#yeah yeah they’re not in a command structure anymore

[thresholdbb]

I just watched the Prodigy season 2 sneak peak again, and the EMH is on a first-name basis with Admiral Kathryn Janeway?!

[koukouture]

Trying to make sense of Babylonia bc I’m insane

So… I’m actually curious as to how many people are living on Babylonia and how the hell it’s structures since it’s shaped like a giant nail. And so I took some screenshots to help me make sense of it.

So this is another angle of Babylonia, a full image of it as opposed to the loading screen. This angle lets us see that there’s a sort of structure at the top, I assume this is where the bridge and central command is. And as we can see, it’s pretty fucking massive.

Here is a more zoomed out version of the loading screen image.

I’m not exactly going to fault Kuro for consistency but the top part seems significantly larger in the first picture. Anyways that’s all well and good but where the fuck are these areas???

Now, I used this part of Haicma’s story bc it lets you kind of travel around this map. And As we can see, there’s a sort of shopping district up here. There’s an elevator nearby, and it’s a pretty big elevator mind you. It’s like a whole tube thingy. And also, this shopping district or whatever is above parliament

See that structure in the distance? Yeah that’s parliament

That is the shopping area thingy from in front of parliament.

So Babylonia is built up on a lot of layers, probably to conserve space. And as we can all see, there’s an artificial sky, I believe Chrome’s interlude confirms this basically. And in any case there’s something of a city in Babylonia too.

So far, this background has been exclusively used when we’re on Babylonia so I am assuming it’s on Babylonia also because it’s too perfect and you know, it’s not in ruins. Also, outside of the preparation room??? Idk just look.

You can see the silhouettes of buildings outside the window, and I do believe in the Panini shorts the constructs walk around something resembling a city but I’m not abt to take that show as canon, goofy and cute as it is.

So like… how big is Babylonia to be able to house an entire ass city inside??? Also, what’s the situation because as we’ve established, Babylonia is like a nail so I’m not quite sure where to place all these buildings??? A friend suggested it was centrifugal force, that is the city is built in like a ring?? Like lining the walls of a cylinder? Idk how to explain it. But we just see the artificial sky so I don’t think so, but that would be most likely since it saves on space but still I just don’t know.

Since we’ve established that the little top part is probably central command or whatever and maybe where military operations are planned as in the two above pictures we can see that they’re above the city to some degree so uh… yeah idk what’s going on you guys.

Not to mention that leaves us with the giant ring around the nail part.

Now, I want to say that the ring is actually where the city is, and it’s built around that but that would require Babylonia to be fucking MASSIVE like bigger than it already is in order for their to be an artificial atmosphere and thus an artificial sky.

This is a screenshot from the movie Elysium where’s there’s this mega structure in space housing all the rich people and it looks like Earth from on the structure but it actually looks like this

As you can see it is fucking huge and Babylonia is not that big. Not by a long shot. But I think it holds a similar populations so at this point idk anymore.

My logic is that if the ultra rich are 1% of the world and in this movie they all moved to this… uh, thing in space in this movie then Babylonia houses at most mayyyyybe 1% of humanity since I’m sure there was probably some overcrowding and the properties aren’t all as spread out since I believe Babylonia is built on a bunch of verticality bc where the fuck else are you going to put people on a fucking nail???

BUT WAIT, 1% of our current population is 79 million people (according to google) and Babylonia is big, but it’s not that fucking big. If I’m being generous I’ll give it the population of a megacity (about 10 million people) but I think that about it since Babylonia is already fucking huge like anything bigger and humanity can probably just call it their new planet.

I was about to wonder why Babylonia looks the way it does but then I remember that it’s actually supposed to be mobile, that is it’s supposed to not just orbit around Earth. Like it’s described as originally being built for interstellar travel.

That tells us some stuff, like that Babylonia is very much self sufficient and doesn’t really need resources from Earth, since this bad baby is supposed to be traveling light years but I fucking digress because WHERE DO ALL THE PEOPLE GO???

Like originally I thought that maybe command and operations or whatever are all on this outer ring since you can see the stars though the windows in the backgrounds sometimes but i don’t know anymore.

At most I can probably give a floor plan of Parliament’s surrounding area and I can probably give you a rough estimate of how many people live there (as you can see above what I just told you) but I cannot actually map everything out. Like I cannot make sense of this.

Sure I can use Herta’s space station for reference but it’s population is much smaller (I think some hundred or so and most of em are researchers and whatnot) thus the space station is much smaller naturally and though the shape is similar I don’t see whole ass cities on Herta Space station.

I can’t use the Luofu from the same game either because it’s MUCH bigger than Babylonia just based off the maps and it’s population isn’t you know, fragments of a civilization. Like it is massive oh my god you can see that there are clouds below the areas. CLOUDS. It is a LONG way down. Also the Luofu isn’t shaped similarly and it’s not a fucking post apocalyptic situation as I mentioned earlier so their population is huge. I could base it off China’s current population (1.412 billion once again according to google) and that would means it’s massive and also yeah, I think that would check out actually. Since I think March remarks that the Luofu is almost the size of a planet or smth.

But point is I’m insane and I definitely look too far into the weirdest fucking things. Anyways the most I can tell you about Babylonia is that’s mostly vertical, there’s gonna be lots of elevators and tubes (almost like a hamster cage lmao) and I think military operations n shit are at that top part. Idk what the ring around it is. Good day it is midnight and I must update my insane Pgr x Hsr fanfic which actually prompted me going down this rabbit hole funny enough.

[heyclickadee]

Okay…thoughts on “The Clone Conspiracy”:

1.

2. Kind of like with “The Solitary Clone,” my thoughts on this one are more along the lines of *stares in disbelief* and *sad whale noises* so this is going to be somewhat shorter than normal.

3. That said…my god, the clones in this episode. The atmosphere at 79’s. “We’re not bad men, but what we did…”. These men are haunted by order 66 and what they did to Kamino, by what they were used to do. And they don’t know why. None of them understands why they did it and they’re haunted by what they think was their choice to follow orders. And on top of that they’re scared to speak up and terrified of being replaced. And losing their purpose in a galaxy that isn’t grateful for all the lives they lost and doesn’t want them anymore. The betrayal of the clones was the worst thing Palpatine ever did, full stop. He orchestrates the creation of an army of manufactured human beings who have it drilled into their heads since decanting that they don’t matter, that they’re expendable, that their purpose is to die for a cause that they never chose to believe in, and then, oh! He makes sure the Jedi are going to be their generals. And the jedi, for all the ways in which their dealings with the clones was flawed, for all the ways they failed, for as corrupted as the structure of the order was, happened to be the one group of people he could trust to at least bare minimum see the clones as people. And it turns out that the clones are, by and large, good people, right down to their bones. It doesn’t mean they can’t be complete bastards, immature, or even downright mean sometimes, but there’s a goodness there, nonetheless. And then he lets them spend three years building up camaraderie and that heartbreakingly complicated but close relationship with the Jedi, he puts the end of the war and the possibility of a life afterwards in their grasp and THEN! Then he forces them to murder their generals, their friends, some of the only people in the galaxy who had the decency to use their names, their friends. He makes them murder children. And then he passes down a command to make these men, who are already confused and reeling, bomb the closest thing they had to a home into the next parsec and then (getting into the next episode but whatever) has the audacity to throw them away (and worse!) because they’re “too obedient”and follow bad orders without hesitation knowing damn well that his whole plane hinged on robbing them of the capacity to say no? I mean, yes, of course, that’s why his whole plan was to pin the blame for Kamino on them, they’ve served their purpose and he doesn’t need them anymore but Anakin could you please hurry up and throw this block of evil down an elevator shaft already?

4. Riyo!! Is…that always how her name was pronounced? Either way, I loved her in these episodes, and the way she was so determined to give the clones a voice.

5. “What about when you’re too old to fight?” I’m…none of the men in that room thought they would live to see the end of the war. I’m going to step on glass.

6. This is one of those episodes where I’m glad that one of the head writers for the show (Jennifer Corbett, in this case) is, from what I understand, a navy vet. I think that experience is bringing a perspective to the show that we maybe wouldn’t be getting otherwise.

7. I was so scared that the clone assassin was Crosshair for a minute. In retrospect it was super obvious that it wasn’t him—Crosshair’s a better shot than that—but from the moment poor Cade got shot by a sniper to the moment Rex took the assassin’s mask off, I was worried.

8. So…hey, yeah, that clone assassin, right? I’m kind of with everyone else in thinking that the poor guy is an early stage version of what’s going to become either the death, purge, or dark troopers, or perhaps a common ancestor or all three. And the fact that he knew Captain Rex has me worried, because who was he? Was he in the 501st? The 212th? Have we seen him before, and just don’t know it?

9.

Edit: 10. Oh yeah, one more thing. So you know how we keep getting new clones and we keep getting their names, and how every time we get a clone with a name they die almost immediately? And how it’s typically the named clones who are dying at this point? It’s killing me. I’m dying, Scoob.

[adarlingwrites]

Leave it to the Wind

Summary: Between deadlines, an awful transport system, and aswangs lurking about in the shadows, you have much to worry about as a college student in Manila, and it's so much that your social life is practically dead. Your wind people roommates want to help you remedy that.

Words: 9343

Relationships: The Kambal/Reader (Crispin/Reader/Basilio)

Warnings: Adult content, alcohol, brief scene of sexual harassment

Author’s Notes: God, the fandom is so thirsty for the Kambal, and so am I. Finally, some Filipino himbo representation.

The premise is: Hannah and Amie decides to play matchmaker. Hilarity ensues. Smut ensues. Please be nice, I based the characterizations of the character on the Netflix series and Trese wiki pages since I couldn't get my hands on the original comics yet oof. Some words, like terms of endearment and curse words, will remain in Filipino. Translations are provided. Reader is AFAB and is referred to with female pronouns.

Reposting this from AO3 with all three chapters in one post. A Filipino (Taglish) translation is in the works!

I

You don’t know how they managed to convince you, to be honest.

You rarely ever go out at night anymore. So many strange incidents transpire in Manila’s narrow streets. Just recently, you’ve heard of a new story about a tikbalang who allegedly participated in illegal street races.

So when your roommates and friends Amie and Hannah invited you for a night out, you hesitated. You gave them every excuse you can think of; you needed to do laundry, you needed to study, you needed to finish a project, and so on.

You know that the two of them are wind people, but you can’t help but think. Which of the various stories you had been hearing are real? What else in this world you haven’t witnessed yet?

“Aw, you’re such a buzzkill! Pretty please? You don’t go out with us as often. Enjoy yourself a little,” Amie whines, lying on the sofa of your living room.

On the other hand, Hannah turns to you with a mischievous grin on her face. “C’mon, get dressed already,” she commanded. “There are some total hotties we’d like you to meet! One of them might catch your eye!”

“I told you, I don’t need a relationship. You two try this every week. How do you even know so many people?” you retort, laughing softly at yourself.

“Well, our night lives are active,” Hannah retorted. “Don’t forget our sex lives!” the other added. Hearing those words, you felt your face get flushed with heat.

You needed a good fuck.

“Damn it, fine! As long as you pay for me.”

They finally got you to say yes.

As the night went on, you went to several bars, and you swore that you had explored every crevice of the city. It doesn’t help that the guy Amie and Hannah were with, a tall, dark and handsome man with flowing locks of black hair, drove like a demon. You got around quickly in no time.

Around an hour after midnight, you’re all exhausted from a night of dancing and mingling. None of the people your friends introduced to you caught your attention. At that point, you just wanted a stiff drink to unwind.

Voicing it to your drinking buddies, they nod in agreement.

“I know just the place, in Malate,” the man you’re with said. “Quiet. Discreet. I can take you there, if you want.”

“You mean The Diabolical, right? Let’s go! Text Crispin and Basilio, they might be hangin’ there too,” Amie croons.

A chuckle escapes your lips upon hearing their names. “Huh? Were they named after the characters in Jose Rizal’s novel?”

“I think so? Whatever! But seriously though… Those two can totally make you scream their names louder than Sisa ever did! Best lay I ever had!”

The remark made you laugh so hard, you swore you can be heard in the next city. “What the fuck! Amie, gaga ka, Sisa was their mom! The context of that scene was rough.”

Hannah’s mischievous grin spreads on her face once more, and she gently elbows your side. “Well, if you’re lucky, in this context you’d be crying their names while your eyes roll to the back of your head.”

You’ll never admit it, but you had hoped all their teasing would come true.

It didn’t take long for the four of you to reach your destination. As you enter The Diabolical, a strange chill envelopes you. The air feels different inside; it’s almost as if you stepped in a different world. Perhaps it’s the alcohol, but when you looked around, you saw a duwende sitting by the bar. Or was it called a nuno? At the end of the bar, you saw them; two men both dressed in black suits. One has short hair, while the other one has longer, reaching past his shoulders. However, they’re facing away from you. Only the back of their head and part of their cheeks were visible where you stood.

You snapped out of it when the man you three are with spoke up. “I’m gonna call it a night. Have fun, you three.”

“For real? Wow Maliksi, this is the first time I ever saw you wanting to leave early. Aren’t you gonna stop by and say hi to Alex?” Hannah asks him.

“Maybe next time,” Maliksi answers back, a somber expression on his face. “Oh em gee, did you two fight? Wait, what are you two?” Amie asks.

“Whatever. It’s complicated. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Your friends nodded and let Maliksi be. He waves at your group, and heads out the door. The engine of his car roars to life, and his car screeches away.

As the car moved farther away though, it seems that the screeching of the tires turned into hoofbeats.

Perhaps it’s just your imagination.

“Amie! Hannah! Have a drink! Hey, who’s that with you? Is that the person you’ve been wanting us to meet for ages now?”

Your head turns to where the voice was coming from; one of the men in the suits, the one with short hair in particular. You finally had a good look on their faces.

Twins?

“Crispin! Meet our friend! This is…”

As Amie and Hannah introduce you to the Twins, you can’t help but stare. You took the sight of their features in; they’re tall, with broad shoulders, and hard muscle underneath that black suit and white tie ensemble. They have wide noses with a high bridge, prominent bone structure, and a prominent widow’s peak.

Merciful Bathala, they’re gorgeous.

What caught your attention the most are their eyes. They're pitch black, save for the small reflection of light.

Are these people even human?

“Stare at them like that any longer and they might melt,” Amie teases. The two of your friends are giving you an ear-splitting grin due to your reaction to the Twins.

“I, uh-” you stuttered, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

“Hey, don’t be shy. You can sit between us, miss. We’re all friends here,” the twin with the longer hair says. If the other one is Crispin, then this must be Basilio.

Behind you, your friends are already giggling. They took their places next to the twins and leaned on their biceps. Across from you, the bartender comes to take your order.

“What’ll it be, kid?” he asks.

For some reason, you’re panicking. Maybe it’s because of the alcohol in your system. Or maybe it’s because you’re sandwiched between the twins. “Uh, what would you recommend, manong?”

Laughter erupted from the twins. “Hank, she called you manong!” Basilio teases while grinning like a fucking dog. “Geez, are you really that old?” Crispin eggs him on, giving him a shit-eating grin. Hank takes a wet rag he uses to wipe down the countertop and strikes the two down. “You goddamn assholes!”

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing with them.

“Ow! Alright, we’re sorry, we’re sorry. Get them the best seller, Hank. We’ll pay for their tab,” Basilio says, and Hannah and Amie squeals with joy.

“Oh em gee, you boys are so sweet! Thank youuu!”

As Hank prepares you a drink, you try conversing with the twins. “You two seem fun to have as drinking buddies.”

Hank turns around to reach a bottle from the shelf. “Those two are mischievous little shits, that’s for sure. You know, when these two were kids...”

“Hey man, don’t embarrass us like that in front of our new friend,” Crispin whines.

While the three continues fucking around, you leaned back slightly to glimpse at Amie, who was trying to get your attention for a while now. She points to her phone, and you fetch yours from your bag.

You read your group chat with them. “Soooo, do you like, like them?” Hannah’s message said.

“You’re into them aren’t you? You got so shy around them, it’s so cute!” Amie’s message said.

“Right? It’s rare to see you so flustered!”

You typed away furiously at your phone, cautious to not let the twins beside you see the conversation.

“Well, they’re an improvement from the ones you introduced me to earlier. Easier on the eyes, too…”

Your friends giggled, and as their drinks arrived, they stood up. “Girl, we’re gonna leave you with them, there’s some super hot tikbalangs who just came in the bar. Byeeee!”

“Hey, wait!”

They didn’t heed your words and went to sit on the tikbalangs’ laps.

Fuck, tikbalangs are real? Is Maliksi a tikbalang too?

“And off they go, flirting with those beasts after they’ve used us for drinks,” Crispin laments, voice dripping with light-hearted sarcasm.

“It’s not like it’s the first time we got used by them though,” Basilio adds, cringing.

You can’t help but laugh.  “Yeah, I’ve heard.”

Basilio’s head whips towards you, sweat gathering on his brow. “Seriously?! Shit, what did they say about us?”

“All good things, don’t you worry,” you answered.

“Nah, I need to hear what they said word for word,” the twin with long hair responds. “This is making me paranoid!”

Crispin moves closer to you, Basilio puts a friendly arm around your shoulder, and you can only smile. All of you are inebriated and if you were sober, and if someone else dared to get this close to you, you might’ve slapped them. But you feel good about the Twins, and your roommates never put you in harm’s way, so your trust for them extended to the brothers, somehow.

“Just tell us already,” Crispin slurs. “Tell us what they said about us. We’re curious.”

“Fine, fine. Okay, Amie and Hannah mentioned your names when Maliksi suggested that we head here to drink. Then, I mentioned that your names came from Rizal’s novels.”

“Then Amie said,” you continued, pausing briefly to come up with an impression of your roommate’s speech. “‘Seriously though… Those two can totally make you scream their names louder than Sisa ever did! Best lay I ever had!’ Fuck, it was so messed up!”

“That’s messed up, alright,” Basilio sputters, his face a deep shade of crimson. “I’m this hot and those are the only details they can spare?!”

“Ok, but that Sisa joke was kind of funny though. But it was still fucked up,” Crispin adds, and he takes a sip of his drink.

“Hold your horses, the story’s not done yet,” you say. You’re starting to feel more confident around the two.

Your conversation went places, until you found yourselves drinking until three in the morning, and at that point, it’s only just the four of you in the bar; Hank, the Twins, and you. Even Hannah and Amie are nowhere to be seen. Knowing them, they probably took the tikbalangs they were flirting with back to your apartment.

They didn’t even wait for you. Looks like they’re really setting you up tonight. Maybe they wanted the apartment to themselves tonight, and they got exactly what they wanted.

You had planned on getting up to go to the restroom, but when you tried standing up, you almost fell from the chair. The Twins caught you before you landed face first against the floor.

“She’s had enough to drink,” Hank comments. They set you on a chair with a backrest. “How will she get home? We can’t send her off in a cab at this rate. The train doesn't run this late either.”

“Hannah left her behind too,” Crispin adds.

“Hey, how are we gonna deal with this?” Basilio asks. “We can get you home once we sober up a little. It’s fine if you-”

Basilio never got to finish what he was going to say, because you nodded off against his stomach, and puked your lunch out.

You don’t remember anything after that.

When you awaken, the sun is already high up, and the first thing that greets you is the fan in the ceiling. Your muscles are screaming at you, and your throat feels dry. Memories of last night came crashing back and you started sweating in horror. Maybe it’s just a drunken dream, but it felt all too real.

You were flirting with these gorgeous twins, had too much to drink, and at some point puked all over one of the twins’ shoes.

And now, you don’t know whose bedroom you are in. You check yourself, and you’re still wearing the same clothes, with nothing out of place. There are no bruises or marks on your body either. You looked around you, but there was no one else in the room.

The doors crack open slightly, and you see two pairs of void-black eyes.

“I… um… good morning?”

“It’s… already 2 in the afternoon,” one of them says. He has long hair. This one is the twin you threw up on.

“Why don’t you have some lunch?” the other one said.

You just nodded and said nothing else, ashamed of yourself. You threw up on one of them and now you’re eating at their table. You just wanted the ground to swallow you alive.

“Sorry for puking on you last night,” you near-whispered to Basilio after you swallowed your first bite of food.

