#someone please take away my access to any sort of writing devices

[dantesmelancholicshitpost]

I was just now debating who should receive my therapy bills for the kiss scene in ep6...

Ofc there is David Tennant, full of desperation, grasping at straws. We cannot see his eyes, but we know damn well that they are watery and full of fear and awareness that this may be his last chance.

But then there is Michael Sheen whose conflicted attitude already prompted me to write a (not so) short analysis in my notes. Aziraphale whose yearning and longing for Crowley is so palpable, whose hands look for some sort of contact and embrace, whose pain we can see so clearly when he pushes Crowley away and whose entire body language is just filled with dilemmas, with antonyms, whose internal conflict is so tangible.

And then there is Neil, the mastermind. The one who is there pulling the strings. The one who made this scene a parallel of the scene from s1 where Crowley pushes Aziraphale to the wall, saying "I'm not nice", but this time he just wants him to understand, that Aziraphale is nice, more than nice, moreover that Crowley MAY BE nice, but they are just not fit for Heaven, they belong only in eachother. And the hurt after Aziraphale doesn't accept this unspoken but so clearly communicated argument...

In conclusion, they should just split it

[datesinredink]

could you possibly write headcanons you have of how the rise yanderes would like psychologically manipulate/punish their darling? i’m all for physical violence but what do they do to mess their darling up in the head?

ty very much for reading this if you do :)

THANK YOU SO MUCH RAGHHHHHH!!!!! Since this is such a fun question to answer im gonna order these from most to least awful. The ranking is just my opinion and i would LOVE to see what other people think jhwhnwiurfj i decided to chug a soda to write this and i think that was a great decision because i immediately came up with smth for donnie because of it.

I decided to search up some ACTUAL psychological torture methods that have been/are used in real life and let normal manipulation take more of a backseat so that this didn’t end up too repetitive- honestly would recommend researching it, it’s a fun topic.

Trigger warnings: Very unfun use of technology in your arm, Drugging, More drugging, Even more drugging, Withholding of food/water (+ a more mild example of doing so but it still happens), Mild descriptions of gore, Mentions of blood, general yandere stuff like kidnapping, and likely others- please ask me to tag anything else triggering, because unfortunately I am not perfect.

1- Donnie.

This might be surprising to some of you. Yes, Leo is the manipulator- he’s the face man, the people guy, but I think that in terms of sheer awfulness- Donnie is going to win here simply because of the potential with his tech.

He’s a genius with access to mystic powers who has incredible skill with both designing and creating various machines and gadgets. I think that he’d be very creative, just considering how much he thought to fit into just his bō staff.

My first thought was that he could come up with a small device (which might be able to double as a tracker) to embed under your skin that could move around. It would skitter up and down your arm like a beetle (likely your dominant arm, just to be worse) and be a nice cherry on top of anything else he could come up with.

To pair with that, he could force some type of hallucinogenic drug down your throat- after some googling, LSD would be a likely candidate. While apparently it usually only causes “pseudo-hallucinations” (where you know that they aren’t real, whereas true hallucinations would be where you think they are), true hallucinations can happen, and the pseudo-hallucinations combined with the environment alone would be enough to cause a panic attack. Not even to mention the kind of drugs that the mystic city might have. (edit: i just found out about datura??? GODDAMN THAT’S A STRONG DRUG.)

Also, I think that Donnie would actually take decent care of you prior to any sort of escape attempt or broken rule. He’d hate for you to waste away in a dark room for the rest of your now shared life, so he would take you outside to some private space for a set amount of time everyday while you’re chained to him and probably gagged so you don’t call for help- you need time in the sun and exercise, after all. That’s why I think he’d also stop doing that if you broke a rule. You don’t want to be anywhere near him, and he supposes that he’s fine with that- but if you really don’t want anything to do with Donnie anymore, then you’ll just have to deal with losing all the luxuries that came with him being so caring.

He’ll lower the temperature in your room and take the hoodie that he so graciously gave you and waltz on out. He still brings you food and water, but now it’s less frequent and more random since now he’s prioritizing his brilliant inventions. Sorry dear, but weren’t you the one who begged him to leave you alone? Now he is. What’s the problem?

2- Leo.

Even if you haven’t done anything wrong (yet), being kept in his room would probably be a nightmare. I feel in my adhd soul that he would NOT be good at keeping it clean. It’d be living in a constant mess, and as someone who has lived in a perpetually messy house, it will definitely take a toll on your mental health. Not to mention the additional noise from whatever he and his brothers are doing. You wouldn’t be allowed outside of it either, not for a while at least, so you’d never know what day or time it is.

Other than the already constant sensory of his room, I think that Leo would mainly use threats- of which he goes through with. Not against you, though, but against your family, (what’s left of) your friends, and any other loved ones you might have. He’ll drag their unconscious body into whatever room he’s keeping you in, and wait with you for them to wake up.

While you two are waiting, he’ll lay out everything he’s planning to do to them in awful detail- and lucky you, he even left out some things as a nice surprise!

You’ll be tied to a chair and forced to watch as their guts fall to the ground from the clean slice in their now empty abdomen while Leo picks up and talks about their functions one by one. You silently wish that you never told him that you admired his skills as the team medic.

When he’s finally done rambling about the various viscera laying on the cold floor, he’ll force you to help him clean up- “so that Raph doesn’t get mad about the mess”, as he says. He’ll hold you in his arms when the two of you are done, whispering in your ear about how sorry he is that he had to do that, but you really did force his hand, and you know that, right? If only you had listened…

When the list of people you can bring yourself to care about finally has 0 names, Leo starts to instead take things away from you. He starts small, gradually taking and taking like the parasite you’ve learned he is until all you have left are the clothes you wear and him. He’ll even deprive you of food and water for periods of time, and you can no longer tell if you wish he would shut up for once or if you’re grateful for at least anything to distract you from the constant pain in your empty stomach.

Mikey and Raph landed themselves towards the bottom because I think that they’re both more lenient with punishments (Raph would be afraid of hurting you beyond repair physically OR mentally and Mikey has generally been shown to be very patient and forgiving with people he cares about), but I also think that they might be more exhausting to be stuck with GENERALLY, wearing you down slowly in day-to-day life rather than harsh punishments for breaking whatever rules might be in place for you.

3- Raph.

Raph would try to instill learned helplessness into his darling, to make them understand why he always has to be so careful!

It’ll happen the next morning after a particularly bad argument between you two, and when he’s suddenly letting you handle sharp objects again- but oh no! For some reason you feel so sluggish and dizzy today that you messed up and sliced open your arm. It’s ok- Raph’s here for you! He’ll either patch up your arm himself or take you to Leo, and after it’s taken care of he’ll scold you and say that it’s fine, maybe he’ll give you another chance next week. And he keeps his word- once again, you’re allowed to try your hand at chopping some veggies with him or Mikey- and again, you feel dizzy and accidentally cut yourself.

This will happen many more times- or not, if you give in easily enough- at least until Raph finally decides that he just can’t keep doing this. He brought you to the lair to keep you away from harm, and despite it being to teach you a lesson, he just can’t bear to watch blood drip down your pretty skin.

So instead, he further seals you away- locking you in his room and wrapping one of his hoodies around your head. He’ll keep you like this until you finally learn.

He won’t starve you, at least. He’d hate to watch you waste away after everything, so you’ll be fine physically, but it’ll be hell to not be able to see or properly hear anything. It’ll also be more difficult to breathe properly through the fabric, so I wish you luck with that.

He’s infuriatingly nice throughout the whole thing. Of course he’s angry when you argue with him- when you hurl insults and and completely unfounded whining (yeah right) at him. Sometimes he hurriedly leaves the room so he doesn’t do anything he regrets- but when he comes back- despite your wishes that he wouldn’t- he just wraps that damned hoodie around your skull and chides you for your hostility, leaving you to wonder if this could really be better than death.

You feel insane rambling to his plushies, of which you now know the individual names of, but it’s an admittedly nice bit of company to have when your only other option is Raph. Honestly, you’d rather deal with Ms Cuddles by this point, and she even managed to wring a scream out of Donnie.

At least it’s something you can actually have even an ounce of fun doing that he won’t take away for being “too dangerous”. As long as you can tolerate his absolutely smitten behavior when he finds you talking to them.

Be careful about how loudly you complain, though- it might just land you being completely swaddled in blankets and left to go insane on his bed.

4-  Mikey.

I think that if you were to try and escape from Mikey, he’d conclude that his love simply needs to spend more time with him! Maybe if he shows them how wonderful life is with him, they’ll stop trying to run away!

Unfortunately, I doubt his sleep schedule is very consistent. He keeps you up late at night to try out new spraypaints, recipes, games, anything he can find to do with you will be done. You hardly get the chance to sleep well, and the peace you get in dreams is frequently interrupted.

When he does take a break, he insists on sleeping in the same bed, and it’s much harder to fall asleep with him staring holes into you, as though he were trying to memorize every single detail.

It takes a damn long time to get Mikey to knock it off, too. You have to guess that stubbornness runs in the family, if his brothers are anything to go by. Unfortunately, said brothers’ coddling of their youngest has resulted in quite the persistent guy, and you’re quickly losing the energy to refute him. You wonder how long you’ll need to sleep for the giant spider in the corner of your vision to go away.

When the box turtle finally does realize how much of a toll his shenanigans have taken on poor you, he decides that as the person responsible for you, it’s his job to make sure that you get plenty of rest- and if you refuse, Dr Delicate Touch and Dr Feelings are always here to make sure you’re convinced!

He does a sort of 180- where he once forced you to do everything, he now forces you to do nothing at all, even when your mind screams at you to get up and move. He’ll slip something he stole from the pharmacy into your food and carry your sleeping figure back to his room for your seemingly infinite nap.

In between consciousness, you’ve learned to just stay in bed, maybe draw or write something related to all the adventures you go on in dreamworld.

Fun fact, over sleeping has a couple negative side effects- it increases the risk of diabetes, obesity, headaches, back pain, depression (like you don’t have that already, being kidnapped and all), and heart disease! I wish you the best of luck.

When he finally believes your rest to be sufficient, everything will go back to normal. Except, of course, the lingering paranoia of when it’ll happen all over again will continue to haunt you.

Who knows, maybe he’ll continue drugging you just to keep you a little more complacent. Can’t have you running away all the time, right?

[ghooostbaby]

deeeep dive into why and how wei wuxian and lan wangji love each other, complete each other, are the inverse reflection of each other’s deeply hidden internal selves mirrored through the other’s external self, lan wangji’s inner wildness that he has to conceal and protect recognizing and loving wei wuxian’s outer wildness, wei wuxian’s deep, fuddy-duddy morality and values that he conceals with an elaborate subterfuge of jokes, mischief, and bravado, seeing and loving in lan wangji the ability to say no that it was never safe for him to express directly, “between you and me there is no need for thank you and sorry”

oh and a slight diversion midway through into a manifesto on WEI WUXIAN IS NOT INSECURE the whole story is about a society where being liked is ESSENTIAL for survival and it is actually completely perilous not to be liked, and his “people pleasing” is a skill and tool for his survival especially as an orphan and proven to be a necessary one when he stops doing it and STOPS SURVIVING

after the cut discussing the very interesting dynamics of consent in general in the novel, but not going into the consensual non-consent kink stuff till the last paragraph if you need to avoid for any reason.

I've been thinking about how Lan WangJi sees in Wei WuXian the exterior, unfettered expression of the wildness Lan WangJi holds in him and protects with rigid codes of conduct, propriety and outward dignity.

I have had this sense that these two are mirrors, either one reflecting the hidden, interior (and unallowed) self of the other. but it seemed more clear from Lan WangJi's side, especially knowing about his history with his mother and the spicy side that emerges when he drinks and in the extras.

I also - just... the way this whole story shows how romantic love is truly this longing for your self, to become yourself, to become the thing you're not allowed to be, seeing in that person the expression of whatever it is you can't become and longing for it, protecting it, joining with it as closely as you can without ever being able to let it live inside your own body.

On the surface it seems a lot more difficult for Wei WuXian to find a piece of his soul in Lan Wangji. I think its a bit too simplistic to see whatever draws Wei WuXian to Lan Wangji as a reverse-psychology sort of craving of acceptance from the only one who won't give it, pushing and pushing against this impenetrable boundary that he needs to break to feel assurance that no matter what he can make anyone accept him.

And he is SO drawn - in a mind boggling way, in the teenage flashbacks Lan WangJi rudely and aggressively throws him off over and over and Wei WuXian cannot keep away! Even when he talks about how boring Lan WangJi is, he never stops trying to be around him and talk to him.

I've seen discussions of the way Wei WuXian has always relied on the goodwill of others to survive, and that his placating of others to survive is a character flaw. Although that seems only halfway true. 

As a young child he didn't have anyone's goodwill for a while and he survived, and it seems like he can always find a way to survive from whatever means and sometimes very limited resources he has at his disposal. Doing what he has to do to become powerful enough to survive losing his core and being thrown into the burial mounds slowly costs him the goodwill of everyone around him - and what happens to him as a result shows how much placation was a truly necessary for someone without the protection of biological/hereditary family bonds.

(Don’t get me started on how his loss of his golden core and his development of demonic cultivation to give himself power by ‘unnatural methods’ through the use of a musical instrument is a metaphor for disability and the way ableist society sees the use of accessibility devices and tools. Actually please DO get my started haha.)

Wei WuXian is so charismatic and seems very used to getting what he wants and needs on the strength of that. He pushes a lot of boundaries and seems pretty confident and flexibly prepared to handle the consequences, whether beatings or harsh words. But he does work so hard to make others feel good, good with him, good with themselves.

When he is in the cave with Lan WangJi, Wei WuXian is described as "like one who forgets all past pain as soon as the wound heals". He can't resist coming up beside Lan WangJi and talking to him again and again after every time Lan WangJi pushes him off, only finally staying away when Lan WangJi bites him (and he still keeps trying to talk to him after a little bit!) and then calls him an awful person (!!! Bad Wangji! :(((( ). In the end, when Lan WangJi (very minimally) discloses what happened to his sect and his father, and even cries, because of all the defences/assaults Lan WangJi has put up Wei WuXian can't do anything or say anything to help and feels miserable.

Lan WangJi just absolutely refuses to allow Wei WuXian to take care of him - and I began to wonder maybe that’s what Wei WuXian actually really likes about him? Why he is unable to resist coming up to Lan WangJi again and again? Maybe because Lan WangJi refuses to let Wei WuXian appease him. He’s not trying to crack Lan WangJi to get to this impenetrable place of approval and acceptance. In a way he can’t quite understand, Lan WangJi is a respite for Wei WuXian from the constant work to be the one who pleases.

And  how different this is to how Wei WuXian is (or has to be) with Jiang Cheng when he wakes up in Lotus Pier after the cave. Jiang Cheng gets so down and really really needs Wei WuXian to do what he does so well (and wasn’t allowed to do with Lan WangJi) - chasing Jiang Cheng down while being injured and reassuring him about all his insecurities about his father's acceptance and becoming a sect leader and Wei WuXian's own abilities excelling his - and at first Jiang Cheng is pushing him away, but he really does need Wei WuXian to do all this to feel better.

Wei WuXian is described as not wanting to be lonely, and not wanting to see other people unhappy, and he keeps trying to push and pull with whatever he has to not be lonely and lift the mood for those around him. I don't think it's a kind of codependency or insecurity. It’s not that Wei WuXian is afraid to say no, in fact I would say he doesn't do anything he doesn't want to do, but he must always do it creatively, with humour. Similarly to Nie Huaisang, he uses a persona of foolishness to give himself a covert agency.

I also think I'm writing this because I don't like seeing this discussed as a sad bean character flaw for him to always need to be liked - its a strategy, its a tool, its how he survives and excels. Doesn’t the whole story prove how essential being liked is to a human’s survival? And he is so so good at being liked, in making others happy, even when he is refusing to do what others want from him that he doesn't want to do, he does it in a way that deflects criticism, with a smiling bravado that never says what it truly means and has people writing him off as shameless or foolish or just endearing himself toward them despite themselves.

He is always at work really, with jokes and flattery or mischief and teasing, to get the resources he wants and needs. Case and point, when he makes a big coquettish show for mianmian, definitely not being "people pleasing" for her, but the group of girls around them all find it funny and cute and in the end she gives him a perfume sachet which ends up being a valuable resource for later. Or the time he outright tells Jiang Cheng that if you give the girls some lotus seeds they'll remember you and return the favour in the future. (Also notice how his interactions with girls seen as flirtatious are actually strategic resource-gathering acts.) These are the skills he has developed to meet his own needs. (THIS IS NOT A CHARACTER FLAW. I REPEAT.) He takes what he needs and steals from the Lotus Pier markets knowing it'll be paid for, he lives like he never know when his next windfall will come from so he'll take what he can when he can find it. Like Jiang Fengmian said, if there is no guarantee of a meal in the future then today's meal should still be enjoyed. It’s how Wei WuXian said to Nie Huaisang at Cloud Recesses, you have to find ways to make your own fun out of whatever you have. So he gets kicked out of class, goes fishing, gets alcohol, he pursues his own pleasure. He actually is quite insistent of his own agency and right to choose, he just can never directly say no.

And that little detail that Wei WuXian always tucks coins into his clothes just in case, that makes him able to buy food when he and Jiang Cheng are on the run... breaks my heart and reveals so much about the way Wei WuXian is constantly at work on ensuring his own survival and never takes for granted whether he is safe (he knows he never is). 

I've seen some people talking about Wei WuXian sacrificing so much for his brother and sister out of a need to be accepted out of a chronic sense of insecurity. But isn’t this just true? Doesn't he live in a world where being accepted is absolutely essential for survival? Doesn’t this whole story show the cruelty of a social system based on networks of hereditary/biological family that closes out and scapegoats any outsiders, and that without biological family connections that can enclose around you, you can never truly be safe if not constantly working to earn acceptance? (And then beautifully ends with the way a gay romantic relationship that queers marriage/family/etc disrupts all this and creates safety and inclusion for Wei WuXian without needing a normative family.) (AKA romantic love does not resolve some internal personal problem in Wei WuXian but disrupts and refuses and rebels against the problem of SOCIETY.) (*breathes heavily*)

And that’s why Lan WangJi is magnetizing to Wei WuXian. Lan WangJi is always saying no. Although what Lan WangJi sees in Wei WuXian is an exterior wildness, Wei WuXian is not really out of control so much as he is playing and caring and supplicating and showing off and pleasing people to get the resources and the acceptance he needs to live his life. He has firm values and desires that he can never outwardly state, only creatively spinning plates to distract and deflect while he refuses what goes against his values, protects who he cares for, or takes what he needs to in order to survive/thrive. Lan WangJi embodies an exterior of resoluteness and direct agency that Wei WuXian doesn't have the luxury of. And he's so drawn to him for his ability to repeatedly say no, to refuse to get along, or make others laugh, make other people happy, but just simply follow what he thinks is right.

Wei WuXian’s outward wild movement protects an inward stillness. He is an exterior of people-pleasing around an interior of refusal. He is an exterior of youthful rebellion around an interior of unflinching morality. He sees in Lan WangJi the outward expression of his stillness, his morality, his resistance that he can't express, that he's had to protect.

FYI after the cut gets more into the dynamics of consent in the story, and the last paragraph directly talks about consensual non-consent kink play in wangxian’s relationship.

When Wei WuXian is with Lan WangJi, there is no work to be done. Lan WangJi cannot be swayed by him, and so there's no point vying for resources or favors. Lan WangJi will either give him everything or refuse him everything based on who he is, it does not matter what Wei WuXian does and he can't do anything that will change Lan WangJi’s mind. Someone he literally can't win over. After the resurrection, they are often in an adorable tug of war, where Wei WuXian tries to take care of Lan WangJi, while Lan WangJi won't allow him to but demands to care of Wei WuXian right back. Actually, Lan WangJi insists that Wei WuXian take everything he wants or needs from him and is even angry when he doesn't take or when Wei WuXian tries to offer a gesture in return, even something as simple as a thank you Lan WangJi won't accept. It’s kind of adorable how frustrated Wei WuXian is in doing this thing he's learned that he needs to do, and just... so confused by Lan WangJi, and has to find a way to please this person who aggressively refuses to be pleased and is ONLY pleased by Wei WuXian being pleased.

(Not to mention the way Wei WuXian delights in finding that Lan WangJi can’t say what he wants, and they have sort of these chaotic cohesive both-being-so-pleased-by-working-hard-to-please each-other moments where Wei WuXian is letting Lan WangJi please him by finding out what pleases Lan WangJi and giving it to him.)

The wildness Lan WangJi had always hidden within himself is something he sees as just as dangerous as Wei WuXian thinks of his desire to refuse. He saw his mother be socially alienated, shunned, and eventually die because of her wildness. His ability to survive in the world, aka to be accepted by his family, is contingent on him being able to control this inner wildness. From a young age (re: Phoenix Mountain kiss) he could only understand his sexual desires for Wei WuXian as something repulsive or dangerous that had to be repressed and controlled, and that the only way he could imagine his desires as possible was as non-consensual. His secret gay desires were never available to him as anything but something monstrous.

Importantly, it’s not like everyone else other than Lan WangJi are all vampires cruelly demanding Wei WuXian’s constant sacrifice. Wei WuXian is always vibrantly, charismatically offering so much, before anyone has asked. It’s Wei WuXian who creates this kind of relationship for himself again and again. It’s Lan WangJi who simply refuses - he refuses to charmed, to be cared for. And so in the end Lan WangJi becomes the one person who Wei WuXian feels doesn't need anything from him. When he says he's eating the corpse's fruit to save Lan WangJi money and Lan WangJi says that will never be necessary. Or when Wei WuXian asks what toy he should win for Lan WangJi at the market game, and Lan WangJi says anything Wei WuXian gets will be the one he wants. (XD stahhhhp it’s too sweet !!!) He really just wants Wei WuXian to be, to exist, to spend his life discovering his own desires and allow Lan WangJi to help satisfy them, he doesn't want anything from Wei WuXian other than him living - happy and safe.

It takes someone like Lan WangJi to refuse Wei WuXian’s aggressive generosity, it’s definitely not an easy thing to say no to Wei WuXian, dazzling or annoying people so chaotically before they even realize there’s something to say no to. The sacrifice he gives to Jiang Cheng, he never even offers a choice - and perhaps it would have been too much for Jiang Cheng to accept if he had the chance.

Lan WangJi’s statement "Between us there is no need for thank you and sorry" seems like one of the most important sentences in the novel, and you can’t help but noticed the way “sorry” and “thank you” is littered meaningfully through the book. What is owed, what the characters owe to each other, the give and take, touches every part of the story (down to wangxian's erotic explorations!).

When Jiang Cheng talks to Wei WuXian at the Guanyin temple he makes a lot of contradictory statements about what Wei WuXian owes, what he was given, what he took, what he (Wei WuXian still) is owed in return. Wei WuXian, according to Jiang Cheng, took everything from the Jiang clan, and paid them back with their deaths. The Jiang clan give him his life when they took him in, and he owed Jiang Cheng service for the rest of his life as the right hand to the sect leader, that’s what Wei WuXian had promised anyway. At the same time, Wei WuXian sacrificed everything (his golden core) to Jiang Cheng, by giving everything he was taking one more thing - Jiang Cheng’s right to even be angry at him. Jiang Cheng had taken everything from Wei WuXian. Everything that happened around Wei WuXian after could be said to be because of the loss of his golden core, which Jiang Cheng might be said to be responsible for. But he never asked for it, maybe he never would have wanted it. He wishes Wei WuXian told him, but Jiang Cheng never told Wei WuXian his golden core was melted while he was sacrificing himself to save Wei WuXian. He wants Wei wuxian to say sorry, but that makes him feel pathetic. And Jiang Cheng says sorry too. It’s a mess of paradoxes, and in the end somehow it seems like the scales are balanced in the most hollow, dismal way.

What is owed, what is given, what is taken ... Wei WuXian has never been part of a family. He has always had to say thank you and sorry for everything he's taken. Wei WuXian himself admits that he used "thank you" as a way to enforce distance between himself and Lan WangJi. Lan WangJi's point i think is that they belong to each other, Wei WuXian is his, and he is Wei WuXian's, unconditionally. The way that Jiang Cheng speaks of him in the Guanyin temple (admittedly I read a fan translation and this is very nuanced, related to slight variations of grammar), even when Jiang Cheng clearly is so broken by the loss of Wei WuXian from his life, he talks about Wei WuXian as an outsider. It is what MY family gave to YOU, never what you took from our family. But at one point Wei WuXian was part of their family - but he takes too much, and becomes an ex-disciple, not a brother. Wei WuXian’s inclusion as a Jiang was always conditional. 

Even when Wen Qing and Wen Ning leave him to go take the blame for qiongqing path they tell him "thank you and sorry", drawing a line between them and him, so he doesn’t even belong to these people who he sacrificed everything for. The way Wei WuXian acted when he was younger, he was always keenly aware of this - he always knew that he didn’t belong to anyone, no one is going to protect him unconditionally. And after first escaping the Burial Mounds, he is done pretending. When Lan WangJi warns him about what a demonic cultivation path will do to his heart, Wei WuXian replies: “After all, on the topic of how my heart is, what could other people know about it? Why should other people care about it?” He is done pleasing. Nothing has changed really, he still belongs to no one and is alone, but now he is angry about it, and instead of saying thank you and sorry he is going to become too powerful to be at anyone's mercy. And then we see in the story afterward what happens to people who don't say thank you and sorry.

