning, they’re definitely dating!” “Nah man they’re just friends why wouldn’t they share a room if they were together [worth noting at this point they don’t realize isak’s been sneaking into even’s bed basically every night but don’t worry they will eventually]” “okay if they’re not together they’re definitely pining and should get their shit together bc if I have to see Even give Isak another soppy look over breakfast when he’s not looking i’m going to fucking lose it”

Up until the day they’re sitting at the kitchen table and Even is like “okay i’m gonna get some groceries now” and isak leans over the table to give him a peck on the lips and says “kay love you” and their roommates are like “oh???? you two have finally started dating then??????” and Isak frowns and says “we’ve been dating for three years” and Even yells from the other room “BUT ISAK HAS BEEN IN LOVE WITH ME SINCE HE WAS SEVEN” and their roommates’ brains have completely short-circuited

later isak is still frowning like “didn’t we tell them??? i could have sworn we told them” and even is like “do you remember what you said when we first met” and isak is like “i said i’m isak and this is my boy even” and then he’s quiet for a second and he says “oh”

a year or two after that whole mess their roommates cannot believe they ever even doubted but for the most part they’re good roommates and keep the noise levels down so everything is chill [except it’s hard to hang out with them sometimes not because they engage massively in PDA although sometimes they do but because their conversations include so many layers of inside jokes, years and years of them, it’s hard for someone not well versed in the isak-and-even language to follow]

They probably have a dog. maybe two

as of this very second i hope they’re both asleep isn’t it like almost 5 am over there lol

hope this is what you were looking for anon =] thanks for the ask, it was fun to think about these boys again!

[hedwigstalons]

High Expectations

This is a fic that I originally told myself I wouldn’t post any of until it was complete.   Evidently I lied.  It’s not complete but I do have 21k words and eight chapters built up already.  It was meant to be Gordon’s story of how he ended up in WASP but the other brothers have decided to put in an appearance too (I blame the boys and also @willow-salix​ for encouraging them)

I’ve also set myself a secondary challenge with this to produce a piece of art for each chapter.  I’m hoping to try out different styles and hopefully make some progress over time.  This first bit was very much about getting a feel for the tools (a challenge seeing as I first have to wrestle the drawing pad away from the small person who just likes being able to make rainbow glitter pictures)

Anyway....

xoxoxox

Summary: Jeff Tracy has very strong beliefs about what he expects from his sons.  Sometimes his expectations are at odds with what his sons themselves want from life, especially Gordon.  

Chapter One

The office was tiny, barely large enough for the single desk it contained.  It didn’t really matter.  This room no longer had a permanent resident. State wide cuts to the careers service and an investment in online guidance meant that careers advisors were stretched across districts; a few lonely individuals doing the rounds of the high schools to dispense reassurance and wisdom in statutory ten minute blocks.  As a consequence this area of the school hadn’t been refurbished in many years and had a general air of neglect.  The carpet tiles had been worn bald in a clear path to the two chairs in the room, one in front of the desk and one behind.  The painted cinderblock walls were covered in posters, bleached and faded by the California sun, bearing inspirational quotes.  

 You can do anything!

 Be the change you want to see

 Aim for the skies

 The posters mirrored the sentiments he had heard at home too many times.  Although at home they tended to come tinged with disappointment as he handed over yet another report card that didn’t meet the standard set by the siblings who had gone before.  Yale, Harvard and the Denver School of Advanced Technology had already accepted a Tracy.  Gordon just couldn’t match up to their lofty heights of academic success.  He was bright but that just got overshadowed by the glittering trio above him.  Anything he did had always been done better by at least one, but more often all, of his older brothers.  

 The pressure to achieve academic excellence had lessened slightly as his swimming training had ramped up in intensity.  As competitions progressed from local, to state, to national, to international the family had grown to accept that this was no passing hobby.  But Gordon still lived with the constant threat that he would be pulled out the pool if his grades dropped too low.  It was taking all his energy to keep on top of his school work to the required B- average insisted on by his father so that he could keep doing the one thing he felt truly good at.  The one thing that set him apart from his over-achieving brothers.