The silence broke when Crispin roared with laughter, tears pooling at the corner of his eyes. Meanwhile, Basilio was glaring daggers at his brother. He’s frowning like a child whose toy got taken from him. “Sure, keep laughing, kuya.”

“I’ll never show my face here again, I promise,” you say to them, hiding your face behind your hands.

“What’re you talking about? Forget about it. We’re friends now, right?” Basilio tells you, smiling. “But next time, vomit on my brother too.”

“No one’s throwing up because I won’t be allowing any of you to get wasted that bad ever again,” Hank announces as he enters the room with a carafe in his hand. “Bossing’s not gonna like it if the bar ends up smelling as bad as Basilio’s room. Here, have some coffee.”

“We should introduce you to bossing next time too. She’s not here at the moment,” Crispin adds. “Let’s do this again next week.”

The invitation made you smile, and you poured yourself a cup of coffee. You continued eating the rest of your meal.

“...my room doesn’t smell that, right?” Basilio asks after a few moments of silence.

“Gago, it stinks so bad. It’s why we made the guest stay at my room, because if she stayed at yours she could’ve died from how bad it is,” Crispin exclaims. “Seriously, how can you live with bringing women to your room at that point?”

“Kuya, you’re embarrassing me to our guest!”

Translations for non-Filipino speaking folks:

bossing: a somewhat affectionate way to say “boss”. Comes from the old tradition of adding -eng or -ing to ones name to make a nickname, e.g. Luciana - Lucing

Gago/gaga (ka): (you) idiot/moron - someone stupid, foolish or ignorant

Tikbalang: creature from Filipino mythology similar to a centaur. They are hulking beasts with a horse's head.

manong: a term for endearment to an elderly male relative, or elderly men in general. Originally an Ilokano term referring to the first born son in a nuclear family.

kuya: big brother. Can be used to refer to one's own older brother, someone else's older brother, or an older peer or male acquaintance.

II

Author’s Notes: This chapter was heavily inspired by Bita and the Botflies' song Manghuhula.

Warnings: brief scene of sexual harrassment

After washing up, the Twins accompanied you to the gate, exchanging glances at each other behind your back. Little did they know, you definitely noticed it.

“Wait,” Basilio says, tapping your shoulder lightly with a large hand.

Crispin takes his phone out of his pocket. His younger brother proceeds to do the same. “Give us your phone. We’ll add our numbers, and you can text us if something happens,” he says.

“Or when you get home safe,” Basilio adds.

You look at the two of them back and forth. “This isn’t just an elaborate excuse for the two of you to get my number, right?”

Neither of the two spoke, giving each other a nervous glance.

Their reaction made you laugh out loud, and you took out your phone from your bag. “Here. I’ll give you my Facespace too.”

With the tension broken, the three of you exchange a chuckle. You punch in your number in their phones, while they did the same to yours. Crispin looks over his brother’s shoulder and frowns.

“Epal,” Crispin says to his brother, snatching your phone away from him. The older twin types something in, and it’s the younger one’s turn to stick his nose in. Basilio attempts to get the phone back, cursing all the time.

“You’re going to break her phone, gago,” the older twin curses, pushing a palm against Basilio’s face. “Then let it go! You’re the epal, I wasn’t done yet,” the younger one snaps back.

You give them a look of irritation, and check out what they’re arguing about.

“What the hell are you two grown-ass men fighting about?” you ask as you butt in to look at what they’re doing.

A loud snort bubbles from you as you see it; Basilio added “the hot twin” next to his contact name. Crispin added “the hotter twin”. Now, the former wanted to outdo his older brother.

Against your better judgment, you say, “You’re twins. You look like each other. You’re both hot. Now stop fighting over my phone.”

Perhaps it’s the afternoon heat, but there is a tinge of red in their cheeks after your remark. You waved them goodbye as you got in a tricycle that’ll get you to the nearest train station.

The MRT, in some strange miraculous twist of fate, isn’t as packed as usual. It’s still populated, but there were a few seats waiting to be taken. You sit down somewhere away from direct sunlight, and you take out your phone to tell Hannah and Amie that you’re on the way home.

The first thing you see is a text from Basilio. Then, a text from Crispin. You tell them both that you’re on the train now, completely forgetting about messaging your roommates. To pass the time, you launch the Facespace app and decide to look up their profiles, only to find out that they’ve already sent you a friend request.

Upon seeing Crispin’s profile, you did your damn best to stifle a laugh.

His work description says “works at the Krusty Krab,” but that wasn’t the craziest thing about his profile. At first, the Bible verse in his bio caught you off guard, thinking that someone like him didn’t seem religious, but when you quickly looked up “Ezekiel 23:20,” you did your best not to howl with laughter.

Basilio’s isn’t any better.

In his work description, he put “Model at For Her Magazine,” and “edi sa puso mo.” Then you scroll down to see a thirst trap of him pulling his shirt up with his teeth, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks again. Well, at least that work description is believable.

They’re- what was that term your younger university friends were using again?- himbos.

They’re definitely himbos.

Arriving at your place, you slot your key inside the doorknob and twist. As you enter the door, the heavy, musky scent of sex and sweat hits your face, and you regret getting too wasted last night and losing your chance to hook up with one of the Twins.

Or both.

Both?

Regardless, at least they’ve invited you again to hang out next week.

You raise your eyebrow and cross your arms at the scene before you. Cans of beer litter the living room, and your roommates are taking a nap by the couch. A tikbalang comes out of the bathroom, glamor off, and you snort as you watch him duck under the door frame because of his massive height.

“It’s already four in the afternoon. Time to go, big guy.”

He nods awkwardly in acknowledgment, morphing into his human disguise, and exiting your apartment.

You sit between your roommates, rousing them from their sleep. “I’m not going to clean this mess up,” you tell them, motioning to the trashed state of the living room, and reaching for the remote to turn the TV on. You just want to take a shower afterwards and sleep in your own bed tonight.

After rubbing the sleep from their eyes, your roommates near-tackles you on the couch, a curious, excited look on their faces. You forgot all about what you were watching and stared at them in surprise.

“So how did it go? Did you get to hook up with any of them?” Amie asks.

“Or both of them?” Hannah adds.

“Gaga, nothing like that happened.”

The two of them let you go with disappointed looks on their faces. “So sayang! Here we were thinking you finally have a sex life,” one of them says as you lean back on the backrest, closing your eyes as they continue to pester you for details.

“Why are you two so determined to get me to screw someone?” you finally snapped, amused and irked at the same time.

“Because you’ve been doing nothing but totally stressing yourself out! See how super fun it is to let go every now and then?”

“Thanks for the new drinking buddies, girls, but I have my fingers to keep me company. Hookups are too much work,” you lie to them, eyes still closed.

“That’s a toe-curling, full-body orgasm you’re missing out on, girl!”

“That’s assuming that the person I’m with knows what they’re doing,” you retorted.

One of them pokes your side with an elbow, and you assume it’s Hannah. “The Twins do.”

You opened your eyes, and you guessed right; it’s Hannah. You give her a look, before rolling your eyes, appearing to look disinterested. The smirk tugging at the edge of your lips says otherwise, though.

“So what happened last night?” Amie asks.

“I got wasted and threw up on Basilio’s shoes. Then, I ended up sleeping in Crispin’s room. When I woke up, they fed me and sent me home,” you tell them. Your roommates giggle at the story.

“Ah, speaking of which, I gotta let them know I got home,” you said off-hand, and somehow the remark only spurred your wind people roommates on.

“Yieee, you’re friends with them on Facespace already!” Amie quips, leaning in to see what you’re typing. Playfully, you move your phone away from her to conceal what you’re typing.

“Make a group chat with them!” Hannah exclaims, taking your phone away from you. You tried taking it back, but Amie joins in the mischief and blocks you from doing so.

When you got your phone back, the deed was done, and the chat was renamed to a single eggplant emoji. The like button was replaced by an eggplant emoji too.

Panicking, you add your roommates to the group to avoid looking suspicious, and swiftly type up a defense.

“Please ignore that, Hannah made this chat using my account.”

The teasing never stopped after that.

Weeks passed and you never bothered to change it, though.

It’s been about two months since your first encounter with the Twins. You’re becoming a familiar face at The Diabolical, going every Saturday to see them. Sometimes Hannah and Amie didn’t accompany you anymore. You’ve met the Twins’ bossing a few times, who turned out to be none other than Alexandra Trese. You’ve heard of her exploits and the two imposing bodyguards who were almost always with her. It surprised you that they’re none other than the Twins you knew, but it made perfect sense. Those two were jacked, and those muscles aren’t only for show.

Of course, because of your increasing presence in the bar, it didn’t take long for the rumors to circulate. Word on the street is both of the Twins had a thing for you, and neither is making a move out of consideration for the other. They are waiting for you to move.

You elected to ignore them, perfectly happy with your arrangement of having two handsome men to keep you company while you unwind. The thought of getting together with one of them, or even both of them did cross your mind a few times, however.

Ultimately, you wouldn’t know what to do if the day comes that you’ll have to confront how you feel and choose between the two.

Do you have to?

Crispin and Basilio are twins, but they’re distinct from each other. The older is more serious, with a dryer sense of humor, while the younger is goofier, and somewhat softer. One complements the other, and they’re both good company despite their differences.

Speak of the devil. Your phone buzzes and you see that the eggplant chat is active. The Twins are inviting you to The Diabolical again.

“See you guys at eight,” you type in. Someone reacts with an eggplant to your message. Then the next few messages were nothing but eggplant emojis, followed by Basilio sending “#TeamTalong”. Crispin cusses him out for it, but sends the same message right after.

Yeah, that became a thing among the five of you.

You and the wind girls got dressed and took a taxi to the bar, your favorite jacket draped over your shoulders. Pressured by your roommates, you wore something nicer tonight; a black faux leather dress that hugs your figure deliciously. The shiny fabric added to the effect. The six bottles of Pulang Tikbalang beer the three of you shared before going out might’ve contributed to your newfound bravado.

But now that you’re actually wearing it outside your apartment, you feel a little reluctant.

“Maybe wearing this is a bad idea,” you mutter to no one in particular, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear out of self-consciousness.

Amie taps you from behind. “Oh hush, that outfit is totally sexy,” she comments. “Finally ready to get dicked down tonight, girl?”

“Shhh, gaga ka, manong driver can hear you.”

That didn’t deter them from making more inappropriate comments, much to the manong's ire.

It’s nine already when you get there, you’re in the Philippines after all. The merriment is already in full swing when you step through the door. Hannah and Amie went ahead and sat next to their lay of the week. The Twins wave you over from their usual spot, but before you can reach them, a man you’ve never seen before tries to get your attention, snaking an arm around your waist.

“Hey baby. You’re a regular here, right? Want to drink with me?”

“Sorry, I’m here with someone else,” you tell him, moving away.

“Ah, here to see the Twins? Why don’t you ditch them for a change of pace and come with me, babe?”

“Not interested,” you flat out said. “Please move, or I’ll make you move.”

To your surprise, the man drops his glamor and reveals himself to be a kapre. He looms over you, cigar in his mouth, and you can feel the tension rising. People are starting to stare, and your friends took notice of it too.

“Try,” he huffs, puffing smoke to your face. You give him a sour glare while trying not to cough.

Before your roommates or the Twins could come to your aid, you panicked and saw an empty bottle of Pulang Tikbalang on a nearby table. Emboldened by the alcohol in your veins, you shatter the bottle and point the jagged edge at the hulking beast, hands shaking. You are a tiny thing compared to the enormous creature before you, after all.

“Don’t you dare look down on me.”

“Already doing that, honey.”

“I’m not your honey,” you say as you press the edge against his stomach, not enough to draw blood, but hard enough to hurt.

“I love it when they fight back,” the kapre croons.

Under the haze of alcohol, you were more than ready to shove the edge in, consequences be damned.

Before things could escalate, Crispin takes the broken bottle off of your hands and steers you away from the stranger, while Basilio steps in to defuse the tension. “Hey, why don’t you back off, pal? Our friend said no. You wouldn’t want us to tell our bossing to ban you from the place because of this misunderstanding now, don’t you?”

Heart in your throat, you turn to the Twins, then to the kapre. The tree giant pauses, looking at the three of you, then smirks.

“Heh. Fine. But if you torpe whelps don’t make a move, I will.”

The giant puts his glamor back on and skulks away.

“Wow, what a jerk! He only left you alone when the boys stepped in,” Hannah quips, tossing her hair in indignation.

“You almost didn’t need rescuing, but I’d hate to help Hank mop the blood off the floor later,” Basilio comments, nudging you gently with an elbow. His eyes go a little lower from your face, and you see him look away.

You realized Crispin hasn’t let go of you yet.

“C’mon, let’s just go,” you tell everyone. Crispin proceeds to remove his hand away from your shoulder, and you take your usual seats by the bar.

The bar is loud, but the silence between the three of you is deafening. Even Hank seems to have taken notice, eyeing your usually loud and cheerful group.

“What’s up with you three? What happened back there?” the older man asks, leaning over the bar top.

“Just a handsy kapre who couldn’t take no for an answer. I won’t let it spoil the night,” you answer him.

“That’s the spirit. Holler if he tries something like that again, I’ll have him kicked out,” Hank replies, setting down three ice-cold beers in front of you guys.

Yet somehow, the conversation never livened up.

Three bottles of Pulang Tikbalang later, you’ve had enough.

“This is about what that kapre said, isn’t it?” you finally say, slightly pissed.

The Twins look at each other with guilty expressions, and simultaneously nod.

“Do you boys wanna talk about it?”

They look at each other again. “Shit, this is awkward,” Crispin comments, scratching his head. Basilio nods in agreement, uncharacteristically silent. “We didn’t want to pressure you into anything you didn’t want to do,” the older twin continues.

“Look, I don’t want to ruin my relationship with my kuya just because we’re interested in the same girl,” Basilio says. “Same here,” Crispin adds.

“So we were waiting for you to make your own move,” Basilio continues.

“Ah. So the rumors are true,” you sighed.

“We’ll accept whatever outcome there is. If you choose me, or Basilio, or neither because this is fucking messy, we totally get it,” the older twin says, leaning back to stare at the ceiling.

Now the decision rests in your hands.

“Why don’t we talk about this somewhere more private?” you ask them.

You watch as both of them gulp. “Where do you wanna talk?” Basilio asks.

“Anywhere private.”

“I just cleaned my room earlier. Why don’t we continue this there?”

You nod, and they lead you away from the bar.

Looks like it’s going to be a long night.

Translations for non-Filipino speakers:

epal: in Filipino slang, usually refers to a person who inappropriately presents himself in a situation or butts into a conversation.

kapre: a tree-giant from Filipino mythology. Often described as very tall, dark, and hairy. Almost never seen without a cigar.

sayang: literally means waste. Can be used alone as an expression similar to "what a waste!"

torpe: someone who cannot spit their romantic or sexual feelings out to a crush or love interest

III

Author’s Notes:

Warnings: Smut. Filthy smut. Writer-is-definitely-going-to-the-second-circle-of-the-Seven-Circles-of-Hell-levels-of-filthy smut. Bawal bata, tulog na. If you're under 18 please turn back.

After the door closes behind the three of you, you sit on the bed, while Crispin sits on a chair near his brother’s desk. Basilio locks the door, and leans against it, unable to look at you.

“Right. So. How are we going to deal with this?” you ask them, crossing your legs.

“Don’t ask us,” Crispin says, swiveling the chair to face you. “You’re the one caught in the middle after all.”

Curse his choice of words.

“This is too weird,” Basilio speaks up. “If you want me to unlock the door, just say the word. We can walk out of this like nothing happened.”

“And then what? Things are going to be awkward between the three of us, I just know it,” you say to him, palming the back of your neck. “Things might get awkward with Amie and Hannah too, and I live with them. I don’t want our tropa to disband just because of relationship drama.”

“What about Amie and Hannah? Is it because we have history with those two?” Crispin asks.

“They’ve been trying to set me up with either of you. The fact that they also slept with you in the past also doesn’t help. Shit, this is messy.”

“Er, um,” Basilio stutters. “That might’ve been our fault.”

You furrow your brow and cross your arms. “Keep going.”

The Twins look at each other, as if gauging who should explain the situation. “So, we remained in contact after being used as a prize for bossing’s race with Maliksi, right?” Crispin starts.

“Uh huh.”

“Well, they mentioned a third roommate in passing and joked about lending us to her. Of course we blew them off, then Amie showed us a picture of you. We got curious and asked them to introduce you,” Basilio continues.

“I didn’t expect us five to become friends. And now we’re in this mess,” Crispin adds.

You look at them back and forth, and laugh in resignation. Elbows digging against your lap and palms pressed against your face, you rub your face and run it through your hair. “Amazing. Just amazing. See, I have a problem too.”

The Twins didn’t respond, eyes fixated on you.

“I like the two of you.”

You feel the air shift around you. Basilio’s standing upright by the door now, and Crispin straightened up too. The room is so quiet, you can hear them gulp in anticipation for what will happen next.

“There. I said it. The reason why I haven’t made a move at all is because of this exact moment that I was dreading. I didn’t want to choose,” you admit, feeling the blood rush to your head. “I just wanted for us three to stay like that, drinking buddies sprinkled with sexual tension.”

“And you’re in the middle, enjoying our attention,” Crispin says, crossing his arms.

“Selfish, I know,” you admit, head hanging low.

This is it, the moment that can make or break you three.

“Us three. If only...” you whisper, only for the words to fall flat on your tongue

You stand up, gathering your things and carrying your bag. “Nevermind. What a mess we’re in. I��ll go so you two can sort things out between the two of you. It’s been a fun ride.”

Basilio doesn’t move from the door, and behind you, you can hear Crispin getting up from his seat.

“We can still make this work, right kuya?” Basilio starts, looking over your head to give his brother a knowing look.

“Yeah, I think so,” Crispin replies. “What was that you said? The three of us?”

Your eyes widen, and you look at them back and forth. Their bodies are dangerously close to yours. Now you’re literally caught in the middle.

“I- uh…”

“I think we can work out an arrangement,” Basilio whispers, one hand moving to hold yours.

“Only if you want to,” Crispin adds, his breath kissing the back of your neck.

“I don’t want to lose either of you,” Basilio adds.

“Same here.”

Damn it all.

Giving in to your darkest, most hidden desires, you lean in to capture Basilio’s lips with yours, leaving his black eyes wide open in surprise. They flutter close, and he savors the kiss, slipping a tongue in. Then you turn to Crispin, and you give him the same sweet kiss as well.

“Damn, I didn’t mean like, now,” Basilio mutters, feeling the front of his trousers get tighter as he watches you make out with his brother.

Bringing your attention back to the younger twin, you loosen his tie, while you push out your ass to grind against Crispin. “Are you complaining?”

“Not at all.”

“Wait, are you sure about this? All of us drank tonight… we don’t want you to do something you’ll regret,” Crispin says, moving his hips away from you. Basilio pauses too, and wraps his hands around your wrists to still your hands, a look of concern on his face.

“Kuya’s right.”

“I’m a grown woman. I might’ve had a few bottles, but I know what I want,” you reassure them, waiting for the two to make a move. “I know I want you two for months.”

Basilio lets go of your hands and lets you do as you please, a cocky smirk on his lips. Behind you, you can feel Crispin’s gloved hands reaching for the zipper of your dress. “Really? How much do you want us? C’mon, say it,” Basilio asks, moving in to place kisses on your neck.

“I wanna hear it too,” Crispin whispers against your shoulder, and he punctuates it with a light kiss.

All of a sudden, you felt shy at the prospect of confessing your fantasies out loud. “Why don’t I just show you boys?”

“Oh no, you’re not getting out of this one,” Basilio teases. “Consider it as payback for throwing up all over my shoes.”

“You’re still- ah!- mad about that?” you ask him, gasping in the middle of doing so when you felt a hand snake between your legs from behind. The older twin slips his fingers past your underwear, circling your clit with slow strokes.

“Not mad, I just want things to be fair,” Basilio teases, pulling your dress down. He gives your breasts a squeeze, fondling and rolling your nipples until they harden, and he seals his lips over your right one. Crispin moves from behind you and he takes his place next to his twin, lathing his tongue over the left. All four of their hands pawed at your flesh greedily.

You were at a loss for words because of how good they’re making you feel, soft moans bubbling from your throat.

“Speechless already, huh?” Crispin mumbles against your skin.