The whole point I think is the impossibility of choice, the impossibility of consent in this society. If he didn't forgo the behaviour his social acceptance was conditional on, he wouldn't have survived the burial mounds. But once he becomes powerful enough to survive and get revenge on the Wens, he is socially outcast. Except he was already outcast from the beginning.

And so how do Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi find a way through all that to a life together where all their desires are possible, where Wei WuXian can say no while also being pleasing (safe) to others, and Lan WangJi can indulge in his wild desires while still being good? The answer is kinky sex!

It is kind of miraculous and beautiful how Wei WuXian finds a way to say no, while simultaneously pleasing Lan WangJi, giving pleasure, while taking it, saying no, and knowing his refusal is not just tolerated, but gives Lan WangJi pleasure, knowing Lan wangji and knowing the painful belief Lan WangJi holds within that his desires are unacceptable and unspeakable, and that Wei WuXian can take care of Lan Wangji in a secret little way and please him and give everything to him by craving this wildness in Lan WangJi while at the same time he gets to say no again and again , and it won't push Lan WangJi away, he can refuse everything while at the same time be totally pleasing and thus safe, and also for Lan WangJi, Wei WuXian's pleasure at saying "no" while still being held onto, that he genuinely wants to be fucked even while begging Lan WangJi to stop (and the many ways he does give his consent for this throughout, especially their first time), allows Lan WangJi the ecstatic feeling that this idea that his sexual desires are only possible through force are not just something his lover forgives him for but something his lover is SO turned on by, and that he has consent for his fantasies of non-consent, Wei WuXian has the same fantasies from the other side, he is doing what he is supposed to while doing what he shouldn't, and actually these monstrous feelings in him allow him to take care of Wei WuXian in a way that he needs - that they both need - and all these impulses that are so wrong with Wei WuXian become very right and a way to do good. And they are just both so perfect and perfect for each other and I love them and I am so happy for them to have a long kinky life together.

[miekasa]

any spare levi headcanons tonight????? 😁😁😁😁

Sure, why not, he is the love of my life after all. These are pretty random, and fit in some sort of generalized modern boyfriend au. Hopelessly domestic, as that is the nature of nearly everything I write for Levi, anyway. Also still terribly obsessed with the idea of him with a motorcycle, so there’s that.

He owns at least six black blazers. They’re nearly identical; slight differences in texture and cut, one with lapels, one that’s boldly all leather that you swear you’ve never seen him wear. They’re kind of his go-to staple, other than a sweater.

That being said, he doesn’t exclusively wear all black. His closet leans towards more neutrals, sure, but he’s not allergic to color. You might not catch him wearing neon orange on the average day, but he’s not averse to a nice shade of green, any shade of purple that suits his mood, even a softer pink.

He has towels and rags he sets aside especially for you when he comes over. He always washes them and put them back in place when you leave so that they’re ready to go for next time.

Claims to not have any attachment to the shows/dramas you watch, but he’s totally backseat watching. Halfway into every single series, he starts sitting down when you turn it on, and scoffs at dumb decisions the characters make.

He splurged on one of those frame TVs that look like a painting when they’re idle. It was a good investment in his opinion.

He doesn’t hate Starbucks drinks—there’s worse things out there in terms of quality of tea. What he despises about the establishment is the way they call out names for you to pick up your order. He’s learned that mobile order ahead is the way to go.

Has slippers for around the house, so consequently, you have slippers for walking around his house. He keeps both pairs (and a few extra for friends and guests) tucked neatly beside the door for easy access; yours always go next to his.

Does not understand the purpose of a robe. Buy him one tho and he will suddenly find an excuse to wear it: making breakfast, lounging around watching TV, doing some light cleaning and dusting. It’s comfy, alright, he can admit that much.

The little puppy you got him that he swore he was not going to warm up to now gets the royal treatment. The best doggie goods and treats, top rated shampoos, cutest drying towels, even a miniature couch he constructed just for the pup. They’re best friends, there’s no breaking that bond now.

Speaking of the puppy, affectionately named Captain, Levi can be found walking him every day shortly after work. They have a few different routes, but they always pass by the local vendors/market, who enthusiastically anticipate their appearance every day. Some of the older ladies running stands have even taken to bringing a few treats with them for Captain—after bundling up some goods for Levi, too, of course.

Captain also has a special doggy backpack Levi uses for when he’s on his motorcycle. If you follow anybody on TikTok in his area, you’re bound to see at least one video of the pup while Levi’s out riding. He’s become viral on social media without even knowing it.

(When you show him a video someone posted of him and Captain with well over 100k likes, and a million views, he only rolled his eyes. But remembers that particularly day; remembers the folks had a kid who politely asked to pet the dog, so he let him. He also maybe asks you to send the link to him).

On the subject of the motorcycle, there was a good few weeks he wouldn’t let you on it. Always found an excuse, a smart reply that was punctuated with gentle push on your forehead and calling you too clumsy for it. Later, you found out it’s because he’d ordered you a helmet; didn’t want to risk you riding without one.

He always keeps it in the storage compartment should he make a stop to pick you up while he’s riding; and he usually wears at least two layers to have a spare to wrap you in before you get on.

When he cooks, he always makes sure there’s enough for leftovers and/or to give you some later. He also bakes frequently, and at least once a week, he stops by with some kind of treat for you—“Trying out a new recipe, let me know if you think it’s missing anything.”

On the subject of food, he won’t police what you eat to annoying extent; he knows that not everybody has the time or will to make pasta from scratch like he does. But, he will smack your wrist if you consider ordering fast food when you’re over at this place. Give him 30 minutes and a single pan, he’ll make something much better than whatever you can find on Uber Eats.

Really, though, he doesn’t mean to obnoxious about the homemade food thing, it’s more habit for him. Growing up, he had to learn to be resourceful, so buying fast-food isn’t ever at the forefront of his mind. Cooking for you also turns out to be something somewhat intimate that he enjoys, so just let him.

Once bought an Apple Watch because he liked the look of them, it wasn’t insanely expensive like other high end watches, and it could connect to his other devices, so why not? A week later he returned it, the ping of his notifications were in one too many places for his liking.

You tried to convince him to keep it—“At least for when you’re jogging! It can track your activity and calories!”—but he clicks his teeth. He’ll survive without keeping track of them.

He learned the hard way that jogging with Captain is no good. His legs are too tiny and Levi ended up carrying the puppy the entire time. Captain is more of a walk dog… or ride on the back of his bike dog.

If you changed anything in his phone settings—like the ringtone for you contact, or the sound his keyboard makes—he wouldn’t go back in and try to figure out how to reset it. Unless it was something obnoxious, like adding an autocorrect shortcut to say something lewd.

He doesn’t really listen to music when he’s just walking. When he’s on a run, that’s fine, but he somewhat prefers to just… hear the environment around him when he’s on a stroll or a break from work. The only reason he’d have headphones on in public is to take a phone call, but even then, he’d prefer to wait until he’s somewhere more private.

He likes having you over at his apartment and has contemplated asking you to move in. He doesn’t want to rush anything, though, so he’s content with your sleepovers for now. (Though he really cannot fathom that you call them “sleepovers” like you’re 14. Please).

He speaks to his mother at least once a week, and she always asks about you. Levi tells her that you’re fine, gives her small updates about you, but Kuchel really just wants to know when the wedding is. He pretends to be busy whenever she starts asking and conveniently ends the call.

Occasionally, he’ll stop by and take you out for lunch. Depends on how much time he has during the day for himself, but he always enjoys sharing a meal with you.

Whenever you’re out with your friends drinking, Levi will pick you up. Even if you already told him that you’d Uber home; as soon as you text him that you’re going to leave soon, he’s already on his way.

He makes pretty good cocktails himself. Teases you for running his alcohol supply dry when the truth is he has more of your favorites in his cabinet than his own. He secretly likes the way you flirt with him when you’re tipsy.

You don’t always cuddle on top of each other when you sleep together. You can just lay by each other and that’s enough; but sometimes, you catch Levi turning towards you in his sleep, reaching for your hand. His body seems to search for yours subconsciously, and you swear there’s a hint of a smile on his sleeping face when you put your hand within reach.

Do not try to pay for dinner when you’re out with him. He’ll pull the “I’m going to use the restroom” move and pay the bill behind your back if he needs to. Open your own doors, maybe; pull out your own chairs, sure if you want; but not this.

He flosses very diligently every night. Mostly because he fucking hates the dentist, so if he takes the extra steps and is extra careful with his teeth, he doesn’t have to go as often, right?—Wrong, it’s the one time the roles are reversed, and you and Hange have to wrestle him into the doctor’s office.

On the flip side, if there are any doctors you routinely avoid and/or forget to schedule check ups for, fear not, because Levi will do it for you. He’ll drive you there, too—the only caveat being, that he usually doesn’t tell you where you’re going until you’re almost there. You think he’s doing the mysterious man surprise date thing and then boom, he’s pulling up to the ophthalmologist. Good luck.

He’s purchased a physical, paper copy of the news on every one of your anniversaries, birthdays, and other special occasions. He keeps them all neatly tucked away in a drawer. Sometimes, he looks back on them—sees what was happening in the world around you on that day. Maybe someday he’ll cut them up and bind them together in a book for you.

He doesn’t like having headphones in when you’re home with him, and preferred if you didn’t either—unless it was for work or school. He welcomes you to use his speakers and play your music aloud; he likes listening to what you listen to. If you look closely, you can catch him humming along or tapping his foot when he really likes a song.

Saves pictures you send him in an album in his camera roll. Occasionally can be found scrolling through them—particularly if you’ve been away on a trip, or he hasn’t gotten the chance to see you because of conflicting schedules.

He takes relatively short showers and doesn’t have a strong preference for the water temperature, so he lets you shower first. Unless you want him to join you, of course.

It’s not hard to tell when Levi wants you. He becomes noticeably more touchy, even if that margin isn’t too wide by anyone else’s standards; and he rarely tries to hide it. It only happens in the privacy of your apartments; but he’ll come on to you—leaning a bit further into conversations, a hand on your knee, a kind of cloudy look in his eyes.

Sometimes he forgoes the attempts at being subtle, just kisses you out the blue, carefully backs you up against the wall, puts his hands on your hips. He can be awfully direct when given the opportunity.

[eatyourchancletas]

SUMMARY |  y/n l/n; the trauma surgeon who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and is taken hostage by the terrifying mafia known as ateez. despite their situations, love arises between the doctor and san; but when an enemy comes in between the group, breaking trust and belief between the members, what will san choose to save; his newfound love or his brothers?

PAIRING | choi san x male reader

INFO/CATEGORY | mafia au, fluff, light angst

WARNINGS | violence, weapon usage/mention, foul language, lower case writing

[chapter index] [playlist] [previous chapter]

AUTHOR’S NOTE | we’re back! sorry for the long break, hopefully we can get into the flow of things! monnie’s already started chapter 5 off amazingly too :p written by both of us this time (mainly edited by monnie)! please leave feedback, like, reblog, whatever you can to let us know whether you enjoyed it or not!  (re-edited because dongwoo and changsik were switched up)

WORD COUNT | 2.4k

TAG LIST :; @jonghoshoe​  if you’d like to be added to the list please say so in our inbox/ask box!

y/n was usually called outstanding, hard-working, smart. but in reality, he was an idiot when he was outside the workforce. 

being a workaholic meant showing your skills, growing them, improving them, and practicing them constantly. sometimes it seemed to be all he knew— it’s what all the people around him saw. 

yet again, outside of it he’s quite a gullible man; which brings him to his current situation… 

“looking for something?” 

he looked away from the bandages he was previously examining to come face to face with a man that looked around his age. “not really, just restocking my clinic. or—trying to find things to restock it with.” the man nods, glancing around suspiciously, although y/n didn’t didn’t seem to take notice of this particular action. 

“this pharmacy is pretty small, but it has lots of good supplies… lots of hidden gems. want me to show you where i get my tools?”

“oh,” y/n blinked in surprise, “you’re in the medical field?”

the man made eye contact with him, managing a convincing smile. “yeah, there’s a clinic down the road from here, about fifteen minutes by foot, this is the nearest pharmacy, so we stock up from here most of the time. i work there as an assistant.”

y/n nodded, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “wow, then please! show me what you suggest.”

at the approval, the man nodded, “name’s changsik, by the way. what do you work as? i’m assuming you’re also in the medical field.”

they walked along the aisle of the cough syrups, ointments, and the few other medicines to turn and make their way to the exit door. y/n furrowed his brows, about to ask why they were exiting until changsik made another turn, walking towards the staff room. 

“your assumption is correct, i’m a surgeon…” he replied belatedly, trailing off as he stepped foot inside the room. his eyes trailed on the shelves full of unopened boxes, more prescription pills, and—bingo! the supplies he’d written down on his list. 

for a split second, the memory of san handing it to him flashes across his mind, blinking it away as he turned to changsik. “wait, how are you able to access this?”

“i’m a regular.” he glanced across at him, looking past the window. “and also the perks of having a pharmaceutical license,” a hefty laugh left his mouth, “took some convincing though.” 

“huh,” y/n squatted down, inspecting a box that was on the floor, “i guess that makes sense.”

“just put what you need in a box and take it out. i’ll just say you’re helping me take it back.” changsik smiled, watching y/n nod and do so.

after a few minutes, y/n finished and announced he was ready to check out. changsik’s eyes met one of the cctv cameras before settling on y/n. 

“alright, let’s go check out.” 

as they walked toward the front, they reached the hallway that led to the exit. just as y/n was going to walk past, toward the checkout counter, a hand forcefully grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back. he looked behind him, in a startled manner, thinking changsik had just forgotten something. however, a deeper fear struck when changsik’s hand moved to clench at the back of his collar. 

“don’t make a sound.”

the second the cold blade touched the skin of y/n’s neck, the surgeon knew to stay quiet. there was a burning in his throat as he struggled to swallow, scared to trigger any abrupt movement. his frantic mind jumbled about, words of scolding placed toward himself and the situation while trying to get a grip. he thought of using the in-ear to alert jongho, but it would risk exposure of the communication device: in any case… he’d be dead by then.

“what is taking him so long?” jongho grunted, tapping his foot in impatience. it’d already been about 10 minutes since y/n entered the store—it shouldn’t take that long for a surgieron to find equipment that’s of medicinal standard!

tapping his in-ear and calling out the doctor’s name, he got no response. placing his face mask on, he rushed into the store, beckoning the cashier. “have you seen a man, about 6’3” with h/c hair?”

the cashier stared at him with a shocked look, “yes, but he went back toward the restrooms. is he dangerous?”

jongho shook his head before running toward the back of the store. he shoved against the restroom door, shouting out the older’s name as he threw open each stall door. finally admitting the fact that the older had disappeared, he tapped his in-ear once more, calling out for anyone.

“jongho, what’s going on?” hongjoong had intercepted the connection, hearing jongho’s worried voice.

the bodyguard had no time to register the primal fear that would settle itself in his bones once faced with the leader, “it’s y/n, hyung. he ran away.” 

jongho returned to the headquarters after scoping out the area once more and had just entered through the front door when he was met with the sight of the whole group. 

hongjoong was staring at him with his jaw clenched and an almost empty whiskey glass settled in his lax hand. jongho had never seen a look so severe in hongjoong’s eyes—he’d never messed up this bad. and apparently, the leader wasn’t the only one emotionally affected by his mistake, because before hongjoong could even physically express his own anger, san had snatched the glass from his hand and launched it at jongho, missing his head by less than an inch.

everyone was shocked at his silent outburst, san even going as far to ignore the immense pain in his abdomen and on his shoulder, but hongjoong simply sent the younger a look, causing him to cower back in the slightest. jongho, however, was enraged at what had just happened. what gave san, who had no superiority over him, the right to do that?

“what the fuck was that?” he had stormed over to the boy, grabbing his shirt with both fists. san didn’t back down, sticking his jaw out toward the youngest.

“how could you lose y/n?”

“i was told no matter what to avoid cameras, so i stayed outside! i didn’t exactly think the fucker would have the balls to run away!” 

everyone watched the two, eyeing when to step in and pull them apart. but hongjoong let them run their mouths. the longer someone talks, the more something is revealed. what he was looking to be revealed, he didn’t know; but something would come up.

san pushed back against jongho, “y/n hyung wouldn’t run away. he’d never do that!” 

‘oh,’ hongjoong perked in interest.

the younger scoffed, “what makes you so sure?”

san’s next words came as a bit of a shock, leaving the others with silent questions, “he promised he’d come back.”

bingo!

an awkward silence filled the room as they all stared, speechless at how hopelessly fond their brother had become for their hostage. as much as some of them hated to admit it, y/n was only a hostage to them at the end of the day. and for san to fall into a reversal stockholm syndrome of sorts was nothing short of  a disappointment. however, that couldn’t be the main focus, y/n was missing and they didn’t know how strong his resolve would be in the event of torturing.

“run us back on what happened, will you?” hongjoong told jongho, trying to get a clear picture on what went down because the first thing they needed to know was why y/n was taken, much less, who took him. was it by the same person who’d been running their mouths in the streets? 

and right in the middle of his explanation, an alarm went off on yeosang’s phone; it was a message. the others kept talking, figuring yeosang could handle whatever message he’d received. 

it was when he promptly stood up that all attention had been placed on him. 

“it’s him! it’s dongwoo!”

a soft whimper sounded as y/n was thrown to the ground, hands bound and eyes blinded by some piece of cloth.

“boss,” y/n’s kidnapper spoke in a submissive wave, causing y/n to assume the guy had straightened his spine and was saluting him in some way.

a moment later, a gruff voice broke through the eerie silence in the room, “and who is this?” his voice wasn’t angered or bewildered at all, and that’s what scared y/n. he sounded intrigued; like even he wasn’t expecting to be a part of this situation.

“someone with connections to ateez— saw that bodyguard walking around with him.” 

the other man hummed, “the bodyguard didn’t follow you, did he?”

“no, no. i found them by the pharmacy; i know the area pretty well because i do the runs for sowon— i knew the camera blindspots!” his abductor seemed to be a bit on the simpler side when it came to this “boss” of his, y/n concluded. this was a completely different personality than when he was being abducted at the scene…

“good job. and you know what, changsik-ah,” his voice seemed to be getting more intrigued, y/n’s heart beating even faster in response, “since you bought in such a valuable hostage, i’ll let you have the honors of obtaining information from him.”

y/n felt the air beside him shift, changsik bowing a full 90 degrees at his boss’s blessing, “thank you!”

a sickeningly hearty laugh resonated and the creaking of a chair sounded before the boss’s next words seemed to be the final straw for y/n’s pounding heart.

“i want him alive.” 

“he better be alive,” san growled at jongho.

“we might get to him alive if you two would quit bickering. we’re wasting time because of you two, so shut it and sit down!” hongjoong had had enough of the two. he knew it was a sensitive time for san and jongho, different reasons for both, of course, but they would only get nowhere if they weren’t level-headed.

the two boys bowed their heads at their leader, san still sending a side-eyed glare at the younger before sitting down in his chair. 

it’d been two days since y/n was kidnapped and they still hadn’t been able to come up with a plan to get y/n back. 

wooyoung tried to trace where the text message came from within the first minute it was received, but surprise, surprise! it was a burner phone— so back to square one; checking all of the cctv footage in the area and trying to spot a suspect that wasn’t even visible from the first frame. 

the cameras in the pharmacy showed only y/n, the pharmacist, clerk, and four other customers. of those four, only one person never entered through the front door. and within those 48 hours, he’d managed to single out a vehicle that had arrived in the frame of one of the street cams showing the alleyway behind the pharmacy, and left the same way not even 5 minutes later. it was a suspicious vehicle too; white van, no windows in the back, and paper license plates. the paper plates hinted that they were most likely changed recently or are changed frequently.

and so after hours of having to witness his best friend be so uncharacteristically frantic and down, wooyoung, unfortunately, decided to do what he thought was smartest—save y/n himself to make his best friend happy again.

his intentions may have been well, but in stories like these, doesn’t something always go wrong?

“help me set the table guys,” seonghwa cleared his throat, hand on his hip as he stirred the soup on the stove. the steam from the boiling liquid sent another cloud to his tired face, a sheen of sweat and condensation forming.

“i really don’t understand why we are acting like we have the time to set a table and eat home cooked meals when we don’t!” san exasperated, pacing around the dining room. 

mingi gave a sympathetic smile, patting him on the back before going to help seonghwa. 

while mingi was more on the understanding side of san’s worries, jongho disagreed, “how exactly do you expect us to find him if we don’t take care of ourselves?”

“all i’m saying is food and sleep shouldn’t be this consistently on your minds when we’re all in this situation!”

jongho scoffed, finding the utmost absurdities in san’s words, “why are you acting like he’s so important? he doesn’t know anything about us or our weaknesses— for fuck’s sake, it’s not like we can’t just get another doc—”

a fist had flown toward jongho’s cheek, cutting off his words, before san’s thrashing body was being pulled back by mingi and yeosang.

“go to hell choi jongho!” san screamed, trying to force his way through the barrier the two had made with their bodies. the boy could feel his stitches tearing as he fought, but he didn’t care. jongho had been a bitch since the very first moment y/n was around, and for what reason?

“cut it out, san!” yeosang hollered, voice brute as he pushed against the boy.

“no, let me at him. he wants to keep being a little shit, i’ll show him shitty!”

“stop it! you haven’t even noticed, have you?”

san didn’t stop trying to break the barrier, focusing on getting to jongho and the other’s words, “notice what?”

“wooyoung’s missing,” yeosang began, san whipping his head toward him and trying to disagree, but yeosang was having none of it, “and you haven’t done anything but antagonize everyone here for not doing their jobs at your pace!”

“oh, excuse me for trying to be as quick as possible in finding him!”

“yeah, and who ever said quick was the efficient route to go? we’re dealing with people we know nothing about, but they seem to know a little too much about us, no? so stop getting on everyone’s asses and—”

“shut the hell up! please!” seonghwa had slammed his hands down on the table, screaming at the top of his lungs. every person in the room had immediately gone silent, words left on the tips of their tongues in a desperate attempt to fly about.

“you’re all going to shut it, sit down, and eat this meal like the civilized people we are and come up with a plan to get y/n back as safely as possible,” he gave a quick glare at everyone, blowing a puff of air at the lock of hair that had settled over his eyelids.

“am i clear?”

"yes, sir."

[ikeromantic]

Fake It Til You Make It

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfiction - approx. 2200 words. This scene takes place post-romantic epilogue. Fluff and a little spice.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Adrift

Kyubei watched the innkeeper through narrowed eyes. Though the man was clearly nervous, he didn’t seem to be lying. His story hadn’t changed in the last three tellings, so either he was an accomplished liar or he was telling the truth.

“L-lord Akechi and the woman left with one of the Akechi warriors. Right after we saw the fire across the lake,” the innkeeper said for the fourth time. “Then the storm came and after that, no one saw him.”

“Do you remember anything else? Did anyone else come in after they left? Did you see anyone acting strangely?”

The man shook his head. “No, I mean, not really? Everyone was a bit strange after we saw the blaze. Wondering if Azuchi was still standing.” He frowned. “You think it might have been Lord Akechi? Him disappearing like that right after -”

Kyubei cut him off. “No. That was the work of the Mouri clan.” It wasn’t the first person he’d spoken with that suspected. And why wouldn’t they? Mitsuhide was only just back from his misadventure at the shogun’s side. An ally in disgrace. A man not to be trusted.

The worst part of all this was that Kyubei really had no idea what his lord wanted him to do. Should he quash the rumors? Encourage them? Mitsuhide’s instructions from his last letter said nothing about an attack on Azuchi - not like this - and nothing about disappearing. Of course, he pretended like he knew exactly what was going on. He had to, until he received additional instructions.

“So . . . am I free to go?” The innkeeper was frowning now. His nervousness replaced by a desire to get back to making money at the inn.

“For now,” Kyubei said. He gave the man a hard stare. “If I need anything else, I will send someone for you.”

The innkeeper bowed and left, leaving Kyubei alone with his thoughts. It really seemed that in the storm, his lord had simply vanished into thin air. And Miyake too.

Perhaps they'd left with Ranmaru, who was also missing. But if so, there would be a letter. A message. Something!

The castle staff had no idea where he was - they’d waited for him to return for hours. Miyake’s squad couldn’t find their commander either. Both men were expected.

And the chatelaine . . . his lady. Kyubei worried that he had failed to protect her again.

***

Morning came with pale light through a high window. It fell across four careworn, sleeping faces. Sasuke and Miyake lay in a tangle of blankets on the floor, and in a bed, Mitsuhide clung to his little mouse. He woke with the first notes of bird-song, but kept his eyes shut. He wasn’t ready to confront the strange world of 500 years in the future just yet.

His little one stirred in his arms as the sound of morning birds turned into a hum of outside activity. “Is it . . . are we really . . .” She opened her eyes and looked around Sarutobi’s flat. “We’re really here.”

Mitsuhide nodded.

“I want to be happy about it, but . . .”

He shushed her with a kiss. “It will be fine. Worrying won’t return us faster.”

She sighed and buried her face against his chest. “I know. I just hope everyone is alright.”

“They will be,” Mitsuhide reassured her. He didn’t think of it as a lie - simply an assumption he based on his past experience. Nobunaga would handle this threat as he did others that came before it.

And Kyubei would see to what the left hand needed to be doing.

Sasuke sat up, rubbing his face. “I apologize for the accommodations,” he told them. The same apology he’d given the night before.

“At least we had somewhere to sleep.” The chatelaine sat up and wiggled out of the blanket. “I should probably check on my flat and see if it’s still mine. If so, we won't have to impose on you a second night. Although,” she sighed. “I don’t have my ID or my keys or anything.”