 At least the teachers didn’t judge him or at least couldn’t judge him against his more intellectual siblings.  As soon as John had graduated high school and started at Harvard, an accomplishment for which he was several years younger than the average after skipping a couple of grades, Jeff had moved himself and the youngest boys away from rural Kansas to Los Angeles.  The old farmhouse was retained but was no longer a permanent base for the family.

 The move to the city was a strategic decision by Jeff and one that was only delayed in order to allow John to complete his high school education without the disruption of an inter-state move.  For Jeff it meant the ability to site himself in the commercial heartlands expected of the business that was flourishing under his direction.  It also meant he was able to get back each night to care for his youngest children, even if he sometimes didn’t make it back to the apartment before midnight.

 It may have been expected that Jeff Tracy, an individual rapidly climbing the lists of America’s richest and most influential individuals, would have used the move as an opportunity to enrol his youngest sons in the finest educational establishment Los Angeles had to offer. But Jeff Tracy was a man raised in Kansas wheat fields.  A man for whom his own success and the successes of his eldest three sons had been built on the foundations of learning delivered in small town rural schools. What was good enough for him was good enough for all his children.  There were no private tutors or exclusive schools.  Gordon and Alan found themselves enrolled in the regular district school with its air of neglect and underfunding.

 A large part of Gordon really wanted to be back in his math class.  Not because he had any great fondness for the subject but because he found it hard in a way the others didn’t.  He was not above digging out Virgil’s old annotated English texts or Scott’s history files if he wanted a bit of extra insight for his essays but math was different. Any notes left by his siblings were generally an incomprehensible scrawl.  Not that any of them had made many math notes; they all seemed to just get it.  

 Gordon still remembered the first time after John had headed off to Harvard that he had called for help with his homework.  John had tried to be patient but there had been an unmistakeable tone of annoyance accompanied by a condescending eye roll clearly visible on the call screen.  Gordon had been left in no doubt that John found the idea of a Tracy struggling with algebra to be frankly insulting.  Virgil had displayed rather more patience and understanding but the pity that came with the help was too much for Gordon to take.  He didn’t want to find out what Scott’s reaction would be.  The golden haloed first-born was becoming increasingly distant and superior as his career in the Air Force progressed.  

 And so Gordon ploughed on alone.  Taking study guides to swim competitions to read between the heats.  Trying to juggle the conflicting demands of Team USA and Team Tracy.  The former striving for physical excellence and peak performance, the latter demanding excellence across the board.

 The careers advisor on the far side of the desk looked up at the young man sat opposite her.  The school records showed he was academically above average.  He had prospects.  

 The students that entered her office tended to fall into three broad categories.  There were the ones that didn’t really need their regulation advice session having already got their chosen career path mapped out, whether that involved furthering their education or just jumping straight into the local jobs market. There were those that were bewildered and clueless about where to turn next.  Then there were those that just didn’t seem to care and who drifted through her office much like they drifted through the rest of their school career. She wondered which she would encounter in this interview.

 “So Gordon” she smiled at the teenager, “have you considered what you want to do after you graduate high school?”

 The teen looked at her with a slightly surprised expression.

 “Swim, ma’am”  

 It was said bluntly and without preamble, accompanied by a mid-western politeness that the move to the city hadn’t shaken off. Stated as fact rather than as some hypothetical idea.  She had encountered plenty of teenagers with dreams of making it big on the sporting circuit but very few made it professional.  Usually the dreams were of football or basketball; swimming was a new one to add to her list.  

 “Swim?”

 “Yes ma’am, swim.  I’ve already got my qualifying time sorted.  Come the summer I’ll be at the Olympics.”

 Cogs clicked into place.  This was her nineteenth interview of the day and the students were beginning to blur together, even with the supplementary notes put together by the tutors that actually got to see these kids each day.  The low attendance scores suddenly made sense. Gordon Tracy, the rising star of the swimming circuit.

 “Of course.”  She flustered slightly over her notes.  It was a new experience to have a member of the Olympic squad sat before her. But she was obliged to be a sounding board for his career choice for the next ten minutes.  She couldn’t just send him back to class off the back of a one word answer.  She decided to stick to familiar territory; if they know the plan, find out the backup plan.

 “Have you considered what you will do after swimming? You have good grades here.  I’d recommend making a college application.”

 The youngster gave a hollow sort of chuckle. “Not good enough for anywhere that matters.  I think I’ll stick to what I’m good at, ma’am.”