“Ngh! The wind girls weren’t lying, you two know what you’re doing,” you gasped, face flushed as you watched the Twins lavish their attention on your breasts.

“Shhh, stop changing the subject. Play along, or neither of us will make you cum,” he adds, pausing to give you a teasing lick, and resting his tongue on top of the hardened bud. On the other hand, Basilio is sucking like a starved babe while squeezing your still clothed behind.

You fake a scoff of indignation and grin. “Fine. I- oh fuck- want you two so much, I’ve been fantasizing for weeks.”

Basilio pauses to address you. “Describe them.”

You’re a little mortified, but the alcohol in your system pushes you to be bolder. “I imagined Basilio punishing me for ruining his shoes.”

“And how did he do that?” Crispin’s voice.

“He asked me to suck him off,” you start, and a pinch on your bottom from the subject of your fantasy tells you that he wanted to hear more details. “He fucked my face while pulling my hair and told me how good I was the whole time and that he forgave me.”

“What about me? What fantasies did you have?” Crispin asks again.

Your breath hitched in your throat but you pushed on. “Hearing how you scolded Basilio, I imagined you taking me from behind and saying the meanest, dirtiest things possible.”

The Twins looked at each other, and stopped, their lips leaving your breasts with a lewd pop. “You want to make them all come true?” Basilio asks.

Cheeks burning, you give them a curt nod.

The two of them lead you to the bed, where Crispin puts you on all fours, and he takes his place from behind. On the other hand, Basilio is standing near the edge of the bed, the bulge in his pants inches away from your face. You stare at it, licking your lips.

As you undid Basilio’s pants, he shrugs off his suit jacket and takes off his tie, then he takes off his dress shirt, revealing his abs and the trail of dark hair on his lower abdomen, disappearing into his briefs. From behind, you hear fabric shifting, then Crispin peels your panties off of you. He brings a gloved hand against your skin in a loud smack, making you cry out.

“Ah, wait, we need a safeword,” Crispin mentions, soothingly squeezing your skin.

“What about Eternos?” Basilio suggests, and Crispin cocks an eyebrow. “Wait, you mean, like the game?”

You stifle a laugh. “I’m fine with it,” you say to them, and they take it as a signal to continue.

The older twin dips a gloved finger between your folds, gathering your wetness, and tsked. “Look at you, already so fucking wet. You want this so much, huh?”

You nod frantically, then Basilio stills your head. “Open your mouth, baby. Tongue out.”

You oblige, and Basilio fishes his cock out of his briefs. Your eyes grow wider as you take in the sight of it; girthy, with a nice length, and a few veins running on the underside. You wonder if Crispin’s is the same. The twin in front of you lightly smacks his member against your tongue, and you proceed to lick it, running from the base to the tip, slicking it with saliva. You swirl your tongue around it, then try to slide it in your mouth as smoothly as possible.

As Basilio begins to breathe harder with each bob of your head, Crispin pulls your ass towards his face, and a choked moan escapes your lips as you feel his mouth on your heat, toying with your folds before he finally finds that sensitive nub. The older twin proceeds to lick and suck at it, eating you out like you’re the best damn meal of his life.

Meanwhile, you push a palm against Basilio’s thigh to make him pause, and before he can ask you if you’re fine, you take his balls in your mouth and fondle him with your tongue. Your hand pumps his neglected cock as you did so.

“Shit! Your mouth feels so damn good,” he hisses, breathing hard. When you take his dick back into your mouth, Basilio gathers your hair and uses it as a handle, watching his length disappear in your mouth over and over, his black eyes hazy with lust and his mouth whispering words of praise.

Crispin looks at his brother with a hint of envy, cock painfully hard against his trousers. He unzips it for relief, and proceeds to stroke himself as he continues to prepare you.

“Hey, Basilio, got any lube?”

“Um, there’s- ungh- a bottle of it under the pillow.”

“...you keep lube under your pillow? What the- and condoms? Can’t you put them in your drawers or something?”

Basilio doesn’t give his brother a response and focuses his attention on you. You gasp against his cock as you felt a cold, gloved hand prod against your asshole, and goosebumps formed on your flesh as you felt the cold lubricant smearing against your entrance. Crispin pushes his lubed thumb in, and you cry out in pleasure, your jaw opening wider for Basilio to claim. Then, two more fingers prod at your pussy, and you swear you can see stars as they slid in. The older twin toys with you while eating you out, and you feel a knot forming at the base of your stomach, threatening to uncoil at any moment.

You couldn’t take it. Basilio’s cock slides out of your mouth and you look over your shoulder, moaning and panting.

Crispin pauses from eating you out to ask you a question. “You’re gonna cum? You wanna cum on my fingers like the filthy slut you are?”

“Yes, please, please, let me cum,” you begged, and with a devilish smirk, Crispin dives right back in to finish the job.

You squeezed your eyes shut as the pleasure inside you exploded, shameless moans coming from your throat as your first orgasm hits you. Basilio watches the look of pleasure on your face as Crispin makes you cum, making his cock twitch.

“Now that’s how you please a woman,” Crispin teases, shooting his brother a challenging look while wiping your juices off of his face.

“Wait until it’s my turn,” Basilio replies, smirking.

Panting, legs wobbling, you didn’t get to rest as Crispin takes his cock and slides it in you. In front of you, Basilio cups your face and directs you back to his cock, smirking. “You’re doing so well, baby. You’re taking us like a champ, you know that?”

“Fuck,” Crispin hisses from behind you. “You like this, you little slut? You like being fucked by two cocks at the same time?” he asks you, each word punctuated with a hard thrust.

Now you’re really caught in the middle.

Basilio’s panting heavily now, his thrusts becoming erratic against your mouth. You know he’s close, and you brace yourself for what’s coming. Eyes screwed shut, he lets out a low groan as he spills inside of your mouth, his cum painting your tongue white. You try to swallow it all, but a few stray drops dribble down your chin. The younger twin cleans you up, and kisses you deeply, not minding his taste on your mouth. He sits on the bed to catch his breath, and allows you to rest on his thighs.

Behind you, Crispin begins to rut faster, his thumb still in your ass as he pounded you. You writhe and cry against Basilio’s lap, bracing yourself from each harsh thrust. The younger twin pets your hair, but he moves his hand away when Crispin pushes your head against his brother’s lap.

“Take it all of it,” Crispin groans. “Ungh, you make me so horny, you little slut.”

Not wanting to miss out on the fun, Basilio gets an idea.

“Hey, kuya. Hold her up.”

Crispin blinks before obliging his brother’s request, clamping a hand around your throat. “Is this fine?” he asks you, and you nod a few times. He tightens his hold and pulls you to his toned chest, your hair sticking to his skin from your sweat. Basilio kisses you, then latches on one of your breasts. One gloved hand fondles and pulls at your nipples, while the other moves south to stroke you.

“Ah! I think I’m gonna cum again…” you choked, face red and tears forming at the edge of your eyes.

“Say our names,” Crispin whispers against your ear in a low growl.

You mutter their names at first, but it turns to full blown cries as your climax fast approaches.

“Crispin! Basilio!”

It hits you so hard, your eyes roll to the back of your head. You cried shamelessly, and Crispin places a kiss on your open mouth, tongue slipping in and teeth clashing with yours. He pulls out and finishes on your back, cock resting between the valley of your cheeks, still half-hard.

The Twins move to clean you up, looking around for tissues and anything to wipe you with.

“So,” Basilio says. “One more round?”

Your eyes widen, and you look down to see that Basilio is hard again.

“How- what the fuck? What are you two?”

Crispin sighs. “Hannah and Amie never told you? We’re demigods.”

“We don’t get sick and our injuries heal really fast. Talagbusao is our dad,” Basilio adds, and you give him a disbelieving glare.

“You didn’t need to let that last detail slip out, gago,” Crispin berates him as he pulls you close to his muscular chest. He lay down on a pillow, one arm propping his head up.

After a few seconds of silence, you say something. “At least let me have some water first.”

“Right.”

The Twins stare at each other.

“One of us has to fetch it,” Crispin says.

“What? Why me?” Basilio complains, scratching his head.

“Because I’m older, and I’ve worked hard to give her two orgasms in a row.”

“Hey! I’m sure that last one was thanks to me.”

You groan, grabbing a pillow to cover your face. “Ugh, please don’t turn this into a competition about who made me cum the most. Just get me my water, pretty please, Basilio?”

At the request, Basilio smiles and dresses haphazardly to get it for you. “Don’t start without me.”

You close your eyes with a smile. Crispin buries his face against your hair and plays with it. “You have him wrapped around your finger, you know?”

You chuckle at the remark, and Crispin kisses your temple. “Just don’t hurt my little brother.”

“I have no intention of hurting either of you,” you tell him.

Basilio comes back with a pitcher and some glasses, and once everyone’s hydrated and ready, the night continues.

The Twins spoil you with their attention, hands roaming your body as they planted kisses on your skin. Basilio sucks on your collarbone, biting experimentally and leaving marks that would darken in the morning, which draws a whine from your throat. Not wanting to be outdone, Crispin kisses your back, then the back of your neck, and he found a sweet spot that made you moan at that place where your ear connects to your neck. Basilio observes this and does the same to the other side.

“Hey, um, can I do it in your ass?” Crispin whispers in your ear, almost sheepishly, and you stare at him for a few seconds before nodding.

“Sure. Be gentle. And use a condom.”

“Of course. You go on top. What’s our safeword again?” he asks you, testing your knowledge.

You roll your eyes and try not to laugh. “Eternos.”

“Good girl,” Basilio says.

Flipping yourself around, you lean into Crispin’s lap. “Here, let me help,” you say as you grasp his cock and start to pump. The younger twin behind you reaches for the lube and prepares your ass. You sigh with pleasure as you feel the cold sensation of the product on your skin. Crispin sighs as you slide his length between your lips, head bobbing up and down, and you feel him grow inside your mouth. You give the tip a small lick before doing the same thing you did to Basilio, cupping his balls with your mouth and fondling them with your tongue.

“I want you now,” Crispin rasps, tugging your hair to get you off of him.

You smirk, turning around to give him a great view of your ass. He reaches around for a condom, finds one, and tears the foil open. After sliding the rubber down his shaft, he positions himself against your hole, pressing against the tight ring of muscle. You wince in pain as he starts penetrating you, prompting him to squeeze more lube to relieve your discomfort.

“Relax,” Basilio instructs you, planting soothing kisses at your jaw. You did as he said and unclenched your muscles, entrusting yourself to the two of them.

As Crispin pushes past the ring of muscle, you sigh in relief, discomfort replaced with the feeling of fullness. You lean back into his hard chest, a soft sigh leaving your lips as he starts to move. Meanwhile, Basilio kneels between your legs, rubbing your clit with the head of his dripping cock, but he freezes before he slides it in.

“What?” you ask with concern.

“We’re out of condoms.”

“Just pull out,” you tell him with a strained voice, gasping as Crispin moves inside you.

“No, you don’t understand. We’re demigods. Our… um.. Yeah, we’re really potent.”

You smirk at him. “I’ll ask the girls for something in the morning,” you say against your better judgment. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take. Cum all over me.”

His cock twitches at your last suggestion.

“Ugh, Basilio, you’re really killing the mood here,” Crispin strains to say, holding you gently by the neck. “I pulled out too, remember? Make up your mind already. I wouldn’t mind having her to myself for now, though.”

“Not a chance,” Basilio retorts, sliding the tip of his cock past your folds and pushing inside.

A loud cry rips from your throat at the sensations, feeling stuffed to the maximum as two cocks start to pump inside you. Crispin’s grip on your neck tightens, while you tangle your hands through Basilio’s hair, pulling him closer and kissing him.

Soon, The Twins find a steady rhythm, syncing their movement so you can feel the full force of their thrusts. Basilio throws one of your legs over his shoulder and begins to massage your clit with his thumb, while Crispin fondles your breasts with his free hand, using the tip of his fingers to roll, squeeze, and pull at your nubs. With every thrust they give, you clench, drawing a groan from both of them as they felt themselves being squeezed by your muscles.

“Oh God,” you whine. “Fuck, you both feel so good.”

“Say our names,” Basilio growls, and you oblige.

You chant their names like a prayer, underscored by the slapping of skin as the Twins fucked both of your holes. Hearing their names only spurred them on, and their movements became more desperate, sweat rolling off of your bodies.

“Basilio! Crispin!”

Underneath you, Crispin gropes at your breast harder, beads of sweat rolling off of his forehead and dripping to your skin. “Your ass feels too good, I’m gonna cum,” he hissed between clenched teeth, and you silently thank Bathala that he’s near his limit. The lube is starting to wash off.

With a few more rough thrusts, he cums, shooting inside the rubber. Crispin cups your jaw and kisses you, deep and sweet, tasting your tongue. You’re on the verge of climax now too, and you give Basilio a desperate look. He understood what you meant.

The younger twin thrusts harder and faster while still rubbing that sensitive nub between your legs furiously, and the older one helps by stimulating your nipples once again. The bombardment of sensation is too much, and you feel white hot heat racing through your body as you cum one last time, voice hoarse as a throaty moan escapes past your open mouth.

The spasm of your muscles is enough to send Basilio over the edge too, pulling out of you and spilling his load all over the mound of your pussy, and your stomach. You feel Crispin slip out of you too. Basilio leans in to kiss you, almost tenderly, but still full of desperation, tongue and teeth.

After a quick cleanup and another drink of water, the three of you lay in a heap of limbs, exhausted. Crispin doesn’t shift at all, content on letting you lie next to him, while Basilio moves next to you, effectively sandwiching you between the two of them on the narrow bed.

Everyone is sated, and with your eyes growing heavy, you wanted nothing but sleep.

“So, who’s better?”

You don’t know who said it, but you raised your hand to give him a middle finger. “Tangina niyo, you’re both good. End of discussion. Now please let me sleep.”

Thank Bathala that they did.

The next morning, all three of you wake up sweaty, stinking, and really, really hungry.

“Good morning to you two,” you sigh, snaking your arms around theirs. Each of them gave you a kiss on your temple. “Damn, I’m starving,” you said, sitting up. “Let’s take a shower and grab something to e-”

Underneath the three of you, the bed’s legs give out, and a loud thud can be heard throughout the house. As you three scramble for purchase, frantic footsteps are approaching, and the door bursts open.

“What was that? Crispin is missing from his room and-” Hank blurts, toting his good ol’ triple barrel shotgun "Ama, Anak, at, Espiritu Santo". Funnily enough, when he sees the tangle of limbs before him, he utters the same words and quickly turns away. Alexandra arrives shortly after, gives them a quick glance, and shuts the door.

Breakfast with their bossing is filled with a mortifying quiet.

You barely touch your food, embarrassment burning your cheeks, and you shoot a glance at your twin lovers.

“Next time, lock the door,” Alex finally says, getting up from the table with a coffee in her hands. She’s too fucking exhausted to deal with this.

“It’s Basilio’s fault!” Crispin yells after her. Basilio made no attempts to defend himself, knowing that he forgot to lock the door again after he came back with the water.

Grumbling, you finally take a bite of your breakfast, jacket draped over your shoulders despite the heat to hide the bruises on your body. “The girls are gonna have a field day when they see me like this.”

“I need to replace the bed,” Basilio mumbles, stuffing his mouth with rice.

The three of you looked at each other, and laughed.

“So, see you next week?” Crispin asks with a smile, and Basilio gives you a pleading, doe-eyed look.

“Yeah. See you two next week.”

Translations for non-English speakers:

tropa: ground of friends. People you chill with

tangina niyo: Filipino profanity. Roughly translates to "you sons of bitches"

Ama, Anak, at Espiritu Santo: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. It’s Hank’s weapon’s actual name in the comics.

[one-boring-person]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write more for Dutch from Predator? Lol it's me btw! I was wondering if it could be a hate to love relationship, where Dutch, being the hardass he is, can't live down his pride, and the reader (preferably female), is a strong independent woman who is actually Poncho's little sister, learning from the best. To add on, can the reader be short as Arnie is so tall, and because I am only 5'2" irl?

I kind of combined this with the enemies-to-lovers prompt request, I hope that's ok! I hope you like this!😊💛

Old Habits Die Hard.

Alan "Dutch" Schaefer (Predator 1987) x reader

Warnings: NSFW, smut, swearing, mention of violence, alcohol consumption

Masterlist

"This round's on me, what does everyone want?" Mac announces as we go to sit down at the table, the mercenary remaining standing.

"A beer sounds good." Poncho says, looking at the rest of us.

We give words of agreement, taking our respective places at the table as Mac goes to leave the room and go to the bar.

"Don't forget a soda, I don't think they sell alcohol to underage people here." Dutch chips in, flashing a pointed look in my direction.

"Very funny." I roll my eyes, forcing a smile as the others chuckle, "A beer is fine, Mac. Thanks."

He nods, ducking from the room we rented out for the evening, leaving the five of us alone.

"So what's all this about, Dutch? Got us another job?" Blain questions, the gruff man leaning back in his chair, jaw working languidly at the gunk in his mouth.

"Yeah, but this one's a bit different." The major replies, taking a cigar from his pocket and lighting it.

"Different? How?" Hawkins frowns, cokcing his head to the side.

Dutch takes a deep breath of smoke from the cigar, sitting back in his seat.

"An old friend from the army got in touch. Says he needs us for a rescue op."

"Friend from the army? Who?" I inquire, lifting an eyebrow.

"Old commander of mine." Dutch replies dismissively, barely sparing me a glance.

"Ok, where is the job?" Poncho asks, my brother shooting me a knowing look, his eyes flicking up as Mac walks in again, seven beers cradled in his arms.

"What job?" He asks as he places the bottles down on the table, looking round at us all.

"Dutch got us another op." Blain grunts, reaching out to take his beer, spitting the contents of his mouth out into the ashtray on the table. Hawkins, Poncho and I pull faces at that, but don't say anything.

"Another one? We only just got back!" Mac exclaims, taking a seat across from Hawkins, taking a sip from his beer.

"Perks of the job." Dutch shrugs, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

"Will you at least tell us what it is?" I can't keep the impatience from my voice, finding his vagueness irritating.

"I'm getting to it, (Y/n), calm down." He rolls his eyes, "It's in central America, somewhere in the jungle. Phillips was cagey about where exactly, but he said it's got something to do with guerrillas and hostages. We're supposed to get the hostages out of there."

"Sounds simple enough." Billy muses, rubbing his chin.

"When is it?" Poncho chips in, watching the major closely.

Dutch is quiet for a minute, his eyes flicking over us all, before he finally responds.

"It's tomorrow."

I nearly choke on my beer, spluttering as I sit upright in my chair.

"Tomorrow? Are you insane?!" I burst out, annoyed, "We got back from Afghanistan at the ass-crack of dawn today, and you want us to fly off to the jungle at the same time tomorrow? You trying to kill us or what?"

The others nod in agreement, murmuring their own complaints, only to shut up when Dutch turns a venomous glare on me.

"You know, if you spent half the energy you do on complaining on growing, you wouldn't look like a damn child anymore, (Y/n). Would make taking jobs a lot easier - means I don't have to explain why we've only got six and half mercs with us." He snaps, voice laced with anger, "I'm not insane, just practical. We all need more money, and the work is low at the moment. You'd know that if you weren't off lounging at home all day, letting us do the hard planning and prep work."

Silence descends on us all, my jaw dropping at the vehemence behind his words. No one speaks, letting the two of us stare at each other in hatred, my expression swiftly creasing into fury, every muscle in my body going tense.

Another moment passes, before I suddenly stand from the table, slamming my bottle on the table as I stalk past, heading straight out the door. Poncho tries to stop me, calling out to me, but I ignore him, practically seething as I leave the bar and stride to the car my brother and I came in. Unlocking it, I climb in and slam the door, buckling myself into the driver's seat as I throw the car into drive, pulling out onto the road. 

Furious, I drive way over the speed limit, weaving in and out of the traffic with no regard for my own safety as I careen down the highway. Screeching horns and tyres follow me as I go, but I ignore them, focusing instead on getting home, filled with anger now as Dutch's words play over and over in my head. 