“I don't mind,” Sasuke replied. “You are welcome to continue crashing here. Although, we may not be here for long. Weren’t there activities you wanted to do in this time? While you can?” His left eyebrow lifted almost imperceptibly.

Mitsuhide gave her one of his slow, warm smiles. His fingers traced a path down her spine. “Yes, you did mention some things I would like to see, since we are here.”

His little mouse arched like a cat against his hand. “I did . . . yes. Alright. Since we’re here, we might as well try to enjoy it!”

Miyake rolled over on the floor and pulled the blanket over his head.

“I take it that means you plan to stay here for the day?”

Sasuke answered for the half-asleep warrior. “Actually, I would really appreciate it if Miyake would accompany me. I need to go to my university and make some arrangements.”

Miyake groaned and sat up. He blinked as his gaze went around the room, taking in all the strange objects. Finally, he settled on the ninja. “You need protection or something?”

“No. I don’t think anyone will attack me.” Sasuke felt around for his glasses and slid them on. “But I expect to be moving some heavy equipment in the lab. And I may have a friend who can help us out with those arrangements, if you're there to corroborate my story.”

“Corr what?” Miyake frowned.

“Authenticate. Like a two factor security key.” The ninja grinned.

The warrior looked to Mitsuhide uncertainly.

“If Sarutobi believes you can assist him today, then that is what you will do. I am sure my fiancée and I will be fine.”

The chatelaine looked less certain about this, but she nodded agreement.

The four of them took turns dressing in the ‘washroom’ to give each other privacy. His morning was one of surprise as the . . . toilet . . . squirted him with water. And warm or cold water came from a metal spigot at the turn of a handle too, spilling into a porcelain basin. There were more smokeless lanterns - electric lights they were called - and other wonders.

Had Mitsunari been there, he was sure the scholar could have spent weeks studying every device but Mitsuhide just needed to know how to use it.

In this place, he was the naïve child, and his little one, the wise teacher. Such a shift in their positions was hard to take. Mitsuhide didn’t think of himself as arrogant but this situation was humbling in the extreme. Thankfully, he managed to get through dressing and breakfast without any serious mishaps.

Sasuke and Miyake left to the university. The flat was silent in their wake. Mitsuhide and his little mouse sat on the edge of the bed. She was tapping away at a . . . tablet . . . to get access to her accounts. The electronic scroll was interesting, at least. With pictures and writing all lit up so you could read it even in the dark.

Mitsuhide stood and stretched, trying to get used to moving in his new clothes. They were Sarutobi’s and didn’t quite fit. He was dressed in a pair of pants that clung tightly to his legs and ended short of his ankle. The top was a soft weave, dyed black. It sported an odd blue character on it and the word Sonic. Sarutobi said the picture was a hedgehog, whatever that was.

He would have liked to wear something without a picture on it. He’d had the choice between this one and something with a lizard that walked on two legs and shot fire from its mouth. Those were the only two shirts the ninja had that were long enough to cover him to his waist. And there was no way he was walking around with a bare midriff. Even if his little mouse looked interested in the idea.

Her midriff was bare afterall, she’d laughed. And it was - sort of. She tied one of Sasuke’s shirts in a bow under her breasts and had a pair of his shorts on. Though Mitsuhide wasn’t familiar with the clothes of this time, he thought she looked like a child trying to fit into her father’s clothes. Endearingly cute, but ill fit. Some of the clothes they saw women wearing on the way in the night before would have looked much better on her.

She looked up as if she knew he was thinking about her. “Ok, I think we’re ready to go.”

“Where to, my love?”

“Well, first to my apartment. It looks like my rent payments have all been made. And the building manager knows me so I should be able to get a spare key.” Her smile was all relief.

They arrived to the apartment, a small space in a tall building that reminded Mitsuhide of a castle, if the castle was robbed of all charm and beauty. Her room was utilitarian and sterile, and while there was still the wonder of technology, he could see none of her personality in the space. He said as much.

“Hm, yeah. I didn’t really have time to decorate. The apartment came furnished. I moved in and then, well,” she laughed. “I ended up in Azuchi with you.”

Mitsuhide pulled her into a hug. “A fate worse than death, little mouse?”

“You know it wasn’t,” she giggled, laughing harder as he ran his fingers down her sensitive sides. Holding her like this felt like home, even if nothing else was familiar.

After several slow breaths, they let go of each other.

“I must confess, I cannot see you living in this place. It doesn’t seem very safe. And you don’t have much room for your sewing.” Mitsuhide couldn’t help but poke into her cabinets, shelves, and drawers.

She nodded. “Yeah, it’s pretty small but it was a place I could afford on my own.”

Mitsuhide heard the pride in her voice. He smiled. “I can imagine you coming here, determined to make it on your own.” He turned from the cabinet he was inspecting to see her stripping off her shirt.

Her pert breasts were a pleasant surprise, but she crossed her arms over them as soon as she saw him looking. “I’m just changing clothes! I didn’t want to wear Sasuke’s basketball shorts all day.”

“Please, continue.”

“I - I can’t while you’re staring at me!” She turned so that all he could see was her back.

Mitsuhide laughed. “Are we not lovers? How many times have I kissed, nibbled, caressed every bit of your skin from head to toe?”

She shivered, skin dimpling with remembered touches. Slow, nervous, she turned back around. Her arms lowered, revealing her chest again. “You can watch if you want to.”

He wasn’t sure if it was nerves or mischief that made her voice squeak at the end. Either was amusing. “Mmm, I’m a lucky man to get a show.”

“You are,” she smiled. Her fingers went to the tie on the shorts. They fell away, pooling around her feet. Underneath, she wore nothing.

Mitsuhide sucked in a breath.

Her hips swayed as she walked to her wardrobe. She glanced over her shoulder at him and fluttered her eyelashes, trying to be saucy. The effect was a little spoiled by the blush that ran from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. From within the wardrobe she pulled out a little twist of cloth. It was light blue and made of some embroidered material.

He didn’t realize he could see her skin through it until she slipped it on, slowly pulling the fabric taut over her curves. Though she was technically covered, it was somehow more tempting than just skin alone. “What . . . is that?”

“Panties.” She giggled. Then she pulled out a matching bit of cloth and wrapped it around her chest. The rise of her breasts were restrained by this new piece of clothing as she reached behind her as if to tie it.

���And that?”

“My bra.” She turned right, then left, letting him get a good view.

The sight made Mitsuhide want to simultaneously rip the clothing off her and still enjoy looking at her in them. It wasn’t possible to have both . . .

“To be honest, it’s been kind of nice not wearing these the last few months. But I think I would feel weird if I didn’t wear them with my modern clothes.”

“I like them.” Mitsuhide smiled widely. A grin that brought heat to her gaze before she looked away, suddenly shy. He knew this ground well. Even here in a world where everything was strange, his little one was the same.

He stepped forward, reaching to cup her cheek. His other hand settled lightly on her hip, fingertips stroking the skin just above the fabric of her panties. She inhaled sharply, lips parting. Mitsuhide took the invitation.

The kiss was, at first, gentle and sweet, but the press of their bodies built heat between them. Their breath mingled, tongues entwined. Hands grasping, stroking, pulling. Tearing.

Mitsuhide stopped at the sound of fabric ripping.

His little one gasped and reached down to feel the damage. Her eyes widened. “You . . . tore my panties.” Then she started to laugh.

He laughed too. Never in his life had he expected a woman so wonderful. A woman he would want badly enough to - literally - tear the clothes off her. This kind of passion he’d always believed was fake. Yet here he was. It was unthinkable. Incredible. “I love you,” Mitsuhide told her, smiling so widely that it hurt.

“I love you too.”

She gestured to the wardrobe. "I should probably, you know. Finish." It took only a moment for her to shimmy into her own clothes. Then they headed out into this strange world that was his home 500 years after death.

Next: Kitsune's Day Out

[jamespotterthefirst]

Heartbreak

Open Heart, Book 1, Chapter 10 (Part 2)

Retold through social media posts and messages

All posts here

Posted Saturday 

10:53 PM

23 minutes before 

______________________________

Received Saturday

10:56 PM

20 minutes before

______________________________ 

Posted Saturday

10:57 PM

19 minutes before

______________________________ 

Received Saturday

10:59 PM

17 minutes before

______________________________ 

Received Saturday

11:15 PM

1 minute before

______________________________ 

Received Saturday

11:18 PM

2 minutes after

from: Sienna Trinh

to: Lilac Allende

Transcript of voicemail:

Hey you! Sorry I called you late! I was baking my world famous German chocolate brownies and lost track of time. You know how I get. You weren't answering so I'm guessing you fell asleep. I'll talk to you later, okay? I can't wait to hear all about this trip! 

______________________________ 

Received Saturday

11:31 PM

15 minutes after

Hi Carrie, 

Are you ready to murder me yet? Given my lack of response in the last few days and the frequency of your emails, I would imagine you are. 

I'm alive. 

And in Miami, seeking inspiration in the turquoise sea and in the overpriced bottles of red wine this hotel insists on passing off as top shelf. Probably not something I should be admitting to my agent but here we are. 

The manuscript is going well. Actually, I should say the manuscript was going well… Until I decided to scrap it and steer it in a completely different direction. Before you stop reading here to pass out or call me twenty five times, please hear me out. 

Untitled_Mystery_Doc will still be a mystery at its core, except now the two leads will surrender to a forbidden romance. Detective Prescott must fall fiercely and hopelessly in love with Selene Obispo. It was something the writing was demanding of me all along, but I lacked the inspiration to bring their tension to fruition. That changed thanks to the Celestial's lavish oceanside balcony view. 

Earlier tonight, I was leaning over the railing of my balcony, glass of that aforementioned wine in my hand, watching the last remains of a reception of some sort in the distance. A delighted, lilting laugh from a nearby balcony broke my concentration. It was from a young woman who looked to be no older than you are. Even from a distance, I could tell she was a vivacious creature, radiating the type of effortless beauty that would have even the strongest of beings hanging by her every word. In an inky blue dress, she looked so captivating, it was no wonder the man at her side could hardly keep his eyes away from her. 

This man, Carrie. 

He was, without a doubt, the handsomest specimen I have ever seen. A true Romantic hero come to life from the pages of every classic novel in the catalog. Tall with piercing eyes and a jaw so sharp, it could slice through even the strongest of convictions. He possessed the type of good looks that were striking, like the powerful fissure of lighting. 

The pair seemed to alternate between conversation and companionable silence as they enjoyed a drink. Every so often, when he was certain she wasn't looking, he would glance at her almost desperately, as though rushing to take in as much of her before the precious seconds ran out. He was not aware that in those moments when he contemplated the vast ocean before them, she would do the same. 

After another lull in their conversation, the young woman looked at her phone, a pensive crease on her brow as she searched for something. Seconds later, the notes of a song began to drift from the speaker of her device. The man scoffed, inspiring more cheerful laughter from her. Despite his annoyed front, his expression softened as he watched her. 

More silence and then they started what sounded like a solemn conversation. As they spoke, he looked conflicted, his fingers gripping his glass as though reason and restrain were slowly ebbing away. 

Fragments of what they were saying reached me.

“…higher I aspire, the more I stand to lose.”

“I...certainly understand that.”

He stood then, with the conviction of someone seeking to run away from the ineluctable. 

When he stopped at the railing of their balcony, however, he turned to her, shoulders deflating as though realizing he didn't want to run anymore. Finding her there at his side was confirmation that she was an inevitability, a constant in his existence like his binary star. 

It was confirmation that she was done running too. 

He was saying something then, the words coming out in a desperate rush. She didn't seem to mind though, patiently listening and offering reassurance. 

“... Your risk paid off.”

Those words seemed to be the denouement of their time together because his gaze took her in with undeniable clarity. 

“It did...and I’m beginning to realize…” 

The way he looked at her then, with over-spilling yearning, would have inspired poets throughout the ages. Even if I had a hundred years to write, I could never capture the utterly lovelorn way in which he regarded her.  

“There are some things that are worth any risk.”

And then he kissed her. Their bodies gravitated closer to one another, reveling in the novelty of having her in his arms at long last. And even though this kiss erupted with the euphoric urgency of the first time, there was familiarity in the way he caressed her, in the way she stroked his jaw. As though they had spent long, agonizing moments before this memorizing one another. 

All of this was painted clearly before me in the seconds before I stepped away. 

I could not justify stealing any more of this moment from them. Particularly when the desperation in their movements acknowledged the race against the clock. They both knew that this stolen moment would eventually conclude. 

I am inspired, Carrie. 

Even from afar, I could tell these two yearned for each other. Their kiss was the inevitable culmination of forbidden longing, beautiful yet heartbreaking all at once. 

It's exactly what was missing from my manuscript. 

Let me know your thoughts. 

How's Gigi? Did you like the groomer I recommend? 

Sincerely, 

Andrea  

______________________________ 

Received Saturday

11:32 PM

16 minutes after

To Whom It May Concern;

My name is Lisa Burkett in room 4087. This evening, my husband and I witnessed a couple in a nearby room making out. They were extremely loud and explicit. The woman even climbed on top of the man at some point. 

This is appalling since we're here with our children. Luckily they didn't see this happening. 

Please put me in contact with a manager. This is unacceptable for a resort that advertises being family friendly. 

Attached you will a picture of the incident. That's how exposed and close to us they were. 

Sincerely,

Lisa Burkett

Attachment: 

______________________________ 

Received Saturday

11:39 PM

23 minutes after

______________________________ 

Sent Saturday

11:41 PM

25 minutes after

______________________________ 

Searched for on Saturday

Googled by Ethan Ramsey

11:56 PM

40 minutes after

______________________________ 

Searched for on Sunday

Googled by Lilac Allende

12:03 AM

47 minutes after

______________________________ 

Searched for on Sunday

Googled by Lilac Allende

12:06 AM

50 minutes after

______________________________ 

Listened to on Sunday

Audible library accessed by Ethan Ramsey

12:46 AM

______________________________ 

Searched on Sunday

Googled by Ethan Ramsey

1:03 AM

From “Student Doctor Network” accessed at 1:11 am

______________________________ 

Received on Sunday

Sibling group chat titled “Y’all look familiar”

Members: Laurel Allende, Lilac Allende, Jaime Allende

1:36 AM

______________________________ 

Received on Sunday

from: Naveen Banerji

to: Ethan Ramsey

1:59 AM

______________________________ 

Posted on Sunday

2:17 AM

______________________________ 

2:46 AM 

The Celestial Incident Report 

Camera footage transcript 

Hall 4000

Written by: Anthony Romero

Re: Guest Complaint 

Guest, Dr. Ethan Ramsey, exits his suite, careful to shut the door as noiselessly as possible. 

This man has seen better days. 

His hair is disheveled and stubble mars the jawline that wreaked havoc among The Celestial's guests and staff alike. The doctor looks downright exhausted, as though he hasn't slept a wink all night. Full disclosure, I'm a measly hotel employee, writing an incident report no one will ever read so I don't know how to put this delicately. But here goes nothing: the man looks as though his lack of sleep is not from the reckless fun Mrs. Burkett complained about but rather the lack of it. 

Dr. Ramsey hesitates mid-stride, looking at the door as though it poses a mystifying dilemma. Jaw working, he seems to decide something, jolting forward to take hold of the doorknob.

Reason seems to catch up to him because he exhales noticeably and releases the doorknob as though it scorched his skin. Looking angry but determined, he strides down the hall toward the elevator. 

______________________________ 

Posted on Sunday

3:18 AM

______________________________

Received on Sunday

3:54 AM

_____________________________

Accessed via Ethan Ramsey’s camera roll

4:13 AM

______________________________ 

Received on Sunday

7:20 AM

______________________________ 

Failed Login on Sunday

Nurses’ Station desktop | Third Floor 

7:53 AM

______________________________ 

Sent on Sunday

from: Bryce Lahela

to: Brittany Ryan

8:01 AM

______________________________ 

Searched on Sunday

Googled by Sienna Trinh

 8:01 AM

______________________________ 

Sent on Sunday

from: Sienna Trinh

to: Wayne Bradley Torning

8:19 AM

______________________________ 

Posted on Sunday

8:35 AM

______________________________ 

Received on Sunday

8:51 AM

______________________________ 

Posted on Sunday

9:02 AM

______________________________ 

Sent on Sunday

9:15 AM

______________________________ 

9:32 AM 

The Celestial Incident Report

Camera footage transcript

Hall 4000

Written by: Anthony Romero

Re: Guest Complaint

Guest, Dr. Ethan Ramsey, dressed in pool attire, grapples with the key card to his room, the technology somehow perplexing to a man who went to med school. The struggle is short lived because the door swings open from the inside, revealing the second guest on file, Dr. Lilac Allende. 

Again, no one reads these anyway so I can confidently say that if I wasn't a goddamn professional, I would've promptly slid into her DMs. She would've rejected me, of course, but you miss 100% of the shots you don't take, am I right? 

Dr. Ramsey freezes as his eyes land on her, the muscles of his back tensing. Dr. Allende instinctively does the same, eyes going wide, much like a defenseless bunny facing the snarling snout of a wolf. They stay motionless in stunned silence for so long, I had to check the footage to make sure it hadn't frozen. 

After what seems like an eternity, Dr. Ramsey clears his throat and averts his eyes, as though interested in the carpet's God awful pattern. This reaction is definitely the wrong one because Dr. Allende pulls herself to her full height, eyes alight with fire. 

Goddamn. My bunny analogy was way off because this girl looks anything but defenseless when she is this pissed. 

“I came back to change,” he explains, probably feeling her glare burning into his face. 

“We need ice,” she says at the same time, lifting the empty ice bucket she holds.

They definitely don't need any. The ice in her voice and demeanor is enough to stock the poolside bar during spring break. 

Dr. Ramsey looks at her then and when their eyes meet, an unspoken conversation passes between them. Slowly, her resolute anger begins to melt. Unmistakable hurt flits through her features and this time, she's the one to look away. 

What the hell happened with these two? 

Before Dr. Ramsey says anything, she moves around him and strides down the hall with unstoppable determination. He moves to follow her, but with considerable effort he forces himself to stop, watching her disappear instead. 

______________________________ 

Sent on Sunday

10:22 AM

______________________________ 

Posted on Sunday

10:51 AM

______________________________ 

Received on Sunday

10:59 AM

______________________________ 

Received on Sunday

11:36 AM

______________________________ 

Sent on Sunday

11:41 AM

______________________________ 

Received on Sunday

11:58 AM

______________________________ 

Sent on Sunday

12:04 PM

______________________________ 

Edenbrook Hospital on Yelp

______________________________ 

Posted on Sunday

1:23 PM

Full transcript of review:

This review is regarding the "care" I received from one Dr. Lilac Allende. Is it normal to almost die at the hands of your doctor? I didn't think so either. Yet here we are. I went in because I had a horrible chest pain that got worse with each day. They assigned Dr. Allende, an intern, to me which was already kind of subpar but it's reduced cost medical care right? I should have trusted my gut because she diagnosed pneumonia and prescribed macrolide antibiotics azithromycin…. which I am allergic to!!! Don't they have charts for this reason? 

Or maybe she can't read English given the language barrier. Do they need to start printing patient charts in whatever foreign language she speaks to avoid death? 

I don't need to give you the gory details of what happened next, right ? 

Anaphylactic Shock. Code blue. Defibrillator. I found out I wasn't the first patient this happened to under her care. There was an almost identical incident on her first day. When I tried to complain to management, they brushed it aside. Word around the hospital is that her boss favorites her. Figures. 

______________________________

Received on Sunday

1:49 PM

______________________________ 

Sent on Sunday

1:56 PM

______________________________ 

Posted on Sunday

1:57 PM

______________________________ 

Posted on Sunday

1:58 PM

______________________________ 

Drafted on Sunday

status: NOT SENT

1:59 PM

______________________________ 

Posted on Sunday

3:23 PM

______________________________ 

Posted on Sunday

4:03 PM

______________________________ 

Sent on Sunday

4:13 PM

______________________________ 

Sent on Sunday

5:26 PM

from Sienna Trinh

to Wayne Bradley Torning

______________________________ 

Sent on Sunday

5:41 PM

from: Sienna Trinh

to: Danny Cardinal 

______________________________ 

Posted on Sunday

6:32 PM

______________________________ 

Posted on Sunday

6:36 PM

______________________________ 

Posted on Sunday

6:45 PM

______________________________

Sent on Sunday

6:52 PM

______________________________ 

Received on Sunday

7:10 PM

______________________________ 

7:26 PM

The Celestial Incident Report 

Camera footage transcript 

Hall 4000

Written by: Anthony Romero

Re: Guest Complaint 

Guest, Dr. Ethan Ramsey looks like a tortured man as he paces in front of their door. He runs restless hands through his hair, completely unaware of the effect this has on the majority of the staff reviewing this footage. He pauses in front of the door, pinching the bridge of his nose and raising his gaze upward, as though sending a silent prayer to anyone listening. 

Jesus, Buddha, Beyoncé—whoever is up there, help this poor man out. 

The door opens, causing him to flinch slightly. In the threshold stands Dr. Allende, wearing one of the hotel's fluffy, white robes. Though she is fully covered, save for her legs, Dr. Ramsey still blushes, as though aware of what lies beneath the fabric. 

Dr. Allende, meanwhile, crosses her arms, leaning against the doorway as she studies him. This time, when their eyes scan one another, it's not with the frustration or resentment from the morning. 

“Come inside.”

Her voice is quiet. 

Dr. Ramsey's jaw clenches. 

“Lilac—” 

“We can't.” Acceptance ripples through her voice. “I know.”

Dr. Ramsey looks at her with an acute mixture of misery and longing. 

“We can't ignore each other forever though.”

“I know. That's not what I want either.”

She nods once in response. 

More silence.

“You're not angry anymore?” 

The question is unexpected because her gaze snaps up to his. 

“I wasn't angry at you, Ethan,” she says after a pensive pause. “I was angry at myself for refusing to let go of what happened. I just want to put it behind me without a backward glance, like you did.”

Those last three words get a reaction out of him. His jaw clenches and strains with effort, his shoulders looking equally as tense. He looks away from her, perhaps afraid that if he continues to look into her beautiful, earnest face, he will contradict her. 

The way he had been pacing in front of her door only minutes prior, the way he looked at her this morning, the way his hand gripped the door knob the night before—all of it suggested her assessment as wrong. He was just as trapped in the previous night as she was. 

“Lilac, I'm sorry about last night.”

She looks stunned for a brief second. When she recovers, she shakes her head in a tiny movement.

 “I'm not.”

He takes in a long breath, allowing hope to filter through his expression. 

“Now, come on. We have an early flight and my boss is making me go into work right after we land.”

“Sounds like an asshole.”

“The worst,” she agrees with a hum. 

His quiet chuckle and the way he shakes his head is the last thing the camera captures before he follows her inside. 

______________________________ 

Posted on Sunday

8:34 PM

______________________________ 

Sent on Sunday

10:01 PM

______________________________ 

Posted on Monday

3:56 AM

_____________________

Posted on Monday

4:23 AM

_____________________

Posted on Monday

8:03 AM

______________________________ 

Received on Monday

8:16 AM

______________________________ 

Posted on Monday

9:11 AM

______________________________ 

Posted on Monday

9:56 AM

______________________________ 

Received on Monday

9:57 AM

______________________________ 

Received on Monday

10:03 AM

______________________________ 

Status change on Monday

10:21 AM

______________________________ 

Received on Monday

11:33 AM

______________________________ 

Sent on Monday

11:50 AM

______________________________ 

Sent on Monday

12:33 PM

______________________________ 

Sent on Monday

12:40 PM

______________________________ 

Sent on Monday

12:49 PM

_____________________________

A/N: I really hope you liked this because I poured my whole heart and two brain cells into it! Did you find my little Easter egg?

A few things:

I was going to include the song playing on MC’s phone in the balcony but decided that everyone has a different one. And I love that. Mine is Nirvana by Sam Smith. What’s yours?

That Yelp ordeal happened in real life at my old job. It was the shadiest shit I have ever seen. Even the meanest bitch at work was so shocked that someone would be this much of a snake. Someone printed the “review” about a coworker and posted it everywhere for everyone to see like Regina George. It was awful.

 People also wrote computer passwords everywhere and just left them lying around. These computers had highly confidential info but people didn’t give a single fuck.

 I picture Ethan picking up the Hamilton book because MC is obsessed with the musical. Plus, he’s a history nerd. But listening to it reminds him of her when he’s trying his damndest to forget about her. LOL good luck bro 

I really debated having MC text him a risky picture after the kiss. But then I figured a) this is self-indulgent and b) once he kissed her, all reason and all restraints went out the window.

 Thank you to everyone for being so patient while waiting for this! Thank you to @aestheticartsx for finding some of these amazing pics. She is the best! 

 I love you all.