 The interview was brought to a close by the final bell of the day and Gordon was glad to be able to scoop up his rucksack and escape the claustrophobic confines of the office.  He was sure the careers advisor meant well but he felt that the session was a pretty pointless experience.  Actually being in class would have been a better use of his time.

 As he reached the front of the school he spied Alan waiting for him in their usual spot.  The younger boy was scuffing his shoes in the dirt while waiting, the bored expression of his face breaking into smile when he saw his older brother.  They set off on the short walk back the apartment.

 “Good day, Al?”

 “Yeah, ok”

 “Much homework?”

 Alan grimaced.  He was about as fond of homework as Gordon was.

 “I’ll take that as a yes.  Well make sure you get on with it as soon as we get in.  No video games until it’s finished.”

 “Yes Sir!”  The response was accompanied by a mocking salute which earned Alan a gentle whack on the back of the head.

 “Hey, less of that.  I’m not Scott.  But seriously Al, just make sure you get it done.  I’ve got an extra training session tonight but only a short one; you’ll have the place to yourself until about 6.  I’ll sort us some dinner once I’m home.”

 “Will you be able to play video games with me once you’re back.”

 “Sorry, I’ll have my own work to get on with.”

 Alan’s shoulders slumped dejectedly and his feet dragged along the sidewalk.

 “Another quiet night then.”

 Gordon hated seeing Alan so flat.  The pair spent a significant amount of time together and, like all his brothers, he had a desire to protect the youngest.  He wrapped an arm around the shoulders of the shorter boy and was rewarded with a shove in the ribs.  Evidently anything even slightly resembling a hug in public was out this close to the school grounds.

 “I’ll see what I can do.”

 They had reached the apartment by this point. Gordon dashed inside to grab his swimming kit and left Alan with strict instructions to make sure he got all his homework done.  He didn’t like leaving Alan home alone but it was a regular occurrence now.  Their father wouldn’t be home for hours and with all the others moved away the youngest two had got used to fending for themselves.  He left Alan with a promise that they would spend some time together later.

 The training session passed in a blur of drills.  There were now more days with both morning and evening training in preparation for the Olympics and the extra workouts were taking their toll.  By the time Gordon reached the apartment his shoulders ached and all he wanted to do was stand under a scalding hot shower before collapsing in to bed.  Unfortunately he knew he had other responsibilities to attend to first.

 Gordon rolled his shoulders, plastered on a smile and scanned the entry system for the apartment.

 xoxoxox

 Normally weekday meals were Gordon’s domain or he was at least there to help out if Alan ventured into the kitchen.  But he had completed his homework quicker than expected and in the boredom of the empty apartment it had seemed like a good idea to start dinner.

 He took the pack of greens from the fridge, prodded the pan of pasta and gave the chicken a quick stir.  As he sliced the greens an acrid smell assaulted his nostrils.  The chicken, which had been cooking nicely until now seemed to have chosen the moment he took his eye off the ball to catch and stick to the bottom of the pan.  Carefully prepared strips of prime breast disintegrated and crumbled as he tried to scrape the dried out offerings from the base of the pan.  He cursed, turned out the stove, and went back to preparing the greens.  

 The clock ticked closer to 6pm.  Steam rose in billows from the pan of greens which had reached a rapid boil.  Perhaps he should have waited until Gordon was actually home before cooking the vegetables, the shredded leaves were starting to disintegrate.  

 At least the pasta should be ok.  

 The pasta which wasn’t boiling.

 More cursing filled the air as Alan realised his error. In his attempt to salvage the chicken he had turned off the heat under the pasta as well.  Perhaps he should have just let Gordon cook the whole thing. This was a mistake.  All he wanted to do was free up some time in the hope of getting a game in with Gordon and instead he had ruined everything.  He wondered if it was too late to dig out the emergency credit card and call for take out.  He would just have to make sure Dad took it out of his allowance rather than Gordon’s.

 The sound of the front door broke through his thoughts.

 “Hi Alan.”  The voice echoed up the hallway.  Footsteps approached, only pausing briefly as a kit bag was launched into a room, landing in a corner with a heavy thud.  Too late to salvage anything now, within moments Gordon was in the doorway.  “Hey, you cooked.  Thanks”

 “No need to sound so surprised.  Don’t thank me til you’ve tried it though.  It’s, um, not really gone to plan.”