It doesn't take long for me to pull up in the drive of my house, the car skidding on the loose gravel as I harshly jerk the handbrake into place, unbuckling myself before I climb out, making my way over to the door. Opening it, I go in and head straight to the bathroom, intending to take a shower to cool me down, knowing I need to calm down. I strip down quickly, quickly getting under the cold water with my fists clenched at my sides for a while, until I start to massage myself with my fingers, working out the knots in my muscles. It's pleasant, but I can still feel the anger burning in my system, so I swiftly leave again, wrapping myself in a towel. 

As I leave the bathroom, I hear a car pull up in the drive, the tyres crunching loudly on the gravel, announcing the newcomer's arrival. I dismiss it, chalking it up to it being Poncho, come to check up on me as the door downstairs opens, then closes, footsteps sounding in the hall as the person checks for me. The sounds are heavier than I thought they would be, and the identity of the person soon dawns on me.

Immediately, I feel the anger start racing through me again, my face creasing into a scowl until I force myself to calm down, at which point I turn and storm up to my bedroom. Going in, I start to rummage through my wardrobe, looking for some new clothes, trying to bite back the irritation rising in me as I hear the footsteps getting closer, the heavy boots not even halting as they reach the door. Within seconds, the wooden structure has been flung open, an angry mercenary standing in the space behind it.

"Ever learn to knock?" I snap at him as soon as I turn around, glaring at Dutch as he looms in the doorway, "Nevermind, you never learned manners period."

"Says the person who just stormed out of a bar." He scoffs, sneering at me as he steps into the room, "Talk about table manners."

"And whose fault is it I stormed out in the first place?" I glower at him, holding my towel in place as he continues forward, the glint in his eyes sparking a blazing heat inside me.

"Oh, so now it's my fault you can't take a joke?" Dutch jabs his finger at his chest before pointing it at me, brow furrowed in anger.

"You have a pretty poor idea of a joke, asshole." I spit back, lifting my finger up in his face as we step closer together, less than a foot away from each other now.

"You're the only one who thinks so, short-ass." He glares down at me, making me all too aware of how he towers over me.

Swallowing tightly, I shift uncomfortably.

"Sure about that? I can't be the only one who thinks your height jokes are getting old." I reply venomously, jabbing my finger at his chest.

He laughs humorlessly.

"Oh, but we both remember a time when you used to love playing into your shortness." His voice drops an octave, eyes boring into me, "I had you on your knees more than once with only standing over you. Remember?"

A flare of lust goes through me at the reminder, flashes of him looming over me as he pounded his cock harder and harder into my waiting mouth coming, unbidden, to mind. I'd always liked the sight of his muscular body above mine, as well as the feelings of his large hands wrapped around me, even if it was simply to hold my head still whilst he fucked it. 

"That was months ago." I hiss back at him, barely able to look up at him - if I do, it'll be too much like the memories in my head and I'll give in to the urges of my body. Already I can feel arousal pooling in my panties, my cheeks flushing as I realise this.

"Old habits die hard." Dutch growls, before swiftly reaching out to tear the towel away, exposing me to him. Before I can protest, however, he's taken hold of me and lifted me against the wall, pinning me roughly in place with his body, my legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. His lips crash into mine, a mess of teeth and tongues ensuing as we kiss like we used to, wet sounds filling the air as we press closer and closer together. Soft sounds of need escape me, but they're swallowed by the ravenous major above me, who licks and nips at my lips, a few grunts leaving him as he does so. 

Moving to pull him closer, I moan loudly as Dutch jerks his hips into mine, using them to hold me in place, his arousal pressing at my clit through his trousers. I have to bite back whines at the feeling of the rough fabric against my unprotected clit, my slick soon covering the crotch of his jeans as he rolls his hips into me. One of his hands moves to palm roughly at my breast, pinching and rolling the nipple between two calloused fingers, his other hand grasping my ass, which he squeezes tightly. Whimpering into his mouth, I take my nails down his back, grinding my sensitive clit down onto him, enjoying the waves of pleasure emanating from the stimulation. 

Months and months of pent up lust pour through the kiss, only breaking as Dutch pulls back to yank his shirt off, revealing his muscular yet scarred torso to me. Instantly, I go to lick and kiss at the toned muscles, only to yelp indignantly as he takes hold of my hair and jerks my head back, growling as he fastens our lips together again. He presses closer, crushing me against the wall with his huge body, grinding his arousal into me with vigour, only to suddenly pull away, keeping me in his arms. In seconds, Dutch has thrown me on the bed, standing at the end with his hands on his belt. 

Biting my lip, I eagerly move to help him, but he pushes me back down roughly, wasting no time in pulling his trousers and underwear down, revealing his leaking cock to the air. I moan at the familiar sight of it, eyeing up the veined length keenly, following it from the base to the reddened tip, watching as precum beads there. 

Dutch doesn't give me long to admire him, climbing over me and pressing himself against me as soon as he's exposed, his lips moving to my neck. He leaves wet, open-mouthed kisses in his wake, biting at sensitive points as he goes, licking over them briefly each time to soothe them, every movement extracting a needy whine from me. One of his hands moves down to his cock, which he takes hold of and runs through my slick folds, coating the tip generously as he supplies pleasure to me. With every pass over my clit, I moan and rock up into him, clutching at his back. 

"Fuck me, Dutch. Show me how much bigger you are." I moan out, wrapping my legs around his waist.

As he hears my words, however, Dutch growls, leaning back, making my legs fall from where they were. I whine at the lack of contact until he rolls me onto my front, grabbing hold of my ass to knead and grope. 

"I'll show you alright." He practically snarls in my ear as he bends back over me, moulding his huge body to my smaller frame, hands jerking my ass into his hips. He grinds himself into me for a moment, building my pleasure further as he bites at the back of my neck, sending bolts of electricity through me, which I respond to by rocking back onto him. 

With a final grunt, Dutch lines himself up with my hole, surging forwards into me in one stroke, stretching me out as he goes. A half-scream leaves my throat as I feel his cock slide over every sensitive spot inside me, my walls clenching deliciously around him, every vein rubbing against me. He gives me no time to adjust, pulling out entirely before slamming back into me, setting a hard, fast pace that has me seeing stars in no time. Ecstasy races through me, a knot tightening swiftly in my abdomen at the feeling of his thick cock pounding into me. 

Dutch straightens after a moment, taking my hip in one hand whilst he presses my face into the bed with the other, using me as leverage to shove his cock as far into me as he can go, grunting and groaning behind me in pleasure and need. Under his grip, I feel totally immobile, but the thought of him using me to work out his anger sends me reeling, my walls clenching tightly around him, tearing a moan from his lips. His name falls from my own, almost like a mantra as he slams into me, sending bolts of pleasure through me, bringing me closer and closer to what I really want. 

"So close, Dutch...keep going, oh fuck, you're so good…" I moan out, my words muffled slightly by the bed, though they are audible enough for him.

A whine of displeasure echoes from my chest as he suddenly pulls out, my pussy throbbing at the loss. He doesn't wait long, though, rolling me back onto my back before he hikes my legs up onto his shoulders, thrusting roughly back into me. With the new angle, whole other waves of pleasure ripple through me, his cock hitting the very spot that brings me crashing towards an orgasm. The sound of skin slapping together fills the room, along with obscenely wet noises and moans from the two of us, both too caught up in the moment to care about what comes after.

"You're getting tighter, (Y/n)...gonna cum for me, are you?" Dutch groans, his thrusts becoming erratic as my pleasure rapidly builds, "Come on, (Y/n), cum for me!"

With a final scream of ecstasy, the tension inside me snaps and I cum, hard, my walls clenching like a vice around him. White light blinds me, everything disappearing around me as the pleasure floods through me in a great torrent, rendering me incapable of moving momentarily. 

Vaguely, I feel Dutch pound into me a few more times before he pulls out and cums over my stomach, letting out a roar of satisfaction at the sensation, his hand wrapped around himself, jerking his cock desperately. Breathing heavily, he milks himself dry before he slumps over me, smearing the sticky substance between us, the two of us left breathless in the throes of our pleasure. 

"Still as good as I remember." He hums, rolling off of me to lie beside me.

"Could say the same thing." I sigh, trailing a finger through his cooling cum, grimacing at the sight of it.

Groaning, I heave myself up, taking the towel up from the floor.

"Where are you going?" Dutch asks, still lounging on the bed.

"Shower. You should, too." I inform him, moving to leave, only to stop still as the door swings open.

"(Y/n)? Who are you- oh." Poncho blushes a deep red, grimacing as he swiftly ducks back out of the room. 

"Oh shit…" I groan, putting my head in my hands, unable to bite back a small smile.

With just grins, leaning back on his hands.

"Oops."

-

Tag list: @nightime-luna-fairy

[nevertheless-moving]

My actual point writing this here is that a year into the war when Obi-Wan (36) starts really bonding with Cody (14/28) he feels super weird about it on a bunch of levels because its Cody who’s loyal and hot and smart but does this make Obi-Wan a creep? Or is it more offensive not to sleep with him? (Not to mention it’s easier to think about consent in terms of numbers then the insane command structure and slavery thing because they’ve got a pretty healthy relationship all things considered and he’s already promoting the man as fast as possible anyway but clones have no legal rights) 

Obi-Wan sleeps around with various terrible choices, sexual tension builds. FINALLY after two years of war they get stuck in a cave, naturally huddle for warmth, things escalate positively and Obi-Wan’s like WAIT I CAN’T

There’s some horny exasperation, but they care about each other, and don’t want to sour what they have with regrets. Eventually Cody (15/30 at cave time) and Obi-Wan agree to wait another 3 years so they’ll both be at the legal human age of consent and the age difference will drop to just 4 years. By then the war will be over anyway, right? So the whole jedis-own-the-clones thing that’s really underneath all this will HAVE to be resolved. 

They spend the rest of the night cuddling with uncomfortable boners.

Another year passes. Lots of longing glances, lingering hand touches, tender bandaging of wounds, suggestive lightsaber holds...you know. YOU  K N O W. Plus a little private teasing about the jailbait thing because they’re literally running a war together

Order 66. 

When asked, CC-2224 can’t believe he ever considered himself close to a traitor. He doesn’t think about it the rest of the time. 

Obi-Wan has plenty of regrets. This is probably the easiest one to bear, and the only one that makes him smile to think of.

Things could have been left at that, but once Fulcrum disseminates the knowledge on exactly why the clones turned, a number of early rebellion task-forces dedicate themselves to de-chipping/disabling the chips. Beyond the whole sentient rights thing, its good tactical sense. They’re a well placed MAJOR military asset that could quickly start providing immediate returns if suborned. Worst case you’ve just activated a number of extremely effective suicide bombers

It takes over a year and a lot of good men die, but a desperate rebel cell manages to infiltrate purge trooper barracks. They go undiscovered just long enough to plant a few extremely well-calibrated electrical devices. Bomb sweep fails to register them. The whole terrorist group is wiped out of course, but the EMPs activate overnight as planned. Massive damage to Imperial Military resources and overly hasty brain surgery follows.

Like I said, a lot of good men die. 

But Cody, now that his head is more or less his own, has a little more hope than the average CC (not a lot, but enough to stave off going out in a blaze of glory). General Kenobi’s body was never found after all. He knows- he looked.

He quickly joins up with the Onderran campaign- he can’t go on many imperial raids- he understands that his brothers would rather die than live as they are but that doesn’t mean he can pull the trigger. But black ops? yeah. Rumour is they’ve even got a Jedi on the next mission- he’d be irritated at the bad operational security but that specific rumour passes around so often its essentially useless to spies anyway.

Team members are independently directed to assemble at a safe house, their arrivals deliberately staggered. Cody steals and ditches two different ships, not to mention spends a week in a sewer, before finally arriving. Organa himself had stressed that one of the crew is taking time off of a top-secret long-term protection detail for this and no chances are to be taken with being tracked. 

He arrives late at night, with two days left to spare.

Two unknown near-human fighters (Guerra trained by the looks), a Mon-Calamari smuggler, and a Gand mercenary who he’s fairly confident used to work for the separatists greet him cordially enough at entry; his reputation proceeds him. If anything, the former Marshall Commander of the 7th Sky Corps is overqualified for this sort of mission. He’s vaguely pleased to find another trooper present- a heavily scarred arc commando wearing 187th colors. The commando is actually smiling, seated across from and deep into conversation with a robed figure,

Cody’s heart jumps to his throat. Their conversation halts. Everyone watches. And General Kenobi slowly turns to face him. The air’s too heavy with tension for the others to think about leaving discretely, even if they were willing (the chips are a poorly-understood open secret at this point, and the five bystanders are well trained enough to brace themselves for the worst case reunion).

“Cody,” Obi-Wan says softly. “It’s good to see you.” 

The Jedi looks terrible. In the two and a half years since the end of the war and the start of the empire, the man seems to have aged faster than a botched clone. 

He’s using his stupid earnest voice where he means what he’s saying and its important that Cody know that. Like he’s actually, truly happy to see Cody even after what the clones did to their Jedi. Even after what Cody tried to do to Obi-Wan. Cody’s had plenty of time to think of what he might say if he ever saw the man again, but he hadn’t used it- it was too painful to imagine anything personal anymore. What apology could be enough? What right did he have to express grief in the face of Obi-Wan’s unfathomable loss? To Cody’s absolute horror, what comes out his mouth is

"I’m not jailbait anymore, you know.”

The words hang in the air, and Cody is now ready to die. Maybe if he moves suddenly enough one of their captive audience members will reflexively shoot him. 

Sure, after their long talk in that cave, Cody had spent an unhealthy amount of time daydreaming variations on ‘I’m a real man now we gonna fuck or what’

but that was before he became a kriffing PURGE TROOPER what the actual hells was wrong with his brain 

Obi-Wan...Obi-Wan blinks rapidly. Then grins. It was honest delight mixed with Negotiator smarm crossed with an about-to-get-laid-leer.

Cody’s heart starts back up with a vengeance.

“I’m afraid I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about it,” Obi-Wan drawls. He shifts in his seat, straightening from a weary hunch to lean back cockily, hands behind his head and legs spreading even wider than their customary sprawl. 

“Oh, did I miss your 18th decant day? I’m ever so sorry my dear, I do hope I can make it up to you somehow. Incidentally, have I ever mentioned that contrary to popular opinion, the Jedi Code doesn’t actually require celibacy?”

Cody let out a strangled noise at the pickup line that had, almost impressively, become even less tasteful since the last time he heard it. He must have moved forward somehow, because the next thing he knew the General’s chair was toppling back and his legs were wrapped around the Jedi’s waist and Obi-Wan’s tongue was doing incredible things to the inside of his mouth. There's a sense of hasty movement, the slam of a door, then a bed.

-

The next morning, Cody stares intently at the briefing’s logistical diagrams, carefully avoiding everyone else’s eyes. There was next-to-no-chance that their moaning and thudding had gone unheard. But they were all professionals, not to mention used to people letting off tension in high stress environments.

He does, however, desperately hope that everyone somehow missed the hours of incoherent crying that interrupted and followed otherwise fantastic sex. 

Plans are finalized, weapons are loaded, and comms are distributed. Two more rebels arrive. Pre-mission banter stays fairly tame, even after claiming one of the two bedrooms for themselves for a second and not significantly quieter night.

All things considered, when it comes time to establish operational codes, they don’t really have it in them to put up a fight against their unanimously designated callsigns.

They are a little less gracious on future missions when the code names repeatedly return.

 Nearly two decades later, at the physical ages of 72 and 58 respectively, Cody and Obi-Wan have more or less resigned themselves to being officially introduced as 'jailbait’ and ‘cradlerobber.’ 

[ohimjustagay]

I miss Hange so fucking much so I went digging for the most complete version of their oldddd interview I could find. (Credits for the translation go to an anonymous 4chan user)

Q: So, is this not like they’ve already given up on you?

Hange: Probably! Mike and Erwin say nothing about it. Ah, but Levi…

Q: Did he say anything about it?

Hange: Uhh… from time to time I black out from getting hit, then when I become conscious again I would get splashed at and somehow… it’s like having a bath.

Q: It is… done by force, isn’t it?

Hange: That, perhaps, is more like cleaning than having a bath! I think he planned it all out with my subordinates, but because I lost consciousness I can’t be sure.

Q: Everybody’s names have been mentioned, so we would like to hear about your interpersonal relationships. We’ve got a question that asks, "What impression do you have” of firstly Commander Erwin, then Captain Levi, Squad Leader Mike and Deputy Leader Moblit.

Hange: Right… I’ve known Erwin and Levi for a long time. Erwin actively supports my research, so he’s helped me a lot. According to what he has said, I think he also holds some kind of doubt towards the structure of this world.

Q: What about Captain Levi and Squad Leader Mike?

Hange: Levi you see, is bad at talking and a clean freak so everyone gets disillusioned, but he’s a good guy who thinks about his comrades. He has a rough attitude, but he listens to my research results and has the composure to only think about it.

Q: Isn’t he’s a good superior officer?

Hange: (cut off) …Yeah, it’s a strange attitude to people he meets for the first time, but the position of Squad Leader is justified.

Q: What impression do you have of Deputy Leader Moblit, who is also an adjutant?

Hange: Moblit? He’s an outstanding adjutant! His sketches used for research are good too. But, the fly in the ointment is that he always comes to stop me when I’m getting to the good part.

Q: Doesn’t he do that because he is worried for you? Among the questions we got, some of them such as, “Aren’t you worrying him too much?” and “Please let him rest once in a while” showed concern for him.

Hange: (omitted)

Q: We have received many questions about your interpersonal relationships, such as, “Do you have any friends and acquaintances?” and “Who do you get along with?”

Hange: Friends and acquaintances huh… Like I’ve said before, I adjust my daily life cycle to the Corps’ movements.

Q: Your schedule is filled with research and duties, I see. In between all that, is there anyone you often talk to?

Hange: Ah, it depends on the plan or formation but… I’m often stationed close to Levi’s squad, so I think we do talk a lot.

Q: You have mentioned that you’ve known each other for a long time.

Hange: Levi’s rough with his words, so it sounds like he’s angry, right? But he doesn’t truly feel that way, so there are times I help to explain that to everyone in his squad. Interpretation, people have called it.

Q: Other than Levi, who else do you get along with?

Hange: When I see the veteran soldiers who enlisted around the same time as me… if they’re still alive, that is… I would talk to them a lot. Also my subordinates.

Q: I see. There are also many questions like, “Can you see with goggles?” and “How good is your eyesight without glasses?” about your glasses or goggles.

Hange: Without glasses I can still see the face of the person in front of me, but it’s inconvenient during battles or research, I guess. Glasses can easily fall off, so I don’t use them on missions. There are skillful soldiers who can operate 3DMG with glasses, you know, but I’m not very good at it.

Q: We also have a question about your glasses and goggles that goes, “They seem expensive, how many spares do you have?”

Hange: I keep one or two pairs on hand, if they’re both broken I claim them with the Survey Corps’ expenses.

Q: You put them down to expenses!

Hange: But they’re necessities, so it’s a required expense! I don’t do things like Levi who claims expenses for the black tea he favors, you know?

Q: That black tea… is paid for with expenses.

Hange: Yes, glasses and black tea, they’re all supplies for the whole Survey Corps. It’s because our lifestyle is guaranteed like this that there’s no shortage of youngsters who aspire to be soldiers.

Q: You’re certainly right about that. Another question we have is, “Do you do housework?”

Hange: Like cooking, or cleaning? Hmm, I’ve done it before, on duty.

Q: Trainee soldiers cook their own meals, and on expeditions cooking for yourself is also a must.

Hange: Well, for me right now, as a Squad Leader, I leave most of it to my subordinates I guess.

Q: We also have the question “What’s your type?” Excluding titans, that is.

Hange: Ahh… everyone sure likes that kind of topic. I don’t think about it much, but let’s see, someone who is fine even if I can’t pay attention to them, I guess.

Q: You respect freedom.

Hange: Mm-hmm, for me right now, I’m interested in… mainly titans, and also the structure of the world and so on… way too many things. So, even if I had someone like that, I probably can’t spend much time together with them.

Q: So someone who can accept your behavior and let you be free is ideal, isn’t it.

Hange: That’s how it turns out. I don’t think such a convenient person exists though.

Q: Do you chat with people like Deputy Leader Moblit?

Hange: Moblit says things a mother would say. Like, did you eat properly? Or, did you sleep well? And his every word is really funny.

Q: For example?