-Bree 

________________________

tags: @openheart12 , @takeharryandgo , @trappedinfanfiction, @aestheticartsx, @aworldoffandoms, @paulfwesley, @myusualnerdyself,  @rookie-ramsey, @ohchoices, @colossalpainintheass, @enmchoices, @i-bloody-love-drake-walker, @choicesfanaf, @openheartthot, @octobereighth​, @nazarihoe, @utterlyinevitable, @kites-in-our-skies, @maurine07​, @schnitzelbutterfingers​, @doilooklikeiknow​, @snesdudes​, @kingliam2019​, @perriewinklenerdie​, @cinnamonspongecake​, @choicesstan1​, @queencarb​, @ethxnrxmsey​, @missmiimiie​, @jens-diamondchoices​, @adamsdumortain​, @apphia12​, @kalogh​, @lucy-268​, @binny1985​, @queenbirbs​, @honeyandsunfl0wers​, @newcolonies​, @lilyvalentine​, @rigatonireid​, @interobanginyourmom​, @parkerattano​, @custaroonie​, @nikki-2406​, @lilypills​, @chasingrobbie​, @nooruleman​,  @lonely-mxxnlight​, @ruinedbypixels​, @shadynaturehilariouscookie​, @tsrookie​, @mvalentine​, @professorkingslay​, @drakewalkerfantasy​, @casey-v​, @helloblueeyedcat​, @mysticaurathings​, @blossomanarchy​, @thegreentwin​, @togetherwearerapture​, @rookieoh​, @ramseysno1rookie, @rookiemarsswiftie​, @natashajaniphilchoices​, @mysticalgalaxysstuff​, @hatescapsicum​, @choices-lurker​, @kiara-36​, @junehiratas​, @danijimenezv​, @macy-ray85​, @adrex04​, @canigetanawwjunk​, @sanchita012​, @overwhelminglyaquarius​ , @scorpiochick8​, @skylarklyon​, @starrystarrytrouble​, @mercury84choices​, @drariellevalentine​, @ethanrcmsey​, @lion-ess24, @aarisa-frost​, @kaavyaethanramsey​ , @udishaman​, @a-crepusculo​, @quacksonlover​,

@varikasnuori​, @dimitriwife​, @genevievemd​, @shanzay44​, @fabi-en-ciel​, @trebondialanna​, @emotionalswift2, @lady-calypso​, 

(If I forgot anyone, please DM me!)

[killyourpoet]

What to expect on 12th September? (NEET 2021)

Hey everybody, if you're appearing for the NEET 2021 exam this Sunday (12th September 2021), I've compiled a list of some important things you might want to keep in mind.

The National Entrance-cum-Eligibility Test (NEET) is the national medical entrance exam in India. It is the only gateway into all medical schools in the country. It is conducted annually around May, but due to the COVID-19 pandemic, it has been postponed to September in 2020 and 2021. This year, 1.6 million students will be appearing for the exam.

[This list is by no means exhaustive, I only speak from my experience and the advice of friends and teachers. Feel free to add anything I might have missed out!]

How to make the most of this last week before the exam?

Do not experiment with anything new. Doing so might disturb the delicate subconscious programming that your brain has undergone through all these months of studying and practicing. By experimentation, I mean anything other than the routine that you've built while solving question papers. If you're used to starting with Biology, then moving on to Chemistry and ending with Physics, do not attempt to spice up your 3 hours by indulging in adventure sports like staring with Physics first. This will end in disaster.

Look through all the important things at least once. I know, I know. That's 10 fat books in one week. But remember that this is not the first time you're reading it. Skim. When you catch on something you're not too familiar with, only then should you actually read.

NCERT = holy book. Idk if you've heard but actually reading the books prescribed by the examining body will most definitely give you an edge over someone who hasn't. I cannot stress this enough. They will LITERALLY take out things from the NCERT and slap that onto the paper and call it a day. Remember that the examiners have to cater to those who do not have access to / cannot afford any sort of study material other than the NCERT. While study guides can help you interpret the NCERT, they cannot substitute it.

Have a plan. It doesn't have to be grand or very detailed. Just clearly defining what you intend to do with your time will suffice.

Set your internal clock. Practice at least one exam a day from 2:00 pm to 5:00 pm IST because that's when the actual exam is held. You want to maximize concentration and attention at that time of the day.

Practice answering on OMR sheets. This year, because of COVID, all your mock tests were probably online. In that case, take a few hours to practice exams on the OMR. The time management on that is very different from online exams.

Eat well. Remember to drink plenty of water. Try to eat things that have come directly from the earth and onto your plate. I know it's hard and the anxiety is enough to make you under eat / overeat but messing up because of something as trivial as meal choices would kinda suck tbh. Please do not eat an entire large pizza all by yourself the day before the exam. Stay the hell away from carbonated drinks for at least this one week. I am begging you. You might not notice but they seriously mess with your head. Whole foods are the way 2 go babes

What to expect on the day of the examination?

The NTA will be releasing the admit cards 3 days before the exam. Your exam centre and time slot to show up will be mentioned on it. This is most probably done to (a) prevent unfair practices and (b) give students enough time to visit the centre.

Know your exam centre beforehand. If you're living with your parents who will be driving you to the centre, you could even ask them to visit the centre the day before just so you don't waste time searching for the centre on the day of the exam. Believe me, a lot of people have lost an entire year because of this.

The peeing. Listen. They'll allow you to go to the washroom in the middle of the exam, of course. But if you ask me, try to avoid getting up to pee. Try to time your water such that you wouldn't have to pee during the exam. Please make sure you pee right before the exam. Idk about you but the exam pee has always been a real problem for me and together with my anxiety, it has ruined a lot of exams. It also breaks your momentum and you'll have to re-orient yourself when you get back. NEET isn't like JEE - it's not about how smart you are, it's about how efficient and accurate you are, because that's what a doctor needs to be.

Eat a light, nutritious meal. Something that'll give you energy but isn't too hard to digest. You don't want to nod off during the exam. That would be highly inconvenient.

Be on time. If you don't turn up on time, no matter what, you will not be allowed inside. Again, a lot of people I know have messed up here.

Security check. You will be checked before entering the centre. Do not wear anything dark (black, dark blue, dark brown etc). Do not wear jeans or any tight clothes. All your clothes must fit loosely and they must be light. This is done to prevent people from sneaking in transmission devices. If you wear long sleeves, you will be asked to cut them then and there. Do not wear heavily embroidered clothes. Do not have any metal on you. Take off all jewelry at home. If you wear a bra, remember to wear a sports bra or one that doesn't have any metal hooks. You can't wear shoes - your feet must be visible. Wear flip-flops or thin sandals. People have been made to take off their shoes before and write the exam barefoot. They will provide a fresh mask at the centre and gloves. This time, due to COVID-19 restrictions, they will not be doing body pat frisking, they will not be checking your ears and mouth. There will be bluetooth jammers in the exam hall to prevent any transmissions and the entire exam will be videographed.

Stay calm. I know it looks like a high security airport check and you'll probably be scanned several times and subjected to several layers of screening but remember - this is done so that nobody has an unfair advantage over you. India has incredibly clever people, but sometimes for the wrong reasons.

While writing the exam:

Don't panic. If you see a question that looks hard do! not! panic! because we always know more than we think we do!! Wait a second, linger for a moment and the answer should come to you.

Know what to leave. If you aren't aiming to get a perfect 720/720 then you should leave time consuming questions and try to do as many questions you know as possible. If you are aiming for a perfect score, do the same but remember that you need to leave sufficient time at the end to come back to them.

Repeat. Remember - this is just another one of the hundreds of exams you've done. Follow the same strategy you're used to. Most definitely DO NOT experiment in the final exam.

Lastly, always remember that ur super cool and smart and amazing and one mistake won't define you. Your worth is inherent and not determined by an exam. Your timeline is very different from someone else's. This is not a race, it's about doing things right. Your physical and mental health are more important than anything else in life. Do your best today and try again tomorrow. And then the day after that.

If you have any questions, feel free to message me :))

Best of luck!!

— Svante

[modern-inheritance]

I don’t really know where I’m going with this but do you have any Oromis/Morzan headcanons? Before or during the fall, or Oromis’ feelings towards Morzan afterwards?

I have a few! More than a few apparently, I'm just finishing this up and uh...yeah that got longer than I thought!

I’m going to do my best to leave Glaedr and Morzan’s dragon out of these because while they’re large parts of each other's lives and even maybe personalities considering how deeply bonded Riders and their dragons can be, I want to be sure I’m keeping the characters separate. Kinda like how you shouldn’t constantly group identical twins together as a single entity, ya know?

Alright let's start off with Morzan. Time for some backstory!

Modern Inheritance!Morzan

Morzan was born into a family of low level nobles. By the time Morzan was about six or seven though, the family had fallen out of favor and was struggling to keep up appearances, spending money they didn’t necessarily have on lavish items and acting increasingly narcissistic in a desperate attempt to hold onto the standing and power they once had.

Morzan probably started showing antisocial behavior around this time, mainly impulsive petty theft, inserting himself in dangerous situations, and manipulation through charm with adults and intimidation and violence with other children. Due to his family’s last shreds of political strength and their long time in the area, most of these incidents were swept under the rug or outright ignored by his family. This generally left a very angry, disgusted-with-others, burgeoning narcissistic young Morzan to his own devices.

When Morzan was chosen by his dragon, his parents were quietly glad that he wouldn’t be their responsibility anymore. They didn’t disclose any of his troubling behaviors and Morzan was quick to understand that he would need to tamp the more obvious ones down and manipulate others into hiding his transgressions.

Despite all this, Morzan and his dragon do deeply care for each other. Due to Morzan’s mind linking with the hatchling, there was a sort of evening out of his behaviors as some were ‘shared’ do the hatchling and some of the hatchling’s personality was ‘shared’ with Morzan. This is what helped Morzan fly under the radar for so much longer until his eventual betrayal.

On a lighter note, Morzan shot up like a weed when he hit puberty, once growing nearly five inches (~12.7 cm) over the span of a year. It took a year or so for his muscles to visibly bulk up, so he was this tall gangly teenager for a while. His clothes constantly needed altering.

Initially Morzan doesn’t really know what to think of Oromis and Glaedr. His family was always distracted from giving him the attention and nurturing he needed, and suddenly he has not only this baby dragon who he can share his frustrations and emotions with but also parental figures.

Eventually he warmed up to them, but more in the sense that he became attached to their attention and the praise he got when he did well in magic and other lessons. He didn’t showboat as much, but would push himself to get more compliments, praise and attention from Oromis. Oromis saw this more as Morzan taking his training seriously. There were a few instances of Morzan and his dragon being pointed out as instigators of some scuffles or small acts of possible, unproven acts of sabotage harming or tripping up other Riders-in-training, but these were generally believed to be accidents or bad luck.

Morzan’s bullying and belittling of Brom was the result of Morzan feeling like his unfettered access to Oromis and Glaedr’s attention was being threatened. He knew he couldn’t get away with physically injuring Brom and Saphira I, so his physical actions never really went past ‘accidental’ full force hits in sparring and roughhousing. If Brom got praise or compliments from Oromis, Morzan would seethe quietly, eventually exploding in rage at some later point after it built up. Again, Oromis merely thought this was just adolescent growing pains.

Wooo! That is getting LONG, eh? I’ve got more, but for now I’m going to move on to Oromis and his feelings around Morzan’s betrayal and link you to whatever extra stuff I add later. I’m really unsure about the timeline of when Morzan betrayed the Riders and when it was known that he had, so I’m mostly going to skip that chunk. Let's go!

Modern Inheritance!Oromis

Even without 100% knowing/being sure of Morzan’s betrayal, I think there was a whirlwind of confusion and general chaos when Galbatorix murdered Shurikan’s original Rider. Who was a child. A Rider had murdered a child Rider and while everyone knew Galbatorix was unstable I don’t think anyone would have expected that. Oromis was swept up in all this and didn’t have time to really ask where Morzan was. I mean, Morzan was a grown man at that point and well beyond Oromis’s control.

Morzan’s involvement was probably confirmed without a doubt at the initial attack on Ilirea, and Oromis and Glaedr didn’t have time to process this until after their brief capture.

Oromis felt some really strong guilt. That’s putting it bluntly.  Let’s expand it, shall we?

First off, I think Oromis felt some guilt over not being able to help in the sort of final big battle at Ilirea. He was previously quite powerful since he was on the council that refused Galbatorix a new dragon (that’s a whole other topic to look at later on btw), and despite his age and wisdom I think it’s safe to assume that any sudden event causing massive life changes can be pretty shocking. Oromis felt powerless and after the deaths that occured in Galbatorix’s initial attack with the Forsworn on the Riders, I think he knew that there would be more. And all he and Glaedr could do was hide in Ellesméra and tend to their wounds and new maladies.

As they healed I’m pretty sure Oromis spent a lot of time thinking ‘how could I have stopped this?’ Hindsight is...well, whatever-elves-have/20, and Oromis would have put all the signs together that were telling him that there was something off about Morzan from the start. He probably thought subconsciously that he was fixing Morzan and didn’t want to acknowledge just how dangerous that little 10 year old boy and scrawny hatchling he had met all those years ago had become as he grew. There was also a lot of guilt post-Ilirea’s final fall around not protecting Brom from Morzan enough, and feeling like a lot of Brom’s pain was Oromis’s own fault because of this.

Oh man, Oromis also has heaps of survivors guilt about the Riders that, while he does work through it and focuses on extending his life to train the next Rider, never really fades completely. He understands that he could not fight in his condition, but there’s always the nagging ‘what if’ questions that can rear up unexpectedly.

Once he learns of Murtagh and Thorn and their forced fealty to Galbatorix, I think Oromis’s guilt probably pushed him over to definitely join the fight at Gil’ead. It’s likely that he feels that if he had separated Brom and Morzan, had taken the signs of Morzan’s growing antisocial disorder seriously and gotten him proper help, and hadn’t been so blind during the Golden Age, then in some strange way he may have prevented everything from happening. Morzan wouldn’t have let Galbatorix into Ilirea, Shruikan wouldn’t have been stolen, the Forsworn wouldn’t have been influenced by Galbatorix and Morzan (who used his manipulative charm to sway some), and it all comes to, in the end, Murtagh and Thorn, both relatively innocent in this and dragged in only due to parentage and some situations which they have no control over, would have never been forced through torture and cruelty to join Galbatorix and fight people they once saw as friends and family.

Overall I think Oromis, while having processed/processing and come to terms with the Riders Fall and the hand he inadvertently had in it due to his connection to and, in some ways, his failures surrounding Morzan, he still carries this deep feeling of guilt. He doesn’t let it simply sit there though, as he pushes himself to be able to train the next generation, but it’s always there.

AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH okay that’s what I’ve got for now. Holy shit that’s a lot of bulletpoints, huh? 

I spent some time researching antisocial behavior and Antisocial Personality Disorder, but per usual I want to state that I am by no means an expert, and the behaviors and traits portrayed here are not the only results, symptoms, or scenarios that can occur when someone has antisocial behavior or ASPD. Mental health is a difficult subject to write about, especially when I have no personal or second hand experience with the specifics, and I’m always open to educating myself on these topics. I am doing my best to learn so that I don’t stereotype or offend. If there are comments/concerns/critique please please don’t ever feel bad about messaging me privately, via the comments, via reblog, or through the ask box point out what I got wrong or if you simply want to share your experiences or concerns. 

I’ll probably have more Morzan specific backstory and ideas later on, but for now I need to make some dinner and get to work on the other ask. Cheers!

Thank you again to @siriusly-misunderstood-creatures​ for the ask! I always appreciate asks and comments, they make my brain work!!

[stab-the-son-of-a]

Whumpers Only

I wish I could explain how this got away from me but I have no words. Not quite a caretaker, so, sorry anon, but here you go.

CW: Brief drug and alcohol mention

The itemized call history that crossed Detective Vance’s desk is deceptively extensive and several pages thick, despite being only for a few months’ span of time. Forensics still have their hands all over the cell phone itself, and the detective has a few choice words they could say about the forensic team’s work ethic, but they’re not in the practice of layering their insults in honey. Their bread and butter is to to dig and root around for information, like some sort of truffle pig, and their tongue is regularly knotted. The detective finds themself quite defective when it comes to spinning the same pleasant, nuanced banter, certainly not enough to keep up with the man down in forensics with the sugar sweet smile.

So, itemized call list it is. It took the detective an obscene amount of time to cross reference the numbers against every possible database and to confirm the pattern to the suspect's behaviors and narrow down which numbers are legitimate. Most of all, which of these numbers matches the spurious rumor of a hotline.

A ‘whump’ hotline. There are many, many similar mentions in certain circles and apparently coded messages sent through various forms of advertising, and yet, this is the closest Jesse has come to interacting with that sphere. They’re not sure, but they think that might be why they still can’t bring themself to finish dialing.

The information has always been there, readily accessed in the same sort of way drugs and alcohol are accessible - a thinly veiled barrier, a little social based pressure to avoid or partake depending on the circles. For years, Jesse has been a teetotaler and avoided whump content in any respect, and kept that influence from their life.

It’s odd to abandon that part of their life, that internal badge of never having indulged.

It’s for a case, however, so they finally stop their waffling and dial.

Not long after, on the second ring, someone picks up. “Hello and thank you for calling 1-877-WHMP-NOW, the whump specialist hotline.” The person on the other end, an operator of some sort, offers a friendly greeting.

Off balanced by just how cordial the other person sounds, Jesse hesitates a moment to collect themself. They just have to pretend to want to be a whumper. That couldn't be too hard. “Um…” they mumble, then clear their throat. “Um, hi, I... want to learn to whump. My name is-”

“Oh. Excuse me, I’ll have to place you on hold while a representative finishes with another client.”

The cheery hold music is far more underwhelming than anything else and Jesse frowns at the phone, as if it’s the device’s fault, before sighing and settling on their couch, one leg tossed over the arm while they wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Eventually they start mirroring the words of the automated voice recording, interjecting with their own commentary in the brief pauses between statements.

“All our lines are busy at the moment.”

“And here at Whump Corp or whatever these moments last a lifetime,” Jesse snorts as they try yet again to find another position on the couch. Their curly hair serves little by way of cushioning from the carpet as they sit upside down. The phone sits a few inches away from their head, speakerphone enabled, and Jesse crosses their hands over their stomach and their ankles behind the back of the couch.

Undeterred, because of course, the message continues, “Please remain patient. Your time is very important to us. We will be with you momentarily.”

“Momentarily means for a short period,” Jesse corrects under their breath. It’s a small pet peeve, something that normally wouldn’t have drawn their attention either, but as they hear the same spiel for the dozenth time, it’s like getting the last final small pebble thrown in their face- just enough to burst the dam. "Not in a short period of time."

“We are currently experiencing greater than usual call volume. Continue to hold the line, and you will be connected as soon as possible.”

“How many people can there even be calling at 11am on a Tuesday?” Gravity draws Jesse’s blood into their head until the pressure and dizziness build uncomfortably. They roll off the couch and root around in their mini fridge for a drink. At this volume, they can hear the same three bar hold music repeat yet again, despite the distance. Cracking the seal on their iced tea, Jesse settles cross legged beside the cellphone. “Don’t whump on company time, guys, jeez.”

“Just a moment please, the next available team member will be there for you shortly.”

Letting out a drawn out groan, Jesse lies back and stares up at the ceiling. It’s been hours. “Starting to think I’m waiting for the next available team member to be born.”

Click. Jesse bolts upright, fumbling with the phone and nearly yeeting it across the room in their haste.

“All of our employees are currently busy assisting other clients,” the new voice announces. The faint static and electric tone warns Jesse that they’ve simply stumbled into another robot. “Your call and phone number has just been noted and a representative will call you back as soon as possible. We thank you for your understanding.”

“What?” That doesn’t make any sense. Jesse runs a hand through their curls, only to freeze as the line goes dead. “What?! No! I did not just sit through hours of happy fun time hold music just to get hung up on by a robot!”

Except that’s exactly what just happened.

They stare down at their screen in acute betrayal. What now? Try again? Their number is now in a whump call center database of some sort.

-

Half an hour after the call disconnected, Jesse still hasn’t moved from their position. Their mind is a blur as they try to figure out what it is they really ended up doing- if they would have to explain themself and the call to anyone- their family, friends, service provider, work. They don’t even know if anyone will know, let alone if they will care.

The house is absolutely silent, the muted television still playing in the background as they’d forgotten to turn it off or to return the volume.

Silent until the phone rings. Shock and no small amount of recklessness has Jesse answering the unknown number.

“Hello, and thank you for holding!” It’s the operator from before- Jesse recognizes the faint impediment or accent that sharpens the glottal sound of their h’s.

“I wouldn’t call that holding,” Jesse grumbles.

Either not hearing them, or not addressing their commentary, the operator continues, “At this time, I'd like to let you know that this call may be recorded for quality assurance and training purposes. Please answer the following survey questions.”

“I’ve been on hold for hours and you want me to perform a survey? About what? I haven’t even gotten helped!”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, friend. Were you highly satisfied with your service experience?”

Bewildered, Jesse cries, “No!”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Did you receive the result you needed from your service interaction?”

“What interaction?!” Are they in the Twilight Zone? Are they still speaking English? Did they have a stroke and now they’re mumbling incoherently? What sort of madness was this, an elaborate prank?

“Thank you for your response. Did you receive friendly service?”

“I didn’t get any service! Rude would have been preferable!”

“Your feedback has been noted.”

Jesse groans again and scrubs their face.

“Was our service timely and convenient?”

“Not on your life!”

“Thank you for your responses. Now, would you recommend our service to others?”

They can feel their head pulsing and pounding, a twitch behind their temple and their eyebrow jumping, but as soon as they hang up, their blood pressure begins to lower with a rush of relief.

Their iced tea now room temperature and bitter, Jesse takes a few more sips and leans against the couch, resting their neck against the cushion. “What a disaster,” they sigh.

After a few seconds of blissful silence, their phone goes off again. Swiping the decline button with a vicious smirk, they return to enjoying what more of their day they can.

Said enjoyment ends with another call, and another.

“Fine! Hello?”

“I’m sorry, it seems we were disconnected. Please finish providing your feedback so we can improve our services.”

“My feedback is that this was an exercise is madness! You kept me on hold for over two hours, but you’ve repeatedly called me for a stupid survey when before you couldn’t give me the time of day!”

“I’ve very sorry you were not satisfied with the level of response and attentiveness. You are welcome to try calling again tomorrow-”

“Absolutely no-”

“As I was saying, Mx. Vance, you may call the hotline again tomorrow during regular business hours. Thank you for completing the survey and for calling 1-877-WHMP-NOW. Have a whumpderful day!”

“A pun?” Jesse tosses their phone to the couch and storms off to the bathroom to wash the rage and boiling heat from their face. “All that for a stupid pun?!”

-

Over at the call center, Gladys and Fran sit huddled around the phone, Gladys actually sitting on the desk and perched precariously on the edge. The speaker button still flashes from the abrupt disconnection.

“Did you hear them?” Gladys roars with laughter, holding her aching ribs. It took everything in her willpower and then some to keep quiet, both while listening to the detective while they were on hold, but especially while Fran spoke with them. Now free, she lets loose, uncaring of who else hears her. “Oh God, oh man, I’m gonna bust a rib. Babe, you’re the best.”

“I’m actually proud of that pun. Like, really proud.” Fran takes out their pen and quickly scribbles that one down.

“Uhhh, Fran, I’m pretty sure Craig in finance already-”

They raise up one finger imperiously and continue to write. “Let me have my moment, Glady-girl. Just this once.”

Smiling, she rolls her eyes and slides off the desk. “Since you gave me the best lunch break surprise ever, want to head down to the cafe?”

Fran takes a final quick look at their work space, how messy and disorganized it is now that it’s no longer Gladys’s chair, considers the amount of time left in their shift and how long this high of a well played prank might last, and wheels back from their desk. “Lead the way!”

“Oh, no, you’re my hero,” she insists, dramatically bowing to allow them to go ahead of her. The angle is perfect for a quick peck on the cheek before they make their way down the corridors.

[starkeristheendgame]

If you are okay with it, I was wondering if you could do a body switch soulmate au. When you first make eye contact with your soulmate you switch bodies. You stay in each other's bodies for 24 hours. I feel like this could cause some shenanigans on both sides. Tony hasn't had to be taught anything in awhile and Peter doesn't know how to run a company.

I was a little apprehensive about this idea at first but honestly? I adore it. I am afraid, however, I took this away from the ‘humor’ pathway and plopped it straight down into ‘light angst’. Please accept my apologies for that - And I’d be happy to write something more lighthearted if this doesn’t hit the spot. Keeping your own emotions and mindset out of what you write is hard sometimes. 

Slight AU in that they meet differently to CW. 

TW: Light angst | Slight hurt 

He was going to lose his fucking mind. He could feel each one of his IQ points disintegrating as he stared at the board (an actual digital board, what fucking year were they in? 2015?) and tapped his pen restlessly on the desk. He hadn’t been to school since he was eighteen. The last time he’d been in a classroom was January, giving a motivational speech to Princeton graduates. 

He felt too small and too stifled and if this woman pronounced Epinephrine wrong one more time, he was going to launch his desk at her and snap that stupid board in half. 

Because he could do that, now. Displays of sheer power. Because Peter Parker had been bitten by a genetically modified spider and Tony was currently occupying Peter’s body. 

Soulmates were so, so overrated. 

“Hey, wonder kid. Tap that pen one more time” the girl to his left whispered, and Tony shot her a cool side-eye. MJ quirked a brow at him, equally unimpressed, and nodded to the board. Tony scowled but knew the effect was ruined by the soft, pretty baby-face he currently wore. Curse Peter and his lopsided brows and his huge eyes. Curse soulmates for existing. 

MJ was thus far the only one who’d noticed The Switch. It was only sheer coincidence that Peter and Tony both had brown eyes of a similar enough shade that the telling switch of eye colour between soulmates hadn’t given them away. MJ, however, was astoundingly attuned into her best friend, and it had only taken three minutes in her presence for her scowl at him and ask who the fuck was wearing her friend’s meatsuit. Tony had to begrudgingly admit that he could see why her and Peter were good friends. She’d looked unimpressed at his claim until he’d pulled out his (Peter’s) phone to show the frantic texts from that morning, and then she’d huffed, rolled her eyes, and dragged him to first period. 