 “I’m sure it’s fine.  Want me to drain these pans while you get the plates out?”

 Alan signalled his agreement by delving into the crockery cupboard leaving Gordon to drain and stir together the contents of the various pans.  He wasn’t exactly looking forward to the meal but Gordon seemed grateful to be spared the chore.

 Dinner was everything Alan expected it to be.  They sat opposite sides of the kitchen counter, Gordon shovelling down vast quantities of noodles while he picked at his own much smaller portion.  The meat was as dry as cardboard and stuck in his throat alongside the shards of undercooked pasta. Perhaps he ought to pay more attention in the kitchen, especially as Gordon was likely to be training more and more over the coming months.

 Gordon’s fork clattered onto the empty plate before Alan was even half way through.  He looked up to see eyes the colour of mahogany under the harsh kitchen lights looking at him with concern.

 “You ok?  You’ve hardly eaten.”

 “I’m fine.  Just wishing I’d ordered us a pizza instead.”  He waved a forkful of charred chicken to emphasise his point.

 This earned him a small chuckle and at least dispelled the worry.

 “Hey, no complaints from me over it.  I think my coach would have something so say about that too, we’ll save the pizza for the summer.  I’ll start clearing up while you finish off.  You still want that game?”

 Alan grinned.  Suddenly the pasta was a lot easier to stomach if there was a chance to thrash his brother in the goblin realms at the end of it.  

 xoxoxox

 As the clock ticked past midnight and into the small hours of the morning Gordon lay in the darkness, sleep refusing to come.  His normally comfortable bed felt too lumpy and he turned this way and that.  First facing the blank wall next to the bed, then the ceiling and finally the open room. A shelf of trophies glinted faintly in the light that managed to spill around the edges of the heavy blackout curtains.  Back in Kansas Gordon had rarely bothered closing his curtains; he had always been an early riser and was usually up long before the dawn in order to get to early morning training or fit in a gym session before school.  But the pervading yellow glow of the city from the ever present light pollution wasn’t like the peaceful moon.  On nights like this the city felt oppressive and he yearned for the open fields of home, as he still though of Kansas.  Gordon might now be able to access better training facilities and coaches which had enhanced his Olympic prospects but he had never embraced city life.

 He was exhausted.  The training session after school had been intense and he had thrown himself into the drills with maximum effort.  The gaming session had probably been a mistake but he hadn’t wanted to let Alan down.  The kid had gone to the trouble of trying to make dinner and save him a job.  Ok, the noodles had been still firm to the point of being slightly crunchy and the greens had been on the verge of turning to soup but it’s the thought that counts.  It was calories.  It was from his prescribed meal plan.  It was mostly edible.  He appreciated the level of consideration shown by a teenager who shouldn’t have any more pressing concerns than getting his chemistry paper completed and working out whether Ellen from World Studies class had a crush on him.

 His own homework had been its usual slog.  He wrote until his eyes became sticky and the notes he was reading became a jumbled blur.  Sleep should have enveloped him within minutes of climbing into bed but instead the words from his earlier interview kept churning around his head.  The thoughts drowning out even the gnawing ache in his overworked muscles.  

 What about after?

 He had always managed to stave these thoughts off before.  Whenever his father had made comments about future plans he has always managed to deflect the conversations.  He didn’t have room in his head for anything other than visualising the dream.  Why on earth should the words of a complete stranger, parroted from some state approved script, make life any different.

 He was a Tracy.  A name synonymous success and achievement.  He had found his calling in a way that set him apart from the others.  

 He was going to swim.

 He was going to represent his country.

 He was going to win.

 He ran through the visualisation that had been a constant companion in his head for years.  He could feel the flow of the water over his body as his muscles flexed in perfect synchronicity.  He could hear the roar of the crowd as the results flashed up on the scoreboard.  He rode the wave of emotion as the medal was presented.  This was the moment that would mark him out as more than just the fourth son of an astronaut.  Gordon Cooper Tracy.  A name in his own right.

 With the sound of the national anthem still ringing in his ears Gordon tried to visualise the next steps.  He tried to force the dream beyond its current conclusion but instead found only darkness.