Hange: Once, during an experiment I think, he said to me, Do you really want to live!? Pretty much the only one who says such interesting things to me is Moblit!

Q: I see. Then, I’m going to change the topic a bit and introduce an unconventional question. “Please tell us about the time you recently got angry.”

Hange: Angry? Me? What a strange question.

Q: I’ve been told you’re the scariest when you get angry.

Hange: That’s not true! Erwin and Levi have way scarier faces! Well… now that I think about it…

Q: Did something come to mind?

Hange: It’s not recent, but. Long ago, I got into an argument with a Military Police officer who made fun of the Survey Corps… He said such terrible things, I couldn’t take it anymore, and grabbed the scruff of his neck and threw him on the floor… almost.

Q: That’s scary!

Hange: Haha… It’s the folly of youth. Since Erwin and the others quickly intervened, it didn’t become an issue. Other than that… when I get mad, I kick and wreck tables and chairs… but doesn’t everyone do that?

Q: Uh, I wonder about that… You give a calm impression, but there is something on fire hidden inside you.

Hange: I’m always on fire! It’s for the sake of unraveling the mysteries of this world!

Q: If mankind were finally liberated from the titans, what would they do?

Hange: Mankind would rule. But I would like to research vegetation outside the walls, or study about humanity’s past.

[who-is-cannon]

Ghost plant saga

I think ghost plants will either 1) be even more abstract than your average ghost (hard to perceive with human senses, and acts like nothing in the physical plane) or 2) one of the more naturally flesh-like spirits (ghost plants act more like their living counterparts than ghosts do).

This is the 1st option explored:

Plants can communicate, but they don’t feel emotions like any animal does. Plants operate on electrical signals and small currents of electricity, but do not possess central nervous systems. Plants are weird in the ghost zone.

They don’t interact with the ghost zone as the other more human and animal spirits do. Maybe they form islands? It’s possible they anchor land together by finding ways to manipulate the infinite realms? Maybe they grow in lairs too?

It’s possible that plants are more parasitic? It seems to be hard to find land in the ghost zone, and the ghost zone is known for letting it’s inhabitants be… diverse. Maybe plants are a lot more aggressive and predatory in the ghost zone? Maybe they latch onto ghosts and grow on them?

Who even necessarily says plants have to be stationary in the ghost zone?

What about wandering tangles of… trees? Grass? Plants don’t even have to grow upwards anymore. The ghost zone doesn’t exactly have a sun.

Plants do have instincts and natures themselves, but how they “imagine” themselves is very different. (If they even can imagine themselves.) They don’t have the sense of self that humans / animals do. They’re more of a blank slate when it comes to their looks. (I think so at least.) They’ll probably look like Eldridge abominations.

The most they’ll probably “remember” of themselves is how their parts work, so they’re forms will probably be loosely based on the plant’s structure from before. And then you remember that ghosts are known to manipulate themselves past their old forms. Yeah man I’m not even sure how that would work. Do you think some ghost plants can turn intangible on command like how some plants curl up in response to touch?

What about plants that emerge straight from Spiritual sources? 100% ghost zone originals. Would these “spirit plants” even be recognizable as plants?

What if plants are more like concepts in the Zone? What if they can’t become ghosts; can’t spawn themselves within the zone from the physical plant? The realms is based on will and emotion right? What if someone thought hard enough about plants and oh my goodness they just started to exist one day.

What if ghost plants were self-propagating concepts? Able to be manipulated like any old ectoplasm, but that tried to put themselves back into a certain shape / form when possible? They were just ectoplasmic manifestations that spawned other ectoplasmic manifestations.

This is the 2nd option explored:

Plants somehow end up the most like their physical world reflections. They are plants with ghostly attributes. They glow and produce chemicals to deal with specifically spiritly predation, but they are just plants that are also ghosts.

They, like all things in the Infinite Realms, might be a little moodier. They might be a little more mobile, they might almost be sentient in a plant sort of way, but they are still just ghost plants.

Of course certain options can co-exist.

And another question: where do you think blood blossoms fit into all this? Do you think they are liminal flowers? Are they one of the options above? Something else?

[I’m terribly sorry that I can’t decide, but how insane do you imagine the ghost zone to be?

What do you draw the line at? Because I’m happy to go in every direction.

Even if that direction means that the spookiest things in the Realm end up being plants.]

[whats-rambled-rambled]

Long Nights - part 4

Neil x Reader

Chapter 4: World gone mad

(see chapter 3, 2, 1)

summary: inverted heist calls for inverted training

warnings: 18+, explicit language, gun mention, crackheadery, and possible whiplash

author’s note: Hi, yes, I know, took me ages, but hey, I hope it's worth the wait! 5.2k words, how even--

Anyway.

The song for this part is Bastille - World Gone Mad

Enjoy! All feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you think?

——————

Tag list: @cxnnienikas @neutron-stars-collision ​ @ergunbilge @invertedneil @wanderedaway @mellifluous-cosmos @wonderwoman292 @buckysgoldenheart @townmoondaltwistle @theriverbeneaththeriver (please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list)

-----

The fact that you knew how to handle guns wasn’t equal to you being very good at it. Or enjoying it, for that matter. Sure, you could more or less hit the target, especially with some useful tips you got from Neil regarding a trigger finger discipline, but still - you’d rather avoid reaching for a pistol altogether.

You put back the weapon you’d been training with and Neil handed you another one. You couldn’t really tell the difference, at least until you checked the magazine. The lack of ammo meant you finally got to the fun bit that Neil teased in The Protagonist’s office and you smiled, looking back at your companion. He grinned at you, the gaze sparkling behind yellow-tinted safety glasses as he pointed at the wall next to the targets you used for practice.

“Just aim and pull the trigger. ” Seeing your nod, he added, “Okay now, be careful, it might feel--”

The bullet whizzed back into the chamber of your pistol and your eyes widened.

“Oh fuck me sideways,” you hissed under your breath.

“-- a bit weird, yeah.�� Neil chuckled at the shock painted on your face. “All right?”

“Yeah, just processing.” Trying to blink the consternation away, you asked, “How do you make these? You put it into that...turnstile and voilà?”

Neil shook his head. “No, it’s not that simple. We receive a stash every now and then, we don’t know how to manufacture those,” - he smirked - “at least not yet. I do have a few theories I’m working on in my spare time, but...” hesitating for a moment, he raked a hand through his hair and sent you a nervous smile. “Wouldn’t want to bore you to death, though.”

“Dude, come on, with that smooth and soothing voice of yours? You could read the yellow pages to me and I’d still listen like that--” you mocked a dreamy heart-eyes expression, watching with satisfaction as that remark pushed Neil further into a flustered state.

Apparently, when explicit teasing got a little-to-no reaction now, you could still make him blush with a more wholesome compliment. As you started laughing, he rolled his eyes and scrunched the nose slightly, joining you with a stifled giggle. Grinning, you continued a little softer, “I’m not gonna lie - I probably wouldn’t understand a majority of the physics jargon, but I’d still want to hear all about that.”

A thankful look you got in return made your chest clench painfully, and your mind wandered off to those breaks near the river, and Neil’s animated rants. You knew one thing. Anyone who had ever ridiculed him for his passion for even the nerdiest things could rot in hell, and you’d gladly see to it personally.

A disgruntled huff coming from behind made you both snap out of the moment.

“Oi, lovebirds, I’d appreciate it if you could leave all that to after I prep you for the mission.”

Bottling down your annoyance, you batted your lashes at the commander, who’d just come back with keys to one of the conference rooms near the range.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, you have my full attention now.”

Ives nodded, waving at you to follow him. Meanwhile, Neil’s small smirk let you know that he noticed that faint undertone in your voice, but he said nothing, patiently waiting for the events to unfold.

Another person was waiting for you at the door. You recognized the woman who’d driven you to that abandoned factory on your very first day - you’d never gotten properly introduced, but you remember asking Neil about her once and he called her Wheeler. To be honest, with these guys you never knew if they used their real names, nicknames, codenames, or whatever. Not that you cared, quite used to it in your own line of business. You exchanged a court nod with her and went into the room.

As you sat down at the big table and Ives booted a projector, your eyes bore into the man. Definitely one of those types who enjoyed his beret and the paramilitary structure of the field branch of the organization. Probably a bit too much. You bit back a smug grin.

Those were particularly fun to mess with.

Ives caught your piercing stare and stopped the brief of the location.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you said, propping the chin on your palm, a polite smile on your lips. “It’s fascinating.”

He furrowed his brows, perplexed.

“What is?”

“How your commanding presence literally adds you inches,” you said, using all your willpower to keep a serious face. “I wonder if it works only for your height or--”

Neil’d futile attempts at masking an amused snort with a cough didn’t go unnoticed. Ives shot him daggers and then glared at you. “For fuck’s sake, would you focus?”

Your eyes flared up at the threat in his voice and you pouted, taunting him further.

“Or what, you’re gonna spank me?”

“No, I’m gonna shoot you,” he deadpanned.

You raised a brow.

“Kinky.”

Ives groaned, turning to Neil.

“How you survived this long without choking her is beyond me.”

Neil puffed his cheeks and gestured vaguely, but as he opened the mouth to answer, you chimed in, with a shit-eating grin plastered on your face.

“Oh, he very much did so, all right.”

The awkward silence that followed was pretty satisfying.

“Can we keep her?” asked Wheeler casually, leaned back in her chair, fiddling with a bullpen.

Ives gaped at you all, then slumped his shoulders in defeat, sliding a hand through his features. He was so done you could almost hear The Sound of Silence playing in the distance, but apparently, his sense of duty was stronger than the urge to leave you without finishing the briefing, so he just drew a deep breath and continued.

“...anyway…”

You caught Neil’s glance and you couldn’t help but poke the tip of your tongue out at him. The mischievous sparks in his eyes reflected your own as he shook his head, tugging the bottom lip between the teeth. Wheeler’s curious gaze flitted between you two, and as you didn’t feel like drawing too much unnecessary attention to yourself anymore, you focused on the plan that Ives was persistently going through.

Time frames. Blueprints. Entry points. Exit routes (you spotted at least one additional way he left out, but you weren’t sure if you could drag Neil through there, judging by that alley performance, so you didn’t bother to mention it out loud). Everything seemed clear enough. You still had no idea how being inverted would affect the lockpicking, but when you voiced that, Ives promised you some time to figure it out before the mission.

The mission. Huh. It wasn’t that much different from your usual assignments - at least if you forgot about that tiny insignificant detail like moving backwards in time - but something in this paramilitary and/or espionage vibe made your heart beat faster with excitement.

It had been quite a long time since you had company at the job. Working alone had its perks, but you wouldn’t mind a trusted partner in crime having your six for a change.

Another thing that you certainly wouldn’t mind - seeing Neil in tactical gear. Not that either of you would need one, but the image got planted in your head and suddenly you wished you’d had a bottle of water.

You realized that everyone was looking at you expectantly. Shit, was there a question or…?

“I’m good,” you said, shooting in the dark, hoping that would be enough to cover your distracted ass.

Ives squinted, but fortunately, that was an acceptable answer.

“Well, as you two can proceed straight from here - Wheeler, they’re all yours.’

“Okay,” - she smiled and stood up - “we don’t have any turnstiles on-site, but there’s one in the base outside the city, I’ll talk you through the basics on the way.”

So that little daydream cost you a chance to come back home to prepare? Grand. The problem was - you needed your heavy-duty tools, but you’d rather eat rocks than back away in front of Ives. Luckily, he called on Neil to wait for a moment, so that was your chance.

“Umm, Wheeler?” you asked quietly, following her outside.

She glanced at you curiously.

“What’s up?”

“I know I said I’m good, but could we stop by my apartment for a second, please?” An awkward grimace ran through your face. “I gotta pick up my tools. You know, just in case.”

She wasn’t surprised by your request. Moreover, she sent you a knowing smile.

“Sure thing,” she said and winked, and then it was your turn to present a slightly flushed face. “I’ve got you.”

----

You didn’t know what to expect from the whole inversion process.

The first time your brain stuttered was when Wheeler pointed at something she called the proving window, just in time for you to see the three of you coming out on the other side. You caught inverted-you glancing back at your present self; the schooled expression, but with the gaze shining with anticipation.

The second time was when it was you on the other side, looking at your wide-eyed past self. Feeling the incoming headache, you took a deep breath and followed Wheeler and Neil to the stand with oxygen masks.

“How are you feeling?” asked Neil, handing you the equipment.

“Weirdly normal.” You shrugged. “Or maybe not more backwards than usual, if that makes any sense.”

He smiled lightly.

“It’s the airlock. When you see the outside, you’ll get a whole new perspective.”

Wheeler nodded. “What he said. And to recap: you’re inverted, the world is not - all forces will be pushing back on you. Besides gravity.” She double-checked the oxygen bottle secured to your belt. “Just mind things that might be rising instead of falling.”

You furrowed the brows.

“Wait, didn’t Ives mention the rain?”

Neil smirked from behind the mask.

“Afraid of getting wet?”

“Never.” You grinned, meeting the sparkling blue eyes. “Should know that by now.”

Wheeler snorted and shook her head, walking to the panel near the exit.

“You’ll have plenty of time to finish the job before you move far enough to catch up on that. Although, if you ever find yourself in the inverted rain, here’s a tip: pop your collar.”

“Why would you--” Oh. The sole thought of the water going up from the ground to the sky made you nauseous. You swallowed with effort, leveling your breath in the mask. “...right.”

Wheeler opened the door and you almost gasped at the view. The golden rays of sunset (...or was it technically a sunrise now?) flickered on the training grounds’ equipment as the sky painted the scarce pools of muddy water with greyish violets and reddening oranges. Leaves shuffled in the wind, their dance almost satirical with that inverted spin.

Wheeler’s voice stopped your mind from wandering further into the landscape.

“Okay, ready? Ives asked me to remind you not to try any cowboy shit, you need to be in one piece at the end of the training.”

“Yes ma’am,” you mocked a salute and stepped outside, stretching your limbs, readjusting to the reality being slightly off. Neil stood right beside you watching you warming up, ready to take you to the obstacles section.

But as soon as the airlock’s doors closed behind you, you spun around, tapping his shoulder - “Tag, you’re it!” - and without waiting for his reaction, you leaped towards the assault course.

Surely that turned out overly optimistic. You counted on the element of surprise and a head start, but Neil had an experience with running while being inverted, while you… well. You tried.

“B+ for effort,” laughed Neil, catching up on you even before you reached the first obstacle and tapping you back. “But you can do better than that.”

“Just you wait!” you retorted and vaulted over a low hurdle, the mild confusion caused by the dumbfounded senses slowly eased up as you tuned out the brain and let the muscle memory guide your movements. Because hey, in the end? Yes, the natural forces were acting up against you. Yes, Neil had years of inverted training behind him. But you’d been challenging different obstacles your whole life, and courses like this one were your favourite playgrounds.

You caught on him by the next wall, playing dirty and tugging at his leg, pulling him down before he could jump to the other side. The exasperated huff he gave you in protest got lost in the squelch of mud under your feet, the sound more like a suction instead of the much-expected splash. Shuddering with disgust at such abomination, you rushed to the set of monkey bars, hearing Neil following up closely. You gritted your teeth, swinging your body to help yourself get through the part, and that’s when you felt a light tap on your foot.

You glared to your left, where Neil was gaining an advantage over you.

“Damn you and your infinite legs, man! It doesn’t count!”

“Losing looks good on you,” he said, landing and then instantly ducking under your reached out hand.

“Too bad it’s not gonna stick,” you scoffed as you ran after him to jump on one of the parallel logs. Balancing was easy enough, even with inversion; it gave you the perfect opportunity to plan ahead, while Neil had to maintain full focus. “Must say - all that sass definitely makes you like... ten percent hotter.”

But you’d taught him well, apparently, and instead of losing his pace, he only shot you a quick glance accompanied by an arched brow.

“Only ten?”

“Dunno, come over here and let me take a closer look,” you teased, getting a short chuckle in response. “No?” - you sighed - “Alrighty then.” And you leaped to the side straight into Neil, pushing him off the log. He yelped and grabbed you by the shirt, the momentum sending you both straight into the mud. You landed on top of Neil, collapsing into his arms for a moment to catch a breath and to stop laughing.

You leaned back to look him in the eyes.

“Okay, maaaybe fifteen,” you panted, booping his mask as you would do to his nose.

Neil snickered and nodded.

“I’ll take it.”

When your gazes met, his features softened, and he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear gently. You smiled behind the mask and sat up, straddling his waist. Neil was studying you closely, his hands grazed your sides and rested on your hips. Nibbling at your bottom lip, you leaned over him again and slowly reached out, and--

“Simba…” you choked out with reverence, brushing a muddy thumb across his forehead.

Tears from the held-back laughter threatened to spill any second as you observed Neil blanking out in utter confusion. The five stages of grief ran through his expression and then he closed his eyes and sighed theatrically.

“The fate of the world is in the hands of a complete madwoman.”

...the what now?

You tilted your head, grinning.

“Aren’t you a little dramatic?”

Then, without a warning, Neil shifted under you, rolling you off him and pinning you down.

“Birds of a feather and all that,” he said, clearly enjoying the way you squealed and squirmed as the mud got under your shirt. “You think you got a hang of the inverted movement already?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. Neil realized your intentions a second too late. A handful of mud splashed on his face and you chuckled with satisfaction. “Yeah, now I think I’m ready to go.”

You turned up at the airlock soon after, looking like something that cat dragged in, but beaming widely. Dreaming of a hot shower and a clean set of clothes, you put down the mask and the oxygen container and headed to the turnstile.

Wheeler was waiting for you near the machine, and seeing the state you were in, she just gaped at you both, trying to come up with an adequate question.

As you noticed her quizzical look, you gave her a thumbs up and smiled.

“If you ain't dirty, you ain't here to party! Wooo!” you whooped, throwing your hands up and trotting past her straight into the turnstile.

Right before reverting yourself back to your original state, you heard Wheeler’s hushed question.

“You two all right?”

And then Neil’s answer.

“Don’t worry, we’re good.”

--------

The truck’s engine hummed steadily, which could only mean you were on some sort of highway. At least the container stopped wobbling, so you could practice in peace.

No wobbles meant no excuses, though. You sighed, readjusting your grip on the tools.

Neil had fallen asleep some time ago, after making sure you figured out the locks and hearing your solemn promise that you would follow him soon.

One day after that eventful night, then inverting and going straight back without proper sleep. You knew he was right and you needed at least a nap. But you couldn’t. Not before you were absolutely sure you got it. The usual locks weren’t that bad. The inverted ones were a whole other story.

It’d taken you long enough to crack them in the safety of your own apartment, without the weird physics, ever-present even within the air-locked container. Without the pressure.

The fate of the world.

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

You didn’t even know what was that thing you were supposed to retrieve soon. It was okay, you didn’t need to. It was a quite common situation in your work history. That kind of knowledge could be dangerous, after all.

The pin clicked and you sighed again, squeezing your eyes shut to stop the burning sensation even for a moment.

Besides, you were doing it for Neil. The memory of that panicked look on his face when he’d seen the documents was enough to keep you going.

But did he have to say that?

You had to do it. Not only because you felt responsible for him, in a way. What you’d told the boss was true and you weren’t the only one at fault for Neil not being fully ready for that assignment. He was your friend, wasn’t he? And there was no way you’d leave a friend in need.

You pressed your lips together, forcing yourself to breathe.

Probably a stupid joke, nothing more.

But what if he was being serious? What if that thing out there was really that important? And you were about to fuck everything up because you couldn’t get your shit together fast enough to figure out the bloody inverted mechanism again. And with every minute wasted and not spent on resting there was a higher chance of messing up at the actual location.

Hell of a locksmith you were, huh?

The feedback from the tools came with a final warning like a sobering slap. If you were to continue, they would snap any second now.

You let out a shaky breath and retraced from the lock, hiding your face in the palms.

A gentle touch on your shoulder almost made you flinch. Of course, he had to wake up in the middle of your breakdown.

“Go back to sleep, we still have a few hours left,” you muttered into your hands, trying to collect yourself.

“Not before you talk to me,” said Neil as his fingers slid down your arm. He was crouching right beside you, the blue eyes boring into you with concern. “What is it?”

You sighed and shifted in your seat to face him.

“Wanna make sure I got it, that’s all.”

Neil’s brows knitted together.