He thought lunch would be a reprieve when it came, but instead he found himself staring with growing dismay at a tray of food that he’d refuse even if he was a prisoner, blanching in disgust when a sloppy excuse for a mac’n’cheese was dumped into one of the slots. “I’m going to die” he complained, ushered along by an unsympathetic MJ. “This is cruel. This is inhumane. Dogs don’t even get fed this”. 

“Yeah, well. You’re a billionaire, so. Put up or shut up. I have no sympathy for capitalist elitists”. And, wow, rude. But understandable. He sank down onto one of the bench seats and tried to stop his stomach from rolling at the way the meal wobbled when it was set down. He’d been poking at it for several moments, largely ignored by MJ, when a shadow fell over his table. He looked up and stared with disinterest at the sneering figure above him, before he sighed. 

“Which one are you, then? Neb? Flake?” 

“Flash” the form above him frowned, and Tony waved a dismissive hand. 

“Yeah, whatever. Class killed off half my IQ points and I’m not wasting the rest on you. Off you pop”. He turned back to his pitiful excuse of a meal, prodding the macaroni distrustfully with his fork. The boy besides him gaped, flustered, before turning on his heel and stomping off. When Tony glanced up, the girl was looking appraisingly over her book at him. 

“Maybe you should leave your balls behind. Peter could do with them” she noted, before dropping her gaze again. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“How much money does he actually have?” 

“Sir’s total net worth including assets, liabilities and investments are currently estimated at just short of a trillion, Mr. Parker. In terms of ‘real time currently’ Sir has £515,268,385,012 as of the current hour”. 

Peter was gonna pass out. He was wearing the body of a man with five-hundred billion in the bank. He’d known Tony Stark was rich, obscenely and un-necessarily so, but that was a whole other level. Vaguely unsteady, he sank down on the plush couch, feeling a little green. It had already been a few hours since waking, but he had yet to get used to the fact that he was, for all intents and purposes, Tony Stark. 

“Does that bother you?” The artificial voice asked after a moment, sounding impossibly curious. Peter hadn’t thought AI of this level possible, but here he was, talking to a voice that was more realistic than some of the living people he knew. 

“Its...A shock, I guess. I mean, it does bother me, I suppose. Nobody needs that much money. That much cold cash alone could eradicate homelessness in America. But...I don’t know. Its his money, he earns it. He saves the world and stuff. I don’t know how you could put a value on some of the things he’s done”. 

The AI was quiet for a moment, pensive. “Sir’s ‘profession’ is high cost also, Mr. Parker. The worth of the Mark IVII alone is £6,000,500,000”. Peter thought about it for a moment, then gave in, humming softly. He supposed in that sense, having that much money kind of didn’t matter, then, when a huge chunk of it was consumed by saving the world. He’d seen how often that suit got dinged up, and had no doubt repairs and replacing parts was costly. 

“Am I allowed to get something to eat?” He asked after a moment, stomach rumbling a little. He’d spent so much time this morning freaking out and being consoled by JARVIS that he’d missed breakfast and lunch had slipped him by. 

“Of course, Mr. Parker. Several components of the kitchen are automated, but I am capable of guiding through any recipes or devices you are unfamiliar with”. 

JARVIS had apparently activated something called ‘Romeo and Juliet Protocol’ when it had been revealed that Tony had been Switched, and a large majority of the Tower was closed off and protected. Peter couldn’t leave the penthouse and JARVIS had strict control of everything, even down to the doors. Peter was happy enough to just sit there and wait it out, though. As amazing as being here was, snooping was rude, especially when what he could find could potentially compromise the entire world. 

He chose to make a simple, small sandwich which involved nothing more than a single knife and plate, marvelling at the giant fridge and the ridiculous amount of food within. Apparently Mr. Stark had a chef that stopped by once every other day with prepared meals, and was on-call for whenever he required a fresh meal without having to cook it. The produce was organic and far different to the sad, wilting lettuce that could be found at the local Cheap Fresh. 

Technically, if it was plausible, when you Switched you were supposed to follow a specific protocol set up by the Government, but Mr. Stark had ultimately lost his entire mind at discovering his soulmate was fourteen and had immediately demanded Peter stay locked up like Rapunzel while he pretended to be him for the day to throw off suspicion. Peter couldn’t deny that had hurt a little, but he understood it. Soulmates or not it would be the scandal of the century - Tony would be called all sorts of things at best and investigated at worst, and the nature of their age difference meant a lifetime of interference and monitoring by the Government and protective services. He knew it was easier to pretend it hadn’t happened, to hide it from the world. Tony had suggested a private agreement, a ridiculous sum of money in exchange for Peter’s silence. 

He realised he’d been staring morosely at his plate when JARVIS prompted him softly, and he sighed, taking a bite. There was no physical remote for the TV but JARVIS helped him to access a cache of movies and he settled on Inception, his weakness for Tom Hardy and Leonardo DiCaprio soothing the ache of his new reality. 

“Am I allowed to ask what running a business is like?” He asked after a while, head balanced on his palm. 

“In what regard, Mr. Parker?” 

“Well, I don’t know. I mean, I’m fifteen. I don’t know how to run a company, let alone run a company and be a superhero. What kinda stuff does he do? Does he attend meetings? Does he fly around the world on company retreats like in the movies?” 

JARVIS sounded lightly amused when he replied. “Sir has delegated much of the daily company operation amongst several trusted employees, but he is still the namesake, owner and CEO of Stark Industries. He does attend frequent meetings, but most of Sir’s ‘flying around the world’ is done for leisure or Iron Man related activity”. 

“Sir spends most of his time in the lab, conducting important work for both his priorities. Sir also does a respectable amount of charity work, investment work and supportive work. I believe his latest venture is funding the entirety of MIT’s PhD graduate projects”. 

Wow. That was...That would be a lot of money. And being supported by someone like Tony Stark was bound to be something to boast about, something that would fluff up your resume a little. 

“Does he enjoy it?” Peter asked after a moment, fingertips raising absently to the arc reactor in his chest. It ached constantly, a low-level background pain that never quite faded out of touch, the odd sensation of a gaping maw in his chest something that had made him heave earlier that morning. Mr. Stark was tired, burnt out, but still going. It made Peter want to spend his twenty-four hours just sleeping, to try and soothe the man’s headache. 

“Sir finds great gratification in his duties” JARVIS replied quietly, though he did not specify which. Peter gave a hum and succumbed to the desire to nap, curled up on the corner of the couch with Inception fading quietly into the background. 

He ate again when he woke up, and blinked when he saw the time. Mr. Stark’s phone had been heavily locked down, but he could still access the message channel between this number and his own. The messages there were disheartening. 

Told your hot Aunt I’m staying at that Nate kids house tonight. I’ll be coming to the Tower, but you won’t see me. I’ll stay on the level below.

Sorry, kid. Seeing someone else wearing me like a Givenchy suit is just too head-spinning. 

JARVIS will keep you safe up there. We switch back at midnight, so try and get some sleep. You’ll wake up as yourself and I’ll get the plan in motion. 

“JARVIS, when was the last time Mr. Stark cried?” He asked timidly, and the AI was silent for a moment. 

“Four years ago, Mr. Parker”. 

“Oh,” he breathed out, vision blurring. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I’m about to ruin that” and he let the teardrops fall.

[parakeatswrites]

22. Space AU & 56. Awful first meeting for whatever pairing you like!

Thank you for the prompt!! Sorry that it took me so long to get 

I'm a sucker for the kind of space AU that has junkyard/wildwest aesthetcs and ai/telepathically linked ships. Also this idea got away from me a bit so we're looking at a Sarchengsey with a side of pynch. Had to stop myself before it got longer, but if I had more room, there would be lots of Blue & Ronan annoying friendship overtones.

[Link to OG post - give me 2 tropes & a pairing, and I’ll combine them!]

Either there was another glitch in the holographic screen of Blue’s pilot console, or there was a weak SOS beacon 20 clicks to their port side. She squinted at the static. The colour overlays had bugged out a week ago and she’d been flying by feel ever since. Somehow, she had thought flying between planets with contraband would be more exciting, but apparently anything could become banal if done frequently enough. 

“I think there’s someone out there,” Henry told her, fresh from the sonic shower and a nap in their tiny bunk. He leaned over her shoulder, warm and smelling of the cologne he had insisted on buying at the last trading post.

“Unlikely,” Blue shrugged him off and slouched into the creaky pilot’s seat.

“Open your eyes, Blue-bird,” he pointed at the screen as though he was any better at piloting than her, “it’s faint, but there’s a beacon, just there.”

Blue jostled the controls and his fingertip poked through the fuzzy projection. 

She said, “that’s an AGG beacon. Only R.A.V.E.Ns have them.” 

“Ohh,” Henry sounded thrilled at the prospect, “an Academy ship! I wonder what they’re doing all the way out here? Imagine swooping in and saving the day!”  

Blue pretended for a moment that he wasn’t going to convince her to check it out. She didn’t want anything to do with an Academy ship - everyone knew that R.A.V.E.Ns were assholes zipping through their backwater little sector like they owned it. With the way they were setting up research stations on each mid-sized moon, they might as well own the sector.

She was already turning towards the SOS beacon. 

Their hail was picked up the moment they were in range. Henry gleefully reeled off the standard opening call - at least he omitted their serial number - as he turned slightly in the tiny cockpit to hover over the communication panel. 

The voice that came back was threaded with static, but still arched with the entitled sort of accent you would expect from a R.A.V.E.N pilot. 

“Is your ship refurb Old Guard tech?” 

“Circa old age fourteen-fifteen,” Henry confirmed coyly.

“Are you seriously flirting about the commission date of our unlicensed ship?” Blue hissed incredulously. 

The voice was back enthusiastically, “I thought I recognized the symbols on the anterior. She’s beautiful, but she’s seen better days, I expect?” 

And Henry was swaying over the comms unit, eyes lit up by the blue dash. Blue could nearly see him writing the back-cover of his own trashy romance novel in real time.

“Do you need help or not?” Blue cut in, testily, before they got derailed further. 

“Oh, yes, I expect so,” the voice still did not seem to belong to someone who needed to be rescued. 

“You don’t sound like you need to be rescued,” Blue said. 

“Well, the AGG beacon does reach quite far,” the voice was happy to inform her, “I dare say that another smuggler will likely come along before my life support systems are critical, but they probably won’t have as interesting a ship as you do.” 

“I hate him,” Blue muttered. 

“Blue, be a dear and reroute some power to the de-con unit?” Henry asked, blowing a kiss towards her.

The first thing the R.A.V.E.N pilot said to them after stepping out of their tiny closet of a de-con unit was, “have you had any luck accessing the ship’s AI? This should really be in a museum - they’ve been doing stellar work at rigging up a device to allow interfacing with pre-Fall AI.” 

And because the first thing the pilot had done before speaking was tug off his pressure suit’s helmet to reveal mussed brown hair and a face that belonged on a recruitment poster, Henry mimed a swoon. 

Blue flipped on the janky autopilot and spun in her chair to glare at him, “listen, no more of,” she gestured at the pilot up-and-down, “all this.” 

He looked down at himself and seemed to consider this, then earnestly looked back at her, “I think the de-con took care of any pathogens, if that is your concern.” 

Blue had the patience to either pilot the ship, or deal with a floppy-haired Academy pilot, not both. Since Henry was already all-in on the romance of picking up a stranded pilot, Blue said, “I can either pilot this ship or deal with you.” 

“I would be happy to pilot the ship,” a small twitch to the pilot’s lips said that he was teasing her. 

Blue scowled and spun her chair back to the pilot controls, “we’re not taking him all the way to the Academy.” 

“We would love to take you to the Academy,” Henry said. 

“Henry.” 

“My apologies, I have been remiss in introductions,” the pilot sounded like he was offering a hand to shake, “Lieutenant Richard Gansey the third. But please,” and his voice was warmer again, “just call me Gansey.” 

“Henry,” Blue could hear Henry’s genuine excitement, even as he continued coyly, “you can call me, Henry, Gansey-man.” 

“A pleasure,” Gansey continued, “and for fear of offence, have you interfaced with the AI?” 

Blue wished she had - it was the whole reason she and Henry had kept this junker of a ship even though it had cost more in repairs than to initially buy off of the dealer Seondeok had connected them with. Blue had spent her whole youth dreaming of two things: getting off of that small moon, and figuring out even a small corner of the mystery of pre-Fall AI tech.

She didn’t want this annoying, self-entitled R.A.V.E.N pilot to stick his Academy nose into it. 

Henry said, “we haven’t heard a peep out of the AI.” 

Only the bloodlines from Glyndower’s Court were able to communicate with AI without bio-mods and they had all died during the Fall. Claiming to be able to interface with an AI was equivalent to trying to claim a birthright to a throne purposefully kept empty. That was a one-way ticket to a quiet death. Blue and Henry weren’t stupid enough to admit that to a stranger from the Academy even if they were fluent. 

“Say you were interested in changing that,” Gansey stepped up behind the pilot’s chair and Blue could see his boyish smile in the corner in her vision. Against her better judgement it lit up something sleeping in her gut. He continued, “I might know someone who could help.” 

[Star-wipe to a rusted out garage on a dusty planet with a tarp-sign that says “Parrish’s Repairs”. Blue’s ship kicks up dust as Ronan stalks out the corrugated steel door with his hand on the heel of a holstered pistol.]

[lovelyirony]

could you write something for trans pepper coming out to tony please?

authors note: i am not an expert, nor am i trans. please let me know if i have written anything wrong/harmful, and i’ll take it down

When Pepper started at Stark Industries, she told herself that she would not get too involved. She was here to do her job, and nothing else. She had caused “problems” at her last job, and in return they had caused problems for her as well. 

(Sitting by herself at the cafeteria, fielding uncomfortable messages, and correcting intentionally wrong emails had been...exhausting. Mentally and physically.) 

But this? No, this can’t go on. 

The math is all wrong. It’s going to cost the company about a million dollars if she lets it pass, and while she’s sure that it could be replaced easily in a day, that’s the kind of thing that gets you fired. And when employers look at your resume and see that you were terminated from the highest-ranking job to have for an accountant, a prestigious company that takes pride in accurate numbers and satisfied employees? 

Well...it doesn’t look too hot. 

So she brings it up. Her boss isn’t exactly happy with her. She thinks the numbers were probably intentional. 

“I’ve been doing this for years, I think I know a little bit more than you, young lady,” he scowls. 

Pepper’s not exactly fazed at the dismissive remark. 

“Then I’m sure that you’ll know that your math is wrong. It’d be better to double-check it and be right and have me be in the wrong than not check it and be fired.” 

He doesn’t check it. 

But when he’s called into Mr. Stark’s office, he must have mentioned her name. 

He put the blame on her. 

Pepper cannot believe it as she’s called in. 

“So, Mark tells me that you did math wrong.” 

“I didn’t. I triple-checked it, and kept the receipt tape as proof.” 

“Oh, I know. Mark can’t do math for shit, but he hates when people tell him. But I’m glad you did, because it made me realize I can’t have someone who’s so insecure that when someone tells them to double-check it and they don’t because they want to be right, that...I don’t know what I was doing. Anyways, he’s fired.” 

Pepper blinks. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, really. Also, I’m reading your file. Virginia? Did your parents hate you?” 

“Not the worst name I’ve been given,” Pepper says smoothly. 

“Hm. Says here that you go by Pepper. I like that.” 

“Thank you, chose it myself and everything.” 

“And everything?” Tony asks, smiling. “I like that.” 

- 

Four months later, she’s in the break room when Tony’s personal assistant quits on the spot after he’s late for the third time in a week. 

“I can’t fucking do this!” He screeches. “I’m done.” 

Pepper’s not sure why she goes into Jason’s office and just looks at the schedule. 

She calls his cell. 

“Jason, seriously, I told you to quit bothering me.” 

“It’s Pepper. Get your ass over here for your meeting, the board directors are about an inch away from reinstating Obadiah.” 

“And that would be a bad thing...why?” 

“You want your stock points to drop because you’re proving that you can’t be trusted to run a company?” 

“I’ll be there.” 

It’s the fastest time that Tony makes it into the office, by the way. Pepper’s only slightly proud. 

- 

She’s terrified when he offers her a position as a personal assistant. She’ll be in the limelight, people paying attention to her. 

She modifies her contracts: no one is allowed to access any sort of personal information. At all. It has to be locked in a vault, only key is one that she and Tony know about. 

“Anything I should know about?” 

“Um. No.” 

“Oh. Okay. As long as you aren’t secretly running any illegal thing out of one of the floors, then be my guest. But if you are, let me know. Petra in accounting--new hire, you wouldn’t know them--is secretly reselling wedding cakes. I think. Maybe the wedding cakes was a bad lie. Hell. But welcome aboard!” 

Wrangling Tony is a lot like dealing with a goldfish. He’s a genius; she sees that when she walks into his house and sees about seven different projects lying around, and at least two papers that have notes about redoing a filtration system for drinking water. 

He is also incredibly stupid. 

“You have fifteen coffee cups out.” 

“Impossible, I don’t own that many!” 

“Aw, did you not take counting classes in preschool?” 

Tony likes her. A lot. She’s got a bite of wit, no-bullshit when it comes to business, and never misses a beat. She also has a killer sense of style, and is the one who makes sure he’s not wearing a weird mixture of jeans and a sport coat. 

“No.” 

“Come on, it’s not like fashion actually matters that much. Well, not to me.” 

“It should. You should be the most creatively dressed male out there, and you’re not. A black suit? God, that’s...that’s sad. No, I ordered you a blue silk suit. Embroidered with flowers all over, matching shoes with inverted colors. Come on. In you go.” 

“Ugh.” 

(His outfit is a smashing success, by the way. They ask who his stylist is, and he just says “Oh, my personal assistant said she would bury me in my garden if I wore a black suit. I would’ve dug it myself, looking on this now.”) 

- 

She does not tell him for a long time. At all. Because people are...weird about it. Weird questions, weird statements, and compliments so backhanded she doesn’t like to call them compliments. 

But at some point, she needs to tell him. Or she wants to. She wants to, she doesn’t have to. Yeah. 

Okay. So she’s in love with him. A tiny bit. 

- 

He makes her coffee. Every morning. Creamer goes into the mug first, then coffee. That’s the only way she takes it. 

He compliments her a lot, and she knows that this shouldn’t be a reason that love qualifies but it’s nice to hear. He also bought her a very expensive pair of shoes. 

Pepper honestly does want to tell him. She also does not want to lose her job, however. So she needs to gauge the situation. Maybe talk to some of her girlfriends, see what’s up. 

- 

Well then her boss goes missing for months and comes back and obviously you can’t tell someone you’re in love with them after they come back with an electromagnetic device in their chest. That’s just crazy. 

He came back...different. New circumstances, new outlook on life. She relates a tiny little bit. 

She buys herself a beautiful blue dress. He gives her his credit card, tells her to buy herself something nice, and goddammit she’s never been one to really disobey her boss. (Just bend some rules. Or create new ones that negate the old ones.) 

She curls her hair and only curses eight times, which is actually pretty good. Her usual amount of cursing per-curling-session is about eighty-two. 

He looks at her like she’s an angel, and she thinks...yeah. Okay. She’ll tell him that she’s in love with him. 

- 

Well then his uncle decides to attempt to kill him. God, what a mood killer. She hates this. 

- 

They’re laying down in his house on the patio, and he’s sipping on a smoothie that she’s honestly sure is 100% gross, and he turns to her. 

“Would you ever want to go on a date with me?” 

Pepper blinks. 

“Yes,” she says without skipping a beat. “But we need to have a discussion before I dedicate myself to this cause.” 

“What am I, a Salvation Army donation bin?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Then dinner-and-discussion tonight. Not a date. Just...talking.” 

- 

She’s nervous. She’s put her hair up so that she won’t run her fingers through it, but now she’s just fidgeting with her necklace and bracelet. 

Tony looks nice. He’s in a casual graphic tee and old jeans that are older than she actually knew they could hold together. She is in old shorts and a tank top and yeah it’s casual but it’s also nice and wow she’s really over-thought this. 

“So, what are your concerns?” Tony says. Getting to the point straight-away, that’s always his move. Pepper gulps. 

“You mind if I get water?” 

“Not at all.” 

She sips on water. 

“My concern is that I’m transgender and you need to know that before we pursue anything.” 

Tony blinks. 

“Um. Okay. Was not expecting that right out. I was more thinking you would have a problem with my new armor and Rhodey and I being immature when he visits and also how much time I spend on inventing.” 

“Well yeah, those too. But I deal with those all the time. But I’m also concerned about you pissing off the government and them sending secret agents to kill us.” 

Jarvis cuts in smoothly. 

“I am afraid, Miss Potts, that they wouldn’t make it two hundred feet of this current residence. Would you like me to update security protocols at other residences around the globe?” 

“You can do that?” Pepper asks. 

“Yes, Miss Potts.” 

“Please do update, thank you.” 

Tony grins, looking at her. The same way. Which is kind of exhilarating, all things considered. 

“You amaze me. J, remind me that if Pep and I break up, I need to build a bunker that could withstand a nuclear war.” 

“I will not remind you of that, as I’m sure it will be on you,” Jarvis remarks. 

Pepper snorts. 

“I wasn’t aware that I was going to turn my AI against myself,” Tony sighs. “Such is life.” 

Pepper grins. He squeezes her hand. 

“You want to celebrate this with wine? I’m sure tomorrow you’ll have me signing so many forms for workplace relationships that I’ll cry by two p.m.” 

“Make that one p.m., and you’ll be fine you big baby,” Pepper teases. 

Tony blows her a kiss as he gets up from the couch. 

“Thank you. For telling me. I know that that’s hard to tell people. Discuss more of it later, or now?” 

“Mm, later. It’s late at night, I’m tired.” 

“Gotcha. You want red or white tonight?” 

“...Red.” 

Tony grins, getting out the wine glasses. He pours carefully and expertly, and raises his. They clink their glasses together. 

“Cheers to more success. For the both of us.” 

Pepper grins softly. 

“For success.” 

[thelordofdarkreunion]

Magnificent Scoundrels- Rock n’ Roll

This one is definitely a little late.  Took me a while to write it, and I had to make several changes.  It might be a bit awkward in parts, but that is because I have tried to portray each character faithfully and tried to have them do what they would actually do in the battle scenes.  As per usual, I own none of these characters except for Thomas Drake.  Enjoy!  (Side note: I figured out how to use the “read more” so this won’t be as long in the dash!)   

In the hangar of the Normandy, Adam Vir and Master Chief waited.  The Chief was currently flipping through everyone’s communication channels.  

“Do you really trust this guy, Captain?”  That was the internal communications of the Enterprise.

“No.  And his group of armsmen is putting me on edge.  But we control this ship and we have transporters and they don’t.”  The rest coming from Kirk’s crew was all military and technological jargon.  He flipped to the Apocalypse's internal communications.

“So, the question is: since it’s a fruit, tomato, mixed with sugar, is ketchup a smoothie?”  That was Drake.  Of course it was.  

“Well, by that definition, yes,” said an unfamiliar voice.

“But ketchup has vinegar in it.  And if you think smoothies have vinegar, well, then you really need to reevaluate your life’s choices,” replied someone else.

“An excellent point!  Indeed, what is a smoothie?  Does vinegar belong in your smoothies?” said Drake.  Master Chief shook his head and changed channels.  He had a feeling that if he listened to that conversation for much longer, his head would implode.    

“How did he get that stuff?  Twenty suits of carapace armor, five crates of hot-shot lasguns, ten crates of normal lasguns, a crate of chainswords, and two power swords, all with Imperial markings!”  That was Kasteen, commander of the Valhallans.  “And, Cain, what was that thing?  An Exitus rifle?  I’ve never heard of it.”

“That last one’s the one that worries me.  The reason I know of it is because of my work with Inquisitor Vail,” replied Cain.

“Shit.  You think he stole it from the Inquisition?”

“The only people who have access to those are Inquisitors and Vindicares.”

“Oh he’s beyond frakked.”  The Chief cut the communications as Shepard walked into the hangar bay.  He was wearing a full set of black combat armor with a heavy helmet.  Vir, the other occupant of the hangar, looked up from where he was fiddling with his own armor.  

“Shepard.  Pleased to see you.”   His one good green eye gleamed from under a shock of blond hair.  “Are we ready to go?”  

“Give me a sec.”  Shepard turned to the hooded and violet masked figure that was present with him at the Scoundrel’s first meeting.  “Tali?” he asked the figure.  “Are they going to know we’re coming?”  

“No, commander.”  It was a feminine voice, with a strange and slightly mechanical accent that emanated from the suit.  “The engineers aboard the Enterprise and Apocalypse are quite good at what they do.  It would be interesting to know what all these new people have!  Technology-wise, I mean.  The possibilities of-”  Shepard cut her off.

“Good to know, Tali.”

“Right.  Sorry.  Got carried away.”  

“If you’d like, I’ll give you a tour of the Apocalypse,” cut in Drake’s suave voice over their earpieces.  “That, of course, extends to the rest of you.”  Master Chief keyed his comm.

“You’ve been listening to us this whole time?” he asked.

“Well, I can’t talk about vinegar smoothies forever, now, can I?  To get more to the point, Cain and I are in position, and Cooper and Quill are on their way.  This thing all depends on you, so I suggest you get down here before they notice fifty Imperial Guardsmen and fifteen mercenary armsmen hanging outside their front gate.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re going.”  They boarded the shuttle, Master Chief having to hunch his massive frame to avoid banging into the doors.  The ride to the muddy-brown planet below them was smoot and silent.  From the window of the transport, they could see the silhouettes of the teams’ starships above them, gleaming in the weak yellow light of the nearby sun.  The atmospheric entry was much smoother than either Vir or Master Chief had ever felt, and the shuttle landed on the planet much faster than they expected.  The shuttle’s three occupants disembarked quickly, professionally, and set out in a trot to the distant specter of the military base.  They arrived on schedule, and found a small electrical access passage, barely tall enough to squeeze through, exactly where Drake’s map said it was.  

Drake checked the timer on his wrist computer.  His armsmen and several Imperial Guardsmen cluster around him, waiting expectantly.

“And...nine minutes and twenty-five seconds for Shepard to get his ass in gear and get planetside.  If you had more than ten minutes, pay up.”  There were grumblings in the crowd, while money and liquor exchanged hands.  One of the armsmen looked up.

“Captain, how long for the other timer?”  Drake checked his wrist again.  

“...nineteen minutes and twenty six...twenty seven seconds since we got here, and they still haven’t noticed over a hundred armed hostiles sitting outside their front gate.”  He made a clicking noise with his tongue.  “Sloppy.  If you bet under twenty minutes, you're probably going to be losing something.”  He glanced over to where Cain and Jurgen were leaning against the compound’s outer wall.  “How are you two holding up?”

Cain looked up from a mug of steaming liquid in his hands.  “Fine.  These people still haven’t noticed us?”  Drake snorted.

“No.  I’m really good at what I do, and they’re really bad.  Honestly, I’m not quite sure how they managed to steal the thing we’re after in the first place.”

On the other side of the compound, Peter Quill paced.  

“What’s taking them so long?” he hissed.  Gamora, his green-skinned second in command, looked up from where she was sitting and sharpening a sword.  

“Relax.  We’re fine.”  

“I know…” Quill trailed off, paced more, then turned back.  “Do you think that these people know what they’re doing?”  Cooper, who had been silently checking his weapons up until this point, spoke.

“Shepard is supposed to be a hero, and a special forces operative, based on Drake’s briefing.”  Noticing Quill’s blank look, he gave a very good incredulous stare, considering he had his helmet on.  “You didn’t read it?”

“Uh...maybe.”  Cooper and Gamora both shook their heads.  

“Shepard’s is apparently very good.  At least, according to Drake.  And the problem with that is we don’t know if Drake is telling the truth about anything.”  Quill considered this.  He did have a point.  

Shepard, Vir, and Master Chief squeezed through the narrow metal electrical duct and into a small, dimly lit concrete room in the basement of the compound.  They brushed plaster dust off themselves before looking up.  Shepard tapped his wrist and some sort of glowing orange hologram sprang to life, covering his let forearm.  The others leaned in and recognized it as Drake’s map of the compound.

“Right.  So we are here,” Shepard highlighted the small room.  “The item is here.”  He traced a path throughout the sun-levels to a large main room in the center of the basement.  “We need to stay low and follow this path.”  Shepard glanced up and pointed at Master Chief.  “You’re a super-soldier, so you’re taking point.”  The Chief nodded.

“Copy that.”  He unslung his weapon, dropped into a crouch, and proceeded forward, the two others following him.  They walked through the concrete and metal halls, weapons at the ready, searching for any sign of life.  Despite being over seven feet tall and clad in bulky armor, Master Chief moved with the deadly silence of a professional soldier.  Twice they were almost caught, but due to their superior training and skills, they melted into the shadows as enemy patrols passed by.  Through more hallways they made their way, hearing the laughter and occasionally fights of mercenaries.  The enemy here was no more alert than they were on the main level, allowing the three to pass through the labyrinthian passageways undetected.  They reached a large open area, where Master Chief suddenly gestured for a stop.  Peering past the Chief’s massive shoulder, Shepard could see why.  The open room was littered with mercenaries, lounging around with weapons still holstered.  By his estimate, there were about twenty of them.  Too many to take on without raising the alarm.  Shepard cursed quietly under his breath, then pressed a finger to his ear.

“Drake,” he hissed.  “We’re blocked.  There’s a group in our way.  We need a distraction.”    

“Distraction you say?”  The three could feel Drake’s smile over the audio.  “Give me twenty.”  

Outside the Compound

Drake slid up to the compound gate’s outside audio panel.  He slid a knife under a small plate at the base of the panel and slid a small rectangular device from his belt into a slot.  

“Let’s see here…” he muttered to himself.  “Are you stupid enough to connect the PA system to the main computer?  Yes...yes you are.”  He tapped several buttons on his wrist computer and took a deep breath.  

Inside the Compound

Shepard and Vir jumped as Drake’s voice crackled from the building’s PA system.  

“Attention assorted idiots.  I am Captain Thomas Drake.  You may have heard of me.  I am here, waiting just outside the front gate.  I am going to kill you all and take back the black box.  Come and get me.”  The message abruptly terminated, and cheery music started playing.  

“Private Perks is a funny little coger with a smile, a funny smile.  Five feet none he’s an artful little dodger with a smile, a funny smile.  Flush or broke he’ll have his little joke…”  Shepard, Vir, and even the superhuman Master Chief started at the loudspeaker as the music played.  

“Drake, what the hell are you doing?” asked Shepard.  

“Creating a distraction,” replied Drake, just as cheerfully as the song.  

“Telling the mercenaries to come and kill you and playing Smile, Smile, Smile is not a distraction,” stated Master Chief flatly.  

“You sure about that?  Look in front of you,” said Drake.  Sure enough, the mercenaries occupying the room had grabbed their weapons and were hustling up the stairs to the main level.  Shepard’s mouth opened and closed like a landed fish, then he sighed.  

“Fine, let’s go.”  As the last of the mercenaries trailed from the room, the three Scoundrels slipped by on their way to the item.  

Outside the Facility

Drake glanced at his wrist computer and nodded at a group of armsmen.  

“Four guards in the compound beyond the gate.  There, there, there, and there.”  He gestured at four spots beyond the wall.  The armsmen nodded and took positions near the gate.  “Overriding and opening the gate in three...two...one go!”  Drake pressed a button and the massive armored gate swung open.  The armsmen stepped forward and fired.  The four mercenary guards pitched forward, dead.  Drake nodded at the remaining Guardsmen and armsmen.  “Right. Through the gate and set up a firing position.  They’ll be coming, probably disorganized, from the main door.”  He pointed at a large armored set of double doors that led inside the main facility.  The soldiers nodded and readied their weapons.  Drake pressed another button on his wrist.  

On the other side of the Compound

“Cooper, Quill, this is Drake.  The mercenaries are going to attack our position while Shepard, Chief, and Vir steal the thing.  Get behind them.”  

“Copy that,” replied Cooper with a nod.  He looked at the large wall in front of them, then took a step back and jumped.  Thrusters on the back of his suit activated and propelled him onto the wall.  He turned his head to Quill and Gamora.  “You two coming?”  Quill scoffed.  

“I can do that.”  He pressed a small button on the top of his boots, and the heels lit up with the orange wash of jet boosters.  Without the grace of Cooper he landed wobbly on the top of the wall.  “See?  Easy.”  Gamora muttered “showoffs” under her breath and accepted Quill’s offered hand to boost her over the wall.  Cooper dropped into the interior compound without a sound.  

“Right.  This way.”  

On the Other Side of the Compound

The heavy armored doors opened and mercenaries, in various stages of preparedness, scrambled out, only to be met with the full firepower of one hundred and three well trained soldiers.  The Imperials’ lasguns spat crimson death that flickered through the muddy air to impact with chests, legs, arms, and heads, burning away flesh and vaporizing the internal organs of the unprotected.  The fire from the Apocalypse’s armsmen was no less lethal.  The boom hiss thump of plasma infused ammunition contrasted with the whining crack of lasguns as small blue and purple explosions blew apart the mercenaries.  Within seconds, the attacking mercenaries were dead.  

“Let’s go!” called Drake as he led his armsmen into the interior.  Cain nodded at the Guard.  

“Forward.  I’ll take up the rear.”  

In the Basement

The mercenaries vault, the storage place of the item Drake was contracted to retrieve, stood in silence over the barren concrete room.  Harsh yellow lights glared from the walls and seemed to be swallowed by the shadows in the corners.  Two guards, weapons held at the ready, stood in front of the vault.  The air split with two cracks.  The two guards fell, two holes blown through their heads.  Master Chief, weapon at the ready, entered the room, searching carefully for any other enemies.  There were none.  He nodded at his two companions.  

“Clear.”  He shouldered his rifle.  “Now how the hell do we get that door open?”  Shepard stepped up to the vault door.  A small, rectangular computer was built into the wall.  Shepard pressed his forearm, and once more the orange hologram appeared.  He tapped the hologram several more times, and the vault door sprang open.  

“Impressive,” noted Vir.  

“I gotta get me one of those,” muttered Master Chief.  They stepped through the circular entrance of the vault, and into the room beyond.  The room was...unimpressive.  It was cluttered with objects, weapons, and boxes of no discernable value.  Master Chief keyed his comm.  “Drake?  We’re in the vault.  What are we looking for?”   There was a whine then the boom of a plasma discharge, which culminated into an abrupt, high pitched scream.  Drake’s ragged breathing could be heard on the other end of the line.  

“What?  Sorry.  Uh...you’re looking for a black box, about half a meter by half a meter.  Should be somewhere pretty prominent.”  

“Here it is!” said Vir.  He held up a black box of the exact length and width.  

“Drake, we have it.”  There was a scream and the crackle of Imperial lasgun fire on the other end of the comm.  “What is going on up there?”  

“We’re fighting the mercenaries…” Boom!  Hiss!  Crack!  “...shit.  We appear to be winning at the moment.  Get up here and kill or capture anyone who gets in your way.”  

“Copy that.”  Master Chief looked at Shepard and Vir.  “Let’s move.”

Cooper, Quill, and Gamora advanced stealthily through the twisting passages of the mercenaries’ compound, weapons at the ready.  For some reason, there was absurdly cheerful music blasting through the PA system.  If Cooper had to guess, he would say that Thomas Drake most definitely had a hand in this.  He sighed to himself, shaking his head, then abruptly stopped and held out his hand.  Gamora instantly stopped and crouched, weapons at the ready.  Quill almost ran into him.  Ahead of the group were two guards, rifles out, looking more competent than any opposition they’d seen today.  Quill raised a gun, but Gamora pushed it down.

“Quiet.  If we go loud, they might have time to radio that we’re here.”  Quill nodded, magining to look mollified behind the red lenses of his helmet.  

“Right.  My bad.  What do we do?”  

“I got this,” replied Cooper.  Before either Quill or Gammora could say anything, Cooper tapped a device on his wrist.  Immediately, his form shimmered and distorted, turning translucent.  He took off running, and both watching pairs of eyes lost track of him.  Gammora thought she saw a faint blur of movement at the top of the hall, near the ceiling, but dismissed it as her eyes playing tricks.  And, just as they started wondering where Cooper had gone, he appeared just as suddenly and silently as he had appeared, this time directly behind the guards.  

Quietly and casually, he stepped behind the first guard, wrapped his arm around the guard’s throat in a chokehold, drew the guard’s sidearm from its holster, and unceremoniously shot both guards through the head.  Quick, brutal, efficient.  Cooper tossed the pistol aside and hefted his own rifle.  

“Let’s keep moving.”  Gamora stared at him.

“Impressive.  I need one of those things.  What are they called?”

“Invisibility Cloak or Pilot’s Cloak.  You can get them pretty easily from where I come from.  Or you could ask Drake.  I’m sure he stole a bunch of them.”  

Drake’s plasma gun spat a ball of molten death at an enemy mercenary.  It melted through the mercenary’s thin armor, blasted through his bones, and disintegrated his organs.  The mercenary only had time for a half scream, half whimper, before his chest was opened all the way through and he dropped to the ground, dead.  One of the Imperial Guardsmen whistled appreciatively.  

“A real plasma gun.  Can’t believe you have one.”  Drake grinned beneath his helmet.

“Cost me a pretty penny.  But definitely worth it, I can assure you.”  His earpiece crackled to life.  “Hang on.”  

“Drake?  Are you behind the music?” asked Quill’s voice.

“Why yes, I am.  Do you approve of my selection?” Drake replied.

“Actually, I was wondering...do you take requests?”  

“Of course I do!  What is your request?”

“Hooked on a Feeling by Blue Swede,” replied Quill with no hesitation.  

“An excellent choice!  Give me a moment.”  Drake pressed another button on his wrist computer and spoke into it with an excellent approximation of a radio D.J.

“Ladies and gentlemen, that has been Pack Up Your Troubles in Your Old Kit Bag and Smile, Smile, Smile, an old favorite from the First World War, written by George Henry Powell.  And next up, by listener request, is Hooked on a Feeling by Blue Swede!  If you would like to place a request, even if you’re on the opposing side, please, feel free to contact me.”  He cut the transmission.  One of the Valhallans turned to her sergeant.  

“This guy’s weird.”  

“Eh, could be worse.  We could be fighting tyranids.  Or necrons,” the sergeant interjected with a shudder.  

Master Chief turned to look at the nearest PA speaker.

“Well, this is definitely something new.”  He turned to his two companions.  “You two don’t seem very surprised by this.”

“Honestly, I am not surprised by anything at this point,” Shepard said with a shrug.  He turned to look at Vir.  “What about you?”

“Happens to me all the time.  What’s a battle without some good music?”  

Jack Cooper shook his head incredulously as the song piped throughout the compound.  

“I have seen a lot over my time in the Militia, but yet I have never been in a battle more bizarre.”  He sighed and fired a burst of shots at a mercenary.  “Oh, well.”  

The Imperial Guard and the Apocalypse’s armsmen, led by Cain and Drake, sliced their way through the enemies ranks like a knife through wet paper.  They stood no chance.  Anything not eliminated by lasguns or assault rifles was obliterated by Drake’s plasma gun.  Drake was leading the charge, cutting down everyone who opposed him with methodical precision.  Drake turned, the eye slits of his helmet winking cerulean blue.  

“Well, I think we’ve-”  He never had a chance to finish, as a particularly large mercenary barreled past a corner and tackled Drake.  Squeezed underneath the larger man, Drake could not get enough leverage to shove him off or hit him hard.  The two combatants rolled and grappled with each other, the armsmen and Guardsmen daring not to fire for fear of hitting Drake.  The large mercenary grimaced and tried to slip his hands under Drake’s helmet to try and throttle him to death.  Drake reached up and placed his left hand on the mercenary's chest.

“Overcharge!” he yelled to the air.  A sharp whine filled the air, then the crack of discharging electricity.  The mercenary flew backwards, twitched spasmodically for several seconds, then lied still.  Drake got up to his feet shakily.  “Well, that was a...shocking experience.”   Several of the soldiers groaned.  “C’mon.  Forward!”  They ran through the maze of dimly-lit hallways, slaughtering anyone they met, until they got to a large room filled with computers overlooking the passageways of the basement.  It looked to be a control room of some sorts, and it was absolutely packed with enemies.  They seemed to realize the superiority of the Scoundrel’s firepower, and so, instead of trying to fight them bullet to bullet, they charged.  

Cooper, Quill, and Gamora rounded the corner of the hallway at a run.  The screeched to a stop when they saw what was happening in the large room in front of them.  A massive group of enemy mercenaries were battling it out, hand to hand, with Drake and Cain’s forces.  

“Well, we can’t shoot for fear of hitting our own side, so…” Quill trailed off.

“So we take them from behind,” replied Cooper.  “You two know how to fight hand to hand?”  In response, Gamora drew a sword.

“Well, I guess that’s a yes,” said Cooper.  He looked over to see a heavily muscled woman bodily pick up and throw Drake through one of the glass panes overlooking the basement.  “Oh boy.  Better get in there.”  They charged.  

Vir, Shepard, and Master Chief emerged from the basement’s tunnels and into a pit-like room overlooked by glass panels.  Suddenly, one of the panels shattered and Drake flew through and landed on the concrete floor fifteen feet below.  He groaned and slowly got to his feet.

“Oh hey there.  Fancy meeting you here.”  Master Chief held out a hand to steady him.  

“Are you alright?”  Drake cracked his neck.

“Maybe.  Hopefully.  Doesn’t much matter.  Let's get up there.”  

“If you’re really O.K.”  

“Yep, I’m good.  What’s the fastest way up?”  Shepard pointed to a set of stairs, but before he could say anything, Master Chief took a running leap, grabbed the broken window’s ledge, and hauled himself up.

“Or...or that will work.”  Vir shrugged and made the same running jump at the same window.  With a whir of powerful prosthetics, he made it in much the same way Master Chief had.  Not to be outdone, Drake jumped for the same window.  He only made it halfway up the wall, but grips built into his forearms and greaves took over and he hauled himself up.  Shepard still stood at the bottom and shook his head.  

“Ok then.  I guess I’ll just take the stairs.”  

The vast majority of the wild melee was focused near the middle of the room.  There, the mercenaries desperately fought against the soldiers of the Imperial Guard.  The mercenaries had thought to take the enemy off balance by charging them, a tactic seldom used in an age of automatic and plasma weaponry, but had not counted on soldiers of other universes, used to fighting in different ways.  The Guardsmen had fixed bayonets, and now wielded the twenty inch blades with lethal efficiency.  However, despite the Guard doing most of the fighting, it was by far the Scoundrel captains who garnered the most attention.  Each fought with their own style, was a death-dealing whirlwind.  

Master Chief fought with a precision that only a genetically enhanced super-soldier could.  A strange, teardrop-shaped  plasma sword was held aloft in one hand, and he brought it down with murderous exactness.  Each stroke was backed by the massive strength of his seven foot frame, and gut through armor and bone as if it didn’t exist.  He was a one man killing machine; he was a SPARTAN super-warrior.  None stood in his way for long.  

Ciaphas Cain used the same practical and lethal fighting style as he did in his duel with the Drev.  His chainsword hummed and its teeth whirred as it cut through muscle and sinew, raising great gouts of blood into the air.  In his other hand he held a laspistol, which cracked off shots at any who were beyond the reach of the deadly teeth of his sword.  

Jack Cooper fought with grace and style.  He danced around the enemy, using the extra speed and mobility of his Pilot’s suit.  His combat knife slid between ribs and through throats, and shots from his sidearm rang out, blowing ragged holes through heads and torsos.  His legs lashed out in the form of powerful kicks, still with a Pilot's grace, and landed on kidneys and knees, knocking his opponents to the ground where he finished them at his leisure.  

Adam Vir fought with a spear, a most unusual weapon of choice.  Nevertheless, he was just as deadly as the rest.  The spear sand through the air, catching and impaling his foes.  It twirled in intricate patterns, and blocked and flicked aside incoming attacks as if they didn’t exist.  He lunged forward towards a panacing mercenary, twisting the spear at the last second so as not to get it stuck in the suction of flesh, then spun around to block an incoming attack.  

Thomas Drake fought dirty.  No trick was too low or underhanded.  His left hand crackled with electricity, stunning and killing any he punched.  A keen-bladed knife was in his right, and he stabbed groins, gouged eyes, and slit throats with impunity.  He bellowed reactive insults while he fought, calling in to question his opponent’s lineage and stature as he charged and hacked and stabbed.  

And Quill...well...he entered the room at a run, then promptly slipped on a puddle of blood and fell face first into the cold concrete floor.  

The Scoundrels gradually whittled down their enemies, one by one, until there was only a small group, fear in their eyes, huddling against the back wall.  The Scoundrels advanced, weapons drawn, and the mercenaries raised their own, prepared for one last defiant gesture.  Then, the air shimmered and distorted, and Kirk and a group of Enterprise crewmen, weapons drawn, appeared as if from nowhere.  

“Hands up,” said Kirk with probably more amusement than was really necessary.  Slowly, the mercenaries lowered their weapons and put them on the ground.  The Scoundrels looked at each other for a moment before Cooper broke the silence.

“Okay.  That was...underwhelming.”  

“What do we do with them?” asked Shepard, gesturing towards the prisoners.  

“Eh.  I say we just leave ‘em here,” said Drake with a shrug.  The others stared at him with incredulity.  

“Wait, wait...you were the one advocating orbital bombardment earlier!”  

“Well, we have the thing now.  No need to kill them, no need to do anything with them really.   We can just pack up and go.  Leave them here.”  The Scoundrels looked at each other and seemed to reach an agreement.  

“Fine.  Let’s go.”  Kirk looked over to Spock and spoke to him in an undertone.

“You know, this didn’t end that badly.  None of the redshirts died!”  As if on cue, one of the Enterprise’s crewmen, clad in black pants and a red shirt, fell over clutching his chest.  One of the Imperial Guardsmen knelt down to check on him. 

“He’s dead, sir!  I think a heart attack.”  Kirk shook his head.  

“You have got to be kidding me.”

After the mercenaries had been herded in the basement and the Scoundrels’ forces were trailing out of the compound, Cain pulled Drake aside.  

“Drake, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”  

“Of course.  What’s on your mind?”  Cain looked around to make sure no one was listening.  

“Those weapons.  The only way you could have gotten several of them was if you stole them from the Inquisition.”  

“And if I did?” replied Drake.  

“The Inquisition is not an organization you want to steal from.”  Cain loosened his chainsword in its scabbard.  Drake smiled.  

“Funny, actually.  I can.  You see, those weapons I found in a small hidden stash.  Apparently, a rogue and very dead Inquisitor named Filidarus Calzik had hidden them on the very edge of Imperial space.  No one would have ever gone for them, no Imperial would have ever found them.”

“I know of them, now that you’ve told me,” replied Cain, his hands still on his weapons.  Drake laughed, the exact same laugh as when he told the Scoundrels he knew their secrets aboard the Apocalypse.  

“Interestingly enough, weapons were not the only thing I found in that stash.  There was also a computer.  Which is why I know Calzik’s name.  And, on that computer, was...an incomplete manuscript.  An...autobiography.”  Drake smiled again.  “Your autobiography, my dear Cain.”  Cain turned a shade of chalk white.  “Now, consider, if you will, my dear Cain, the fascinating consequences if the contents of that autobiography were to be released to the wider Imperium.  So, yes, I’m quite sure I can get away with stealing from the Inquisition.  Because, no one will ever know anything is missing.  And if they do, they’ll never know it was me, because everyone who knows it was me will not be saying anything about it, now will they?”  With a final parting smile, Drake spun on his heel and strode away, leaving Cain in the semi-darkness of the compound’s hallway.  

That’s it.  Hope you like it.  As per always, feel free to contact me with any complaints, concerns, compliments, questions, requests, or if you just want something cleared up.    

[the-odd-job]

Building Dreams chapter 2 - New Futures

Warnings: Chose Not to Use Rating: Mature Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Relationships: Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Characters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Unnamed Characters, Original Characters Additional Tags: Alien Culture, Dubcon Words: 7651

This is hopelessly inspired by The Handmaid's Tale that a friend got me to watch. Mind you, I haven't even gotten past the third episode of the first season yet, because instead of focusing on the show my mind instantly jumps to this. So I had to write a little thing for it. I will eventually turn this into a proper fic, which this would likely be the second chapter of, but it's probably gonna be a while before I can keep working on this. Enjoy!

( Previous )

“Figures they wouldn’t let any of the grunge clinics handle this,” Sideswipe commented as they transformed next to the walkway. There was actual sunlight here. Sunlight! The lower decks they usually hung around in couldn’t even dream of ever seeing the light of day. 

“Too important, too important,” Sunstreaker agreed. The clinic they’d gotten the summons from was just across the daylit bridge. Things up here didn’t exactly gleam like he’d seen some of the other city-states do—no building in Kaon did—but the layer of grime was still not inches thick.

It wasn’t that they’d never visited the surface level, or even the cross-tower roads and walkways high above the first deck, but it definitely wasn’t their usual venue. They looked the part of guttermecha too, sadly, so they got looks from the other passersby.

But… Those looks turned into dawning understanding when their casters had a look at where they were headed. Yeah, they probably weren’t the only lowlifes who had temporarily dug their way from the gutters and up here just for this—and only to fall right back down once the deed was done.

That was going to be them too, most likely. But hey, at least they could enjoy the sunlight while it lasted. It actually warmed your plating a bit this high up, where the smog wasn’t quite as heavy. Very nice.

Then they were across the bridge, though, all the way to the doors of the upper end clinic. Normally there was no way the likes of them would’ve been welcome in a place like this, but this wasn’t normally. This was a once in a lifetime event, and a pretty important one too, no matter how low the chances of anything coming out of it were.

But a low chance wasn’t a no chance. There was a chance. Sideswipe couldn’t say they were decided on whether scoring that would be a positive or a negative thing. Not scoring it, and it was as if nothing had happened. Their life would go right back to the way it was before the summons. Back to the Pits, back to the fighting and scraping by through earning themselves some hard come victories. Nothing fancy.

Scoring it, meanwhile, would lead to a total flurry. He wasn’t even sure what exactly would happen, besides the broad and obvious of moving into a House. Everyone knew that much would happen.

But not much beyond that.

What was certain even in that uncertainty was that everything would change. For the better, or for the worse? That was a hard question to answer, all things considered.

The doors to the well lit interior of the clinic’s waiting area opened on their approach. The receptionist had one look at them and they could feel scans wash over them, before they were beckoned further in. “Here for your test, right? Take a seat, a medic will get you shortly,” he said, gesturing at the chairs in the waiting area.