“But I saw you open that lock once, why--”

“Once! And that’s exactly the problem!” you fumed and glared at the table. “I can’t crack it again, I--” your voice wavered and you gritted the teeth in frustration. “What if it was a stroke of dumb luck? Should I start praying for another one to happen there?”

Another delicate touch, this time on your knees, was enough to make you look back at Neil. A shade of smile tainted his lips as he searched your gaze.

“Someone used to tell me all the time that if you did it once, you can do it again.”

You hung your head and huffed, “Maybe that someone was full of shit.’

“I know for a fact that she wasn’t,” he chuckled, taking the tools out of your clenched fists and putting them back at the table. “She was utterly brilliant,” he continued, reaching for your cramping, trembling hands and taking them in his, ”and always reminded me to take a break instead of agonizing over a stubborn lock.”

That you did, all right. Your laugh sounded awfully close to a sob. God, if you weren’t exhausted.

Mustering enough strength to look him in the eyes, you squeezed his hands, trying to convey all the gratitude in the gesture. And hide that bit of embarrassment, too.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said and his thumbs brushed over your knuckles. “Scoot over.”

You moved back on the provisional bench, making enough space for him to sit next to you. And so he did, not letting go of your hands even for a second. He started rubbing small circles into them and you grunted softly. Neil gave you a knowing smile and soon enough, his fingers glided between your forearms and fingertips, applying pressure to the tensest places, careful strokes and precise moves bringing a much-needed release. You couldn’t help small groans escaping your mouth, every one of them adding to the self-satisfied grin hiding in the corner of Neil’s mouth. But then, instead of teasing you, his features softened and you caught his glance, warm and sheepish.

“I don’t think I properly thanked you for offering to help me with this mission.”

“I couldn’t let you have all the fun,” you laughed and winced as Neil’s thumbs worked on your wrists. “Don’t thank me yet, we still need to pull it off first.”

“Well, maybe we already have, from the typical point of view,” - he pondered, lighting up - “seeing that we are moving back--”

“Neil, please, I’m all for discussing it later, but right now it’s about to give me a pounding headache.”

When you met his eyes, you noted with relief that he didn’t mind you cutting him off like that. He knew that you were tired, nothing more.

“Right, sorry.” Then he looked at you with determination, suddenly serious. “Whatever happens… thank you. It means a lot.”

“Of course,” you said quietly as your heart ached with unexpected fondness.

Neil smiled, shaking off the sentimental moment. His hands cupped yours and gave them a light squeeze.

“Now would you please get some rest?”

“Will you tuck me in?” you grinned and batted your lashes at him, earning an amused snort in return.

“I can even sing you a lullaby if that means you’ll fall asleep faster,” he said, standing up and tugging at your hand.

“Ah, I’m afraid I’m gonna crash too fast to properly appreciate it,” you giggled as he kited you all the way to the resting area at the front of the container. “But I’m definitely taking a rain check on that.”

“Sure.” One final brush of his thumb over your fingers and he let go of your hand, smirking. “Now sleep, I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

-------

Neil proved to be an excellent companion.

You disabled the alarms simultaneously, paying attention to all the possible silent traps. Forcing the main locks went smoothly, almost surprisingly so. For having something of such importance hidden there, the owners of the place seemed strangely old-fashioned; it shone through the antique decor of the lofty apartment as well as the security choices. Too easy. Tuning out an intrusive thought rattling in the back of your head, you scouted the dark rooms, careful not to leave any traces of your presence.

There.

The office you saw in the photos.

...but they’d redecorated.

“That’s one fancy safe they got there,” you said nonchalantly, eyeing the ornament piece of metal lit by your flashlight, “Too bad it somehow got left out at the briefing.”

Neil’s face dropped when he followed you inside the room.

“Christ, and what now?”

Good question. You’d worked with safes before, hell, you’d cracked a fair share of them using simply manipulation. But never going bloody backwards in time. How would that even work? Was it normal or inverted?

Well, there was only one way to find out.

“I’ve got this.” And that’s how you felt, despite the initial panic. There was a method to it, and you had most of the things you needed with you. Perks of overpreparing. The only issue was-- ... “It might take a while, though.”

Neil nodded.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

“Keep an eye on the time for me, I gotta focus,” you said, reaching into your backpack and accidentally pulling on the thin tube. Right. “...and maybe on the oxygen levels as well?”

“Will do.”

Your brain switched into the challenge mode, and your fingers tingled to give it a try. Armed with a sound amplifier and a little notepad, you sat down next to the safe and got to work.

Figuring out your way in was meant to be a hit and miss, doubly so with the goddamn inversion. But minute after minute, click by click, you determined the first contact points, and the years of experience took you from there. You scribbled numbers and variations in the notepad, fully focused on the task. Almost there.

Another combination. Inhale. Exhale. Pull.

Gotcha.

“Neil?” you called out in the hushed voice as the beam from the flashlight landed on a small metal box of a peculiar shape.

He was next to you in no time.

“That’s it,” he said, kneeling down. He reached inside and took out the box, then carefully placed it inside his backpack. The blue eyes glimmered in the dim light. “Good job!”

“Thanks,” you smiled and closed the safe. “Now let’s get out of here.”

You gathered and packed all your stuff, double-checking for any leftover signs of your entry.

Then you heard it. A faint, slightly off patter against the huge windows. You froze in place as your mind tried to grasp the view of trickles of rain coming up the glass.

Neil glanced outside, not mindful of the absolutely bonkers scene that wiped any coherent thought from your head. Although judging from how quickly his face lost all the colours, the view he got was even more disturbing.

“Christ…” he uttered, shooting you a panicked look. “We’ve got company.”

You dashed to the window to see for yourself. A group of people was crossing the empty street, moving pretty much normally, and that only meant...

Fuck.

“The owners?”

Neil shook his head. “Impossible. The third party, probably.” With his hand already on the holster, he hesitated, considering the options.

But there were only two: fight or flight. The problem was - the numbers didn’t look good for you to try pushing through the crew downstairs. And as for the second one, your initial exit routes seemed to be cut off already.

Although, there was still one path left. You almost smiled to yourself. He was not going to like it.

“Let’s go through the roofs.”

Neil’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?” he asked, scanning your face for any sign of doubt.

There was none.

“Yes, but we have to leave right now.”

He swallowed with effort and nodded.

As soon as you bolted out of the apartment and rushed up the stairs, the footsteps coming from the lower levels quickened. Time was running out.

You were about to barge outside when Neil grabbed your hand as if he sensed what was going to happen next. The doors opened and you lost the momentum, startled by the view. Heavy showers replaced the drizzle you saw through the window, intensifying the nauseating effect.

The last strands of sanity threatened to leave you, but Neil’s touch was like an anchor, grounding you and keeping you from spiraling further.

“Which way?” he shouted through the hammering, almost deafening rain.

You blinked rapidly and looked around to match the data from the brief to the actual location.

“Over there!”

Wishing you’d had a goddamn collar to pop, you leaped to the side, guiding Neil through your only escape route. You let go of his hand to vault over the vents, and just as your feet touched the surface again, you heard distant yells behind you. Shit.

The high density of the area was working in your favor, but only for so long. There was meant to be a gap between the buildings sooner or later, and one of them was coming right up. The jump was doable, even for Neil - all you needed was speed and a decent launch.

But when your companion noticed the edge of the roof, he slowed down and stopped by a low parapet wall, cursing.

“No fucking way!”

“Yes fucking way, Neil, come on! We don’t have time!” you urged him as the voices behind you grew louder.

He swallowed with effort, too transfixed on the gap. You bit back an impatient groan and grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him to look at you.

“Neil, listen to me. You can do this. All you need is a run-up.”

He didn’t seem convinced. You gritted your teeth, trying to keep your own rising panic in check.

“Do you trust me? Yes or no?”

He met your eyes and his features hardened. There.

“I do.”

And when you opened the mouth again, the first bullet whizzed past you. You flinched, but maintained the eye contact, afraid to lose Neil’s newfound confidence. “Then go first, I’m right behind you.”

Neil nodded and backed away quickly. Watching him jump, your heart skipped a beat, but he landed on the other side without too much trouble. Good. Your turn.

You dashed towards the rim and another bullet missed your legs by a hair’s breadth, hitting the parapet wall right ahead of you. A little close to the top, as you noted, jumping on it to leap across the gap.

But the realization came a moment too late. The wall crumbled under your feet.

Enough for you to not make it to the other side.

Someone screamed.

Was it you?

It didn’t matter.

The world dissolved in a flash of agonizing pain.

And darkness.

----

Static beeping. The smell of disinfectants. And your every particle throbbing in dull pain.

Somebody was having a quiet conversation nearby. The Protagonist… and Neil?

A wave of relief flooded over you. He’d made it.

Grunting, you opened your eyes and squinted, waiting for your sight to readjust to the poor light. Weird. Why would they keep you in such a pitch-black room?

“Gents?” you called out, carefully shifting upwards, wincing. “Would you mind getting the lights?”

The conversation stopped and you heard a gasp.

“Lights? But it’s the middle of the day?” said The Protagonist, but Neil cut him off.

“You’re awake!” Footsteps and a sudden touch on your hand. Neil’s voice trembled slightly, as well as his fingers. “Are you okay?”

You bored into darkness, hoping to see the familiar face.

To see anything.

To see.

(next chapter ->)

[michaelburnhamfanclub]

season three is where star trek discovery claims to have found its stride, and i must admit that with the season’s premiere, i was more than inclined to agree. however, now that s3 is complete and we’re able to take a holistic view of all of the resolved and unresolved arcs, i’m still pretty unsatisfied

with the s3 finale, it became clear that the season’s mission in terms of its protagonist was a concise one: to fully prepare michael burnham for the captain’s seat

i was thrilled when michael finally was promoted to captain, but it’s really worth examining the ways that the show went about its final preparations for such a promotion. there were a few major tenants to michael’s character arc across these thirteen episodes, and the following two themes are the ones i think are most worth unpacking in terms of what they do in service of michael’s promotion:

1. michael’s ongoing and complex relationship with isolation

2. michael’s inclination to subvert authority and protocol in service of what is right

i’ll try and unpack these a little bit below the cut

michael and isolation

ever since the very first episode of the very first season, michael burnham has been a character entrenched in her own isolation. in season one, michael found friendship and community on the discovery by forging bonds with sylvia tilly, ash tyler, and paul stamets and by redefining previously broken bonds with saru and the alternate philippa georgiou. one of the main reasons why s1 is kinda still my favorite season is this very aspect of it: michael’s success and the federation’s survival depended on the creation and strength of these bonds

season two continued michael’s experience of isolation by introducing her estranged and tortured relationship with spock. the major theme of michael’s character in this season was her instinct to “reach” for the people who always seemed furthest from her despite everything (i.e., she “reached” for her parents, spock, tilly, etc.). this was the final message she imparted to spock: the act of reaching for others will always be the most worthwhile thing, even if you are unable to ever touch them. michael was finally able to connect with spock only to be launched into the future

season three picks up on this theme in what i think is the most conceivably devastating way possible. michael is isolated for a whole year from the crew of the discovery, and when she returns into the fold, nobody reaches for her.

now, a huge part of why the first and third episodes hit me so hard is because i really thought they were going somewhere meaningful with this. she loses so much, and the gratitude directed towards her in the third episode is directly acknowledged as NOT ENOUGH. michael stands among her found family in the halls of the discovery, a family she has mourned for a year, and tilly says, “you let us go, didn’t you?” and there seems to be purpose to it

the first half of season three sees michael feeling lost, struggling to find a single reason why she should feel like she should belong with these people on this ship anymore. tilly and saru both clearly understand this, and instead of seeing any efforts on their part to welcome her back into their family, they further contribute to her feelings of isolation and make HER apologize for keeping THEM out of the loop (and yeah i understand that these apologies have to do with breaches in starfleet protocol but rn i’m only focusing on the interpersonal implications). the only meaningful connections that michael is able to maintain this season are with book and georgiou. and while i adore them both, georgiou leaves before the season ends and book is from the future and isn’t a discovery crew member, which makes it feel like when michael says she doesn’t think she belongs on the discovery, she’s RIGHT

this first half of development would’ve been all well and good if it had been carried out to its logical conclusion, which would have been the discovery crew fighting to make michael feel like she belongs, but that never happened. instead, we get unification iii, which is a great episode on its own, but it only resolves michael’s internal feelings regarding her place in starfleet, not the interpersonal tension that’s made her feel more isolated than she’s been since, like, maybe even early season one.

this is all to say that i don’t understand how this unfulfilled arc generates michael’s preparedness to stay on the discovery as captain, unless we’re going with the “the captain defines themself as separate from the crew because they’re the captain” narrative that star trek does admittedly love. i would be more into it if i was sure that discovery would actually explore that isolation with the care it deserves

it could be cool to potentially explore a discussion or resolution of this arc next season by bringing commander nhan back as michael’s first officer, another character who felt disconnected enough from the discovery’s crew to actually decide to leave, but idk i guess we’ll see

michael and authority

i’ve talked about how michael’s s1 character arc was a journey to learn how to subvert authority before. she starts the show as “the mutineer,” and this is a signifier we can’t forget

my roommate and i have also talked a lot about how the command structure of the discovery is so fucking weird, and i think a large part of it is because it naturally organizes itself around its heart, which is a position that michael instinctively and effortlessly occupies (though that is not to say that this effortlessness is not without its own suffering---michael being the heart of the discovery is what leads to the reinforcement of her martyr complex, though that’s not the focus of this post so i won’t dwell there)

season three’s essential question that it sets up with michael centers around doing the right thing her way or doing the right thing starfleet’s way. in her year alone, michael is finally able to define herself outside of starfleet, and she likes who she finds. this is one of the main reasons she struggles to reinsert herself into the crew of the discovery, this is the reason she rejects the idea of being the crew’s captain outright, and this is the reason saru gives for demoting her. this is the eventual reason that michael sends paul in an escape pod to the federation hq instead of immediately trying to jump for hugh, saru, and adira. this is the reason that she is eventually promoted to captain

tbh i would have had less issue with this storyline if not for a couple key details: (1) michael was punished for subverting starfleet protocol when other characters (like keyla or tilly) were encouraged or rewarded for it. (2) idk i feel like we’ve exceeded the bounds of the whole “needs of the many/needs of the few” ideological tenant, which was (i think) something that the ni’var president even SAID.

when it comes down to it, i just think that michael’s complicated relationship with subverting authority deserves a much more complicated storyline. i do think that this is something we’ll see more of in s4 because it’s always going to be one of the greatest tenants of her character, but that doesn’t change the fact that it seems to have fallen rather flat in s3 for me. i’d argue that this is because discovery doesn’t seem to want to commit to its serialized style as much anymore, but maybe that’s for another post lmao

i don’t think i’ve quite found a way to properly articulate it yet, but michael taking the captain’s seat was supposed to be the culmination of three seasons of buildup. however, the buildup that the show suggested in the s3 finale seemed to be based on things that michael had already earned by the s3 premiere. her relationship with authority this season felt. idk. maybe it’s because this was kinda the first time the show attempted to show michael as a subordinate on the discovery instead of as the heart of the discovery, but it felt like it just wasn’t the natural place to take that particular element of her characterization. i’m hoping that s4 will deliver on this front, but the main thing is that i don’t think s3 did

tl;dr s3 was not what i was hoping for in terms of furthering michael’s character, and now that she’s captain i would love for these two elements of her characterization to be explored to their full and complicated conclusions

[marshmallow-phd]

Catching Rain

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Minseok x Reader

Summary: You were more than satisfied with your life. You attended a nice college, had nice friends, a nice boyfriend. That’s what your life was: nice. You weren’t looking for anything more, so what were you to do when this seemingly harmless boy walked into your life and turned your nice little world into one much more dangerous?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I Epilogue

**

On closer inspection, the house in the middle of the field was quite pretty. Simple, white, well kept. A secondary building with metal walls sat adjacent to the house – a garage, perhaps. Waiting on the porch was the man from earlier. Baekhyun. Now you remembered his name. He was joined by a few others – Chanyeol, Sehun, and one you didn’t know – who stared at you in curious wonder. Their eyes were wide and investigative, as if you were the supernatural creature and not Minseok.

“Looks like the cat’s out of the bag,” Baekhyun said with a snicker.

“Or pup, in this case,” said the one you didn’t know. Black hair that fell over his forehead and an upturn sat in both corners of his lips, though he wasn’t smiling.

Minseok merely shook his head as he pushed past them into the house. The screen door shut with a loud slam. You flinched at the noise. Chanyeol sighed as he glanced at you. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Yes, please,” you nodded. He motioned for you to follow him inside.

Through a short front parlor and a cozy living room, he led you into the kitchen where you stood awkwardly. The only noise came from the water flowing from the refrigerator spicket. The ice clinked as it moved around the glass. Your eyes wandered across the large, open space. Sunlight poured in from the windows in the two outer walls. It gave the whole room a yellow hue despite the white and light gray coloring of the cabinets and backsplash. Whoever had last designed this room had done so in a way to make it feel bigger and open, welcoming even. You wondered if there must have been a woman living here to give the finer touches. Minseok hadn’t mentioned anyone beyond his male roommates. The thought of a woman living amongst them made you slightly jealous, but you shoved it aside when Chanyeol held out the glass for you.

“Thank you,” you murmured before taking a sip.

He nodded shyly. His foot tapped lightly against the hard wood floor with his hands shoved into his pockets. He looked everywhere except for at you. Feeling eyes on you anyway, you glanced over your shoulder just in time to see several crops of hair disappear from the hallway entrance.

You scoffed. “You guys act like you’ve never seen a female before.”

“Not one like you.”

Minseok stepped into the room wearing a t-shirt with frayed edges where the sleeves had been cut off and a pair of basketball shorts. As angry as you were with him, the distrust still very much apparent, you were fighting the urge to run to him. What was this stupid, conflicting feeling? Making eye contact with Minseok, Chanyeol ducked his head and hurriedly left the kitchen.

“So,” you crossed your arms after putting down the glass and leaned against the counter, “is this the part where you explain to me what the hell is going on?”

“I will, but not here.”

“No, you don’t get to do that!” you snapped. “You didn’t want to tell me in the forest, so we came back here and now you don’t want to tell me here?”

Minseok shrunk back. “I just meant down here. Can we go upstairs? Away from where the others can hear?”

That suggestion could be accepted. Actually, you felt a little bad for exploding, but could you really be blamed? Given the information dump you were steadily receiving today? “Oh. Okay. Lead the way.”

Minseok’s hand twitched at his side, but he kept it in check as he turned and headed back up the stairs. The top spilled out into a hallway lined with doors. This space wasn’t as bright as the kitchen. Different shades of dark brown covered the wooden floor and plaster walls. No windows gave view to the outside making you feel trapped. “This one’s mine,” Minseok said. He held on to a handle of one of the middle doors and waited for you to come closer before pushing it open. When you saw what lied beyond the door, you nearly smiled.

On the walls were posters of famous soccer players and indie movies you’d never heard of. The bed was made with military precision, not a creased comforter or half-strewn pillow in sight. Against the far wall under a singular window was a desk. The notebooks were stacked in the top right corner, the edges so straight a ruler wouldn’t be able to find fault. Pens and pencils occupied a small cup to keep the rest of the desk clear.

“Not what you expected?” Minseok asked as he closed the door.

“Yes and no.” You stole a glance at him over your shoulder. “It’s very… neat.”

Minseok smiled shyly. He shuffled over to the bed and sat down. If he expected you to take the spot next to him, he was wrong. Instead, you chose the chair. A precaution for yourself.

Neither of you knew where to start. Who was supposed to talk first? What part should even be considered the beginning? Unable to continue in this awkward silence, you jumped in feet first.

“You can really… turn into a wolf?” The words felt like glue in your throat. Creatures like that belonged in fairytales and fantasy films, not a college campus.

“Yeah,” Minseok said. “We all can. All nine of us.”

“All nine.” Oh, great. A whole pack of them. “Even the one’s I met?” Stupid question. He’d already answered that, technically. But Minseok simply nodded instead of calling out the redundancy. “So, were you all bitten or-” You felt ridiculous basing the current situation on myth and legend, but what else did you have to go on?

“We’re all born this way. You can’t be like us from a bite or a scratch. It has to be in your DNA.” He snuck a peek before beating you to the next question. “The moon doesn’t really influence us either. I mean, its easier to see by at night in the forest, but it doesn’t force us to change. We can do that whenever we want. Witches have more of a connection with the giant rock in the sky.”

“Witches! They’re real, too? What else is real? Vampires? Dragons? Goblins?” What kind of world had you stumbled into?

Minseok flinched. “Maybe we should stick to one subject at a time.”

“Right.” That was probably best for your sanity. “So, if you have to be born like,” you gestured to him, “… this, does that mean both of your parents were, too?”

“Just my dad,” Minseok said. “Females wolves are extremely rare.”

“Well, that’s sexist.”

“Hey, we didn’t make up the rules. It’s genetics.” He scratched the back of his neck, twitching his lips from side to side. “I guess I should say that silver doesn’t bother us either.”

Why did you feel relieved at that random fact? It didn’t matter, as that wasn’t the most pressing issue to you. “Earlier you mentioned that it wasn’t you killing the campers-”

“It wasn’t any of us!”

“I believe you.” The words tumbled off your lips. And you realized that it was true. You couldn’t twist the nervous, sweet guy in front of you into a mindless killer. The way he was explaining everything slowly, cautiously, giving you time to understand. He wasn’t hiding anything from you. Not anymore. “I’m just confused when you said it was an omega?”

“Its just a ranking system within a pack,” he explained. “Alpha, beta, MR, omega. Junmyeon’s the alpha of our pack, he’s in charge. Yixing and I are betas, second in command. We help enforce Junmyeon’s word and keep an eye on the younger wolves who like to cause mischief.” He chuckled, as if remembering times when said mischief occurred. “The rest are all MR – Mid-ranking. They all have their own duties should they be needed. Well, except for Jongin and Sehun. They’re the youngest wolves so they get special treatment most of the time. Its okay, though. They kind of make you want to take care of them, the way they are.”

You nodded filing all the information away for later recall. “And the omega?”

“A wolf without a pack. Nine times out of ten they were kicked out for defying the alpha, for putting their own interests ahead of the pack. Without that structure, a lot of them turn feral.”

“Nine times out of ten?”

“It’s extremely rare, but sometimes a wolf will choose to never join a pack in the first place. It’s nearly unheard of though. We’re too social of creatures. Nine-point-five out of ten would probably be a better number.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that came out. Of course he would bring up math in a time like this. Minseok laughed along with you. Eventually, though, it died out, along with the smile that had been growing on his lips. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”

Picking up on his mood, you tilted your head to the side. “I don’t think anything else could take me by surprise at this point.” Minseok stared at you pointedly. Your stomach began to sink. What other little secret could he possibly be harboring at this point? You didn’t think anything could be as shocking as his shapeshifting abilities.

“Have you ever heard the expression ‘wolves mate for life’?” he asked cryptically.

“Yeah?”

“Well-” he shifted, crinkling the perfect comforter in the process. “We don’t know why it happens. Junmyeon thinks its nature’s way of compensating our ‘otherness’ while Jongdae just thinks it’s another level of torture.” An uncomfortable laugh. “But, um, every wolf has their own mate. Just one, that they stick with for the rest of their lives.”

Unable to keep looking at him, you leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. “So, are you saying that you all get to pick whoever you want as your mate and that’s it? You claim them because of what you are?”

“No!” Minseok jumped to his feet. Swallowing visibly, he cleared his throat, but remained standing. “No, we don’t get to pick. It happens out of nowhere. Our mates are chosen for us before either is born. And we can meet them under any circumstances. Some favorable, some… not so much.”

You looked up at him “What are you trying to say, Minseok?”

He walked up to you, each step hesitant, each step full of fear. Crouching down, he sighed as he looked into your eyes. “What I’m trying to say, (y/n), is that… you’re my mate.”

At first, you only blinked. The words had to be soaked in one at a time before you could piece them together and understand the sentence as a whole. “I- what? How do you even know?”

Reaching out, Minseok took ahold of your hand. You didn’t fight it. The electricity was practically singing between your skins. “Really, all it takes is one look. A few seconds of eye contact and the pull takes hold. But this feeling we both get when we touch, its confirmation. And then there’s this.”

He pulled your hand closer, pressing your palm against his chest. The heat transferring through the thin fabric was enough to make you sweat, but that wasn’t the point of this exercise. It was the rate of which his heart was beating. As he stared at you with awe, his heart sprinted as if it were in second place of a race and needed to pass just one more runner to win.

“Every time I see you, this happens,” Minseok whispered. “It doesn’t matter how good my day has been, its always better when I’m with you.”

“We haven’t even known each other that long.”

“It doesn’t take long, apparently.”

You frowned, confused. “Apparently?”

A small smile pulled up one corner of his mouth. “I’m the first one in the pack to find my mate. The first one to experience this.”

The first…. You wanted to laugh at the romantic angle your brain was seeing this.

A knock came from the door. Minseok stood up, reluctantly dropping your hand before answering the intrusion. “Yeah?”

Several roommates were standing in the hall, all peering around Minseok to get a better look at you.

“Kyungsoo said it was time for dinner,” one of them said. “And that he could hear your mate’s empty stomach from downstairs.”

“And it took all of you to come tell us?” Minseok questioned as he folded his arms. He shifted to block more of the doorway, shielding you from their stares.

“It was an important job,” another one said.

Minseok looked back at you before sighing. “Tell Kyungsoo that I’ll be down in a second.”

“But-”

The door was shut before the argument could be finished. The rush of footsteps faded in the background until it was only the two of you once again.

“Are you hungry?” Minseok asked. You nodded sheepishly. “You don’t have to go downstairs. You can stay here and I’ll bring it up to. Kyungsoo’s a good cook so whatever he made will be delicious.”

“Actually, I’ll go down with you,” you said, to the surprise of both of you. Everything Minseok had told you was still sinking in. There was too much to process and completely comprehend, but the pieces were fitting together. And you were curious about life here. If you really were meant to be his mate, maybe you should know where that road led. It was the right at the fork. You’d uncovered a sign that gave you a clue to where it was headed. You wanted to follow it.

Minseok waited patiently as you stood up and walked towards him. He let you out the door first. There was a moment where your fingers brushed as you passed. You could feel the muscles in his hand tighten. He wanted to take your hand again – and you almost let him. But you held back. There was still something stopping you. Or, rather, a who.

The noise hit you halfway down the stairs. Being told that nine people lived together and truly witnessing it were two very different concepts. There was no order that you could see. Most of the boys sat around the table, conducting multiple conversations at once that overlapped that you had to wonder how they could understand each other. A few sat in a small booth off to the side in a world of their own. It was the kind of breakfast nook you’d only seen before in home magazines. Two boys stood at the counters, their backs to the chaos behind them.

One of them – sporting a very well put together look and black rimmed glasses – turned and smiled at you and Minseok. “There you are. Glad to see you came down.” He held his hand out to you. “I’m Junmyeon.”

“The alpha,” you said as you shook his hand.

“I see Minseok told you most of it,” Junmeyon said.

“Pretty much everything,” Minseok corrected.

You felt your face contort as you tried to pinpoint where you’d seen this man before. “Wait. Aren’t you a professor?”

Junmyeon laughed. “Yeah, I am. In the literature department. Folklore, to be exactly. But I’d prefer if we kept this between us.” He sent you a wink to show he was teasing. Behind you, Misneok growled, making you jump. “I’m just playing, Minseok.”

“And I’m sure he’ll be playing when he rips your head off,” the other stove-top occupant stated. He held out a plate for you piled high with food. There was no way you would be able to eat all of that. “I’m Kyungsoo, by the way.”

“(y/n),” you greeted back. “It’s nice to meet you.” Taking the plate, you tried to hand it off to Minseok.

“No, that’s yours.”

Not wanting to be rude, you said between gritted teeth, “I can’t eat all of this.”

Minseok pinched his face as if debating on something. “Fine. We’ll share.”

“Are you sure about that?” Junmyeon asked. “There won’t be any left over for seconds. You know that.”

“It’ll be fine.”

Shaking his head, Kyungsoo held on to one side of the plate and added another scoop of rice and meat each. “Just in case.”

After thanking him, Minseok guided you over to the table with a hand hovering over your lower back. Even without the contact, you could feel the heat coming from his palm. Or maybe it was just your imagination filling in. Minseok pulled out a chair for you on the empty end before sitting next you. It was obvious he’d purposefully placed you away from the others.

“Possessive much?” Baekhyun snorted as he dug into a plate of his own.

“I’m sure it’s just instinct.” The comment came from one of the more slender boys – Boys? Wolves? You weren’t sure how to address them properly. Maybe later. Your brain needed a break. The one who had spoken had a very pointed face, but in a way that was still handsome. You weren’t sure if you’d seen him before or not.

“That’s Yixing,” Minseok said. “And the last one to meet, I guess, is Jongdae.”

Jongdae turned out to be the curled-lip one who still wasn’t smiling. In fact, he was the only one not in some level of a cheerful mood as he sat in the breakfast booth. He barely looked at you while everyone else was. Some were even blatantly staring at you as they shoveled in food to their mouths.

“You should eat.” Minseok picked up a fork and stabbed a slice of marinade-covered meat, holding it out for you to eat like a child.

“I can do that myself, thanks.” You took the fork and chewed slowly on the meat. It was good. More than good, really, so you took another bite and another. Soon, you were full, though there was more than half a plate left. You scooted the plate over to Minseok. “Okay, your turn.”

“You’re done? Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m stuffed.”

Minseok didn’t reach for the other fork he’d grabbed, as if giving you a chance to change your mind. When you made no such move, he dug in. You smiled at the way he ate, enjoying every bite with satisfaction. At the sight of every plate being empty, Baekhyun stood up. “I’m going to watch a movie,” he announced.

“Oh, that sounds like a good idea!” Jongin said.

Yixing asked, “Which one?”

Baekhyun shrugged. “I don’t know. Whatever’s new. (Y/n), want to join us?”

Minseok cut in. “I don’t know if that-”

“I’d love to!” You turned to Minseok and gave him a cheeky smile. It felt a bit defiant. Perhaps he wanted to explain more to you or spend time with you alone in general, but you wanted to know how this group operated together. You wanted insight to their normalcy. Getting to your feet, you picked up the plate, but Junmyeon reached over and took it from you.

“Don’t worry about this. We’ll clean up.”

“But-”

The alpha wouldn’t have it. “You’re the guest. Shoo.”

More than happy with that argument (dishes weren’t your thing by a long shot), you followed the cluster of excited men to the living room. They crashed on nearly every surface – the couch, the chairs, the floor, anywhere they could fit. Minseok approached Jongin and Sehun who had taken a corner of the long couch.

“Move,” he ordered.

“But we were here first!” Sehun whined. Jongin look over to you and then got up without a word, sitting down on the floor with his back against the coffee table.

“Sehun….”

“You’re really going to kick the youngest off the comfortable seat?”

You tried to break up the awkward exchange. Well, it was awkward for you since you were the reason for the discussion. “It’s fine, really. I can sit on the floor.”

“You’re not sitting on the floor,” Minseok told you. To Sehun, he said, “I’m the eldest and she’s a guest. Please move.”

For a second nothing happened. Then Sehun huffed. “Fine.” He got up and joined Jongin on the floor. He lied down on his stomach and pulled out his phone, over it already. You felt bad but saw no point in arguing. Minseok let you sit first and then, once again, sat between you and Chanyeol, who happily occupied the other side of the couch.

Baekhyun flipped through a streaming service until he landed on a superhero movie. Everyone cheered at the choice, then quieted down as he pressed play. Someone turned out the lights so only the glow of the television remained.

Sitting shoulder to shoulder and leg to leg, you were hyper aware of Minseok. Arms crossed over your stomach and fists clenched, you told yourself repeatedly not to reach for his hand or lean on his shoulder no matter how heavy your eyelids were getting. Erik may have hit pause on your relationship, but there wasn’t much of a discussion of lines. You didn’t know the rules of that scenario and what was and wasn’t allowed. But as your tiredness grew, your willpower weakened. After a few bobs, your head landed softly on Minseok’s shoulder. It was too comfortable to move. It felt too nice, too right. Like his shoulder was the one you were always supposed to lean on. And that was when Minseok made a move of his own.

Holding your head up, he adjusted his arm so it was now draped over your shoulders. Your head rested against his chest when he laid you back down. Something vibrated against your cheek. Was that… purring? No, it had to be the booming from the movie. Right?

It didn’t take long for you drift into sleep. The movie was one you’d seen before so you couldn’t use that as an excuse to stay awake. You weren’t sure how long it had been. A slight bopping motion roused you. In the shallowness of your conscious you made out that you were being carried. Carried up stairs… and into a bedroom. While still holding you, that person managed to pull back the covers and tuck you into bed. As the arm slipped away you grabbed hold of the wrist. Through the slightest slits in your eyes you could make out Minseok’s silhouette.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered. “Go back to sleep. I’ll take the couch downstairs.”

“No. Stay.”

He froze at your request. “Are you sure?”

“Please.”

Even in the darkness, you could see him smiling. “Okay.” Shutting the door, he peeled back the covers once more and slid in beside you. Happy wasn’t even close to how you felt when he pulled you in close to his chest. You drifted back to sleep with a smile on your face.

[ghostwriterofthemachine]

Purest Expression of Grief {haj dai}

Order 66 happens.

Cal goes quiet, Kanan thinks too much, and Ahsoka can never go back.

(Or; three children and a dying language, after they've seen their people die.) (AO3 link!)

Cal knows the Empire can track people when they use the Force. He hears it whispered about on street corners, broadcasted over the holoscreens in bars.

He doesn’t know how they do it, though. And, more terrifyingly, doesn’t know what else they can track.

There is a screaming, hysterical place inside him, irrational but un-ignorable, which is convinced that the Empire can reach into people’s minds and tear thoughts right out of them. That, if he thinks the wrong thing too loud or too often, he will bring the Empire down onto him.

This is impossible, he tells himself. But then again, he also thought it was impossible to see his friends gun down his Master.

So Cal forces himself to only think in Basic.

It isn’t hard to talk only in Basic, though he misses the curl of his lips over his other tongue more than he thought possible. But to think only in Basic is a constant, conscious choice.

Sometimes he slips up, and he clamps down on his shields and moves away from where he was standing. His heart races in his chest.

The last words his Master said to him echo in his dreams and they are not in Basic. He doesn’t want to think about those words, either. He has other things he needs to worry about.

There are very few kind people, here. And Cal is small and alone.

(He wonders if his Master would have done the same thing he did, had he known there was no one left to rescue Cal. The last thought in his Master’s mind had been of the council sending someone to scoop Cal up, safe and sound, bundle him away someplace warm — Cal can feel that from his lightsaber. But there is no one left to rescue him, and Cal’s Master had thrown him someplace cold and rainy and unsafe. There’s no one left to take care of him, not that Cal needs much taking care of, anymore.)

(Would he have made the same decision, if he knew Cal would be alone?)

His Master’s last words haunt him, in that language-which-is-not-Basic. He doesn’t think about those, either. Doesn’t think about at all.

The alone part makes him vulnerable on this planet, but the small part makes him useful. He’s not old enough to be a full member of any guild, but there’s always plenty of pickup work for the mice, as they’re called, in a scrapyard. Narrow heads and shoulders to fit up into places no one else could fit.

It keeps him fed, and Cal keeps his head down. Days start to creep by.

Today, there's a new worker on their rotation, and his Basic is thickly accented.

And he says Cal’s name differently, rounds out the vowel — “Khal,” he calls, “Little mouse, you are small, come here, get up into tiny spaces, come on, up-up—”

And it freezes Cal where he stands because— that’s almost right. That’s almost how you’d say his name in not-Basic, in that other thing he refuses to think about.

He hears those last words from Master Tepal’s mouth — “ Padawan kat fehl, netana, paikawaji uu dai” —  and for a sudden, dizzying moment, that is all he can hear.

He must freeze in place for a second too long, because someone calls to him again.

“Hey, Cal, buddy,” and Cal hates how he jumps. It’s Prauf, with the kind eyes, who seems to have decided that Cal needs looking after. “Cal, you okay there?”

Cal shakes his head to clear it. He can still hear the words whispering, but ignores them.

“Haj dai, Jaieh,” he says, going for reassuring, already moving towards where the new worker pointed him.

Prauf says, “What?” and he sounds so baffled that Cal turns back to him.

“What do you mean, what?”

“What did you just say to me?”

“I said ‘Yes, Prauf.’”

“No you didn’t. You said haz —” Prauf twists his mouth around the words, and then gives up on saying the rest. “And, yeah, you called me something, what’s Jai—”

“I didn’t say anything like that,” Cal bites. He sounds strangled, even to his own ears. “I said ‘Yes, Prauf,’ that’s what I said.”

Prauf, to his credit, raises his hands in acquiescence. “Okay, okay kid, that’s what you said.”

The new worker, who Cal doubts understood much of the conversation, chimes in with a high voice and a wave of his arms. “Yes, yes, very good, we all talk Khal out, all friends now, so if little mouse pleases, could he climb up into tiny space?”

Cal turns away from Prauf and pretends his heart isn’t trying to escape his chest as he pulls himself up into the gap between a ship’s wall and what used to be part of the thrusters. He’s got pliers clutched in between his teeth, and is biting a little more than necessary.

He’s expecting troopers to grab his legs, yank him out, put a blaster to his head. He’s imagining the words floating up and dissolving into the Force, of his Jaieh tilting a disappointed eyebrow at him.

He bites down on his language, and schools his thoughts into Basic.

.

Kanan is working with a decent crew, right now. He signed on for a few milk run missions as general muscle and a gun, which should give him enough credits for basics and some wiggle room. They seem like a decent lot, and Kanan doesn’t mind working with them

Except.

Well, except the Pilot’s name is Caleb . And it is messing with Kanan’s head .

“Hey, pass this to Caleb up on the bridge?” says Maleek, their mechanic and general tech guy. They’re holding a holo chip of something, probably maps.

Kanan hates how much he falters, how his first instinct is to laugh and say, “I’m right here.”

“Sure thing.” He smiles and takes the chip, then starts making his way towards the front of the ship.

Honestly, he’s got no idea how this hasn’t happened sooner. “Caleb” isn’t an uncommon name. It’s one that’s used on so many planets that it doesn’t really have a planet of origin.

But it makes his body feel as if it’s peeling in two, future and past, twisting like soft dough, to hear it spoken in his presence like that.

“Agisti, ” says the laughing Padawan he has buried deep within him, “tumi mikah Caleb!”

“Kanan!” Pilot Caleb says, grinning as he spins around in his seat. “What can I do for you, buddy?”

“Take this off my hands.” He slumps himself into Kanan, gunslinger, wanderer, shit-talker. He flips the chip to the pilot whose name he didn’t want to think of, and ducks out of the cockpit as fast as possible.

The community on this ship is incredible. Or, maybe, it is average, and Kanan has been alone for long enough that it seems incredible.

And, even more surprising, they all seem to actually like him. Maleek fixes his blaster without being asked and Pilot Caleb keeps trying to get him into games of cards, the other guns and muscle jostle him in a friendly way when they pass him in the halls, and the captain says things about needing to help Kanan upgrade his armor, as if he’s going to stick around.

Kanan bites his tongue and pretends he doesn’t want to stick around. He can’t.

He can’t trust anyone. He can’t rely on anyone, can’t get comfortable anywhere. He needs to keep moving.

Trust is easily shattered. Nothing is certain.

He remembers his Master telling him about how important that was, how important it was to remember that nothing was certain, except the Force. That even their word for ‘yes,’ so concrete and decisive in Basic, gave room for ambiguity— “Force Wills,” the Jedi said.

He can hear the giggling of younglings in the creche  — “Will you clean up the paint, little one?”

“Haj dai!” Force wills.

“So why aren’t you doing that now?” “Force says no!”

Then squealing laughter, as the child is picked up and hugged and tickled. For being clever enough to make that connection, but silly enough to not help.

Nothing is concrete, nothing is certain, except the Force. And now Kanan doesn’t even have that to believe in.

“Will I ever see you again?” he shouts to the woman in her dreams, who commands him to run, who saves him and condemns him and gives him his new name.

“Force wills,” she says, and it’s a lie and isn’t. Because she doesn’t say yes.