They said their thanks—or Sideswipe did, Sunstreaker just nodded—before sitting down and getting comfortable for all the minute it took for a medic to come through another set of double doors that presumably led further into the clinic. “Sunstreaker, Sideswipe?” the medic asked, and they got right back up to follow the medic through the doors that opened to a hallway with more doors along it. It was as well lit as the rest here, in stark contrast to the lower decks.

The medic opened the fourth door along the hallway, and stepped aside to let them through first.

They shared a glance. This was it. Moment of truth or whatever. How lucky or unlucky would they be?

“Let’s get this over with,” Sunstreaker grunted after a few seconds, entering the room, Sideswipe on his heels. There was a desk with a console at the back of the room, an exam table in the middle, some equipment and other instruments along the walls. A pretty standard medical room as far as they could tell, and still vastly better looking than any of the ones on the lower levels.

But that was to be expected.

“Have a seat,” was all their medic said, waving vaguely in the direction of the central berth. They took the invitation and walked over to the center of the room, both of them hopping up to sit on the berth’s edge. The medic busied himself along a table with all sorts of stuff on it, readying things before placing them on a cart that he pulled along with him when he finally came to them.

“Split-spark? If you’d merge for me,” he instructed them. Usual request whenever their spark was going to get prodded at, and always just as awkward. Not just because they needed to do it in front of someone, but also because�� Well.

They turned to each other, parted their chestplates, and it was only because of practice that they could even halfway elegantly close the distance between them while sitting and twisting at the waist just to allow the maneuver. Their spark halves jumped for each other, as always, melding together almost as if it had never gotten split in two in the first place. That left their spark very comfortable, but their frames very uncomfortable because of the position they needed to hold to maintain the merge—and then, pull apart just enough to leave their combined spark hovering between them and allow a third party access to it.

The medic waited patiently through the process and only stepped up to them once they were set and ready to get this over with as quickly as possible. “Let me make sure your spark really is mature, first,” said the medic, bringing out a handheld scanner and aiming it at their spark. “You’re old enough that it should be…” the scanner beeped, “Ah, it is. Excellent. Now then!”

“Why do you gotta wait until the spark’s mature, anyway?” Sideswipe interjected as the medic busied himself with another device. “Couldn’t you just test it right in the beginning?”

He was half expecting to just get ignored or brushed aside, but to his surprise he actually got an actual, informative answer. “Sparks change plenty through the process of their growth. You’ll get all kinds of false readings before things stabilize to their final shape… So, someone could come out positive as a fledgling, only for that to turn into a true negative once their spark reaches maturity.”

“Huh,” Sideswipe noted, ever the brainiac. Now that it got mentioned, the data of his basic education helpfully fetched and integrated just that bit of information. Way to make a mech feel like he should’ve always known that, because he had always known that, it just… Hadn’t come up before.

Which probably said something about how poorly they’d had even the most basic things integrated, but hey. Couldn’t have everything!

“Alright, stay still, please,” the medic went on to say, bringing the reasonably complex looking contraption he’d been fiddling with to their spark and carefully positioning it to cradle their lifeforce, without cutting their spark’s access to their frames.

Staying still seemed like a good idea lest something got disconnected anyway. It was always a bit embarrassing when one of them dropped down grey because their spark lost contact with that frame.

“There might be some discomfort,” came all the warning they got mere seconds before the device whirred to life. Sunstreaker grunted and Sideswipe hissed as it began to feed dead energy into their spark, the medic focused on the process and the readings. 

It was uncomfortable, that was no lie, but it didn’t actually hurt. There was a steady burn and an unpleasant sense of fullness, but no actual pain.

It didn’t last long either, but even before the device died back down, the medic’s optics brightened and Sideswipe could feel his tanks sinking.

Jackpot?

Jackpot. “Congratulations! Your spark is a carrier. Very good odds of conception too.” The mech seemed genuinely excited, quickly but carefully pulling away the testing apparatus and setting it aside. “You can close your chestplates now,” he said, almost as an afterthought just as a door at the back of the room opened to admit an enforcer.

Flurry, huh? The brothers were quick to separate their spark into two again, locking their respective halves back within the confines of their respective frames, and experimentally dropped off the berth.

No one told them they shouldn’t have. The medic was back at his console, jacked into it with a procession of information flitting across the screen, downloaded to a datapad by the looks of things. The enforcer stood by, and Sideswipe desperately wanted to ask now what, but his vocalizer was oddly strangled. He didn’t get nerves often, fright even more rarely, but right now he was pretty sure he was feeling some of that. Wasn’t it justified enough in the circumstances?

No going back to their life as it was, now. This was the “everything would change,” whether they liked it or not.

And they still weren’t sure how much they did or didn’t like it.

Was it okay if it felt pretty surreal for now? Even though they probably should have prepared themselves for this? But it happened barely ever.

How were they supposed to expect they would test positive, when practically no one else did?

They weren’t prepared.

The medic disconnected the datapad once he had finished his download, and handed it to the enforcer who accepted it with a nod and subspaced it with barely a glance.

Then he turned to them while the medic went right back to doing whatever on his console. “Do you have any personal belongings you need to get?” the enforcer asked from them. His voice was very pleasant, Sideswipe noted even as his processors were busy firing empty.

Sunstreaker wasn’t doing a whole lot better, but still managed to answer, “We… Have a room in the Pits?”

The enforcer nodded. “Please come along and send me the location. I will escort you there for you to get your possessions.”

“Yeah, okay,” Sunstreaker breathed, uncharacteristically inelegant, and Sideswipe uncharacteristically quiet. He just still felt about ready to faint while his mind tried to wrap itself around this.

It wasn’t doing a very good job of it, but Sunstreaker nevertheless sent the location for the arena they made their home in and they followed the enforcer through the room’s further door, into what looked like staff only area, and through those to a back door that opened to daylight again.

Another enforcer was already waiting by the nearby transformation lane. “Please drive between us,” was the request they got, and since the frag when had enforcers been so polite?

But they were very polite now. “Sure,” Sideswipe managed to find his voice enough to say and he and Sunstreaker stepped to the transformation lane, one enforcer in front of them, another behind them. They all shifted into their alt-modes and the one at the front led the way with the one in the back keeping very close to Sideswipe’s bumper, in turn forcing Sunstreaker right to the rear of the enforcer in the front.

Probably just as intended, there.

They took turns, loops, and ramps, slowly circling towards the ground level, deeper into the shadows of the towers, and then diving under Cybertron’s surface entirely—into the lower decks where enforcers weren’t a very welcome sight. They weren’t about to get rid of their escort though, even if they’d wanted to. Apparently things just didn’t work like that anymore.

Pits, where the slag were they going from here?

This detour into the arena would probably be the last familiar thing they’d get to experience in a long time. Sideswipe’s spark was fluttering with longing even before they came to the arena’s gladiators’ entrance and transformed back to their bipedal modes, all four of them. Still one enforcer stayed ahead of them, another right behind them, as they were led into the building’s greasy underbelly, towards the fighters’ quarters.

They got looks. They got so many looks even Sideswipe ducked his helm self-consciously, and he was a showman by trade.

But this wasn’t fighting on the arena floor under hundreds of optics thirsty for bloodshed. This was them getting marched right into their new life in front of mecha they knew—maybe not quite friends, most of them, but acquaintances, some long time so. Handlers, newbies, veterans, they all stopped what they were doing and stared as they walked by. The enforcers never once averted their optics from straight ahead and Sunstreaker did his best to do the same, but Sideswipe couldn’t stop stealing sideways glances at everyone.

“Did you test positive?!” one certified friend whispered urgently as he trotted up to them—only to get pushed aside by one of the enforcers.

“Please keep your distance,” was the order their friend was given, spoken in a firm rumble.

Frag.

Sideswipe nodded mutely before he was herded forward, leaving more than a few dropped jaws in their wake.

They walked all the way to the dinged door of the room they had been given. It was a tiny thing, barely big enough for one mech to reside in semi-comfortably, and they’d always shared it.

It was better than out there on the streets, though.

They didn’t own much, never had, and they quickly gathered up the few worldly possessions that didn’t make permanent homes in their subspaces. The enforcers stood right outside the (open) door, one looking at them, another scanning the hallway.

They were being guarded so, so closely. Imagine that, jumping from certified nobodies to some of the most valuable mecha on all of Cybertron. Yeah, there was no way anything would stay the same from here on out. And… Some of that change would probably be for the better.

But there were good chances some of it would be for the worse. 

They would probably find all that out soon. Very soon, because they had one more glance around the room, concluded they’d gotten everything… And looked back at the enforcers. “Are you ready?” the one that had been all but staring at them the whole time asked.

They nodded. The doorway was cleared for them to step through, and back to that march they were, except now in the opposite direction.

There were even more mecha congregated around to stare at their little procession. No doubt news traveled fast. The twins had finally reached maturity, went to get their test and surprise surprise! They were positive. Had any of them ever seen that happen before? Two gladiators, that weren’t that bad but weren’t some of the best either, getting pulled from their lowly origins to… What?

What were they headed to?

The enforcers kept anyone from getting too close, clearing the way for them as they walked through the halls that were quickly growing crowded. Their pace was swift, like they wanted out of here as fast as possible. Sideswipe could imagine it. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to your precious little carriers, and this was a dangerous locale. Best not to linger.

But it had been their locale. They knew how things ran. It was their home, the place they felt like belonging, messed up as that was.

No, had been. Had been their home. Wasn’t going to be that from now on.

What would be?

Pits, there were so many questions he had, but he wasn’t sure the enforcers were the right persons to ask any of those from, and besides… They’d probably find out at least most of the answers soon enough.

There were mecha gathered even on the outside of the arena, apparently there just to see them as if they were some overnight celebrities. And maybe they sort of were with how much this kind of slag just didn’t happen. There were murmurs aplenty all around as they stepped through the doors and back to the street, although no one tried to actually approach them. He wasn’t sure if the enforcers would’ve been able to stop them even if they’d tried, what with there only being two of them, but… You didn’t touch carriers. You just didn’t. That was ingrained so deep that it looked like even rabble like this followed that rule.

Probably worked best for them. They were decent at taking care of themselves, but they might’ve been a bit in over their heads here, looking at some of the mecha busy ogling them.

Still, everyone cleared them room to get to the road, transform, and off they were again—sandwiched between the enforcers all over again.

Except this time they didn’t know where they were headed, and no one bothered to fill them in. He would really like to know that though, so Sideswipe reached with his short range communications and took it upon himself to ask, ::Uh… Where are we going?::

::House Beta,:: he got an answer from one of the enforcers promptly. ::They have the accommodations for you.::

House. This quickly? It hadn’t even been two hours, and they were already headed for a House?

Primus, they didn’t dawdle with these things.

He had more questions too, but lapsed into silence as they drove, the enforcers leading them back towards the surface. He still didn’t think they were the right people to ask all the things from. At the House would be mecha better suited for that, probably—and to that end, once they were on the first deck again, they took course towards the city center and presumably the House they were going to.

House Beta. Where was that? He had no idea. It had never been prudent for them to know these things. Maybe it would be now. Or maybe it still wouldn’t matter once they got there. You didn’t exactly see carriers walking about. The location might be completely irrelevant, at least compared to them actually being there.

How fine were they with that? He wasn’t sure yet. He wasn’t sure about a damn thing yet.

They didn’t make it all the way to the city center before the enforcers began to choose ramps to take them above the surface again, onto the roads traversing between the towers. Fliers flitted above and below them, and the sun got warmer the higher they went.

And they went as high as the roads would take them. Once there was nothing but open sky above them, the enforcers stopped at one of the towers and transformed. The twins followed suit, just to get quickly led not to the main doors into the tower itself, but to what looked like maintenance or staff entrance.

But this high up even those doors opened to a spacious, well lit hallway, unlike you would’ve expected from the lower end areas down below where barely the environment the customers were in mattered, nevermind that of the actual workers.

Onward they went to a set of elevators, barely passing by a single mech—probably just how the enforcers wanted it. The elevators here weren’t as big as he assumed those in the common areas were, but they still easily fit all four of them.

Up they went. Sideswipe followed the numbers rise on the elevator’s display, showing how high in the tower they were going.

They were going damn high. Even with the elevator moving fast it took them a good while before they began to slow down. They’d already been in the upper third of the tower. Now they were in the middle of the upper third.

He had never been this high up, but once the elevator stopped and its doors opened, there were no windows to be seen no matter how he’d hoped for some, just to get a glimpse of the view. Instead there were just more well lit hallways, still appearing to be the back areas of the tower where there was really no one around, and even the few mecha they passed didn’t stop to gawk.

Just a glance, a knowing smile, sometimes a nod. Nothing more than that. They minded their own business. 

But apparently everyone could guess why they were here. Not that it was hard. Two guttermechs getting escorted around by enforcers in a place like this, and not towards the closest exit?

There weren’t a whole lot of reasons for why that would be.

They walked along the twisting corridors for a decent while before there was a set of double doors along an otherwise empty hallway. There was a guard standing just outside the door, painted deep, rich brown with just accents of white, who looked their way as they approached. He… Smiled at them. The expression was genuinely friendly, as far as they could tell.

Then the guard nodded at the enforcers and opened the door.

Two more guards were on the other side, by all appearances already waiting for them.

And just like that the enforcers handed them from one set of guardians to another, along with what was probably the datapad the medic had given them. That was given to one of the guards and they were guided into the room, just a little dimmer than the hallway, and then the doors closed behind them.

Locked, too. They could hear that much.

“Ah, you’re here! Welcome!” said a mech that was at the back of the room but now hurried closer.

All the way closer, enough to grab Sideswipe by the hand with both of his servos, giving it a small shake. Luckily he didn’t repeat the gesture on Sunstreaker, although Sideswipe wasn’t sure they weren’t both so dumbfounded by everything that his brother would’ve even remembered to react. It was one thing to get driven around the city to a fate they weren’t even sure about, quite another to get hit by the whirlwind of energy that surrounded this particular mech.

That went to introduce himself very quickly. “My name is Dawnlight, Head of this House. Welcome to Kaon’s Breeder House Beta.”

“Hi?” Sideswipe tried, earning a smile for his trouble before Dawnlight had a proper look at them and gasped in what didn’t look like exaggerated horror.

“Oh, you poor darlings!” he said with feeling, prompting them both to glance down their frames.

But no, there wasn’t more than the usual scuffs and grime, but apparently that was enough to make Dawnlight react. He continued, “Let’s get you settled in, then you can clean yourselves off. Maybe a nice oil bath too? You must be feeling awful. And a thorough medical check afterwards.”

“Uh…” but they weren’t much given a chance to say anything before Dawnlight ushered them further into the room. The two guards in the room trailed after them, although they let the bustling mech handle things after handing that one damned datapad to him. Dawnlight had a brief look at it before subspacing it.

“You must have so many questions!” Wasn’t that true. “I will do my best to explain everything, and if you have any questions despite my best attempts, ask! But first, could you please empty your subspaces onto this table,” Dawnlight requested with one of those really warm smiles that made Sideswipe really unsure of how he was supposed to react to the mech. The table’s surface was tapped with a digit.

Sideswipe glanced at Sunstreaker and after a delay Sunstreaker looked from Dawnlight back at him, but… Slag, what were they going to do? Fight the procedures? What would that get them?

Sunstreaker shrugged at him, and as one they began to empty their subspaces. There wasn’t much, just some knick-knacks and small weapons like knives, a few datapads, art and polishing supplies on Sunstreaker’s part too.

Anything dangerous they set down Dawnlight deftly picked up and moved to the side, leaving only harmless things on the table. “Do you do arts, honey?” he asked from Sunstreaker at the sight of the few art related things they’d managed to scrounge together. The golden twin nodded mutely after a moment’s hesitation, and Dawnlight’s smile lit back up. “It is so good to have hobbies! You will have plenty of chances to express yourself creatively here.”

Wasn’t that nice. They were getting relieved of anything they could use to harm others (or themselves), but there would be chances for art. Even their datapads—Dawnlight took out two datapads of his own, plugged both of them into each datapad they set down, and downloaded the contents from their datapads onto his datapads, before setting their datapads to the side with their other dangerous things.

Something was off here. Not just about Dawnlight’s whole demeanor, but just… With the whole thing. Was this standard practice?

Honestly, it probably was considering what kind of places the Houses were, from the little they knew about them. There was no way everyone was happy to end up in them.

Were they happy? Sideswipe could answer that with a firm no, but what he couldn’t say was that he was unhappy about it either. Maybe just because he still knew jackall about the whole deal, but Dawnlight had promised answers, so maybe things would clear up soon.

Once they’d emptied their subspaces, one of the guards jacked into both of them and used very high level security overrides on their systems to make sure they weren’t hiding anything more, and if that didn’t feel invasive Sideswipe wasn’t sure what would. Sunstreaker growled an objection too, but Dawnlight merely shushed him, like he was a goddamn youngling.

His brother growled some more at that, but it still got confirmed their subspaces were empty, and that they had no unacceptably risky body modifications while at it. Everything deemed safe enough they got to subspace again, while the dangerous things… Sideswipe wouldn’t have bet on ever seeing those things again.

“Come along then, I will introduce you to your new home,” Dawnlight said once they were all set, still smiling that somewhat patronizing smile that was really starting to get on Sideswipe’s nerves, and he knew Sunstreaker was several shades more aggravated than even he was. But whether they liked it or not, Dawnlight led the way to a door at the back of the room that opened to yet another hallway, though this one short.

Both of the guards followed them too. “Would you like separate rooms, or share?” Dawnlight asked from them, interjecting with a brief, “Our medical bay is down this corridor,” pointing towards a bend in the hallway, before giving them a chance to answer.

It was an easy answer. “Share.” Dawnlight nodded at them, and that seemed to be that.

They didn’t go towards the medical bay, but instead took a small ramp to the next story down. A larger hall greeted them, with another guard sitting at a desk along it. He smiled and nodded at them in greeting as they walked by him to a sturdy set of sliding doors, that opened to another short hallway.

There were no guards here, but Sideswipe would’ve bet his aft there were cameras.

At the end of that hallway was another set of sliding double doors, and by the looks of things all of the doors they’d passed required credentials to open—credentials they weren’t given.

These doors opened to them too, and on the other side was… A large room. The walls of it were a warm two-shade brown, the floor a bit darker. The center of the room was two stories high with a walkway circling the space on the second floor, shading the edges of the first floor. Two ramps led up to the second story on both sides of the room.

And in the walkway’s shade, the walls were lined with numbered doors at steady intervals.

Sideswipe’s optics drew back to the main space from there, to a large entertainment center. There were plenty of comfortable looking seats around it, and yet more tables elsewhere in the room. Shelves stood on one wall between the many doors, full of what looked like games and other pastimes from this distance. 

A few mecha were sitting around as they entered, looking up at them. Some of them smiled and waved, others didn’t much react.

Sideswipe waved back experimentally.

It was homey, all things considered. There was enough light that little was left in shade, and there looked to be a lot to do and lot to get comfortable on, and… Really, it was just a lot nicer than anything in the Pits had been, or frag, anything they’d ran into before the Pits for that matter.

It looked like an upgrade, but he wasn’t fully convinced it was one anyway, because aside from the niceties it mostly just reminded him of a prison block. 

Was that what they were, now? Prisoners?

And guards. There were more brown and white clad guards. One was standing right by the door, he could see another leaning on the railing on the second floor, and a third was at the back of the room, talking with another mech that didn’t look like a guard himself. 

The ones that had accompanied them kept accompanying them as Dawnlight gestured at the room at large and led the way further into it. “This is the common area. There’s much entertainment provided as you can see, but if there’s ever any you feel like you’re lacking, all you need to do is say so and I’ll see what I can do about it.”

They arrived to the back right corner of the room, to an open doorframe. Dawnlight stopped next to it, smiled at them, and encouraged them to look inside. They did. “This is the kitchen. The energon dispenser is always stocked, and the appliances are all in your use if you ever get the fancy to make anything. Remember to share with the others, though!”

“Are there ratios?” Sideswipe asked. The kitchen wasn’t big, but it was well equipped. Anything a mech could need to make all sorts of things.

A couple more tables with chairs around them were inside, too.

“Ratios?” Dawnlight asked, again looking more than a little horrified. Sideswipe quickly received a reassuring pat on his arm. “Oh, dear, no. You can fuel as much as you want. Never you worry about that.”

That was… A decently pleasant surprise and a nice change of pace from what their whole goddamn life had been like so far. Sideswipe nodded his understanding, and… Slag, it might be nice to have full tanks for once.

So, that was another good thing about this, apparently.

They followed Dawnlight to the left corner next. This one had a door, but it had no number on it, and when Dawnlight opened it, “Here are the washracks. You’re in desperate need of them, aren’t you, darlings? They’re very well stocked, but if you’re ever missing something despite that, all you need to do is say so!”

The room wasn’t fancy, but it was functional. There were several showers along the walls, baskets hung next to them full of washing supplies, and even a small oil bath in the middle—big enough for two mechs by Sideswipe’s judgement. 

Primus knew he’d never even seen an oil bath before. It would be fun to test that out.

So… This wasn’t all negative. Really, it wasn’t, but it still… Didn’t sit all well with him.

The guards continued to follow them as Dawnlight directed them up one ramp to the second floor. He turned left once he reached the walkway and the twins followed him for a few steps before he stopped by one door—door numbered twenty-two—and opened it. “Alright loves, this will be your room,” he announced with a smile, gesturing for them to go see it.

They did, albeit a bit hesitantly. Sunstreaker stepped into the room first, Sideswipe on his heels, and together they had a look around.

It wasn’t… Big. Far from it, but it still had well enough space for a double berth, one nightstand-like table next to it, a sofa for two in one corner, a desk with a chair in another, and a set of drawers with a mirror above them, and one single light at the center of the ceiling. The walls and floor were the same as elsewhere in the House, and another unobtrusive, closed door sat on the back wall.

There were just the furnishings though, no other signs that it had ever been lived in. But that probably figured if it was free for them.

“You can customize things to your liking and make this look a bit more lived in,” Dawnlight addressed just that detail, watching them as they took in their new… Home. Apparently. “Just don’t move the furniture around without a go ahead, we want to keep things easy to access.”

“How do we like… Get stuff to customize things with?” Sideswipe asked after there wasn’t anything more to see in the relatively spartan room, looking back at Dawnlight.

“Oh! Silly me, I nearly forgot these,” Dawnlight gasped, quickly pulling the two datapads from his subspace that he’d uploaded all of the contents of their old datapads to. Each of them was handed one. “The House has its own application, installed on your ‘pads, that all of the carriers and staff can access. Browse the datanet for things to buy as you normally would, and then place a requisition order through the app. Everything reasonable will usually be granted. Decorations, games, book files, movies, you name it.”

They accepted the datapads. Sideswipe turned his on and… Aside from the mentioned application at easy access, it looked just like any datapad.

He didn’t think it was, though. “Why couldn’t we have our old ‘pads?” he asked, looking up from the screen.

Dawnlight didn’t look too perturbed by the question and just smiled that smile again. It was like he thought he was talking to children or something. “Safety reasons. That is our primary goal here, to make sure you’re secure and comfortable.”

“So these are bugged,” Sideswipe guessed. “You can see everything we do with them.”

Still Dawnlight gave no signs of being uncomfortable with his forwardness. Neither did the two guards for that matter. “That is correct! We don’t want you to end up in any dangerous situations, even just on the datanet.”

“Right,” Sideswipe said, a bit skeptical. Was it about their safety, or was it just about controlling them and… Every aspect of their lives from now on, it looked like. “Is there something we’re not supposed to be doing with these?”

“You will be informed if something you’re doing is deemed too risky, you don’t need to worry about it yourself.”

So getting controlled, practically imprisoned, and treated like younglings that didn’t know near enough about life and how things worked? Though, granted, they didn’t yet know too much about how things worked, but pits, the tone Dawnlight was using. 

But speaking of imprisoned, “Are we allowed to leave?” Sideswipe asked.

He was pretty sure he already knew the answer, and Dawnlight confirmed that with a simple, “No. For your safety you will remain here where we can keep you safe and guarded at all times.”

Imprisoned, then. “How long?” he still asked, but he feared he knew that answer too.

And it really was a displeased kind of expectation of the worst sort right then. Here was the downside to all of this. “Rest of your lives, ideally,” Dawnlight answered.

Ideally, he said. As if there was anything ideal about… This.

But what had he thought would happen? Something other than this? There was nothing other than this for anyone who came out positive. Just a House, and… Everything that happened in a House. “Right,” Sideswipe said again, more quietly this time, and let his optics fall back to the datapad in his hands. For all the positives, the improvements in their future quality of life compared to their old one… As much fuel as they needed and then some, washracks, things to do…

But not allowed to leave, ever, and used just for what the house was named for until their spark gave out from the strain. That was what carriers did.

Even with all the improvements, could anyone really want this? Would they have preferred their life of hardship, where they at least were free?

There was a bit of desperation, right next to the knowledge that there wasn’t really anything they could do. They could fight, but that was what everything here was designed for—to make fighting useless, make things inevitable.

But it was a tough thing to just accept, either. 

“Let me walk you through how things are run here, now,” Dawnlight continued, sitting on the berth and patting it on either side of him in invitation. Sideswipe didn’t really want to go, Sunstreaker even less so, but it wouldn’t help them at all if they didn’t know how things worked. No matter what they would choose to do, being informed was a good first step.

So, despite their reluctance, they sat down on both sides of the House’s Head. Dawnlight pulled out a datapad of his own after they were settled, hooking to it and bringing out… Their information. They recognized that much, from their pictures and spark signature if nothing else. Everything the government knew about them was on display, from their activation to their recorded history and medical profile—that now had the additional and most important note that their spark was a carrier. “This is your file,” Dawnlight said. “For security reasons I can’t show the profiles of the other carriers, but theirs are the same. Now, when a client comes in to purchase a newspark, this is what they will be shown.” He scrolled along the information provided, of which there wasn’t a hell of a lot what with their age and… Past social status, but it was as thorough as it was going to get. “They will pick either one of the available carriers, or ask to be put on a waiting list for one who is heavy at the time. I will publish your profile right after we’re done here and hopefully you’ll get your first client soon.”

Hopefully? Sideswipe wasn’t all that hopeful and Sunstreaker’s engine rumbled unhappily—but that was how things worked. They wouldn’t be able to put it off forever. Sooner or later someone would pick them.

“The client will see you here in your room, coming only through the second door,” Dawnlight said, pointing at the nondescript door at the back wall. So that was what that was for. “A guard will be present at all times, so have no fear of being left alone with a sleazy sort of person.” 

Wasn’t that nice, being concerned over leaving them alone with bad players.

Slag all of this. “You only need to provide your cooperation for the sparking the first time, understandably. This isn’t a whore house.

“Whether the newspark’s frame is built externally or coded internally is up to the client. If they choose the former, you won’t see them again. If they choose the latter and want to contribute, regular appointments will be set up to a frequency of their preference. Whichever one of your frames is carrying at the time will cooperate with interface. Again, a guard will be present at all times; you and the newspark will stay safe.”

And there it was, the crux of a carrier’s life—glorified rape, basically. Their willingness to consent didn’t matter one bit. “What if we refuse?” Sunstreaker asked sharply anyway.

There was no refusing and they both knew it. “Oh, honey, don’t be silly,” Dawnight chastised him. “You’re in the exceptional position of providing Cybertron with new life. This is an honor many wish they had.”

They weren’t so sure about that with the level of trade-off involved, but Dawnlight probably wouldn’t hear any arguments. Sunstreaker growled but didn’t say any more.

“You will care for the newspark to the best of your ability during the carry, of course. Otherwise you’re free to spend your time how you wish. You can lock the door so the other carriers can’t come disturb you, but naturally the guards and staff will always have access. There will be three guards present in the living area at all times. If you need anything, approach any one of them.

“Remember, we’re all here for you,” Dawnlight finished with feeling, looking between them earnestly. “Anything and everything you need will be provided.”

That was… Definitely dread and desperation that was starting to take a hold of their spark. The good qualities of the place? Not really enough to outweigh all the bad. The things they’d need to do just because they happened to be capable of carrying, losing their freedom, their control of their own life, their right to their own life. 

But that was what happened to carriers. They’d always known that.

They just hadn’t really thought it would happen to them. 

“Is there any break between carries?” Sideswipe asked quietly, clenching his servos around the datapad still in his hold. He didn’t want to be here anymore, and he didn’t want to accept this, and he didn’t want this to be his life—but no matter what they wanted, that was all theirs now.

“A few days, provided there is another request placed on you.”

A few days..? “Is that even enough time to recover from separation?” Sunstreaker asked, growling anew. 

Dawnlight didn’t take offense and answered as calmly and cheerfully as he had for the whole duration, “Medically speaking, yes. It is most desirable that you produce as many newsparks as possible. The shorter the breaks, the better.”

Sideswipe closed his optics, fighting back tears. On some level they’d known this too. Carriers were bred until their spark couldn’t take it anymore. That was just how it went. For reasons of productivity, it made sense that there would barely be any downtime.

“Cool,” Sideswipe whispered his understanding even as Sunstreaker’s engine revved. His brother was getting angry, where Sideswipe was mostly starting to feel defeated. Could they just… Go back to the way things were. He was starting to understand why some unfortunate individuals tried to avoid ever getting tested, no matter how illegal that was and how heavily the hammer came down when you were caught doing that. And it wasn’t an if, it was a when. Maybe you could avoid it for a time, but just their species’ mechanical, connected nature meant it couldn’t work forever.

Sucked to be Cybertronian in that aspect.

And in this aspect. 

Dawnlight patted Sideswipe’s thigh, though he was smart enough to keep his hands off of Sunstreaker. “Get settled in and go make some friends once you’re ready, hmm? I’m sure you’ll fit right in! And remember, if you need anything, just talk to one of the guards and they will help you.”

With that Dawnlight got up and left the room, the two guards disappearing with him. The door closed behind them, and… Then they were alone.

Silence ruled for a good while before Sideswipe released a big gush of air from his vents and set the rigged datapad down to free his arms for dropping his whole damn helm into them. 

It had only been… What, four hours since their test? And already they were here, thoroughly trapped and with all the promises of safety and security, but with no fucks given about what they wanted.

How the pit had things gone like this..?

“What are we going to do?” he asked so quietly he wasn’t sure Sunstreaker could even hear, but it didn’t matter. Their spark rang with the question too.

The answer he got, spoken almost as quietly, wasn’t very comforting. “I don’t know.”

What were even their options? Go along with things and get sparked over and over again? Or fight it and get sparked over and over again anyway? No doubt the guards and administration had all the techniques for wrangling uncooperative breeders into compliance. How often did that even happen, that someone just couldn’t accept their fate and put up a bloody fight? They couldn’t be the only ones entertaining the idea.

How many of them eventually gave up, when all their fighting proved futile?

They knew what was expected of them. Go along with everything asked of them, as long as it followed the rules of conduct around breeders, and those of the House. And at all times there would be guards around to make sure those rules were followed by all parties—and that they were doing what they were supposed to be doing. That was the deal, wasn’t it?

And in return they got a comfortable life in a gilded prison, never needing to yearn for anything except freedom and a right to their own bodies. In the past were the days of scraping by, of not having enough fuel, or access to basic maintenance, not always even chances to clean themselves. 

In the past were the days of going where they wanted and doing what they wanted, too. Sideswipe was pretty sure he would have picked that life with all of its difficulties over this life, despite all of its upsides.

But they’d tested positive, and this was what happened when you tested positive.

“Ugh… Might as well enjoy what there is to enjoy,” Sideswipe spoke up after another long silence, lifting his helm. Feeling sorry for himself was tiresome and wouldn’t get him anywhere anyway. Just… Roll with the punches. Look for the silver lining and all that. Focusing on the negative wasn’t like him anyway. “That oil bath is really calling to me. And so’s a warm cube of energon.”

Sunstreaker snorted next to him before the sound was followed by a sigh. “Can’t disagree with that.”

( Next )

[geminimoon14]

Sanders Sides Sci-fi Au

This is my own fanfiction about the Sides in a Star-Trek reminiscent setting. Logan is the only human on board and the others are aliens. This universe is a way for me to branch out from my fantasy style of writing practice scientific writings.

AO3 Link: Welcome Aboard the USS Sanders

Logan hated these sorts of missions. They were always meant to be interesting but no, this time the exploration mission involves hostile lifeforms. Of course as the Chief Science Officer he ought to know better but this was completely unprecedented.

The ship had been left adrift for who knows how long before Captain Roman Prince and his crew came across it. Scans had suggested no signs of life onboard. Roman’s Head of Security, Virgil Storm, had voted to leave it be in case the danger was still present. 

Dr. Logan Croft had offered to go on board, as the lead scientist, with a partner to investigate the wreckage and find the cause of abandonment. The ship’s medic Dr. Patton Hart offered to go with in case there were hidden survivors that needed treatment. Hesitantly, Roman granted permission for the excursion as long as they followed procedure.

They were quickly outfitted and on their way with a few extra suits for any survivors and a pair of Stun Pistols for any hostiles. It was a quick trip that seemed longer because Virgil kept checking in on them. Logan had Patton handle the calls while he focused on docking the ship. 

Patton was quick to reassure Virgil, “It’s just a quick trip and if anything happens one of us will call you. Promise!” Virgil played with his security badge as he asked, “You know what to do if something comes at you, right?” Logan sighed as he recited back, “‘Unholster the pistol, aim for the largest part of the threat, and pull the trigger’ we know, Virgil.” Patton gave him a disapproving look of ‘that- was-rude-and-you-need-to-fix-it’.

Logan sighed as he amended, “You were very thorough in your lessons and I am certainly grateful for that. However, the sooner we complete the excursion, the sooner we will return.” He heard Virgil take a breath and agreed, “Okay, just… be safe, okay?” Patton gave Logan a smile and answered, “Don’t worry, Virgil! We’ll be back before you know it!”

The ship was in complete disarray. Wires hung ominously overhead and the interior paneling was shredded. Debris littered the floor along with dark stains that neither man wanted to investigate. 

Logan pressed a button on the side of his helmet, activating the camera, and started recording his findings. He examined the walls and recorded, “It appears as though something or someone pulled the paneling here in order to access the wiring. Further examination seems to indicate the circuitry was removed via force. Atmosphere seems safe but we will keep our helmets on in case of foreign contaminants.”

While Logan continued his investigation, Patton hung back nervously. The medic shuddered from the chill that ran down his spine at the sight of drag marks leading away from them. His freckles took on a yellow shade as fear started to creep in. There was a loud creaking noise that echoed through the hall.

Both men froze as Logan slowly drew his pistol from its holster. Patton tried to hide behind the science officer as the latter slowly moved towards the noise. The noise did not repeat itself and Logan slowly holstered his weapon.

More cautiously than before, they moved further into the ship. The dark stains grew more frequent the further they got and all the lights were powered down except for the emergency evacuation lights. The flashing orange lights and the suits camera lights were all they had to guide their path.

Logan caught sight of a door out of the corner of his eye, the sign on it reading ‘Caution: Power Center’ and the handle smeared with the same dark matter they had seen earlier. Logan approached as he murmured, “More of the substance is on the door of the ship’s power supply. Further investigation required.” 

Patton flinched as Logan opened the door with a loud groan of heavy metal. The room was covered in something dark and almost fluid. Patton remained in the hall as Logan entered and remarked, “The walls and floor seem to be covered in the substance we saw earlier. Based on the consistency we can infer that it is not blood as previously believed.” 

He placed a hand against the wall and watched as it rippled at the touch. Logan raised a brow curiously as he commented, “Unknown substance seems reminiscent of species-” He was cut off as a tendril of the substance wrapped around his wrist in a more coherent form. Another tendril wrapped around his torso as he let out a shout.

Patton heard the shout and called out, “Logan?! Are you okay?!” There was a crash and a few grunts in answer. The medic rushed inside in time to see the substance creep upward and a familiar helmet crash to the floor. 

Patton looked up to see a mass of writhing tendrils wrapped around a struggling Logan. His helmet was off and a tentacle had wrapped itself around his mouth and throat while others held the scientist against it. Patton shrieked as he found the call button on his helmet and screamed, “Emergency! This is Dr. Patton Hart! Logan’s in danger!” 

The doctor turned towards the creature, drawing his stun pistol with freckles flashing red for a moment, and ordered, “Let him go or else!” Logan winced as the tentacles tightened their grip and a voice hissed, “Surrender or I crush him!” Patton glanced between his ally and the creature before slowly returning his weapon to its holster, freckles turning yellow once more.

It lowered itself from the ceiling, dragging Logan with it, as it inquired, “Doctor? You heal?” Patton slowly nodded as he replied, “Yes, do you need help?” The creature seemed to contemplate its answer as Virgil’s voice blared through his helmet’s speaker, “Patton! Are you alright?! Answer me!” 

The creature seemed to hear the call as it commanded, “Answer! Or I crush him.” Patton watched as Logan struggled to breathe for a moment before answering, “I’m here, Virgil. I’m okay for now.” The creature seemed satisfied as Virgil’s voice rang through, “We’re coming, okay. ETA of ten minutes. How’s Logan?” 

Tendrils loosened a little as the creature told Patton, “You help, I let go.” Logan gave Patton an unreadable look as he told Virgil, “Logan’s okay for now. We’ve encountered another life form. I’m going to help but I’m not sure what I need to do.” There was a beat of silence before Virgil’s voice shrieked, “What the hell?! Patton?!” 

The creature laughed before gesturing with a tendril and ordering, “Follow.” Patton obeyed as he relayed, “I’m following it.” There was a distinct groan of dismay as the alien opened a door and As the creature moved it slowly took on more humanoid features until it was a human figure with tentacles coming out of its back. 

Patton jumped as it cleared its throat and told the medic, “Much easier to talk like this. This is where my friend is, any tricks and I’ll enjoy tearing your friend apart.” Logan shot the humanoid a look and tried to say something through the tentacle.

It chuckled as it asked, “What was that?” The tendril around Logan’s mouth withdrew as the human answered, “That is highly unnecessary. Patton would have given assistance without the threat on my life.” The humanoid cackled before telling his captive, “Maybe but I’d rather not take chances. Never know when someone’s going to pluck out your eye so they can watch it regrow.”

Patton made a disgusted face as the creature led them to another door. The alien opened it with an echoing metal groan. The inside was dark, like where the alien had been hiding, and warm. 

Patton stepped inside with a hesitant look as he called out, “Hello? My name’s Dr. Patton Hart; I’m here to help.” There was a soft groan as a voice asked, “You’re not a doctor?” At the awkward pause, the creature slapped its forehead and muttered to itself, “Duh, Remus, you forgot to tell them.” Remus turned to the medic and explained, “His species tends to speak in lies so he wants to know if you’re actually a doctor.” 

Patton moved closer to the pained voice as he replied, “Yes, your friend asked for my help.” There was a soft hiss before the voice returned, “I won’t trust him then. I’m not to your right.” Patton took a moment to decipher the voice’s meaning before turning right and nearly stumbling over a body.

The injured being let out a loud moan of pain that had Patton apologizing profusely. Remus glared at the medic as his tentacles began constricting Logan. The human in question let out a choked noise as the mass of dark green tendrils tried to crush him. Patton whirled around his freckles shining a brilliant gold as he cried, “No, wait! It was an accident! Please stop!” 

The body next to him reached a scaled hand out and ordered, “Remus, don’t stop.” The tentacles stopped but maintained the same pressure until the other told him, “I don’t still need treatment, do kill the doctor’s friend.”

With trembling hands, Patton examined his patient. One half of them was covered in scales similar to a snake on earth with one golden eye while the other half appeared human. There was a wound on the human half, the burn around it indicated a blaster of some kind. 

Remembering where he kept the regeneration pod was nearly a problem for Patton until he recalled Virgil shoving it into Logan’s backpack after filling up Patton’s. The medic bit his lip nervously as he turned to Remus and told him, “I need to get Logan’s backpack. It has something I need.”

Remus gave the medic a strange look but maneuvered Logan until his backpack was in his hands. He handed it over to Patton and shifted so he could see what the medic was doing. 

The disc-shaped device was placed over the wound as Patton pressed a button in the middle. The pod emitted a bright blue glow as the wound slowly began to close. Remus watched, looking a little awed, as he questioned, “This’ll fix him?” 

Patton pulled out a device and waved it over the injured alien as he answered, “As far as I can tell, he’s healing. He’ll need rest and food but other than that the regeneration pod should repair most of the damage.” The medic glanced at the scientist still trapped as he asked, “What happened here anyway?”

His patient huffed out a bitter laugh as he informed the medic, “Wasn’t a bunch of asshole’s experimenting on people. Remus did not break out and utterly destroy them. They didn’t set off an explosion and when I got hurt he wanted to leave me.” Patton nodded in understanding as he dug through his backpack, pulled out a protein bar and offered it to him. A scaled hand took it eagerly and tore the packaging open.

Remus smiled as he inquired, “Feeling better, Jan-Jan?” Patton turned to his patient as he asked, “Is that your name?” The injury was nearly gone when the alien answered, “I’m not, Remus. And my actual name isn’t Janus.” Patton’s freckles lit up with a bright blue as he held out a hand and told him, “Nice to meet you, Janus! I’ve already told you but I’m Patton. And he’s Logan.” 

He gestured over to Remus and the scientist trapped in his tentacles. Janus slowly sat up as he ordered, “Don’t let go of him. We don’t still need them.” Remus pouted as he protested, “But we need to get out of here somehow! What if the doctor tries something?!” Janus narrowed his eyes as he repeated, “Don’t let go.” Remus scoffed but started to let go of the scientist.

The door burst open as a familiar voice shouted, “Freeze!” Remus’s tentacles tightened back up as Patton threw himself over Janus. Standing there was the familiar figure of Virgil, his four eyes trained on Remus with his legs flared defensively- Logan often compared them to the kind spiders on Earth had.

Behind him was Captain Roman, stun pistol at the ready, as he declared, “By order of the captain of the USS Sanders, stand down!” Remus hissed as he turned towards the newcomers before going quiet. 

Roman’s hands shook as Remus looked him over, trembling, and whispered, “Roman?” The captain flinched before he shook his head and kept his pistol aimed at Remus. His eyes softened for a moment before he spat, “You can’t trick me! Not with his face!” 

Remus raised his hands in surrender as he hissed, “What did they tell you?! That I was dead?! Hah!” Roman glared, hands still unsteady, as he ordered, “Release my science officer and medic before I must use force.” 

Patton looked up as Virgil directed him, “Step away, Pat. We’re leaving.” Patton’s freckles turned red as he stood up and retorted, “No, he’s my patient.” Virgil looked taken aback as he protested, “They took you and Logan hostage! Step away, Patton!” 

Patton’s freckles turned an even brighter shade of red as he answered, “No! Pointing weapons at them isn’t going to help.” He turned his attention to the stand off and ordered, “Everyone stand down!” Roman and Remus glanced at the medic for a moment but returned to their stalemate. 

Desperately, Patton exclaimed, “Remus, Janus still needs treatment! If you let go of Logan, I can convince the captain to help!” Remus seemed to consider for a moment but answered, “No can do! The second I let go, Roman’ll shoot, like when we played our games as kids.” Roman’s finger twitched, like he was waiting to fire, as he spat, “Enough with this farce, you fake!”

At the captain’s distress, Virgil also took aim at Remus. Logan shot Patton a look that only he would understand. Patton took a deep breath, slowly standing up, and removed his helmet. His freckles and eyes turned bright blue and his voice took on an echoey quality as he shouted, “Everyone calm down!”

A burst of energy pulsed through the room and the others went lax. Logan slipped from Remus’s grip and tumbled onto the floor bonelessly. Janus looked on in awe as the captain and Virgil dropped their pistols to the floor. Remus swayed a little but he stayed standing.

Patton let out a sigh as he gathered the weapons from the floor. He returned to Janus’s side with a sheepish grin as he apologised, “Sorry, I really don’t like doing that but Logan told me I didn’t have any other choice.” Janus looked the medic over, taking in the glowing freckles and eyes, as well as, the antennae hidden in his curls. The tips of the antennae matched the glow of his freckles and iris, previously hidden in his hair. 

Janus looked over at the group, their eyes glowing with the same blue light, and asked, “What the frell are you? What did you do?” Patton rubbed his neck nervously as he answered, “I’m an Empara, I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of us. We can sense and transmit emotions to other lifeforms; we’re empaths. I hate doing it though.”

The scaled being could only nod dumly as Patton slowly dimmed the glow in the others’ eyes. The medic pulled Janus onto his back, making sure that he was not likely to fall, and warned, “I’m going to let them go, are you ready?” Janus nodded and watched as the glow from his eyes and antennae vanished and the antennae buried themselves amongst the curls once more.

Roman and Virgil shook their heads as though clearing their thoughts while Remus seemed to awaken more slowly. Logan remained on the floor, still recovering from the effects, while Patton asked, “Are you all done fighting?” Virgil and Roman turned their glares on him as they shrieked, “What was that?!” 

Patton countered their glares with his own ‘paternal-disapproval-and-disappointment’ look that had become infamous on their ship. They both retracted their glares as Patton scolded, “Logan had to signal me to do it because no one was listening to reason and threatening each other! You know he doesn’t like it anymore than I do when I use it!” 

Remus seemed to finally power through the remaining dregs of calm and exclaimed, “What the frell was that?!” Roman glared at him until Patton asked, “Why are you so sure that Remus is lying?” Roman bit his lip and walked a few steps away, shaking with emotion.

He slammed his fist into the wall as he whispered, “Because my brother is dead. I killed him.” Virgil’s eyes went wide as Remus scoffed and remarked, “Hate to break it to you, but those scientists fed you a load of dren. They faked my death, they used some drug to slow my hearts- personally I would have gone with being ‘torn apart by Dracitches’ but anyways. It wasn’t your fault.”

Roman seemed torn between hoping that Remus was right and the pain of believing his brother dead. Remus seemed to catch on and muttered something that made Patton’s glow turn purple with embarrassment as he hissed, “Language! There’s no need for that kind of profanity!”

To everyone’s surprise, Roman started laughing. Virgil cautiously approached, placed a hand on the captain’s shoulder, and asked, “Are you okay, Ro?” Roman’s laughter mixed with tears as he returned the phrase. Patton turned on him with a scathing glare and scolded, “Roman! I thought you knew better!”

Remus started cackling as he remarked, “Didn’t think you’d remember!” Roman, ignoring Patton’s glare, reached out to his sibling and retorted, “As if I’d ever forget our code after the punishment our mother gave us.” Virgil gave Patton a confused look before throwing his arms in the air, exasperated, and crouched beside Logan. 

The human was laying there giggling as Virgil hoisted him into his arms. Logan laughed and wrapped his arms around his neck as he giggled, “You’re super strong. I wish I was strong but no.~” Virgil let out an annoyed groan as he carried the scientist over to Patton.

The Empara gave him an embarrassed look as he defended, “Logan told me to! He gave me the signal!” Virgil sighed, already accepting that their lead scientist was going to be high from the wave of emotion Patton unleashed. Janus watched the exchange from Patton’s back in confusion but saved his commentary for a more appropriate time as the human began rambling about how different Roman and Remus’s transformations were.

Virgil took his gun from Patton, who also returned Roman’s weapon, and gestured towards the door. They snatched Logan’s helmet on the way out, thankfully undamaged, and secured it. 

On their way to the USS Sanders, Logan seemed to come out of his daze. Patton, having offered to take Logan and Janus in their ship, immediately jumped as Logan groaned, “I swear the effects take longer to wear off each time.” Patton smiled as he exclaimed, “You’re back! How’re you feeling?” 

Logan sat straighter in his seat as he mumbled, “I will recover in time. There is some residual numbing effect from your ability.” Patton sighed as he shrugged and told him, “Sorry, I wish that it didn’t last so long on you.” Logan waved away the apology in a way that suggested that it was not the first time the human had fallen victim to Patton’s power.

Janus glanced up as he asked, “Why was I affected?” Patton smiled as he answered, “When an Empara uses that ability, we can aim it a little. I made sure to aim up so you wouldn’t get hit.” Pattom shook his head before he finished, “No telling what could have happened while you were still stabilizing.”

Janus nodded, following the explanation as best he could, and relaxed in his seat as their ship docked with the USS Sandes. Patton was quick to rush Janus to Medbay on a gurney, as well as a resistant Logan who insisted he was fine.

Patton stopped those objections with a look and Janus watched as the human’s protests died in his throat and he laid down on the floating gurney. Virgil snickered as he pushed Logan into the room and commented, “You should know better, Lo. When Pat’s in ‘Dad Mode’ you can’t stop him.”

Logan glared at him as Patton placed his hands on the human’s temples and warned, “Don’t tease Logan, Virgil. I’m trying to focus.” Virgil waved off the warning but stopped agitating the scientist. 

Janus held out his hand as an invitation to Virgil as he said, “We shouldn’t start over. I’m not Janus. I’m not a hybrid of two races. I know exactly where I hail from.” Virgil accepted the hand and shook it as he offered, “Virgil, Head of Security. I’m Araneus but I guess that’s pretty obvious, huh?” He gestured to his eyes and extra legs in demonstration.

Roman entered with Remus as he sighed, “The situation has been cleared up and these two are allowed to remain with us on our voyage.” Remus chuckled as he hovered over Logan and asked, “So you’re a human? What’s it like being a Deathworlder?” Roman, Virgil, and Patton flinched as Logan huffed, “Nothing so strange as what you are thinking I’m sure.”

Roman nudged his brother and muttered something in his native language. Remus’s grin grew as he stated, “Oh, yeah. Sorry about almost strangling you. Apparently it’s ‘extremely rude’ and ‘inappropriate’ or whatever.” 

Logan blinked before returning, “I accept your apology. Should you have any questions for me, I can be found in my office.” Patton scowled as he threatened, “Not for a few days or I can and will use the high-grade tranquilisers.” The human’s lips turned down as he crossed his arms and muttered, “I’m fine and have work.” 

Patton glared at Roman, who immediately assured them, “I won’t make him do any work until you give the okay, Patton!” Virgil snickered as Logan groaned, Janus barely covering his laughter with a cough as Remus cheered, “Guess that means I get to spend extra time with you, Deathworlder!” Logan covered his eyes with his arm and hissed, “I will warn you now, if you disturb my circadian rhythm for your questions there will be consequences.”

Before Remus could tease, Roman whispered, “Do not do it. He knows how to make you regret ‘corporeal existence’. That’s a quote from the last frelnik who interfered with his sleep.” Remus’s eyes grew wide as he turned to the human and agreed, “Whatever you want, Doctor! Treat me like a fascinating specimen!”

Roman made a disgusted face and shoved his brother out of Medbay, exclaiming, “Well, that’s disgusting! I’ll let you rest now, Lo! Do not disobey Patton’s orders!” Janus watched the exchange with wide eyes as Virgil shrugged and told him, “Welcome aboard the USS Sanders. Chaos is the norm.”