So Kanan cut his own braid and renamed himself and soldered ( ha ) on.  

He needs to walk away from these people, he realizes. He can’t stay, no matter how much he wants to. He can’t bring danger on them. He can’t let them be killed because he is found.

In a ten-days time, the Pilot Caleb and Maleek and their caption will say, “Stay, Kanan.”

And he will want to say “ Yes .” Haj dai.  

Force wills.

He will run away again.

(ibli kanan )

.

Ahsoka has gotten here too late.

There aren’t that many Jedi left to rescue, though that’s something Ahsoka tries not to think about too much. Most of the ones who escaped the initial purge were hunted down in the very, very early days of the Empire, before there was enough structure in the Rebellion to even think about helping them. Ahsoka survived it by not being a Jedi. Well. That and Rex.

They’re always too late, with Jedi, if they even know at all. The Empire and the Inquisitors, always a step ahead. Always.

As Fulcrum, Ahsoka’s jobs keep her away from the front lines. She works in intel. She works in running messages. She works with refugees.

She’d been closest, when they heard the distress call. And, though Ahsoka would never admit it, part of her jumped and stood upright at the idea of saving a Jedi. Seeing another Jedi. Speaking to them.

But she’s gotten here too late.

The crumpled form of a Duros is all that is left of the Inquisitors. A Duros with a hole through his chest, bleeding sluggishly, twitching the last bits of life out of himself.

The Force wraps around him and weeps. Ahsoka knows that feeling. That’s what the Force always does, when a Jedi dies.

Ahsoka falls to her knees next to the form. She cannot judge the age of this being, she thinks in a panic — she’s always been awful at judging age in Duros, Barriss used to tease her about it —  but she’d guess a few years older or younger than herself. Ahsoka’s hands hover uselessly. There’s no healing this wound. She knows it.

Had she ever met him? In the Temple, all those years ago? Had they passed in the halls, handed each other food, shared friends?

Helpless to do anything else, Ahsoka gets the Doros’s head onto her lap. Off the ground. Some measure of comfort.

She nearly jumps out of her skin when his eyes slit themselves open. When he stares up at her, eyes hazy, barely coherent.

She nearly passes out when a rush of warmth and relief swells through the Force between them, and the Doros smiles at her.

“Jaieh Tabris ,” he breaths out. The name is spoken as if it is comfort given form. His voice is achingly soft. “Jesara, Jaiah. Henelru...foh keelak.”

Ahsoka goes cold, because she recognizes the name. It conjures an image so old she thought she’d forgotten it. A Togrutan Master, maybe 10 years older than Obi-Wan. A soft-spoken and gentle woman, who liked to help teach children how to read. A woman who now shared Ahsoka’s coloring and build almost exactly, from montreals to face markings.

She knows the tone of voice the Doros just spoke to her in. She used to use it every day. (Wishes, often, that she still could.)

She’s holding Master Tabris’s Padawan. He’s dying in her arms.

The relief in the Force twists a bit, and he repeats, “Jaieh?” with a little more uncertainty. The fear creeping back in. Of letting down your Master, letting down your people. Of dying alone.

What else is Ahsoka supposed to do?

(Because if it were her— if it were her and Anakin, she’d want— even if it were pretend, she’d want—)

“Haj dai, Padawan ,” she says. She keeps her voice soft and even. “ Tamah foh bika. ” The words fall off her tongue as if she never stopped speaking this.

His eyes focus a bit more on her face. He tries to smile. “Jaieh,” he says, actually to her this time. And Ahsoka—

Ahsoka—

Ahsoka remembers a time in her life when all she wanted was to hear someone call her that. Being 15 and imagining a future where she was doing the training, instead of being trained. Her head on Anakin’s knee and a campfire warm on her face, imagining a future in peacetime, Anakin cutting her silka beads off and her rising to her feet a Knight, embracing him while Obi-Wan embraced them both. She remembers the future she used to imagine for herself; solo missions, growing and improving, always returning home. Finally being taller than Anakin. Obi-Wan going easily, gracefully gray.

She remembers imagining bringing her own Padawan to their lineage dinners, Anakin teasing them both, Obi-Wan resting and smiling. Imagining being in a position, one day, when a little Light would be hers to teach, and look up at her and call her “Jaieh.”

But Ahsoka never got to grow into that title. She never even got to be a Knight. She left her home a Padawan, and never got to return enough to become anything more.

And now she never would.

But Ahsoka cups the face of the person on her lap, whose name she would never know, and lets them both pretend.

“ Rakaah foh wungak,” chokes the man on her lap. “Jaieh, sooah foh enoctak.”

“Leoah foh, Padawan. Leoah foh. Tamah foh bika, tamah foh bika.”

His hand, nearly vibrating in effort, moves up to grasp hers. Ahsoka covers it with her other hand. She can feel the pain coming off him in waves, but she can also feel the peace. The knowledge that he is safe, now.

And in some ways, Ahsoka thinks bitterly, she supposes he is. Even if he isn’t in the arms of his Jaieh . Perhaps he soon will be.

The fingers in hers tighten. The Padawan’s eyes close.

“Komlah foh keelak, Jaieh. Komlah foh…”

And he stops moving.

And Ahsoka doesn’t move for a long time.

TRANSLATION NOTES:

Padawan kat fehl, netana, paikawaji uu dai: My Padawan, remember, trust only in the Force. -"Kawaji" is "trust," in the future tense, and "pai" is our consequential prefix, which means that the action will have lasting consequences. This takes the place of the "only" for denouncing how important this piece of information is. -"Dai," the word for the Force, never has an article before it.

Haj dai, Jaieh: Yes, Master. -Haj dai literally translates to "Force Wills"

Agisti, tumi mikah Caleb!: Hello, I am called Caleb! -"Agisti" is a greeting you would give someone who has the same rank in the Order as you, who you are equals with-- Padawan to Padawan, for instance.

ibli kanan: Little runner

Jesara, Jaiah. Henelru...foh keelak: Hello, Master. I...missed you. -"Jersara" is a respectful greeting; Padawan to Master, Master to Council member, ect.

Tamah foh bika: I am here

Rakaah foh wungak. Jaieh, sooah foh enoctak: I feel pain. Master, I feel pain. -There are different words for feeling physically and feeling mentally, as well as different words for mental and physical pain. The first sentence is declaring he is physically feeling (raka, here in present tense) physical pain (wung, here in accusative case), and the second that he is mentally feeling (soo, here in present tense) mental pain (enoct, here in accusative case).

Leoah foh, Padawan. Leoah foh. Tamah foh bika, tamah foh bika: I know. I know, Padawan. I am here, I am here.

Komlah foh keelak, Jaieh. Komlah foh...: I love you, Master. I love... -"Koml" (komlah here, in present tense) refers specifically to familial/platonic love

[thelittlesttimelord]

The Littlest Timelord: The Fall of the Eleventh Chapter 44

TITLE: The Littlest Timelord: The Fall of the Eleventh Chapter 44 PAIRING: No Pairing RATING: T CHAPTER: 44/? SUMMARY: Elise Smith is now a teenaged Timelord. In addition to losing the Ponds, the fields of Trenzalore are calling. But first they have to figure out exactly who Clara Oswald is.

[A/N - I am having so much fun with this! We find out some more about Elise’s backstory and our little Timelord is starting to bond with the Tenth Doctor.]

They were shoved into the cell.

The Doctor and Ten started fussing over Elise and she pushed them away. “I’m fine!”

“Ow,” the older Doctor muttered.

Elise looked over at him.

“I’m okay, my dear.”

“Three of us in one cell? That's going to cause some nasty anomalies if we don't get out soon,” Ten said.

The Doctor picked up a piece of metal off the floor and started scratching at a stone pillar.

“What are you doing?” Ten asked him.

“Getting us out.”

The older Doctor tried sonicing the door.

“The sonic won't work on that, it's too primitive,” Ten said.

“Doesn’t do wood,” Elise explained.

“Shall we ask for a better quality of door so we can escape?” the Doctor asked.

“Okay, so the Queen of England is now a Zygon. But never mind that. Why are we all together? Why are we all here? Well, me and Chinny, we were surprised. Elle has no idea who you are, but you came looking for us. You knew it was going to happen. Who told you?” Ten asked the older Doctor.

“Oi, Chinny?” the Doctor snapped.

“Yeah, you do have a chin.”

Elle? The Doctor had never called her that, so why was his younger incarnation calling her that?

“In theory, I can trigger an isolated sonic shift among the molecules, and the door should disintegrate,” the older Doctor said.

“We'd have to calculate the exact harmonic resonance of the entire structure down to a sub-atomic level. Even the sonic would take years,” Ten explained.

“No, no, the sonic would take centuries. Oh, we might as well get started. Help to pass the timey-wimey. Do you have to talk like children? What is it that makes you so ashamed of being a grown up? Oh, the way you both look at me. What is that? I'm trying to think of a better word than dread.”

“It must be really recent for you.”

“Recent?”

“The Time War. The last day. The day you killed them all,” the Doctor said.

“The day we killed them all,” Ten corrected him.

“Same thing.”

“I don't talk about it,” the older Doctor told them.

“You never talk about it. I have been with you for hundreds of years and you’ve never once sat me down and explained what you did that day,” Elise said.

“Because you don’t need to know,” the Doctor said.

She rounded on him. “Who says I don’t need to know! I am an adult! I’m not a child anymore! Quit treating me like one!”

Ten couldn’t help but smile. He’d missed her sassy personality (even when it was directed at him). It reminded him of Donna.

“I killed you. I killed the one thing that means more to me than anything in the universe. And then you died again while you were under my watch,” the Doctor whispered.

“You didn’t know who I was,” Elise told him.

“Doesn’t change the fact that I did it.”

Ten turned to her. “Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“How did you escape the Timelock?”

Elise’s hearts froze in her chest. “How do you know about that?”

“It’s kinda obvious.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Ellie,” her father said softly.

If there was a time to come clean, now was it.

Elise looked at the three Doctors and sighed. “My father was on the High Council, so I knew what they were planning. I heard all the discussions and the arguments about what to do. I listened to them read off the number of causalities. Civilians and soldiers alike. They didn’t care. All they cared about was winning the war against the Daleks. They didn’t care who lived or died. Imagine being four years old and in all that time all you knew was death, destruction, and war? My father worked long hours. When he came home, all my mother and him did was fight. So what did I do? I quit talking. Why talk when no one will listen to you anyway?”

“But how did you get out of the Timelock?” Ten asked.

Elise knew it hadn’t happened for him yet, so she had to be careful what she said. “What my father didn’t know was that I was clever.”

“You ran?”

“I wanted off Gallifrey. I didn’t care how.”

“Sound familiar?” her father asked.

“Hey, if I knew what a TARDIS was, I would’ve stolen one of them. I was just working with what I had.”

“Did you ever count?” the older Doctor asked.

“Count what?” the Doctor asked.

“How many children were on Gallifrey that day?”

“I have absolutely no idea.”

“How old are you now?”

“Ah, I don't know. I lose track. Twelve hundred and something, I think, unless I'm lying. I can't remember if I'm lying about my age, that's how old I am.”

“Four hundred years older than me, and in all that time you've never even wondered how many there were? You never once counted?”

“Tell me, what would be the point?”

“2.47 billion,” Ten answered for him.

“You did count!” the older Doctor said, surprised.

Ten turned to his older incarnation with disgust. “You forgot? Four hundred years, is that all it takes?”

“I moved on.”

“Where? Where can you be now that you can forget something like that?”

The Doctor grabbed Elise and put her between them. “Because of this girl right here. She is the reason you move on. Because she’s the one you saved. After that, nothing else will ever matter again. Except her.”

Ten looked down at her wide emerald eyes and stalked away.

“I don't know who you are, either of you. I haven't got the faintest idea,” the older Doctor said, “No.”

“No?” Ten asked.

“Just, no.”

The Doctor started laughing.

“Is something funny? Did I miss a funny thing?” Ten asked him.

“Sorry. It just occurred to me. This is what I'm like when I'm alone.”

Ten started tossing his screwdriver in the air and the older Doctor pulled his out.

“Four hundred years,” the older Doctor muttered.

“I'm sorry?” Ten asked.

“At a software level, they're all the same device, aren't they? Same software, different case.”

“Yeah.”

“So….” The Doctor said, pulling out his own.

“So, it would take centuries for the screwdriver to calculate how to disintegrate the door. Scanning the door, implanting the calculation as a permanent subroutine in the software architecture and, if you really are me, with your sandshoes and your dickie bow, and that screwdriver is still mine, that calculation is still going on.”

The Doctor and Ten checked their screwdrivers.

“Yeah, still going,” Ten said.

“Calculation complete. Hey, four hundred years in four seconds. We may have had our differences, which is frankly odd in the circumstances, but, I tell you what, boys. We are incredibly clever,” the Doctor said, smiling.

The door suddenly swung open and Clara was standing there.

Elise had never been so happy to see Clara in her life.

“How did you do that?” the Doctor asked her.

“It wasn't locked.”

“Right.”

“So they're both you, then, yeah?”

“Yes. You've met them before. Don't you remember?”

“A bit.” Clara looked at Ten. “Nice suit.”

“Thanks.”

“Hang on. Three of you in one cell, and none of you thought to try the door?”

“It should have been locked,” the older Doctor said.

“Yes. Exactly. Why wasn't it locked?” the Doctor asked.

The door swung open a bit more and Elizabeth stood there. “Because I was fascinated to see what you would do upon escaping. I understand you're rather fond of this world. It's time I think you saw what's going to happen to it.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elizabeth led them deeper into the Tower dungeons.

The walls were covered in red pods.

“The Zygons lost their own world. It burnt in the first days of the Time War. A new home is required.”

“So they want this one,” Clara asked.

“Not yet. It's far too primitive. Zygons are used to a certain level of comfort.”

A Zygon walked up to them and Elise jumped back into her father and Ten. They both put a comforting hand on her shoulder. She’d never seen one before, so it was quite off-putting.

“Commander, why are these creatures here?” the Zygon asked.

“Because I say they should be. It is time you too were translated. Observe this. I believe you will find it fascinating.”

The Zygon placed it’s hand on a glass cube and disappeared into the painting they saw earlier in the Under Gallery.

“That's him! That's the Zygon in the picture now,” Clara said.

“It's not a picture, it's a stasis cube. Time Lord art. Frozen instants in time, bigger on the inside, but could be deployed as…” the older Doctor started.

“Suspended animation. Oh, that's very good. The Zygons all pop inside the pictures, wait a few centuries till the planet's a bit more interesting, and then out they come,” Ten finished.

“You see, Clara, they're stored in the paintings in the Under Gallery, like cup-a-soups. Except you add time, if you can picture that. Nobody could picture that. Forget I said cup-a-soups,” the Doctor said.

“And now the world is worth conquering. So the Zygons are invading the future from the past,” Clara surmised.

“Exactly.”

“And do you know why I know that you're a fake? Because you're such a bad copy. It's not just the smell, or the unconvincing hair, or the atrocious teeth, or the eyes just a bit too close together, or the breath that could stun a horse. It's because my Elizabeth, the real Elizabeth, would never be stupid enough to reveal her own plan. Honestly, why would you do that?” Ten asked as Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him.

“Because it's not my plan. And I am the real Elizabeth,” Elizabeth said.

“Smooth, Casanova,” Elise muttered.

“Yeah, shut-up. Okay. So, backtracking a moment just to lend context to my earlier remarks,” Ten said.

“My twin is dead in the forest. I am accustomed to taking precautions,” Elizabeth told him. She pulled out a dagger from underneath her skirts.

“That’s familiar,” Ten said, looking at Elise.

“These Zygon creatures never even considered that it was me who survived rather than their own commander. The arrogance that typifies their kind,” Elizabeth explained.

“Zygons?” Clara asked.

“Men.”

Elise snorted in amusement and then turned to her father. “You just love strong women don’t you?”

“Oh, shut-up.”

“And you actually killed one of them?” Clara asked.

“I may have the body of a weak and feeble woman, but at the time, so did the Zygon. The future of my kingdom is imperiled,” Elizabeth said, “Doctor, can I rely on your service?”

“Well, I'm going to need my TARDIS,” Ten told her.

“It has been procured already.”

“Ah.”

“But first, my love, you have a promise to keep.”

[earthstellar]

INTERVIEW: Transformers lore and characters as discussed with my 74 year old mother

Backstory: I talk about fandom stuff a lot with my mom (she’s one of the original Star Trek fangirls so she knows her fandom shit lmao) and recently I’ve been discussing Transformers with her. 

Me and my mom are very open with each other, and we have some interesting fandom conversations. 

Here are some lines from a recent call with her that I thought might be interesting, regarding Transformers stuff and especially some interesting elderly person perspective on Ratchet. There’s also some talk of the theology in Transformers lore, including Drift and Spectralism, and a bunch of other stuff too.

All conversations transcribed from a recent Skype call, with my mom’s permission.

M is my mom, Me is just me-- So that you can tell who’s talking, lol. When other real people are mentioned, their names are redacted and replaced with an X for privacy. 

Getting Started:

Me: Okay, there are a lot of younger fans for Transformers who might be interested in this kind of discussion, but I don’t see a lot of these conversations saved and shared anywhere, so if you don't mind I want to share some of your reactions to learning about Transformers stuff. 

M: That’s okay, very professional of you to ask! The internet is a job now, I guess. I’m being interviewed, fancy. 

On Ratchet’s Age/Health and older people in media:

Me: Ratchet’s the medic, he’s an old guy. Older than a lot of the other bots. In the comics (MTMTE/LL) he has a chronic illness and he eventually passes away from either that or complications related to it, although we don’t see it happen on the page. It made everyone sad; He’s a fan favourite. 

M: I know how that feels, getting old and dying! I had years of thyroid symptoms before they had to take it out, I had endometriosis and they told me I couldn't have you, it’s an unsure thing. Now I’ve had skin cancers removed, I have too much potassium in my blood, I have fibromyalgia. I never expected to live this long. 

Everyone is really just guessing at health stuff. It’s ironic that the doctor couldn’t diagnose himself, but I think he probably knew what was wrong and couldn't bring himself to accept it. Old people might accept that we can’t do some things any more but we tend to be depressed about it. Nobody really copes with it very well, you know X had a stroke and now she’s aphasic, can’t speak anymore, can’t read anymore, and she used to be a nurse. She’s older than I am, but it’s sad. She’s so smart and clever, and we’re just old. It’s what happens. 

I bet Ratchet was scared. As a doctor, he’d know what can happen when you get old and decrepit. I think he was in denial, a lot of old guys seem to be like that. 

Me: He was the medical lead on their ship, the Lost Light. I think you’re right and he wanted to be functional for as long as possible; He wants to be helpful and his job is his life. It would be hard for him; He struggles with retirement in the comics. 

M: Sounds about right. I’m old as hell and I still work! Although that’s mostly because we all need money to live, and not so much because anybody wants to have a job at this age, but still. If he liked his job, he wouldn’t want to be pushed out. I loved working at the park; When I had to quit, it was devastating, but I didn’t really have a choice. 

By the way, the audiobooks you sent me for X have really made her happy, she can read again, sort of! So thanks for that.

Me: I’m glad the audiobooks I sent you helped!

M: They have, you’re a life saver! 

Me: I’m just glad they’re useful for her! 

I think it’s interesting that his age is a part of his character in terms of personality and story arc; Do you enjoy seeing older characters in media that reflect the realities of age and being old, even when it’s difficult or possibly depressing? 

M: Yes! There aren’t a lot of old characters, and the ones that are out there are mostly just joke characters or you never see them too often. I think the creators must think that old people don’t watch TV or anything, but the reason we don’t tune in is because everything is all about young people, and that can be hard. Watching people run around when you can’t anymore can be painful for those of us who have lost that ability now that we’re elderly, or watching kid-focused stuff can make us miss our families. 

It would be nice to see old characters that are included and are competent. 

Me: Representation is important. 

M: Yes. 

On Religion in Transformers: 

Me: So, you work in a church. Just pointing it out so readers know where we’re coming from on this. 

M: Yep, Episcopalian on the beach here, a small church. Services are mostly online due to COVID so I’ve lost hours on Friday, unfortunately... But I’m not complaining. 

Me: And we both like the more spiritual lore type of content, it’s some good shit. 

M: Always love seeing ancient Gods in space! 

Me: So, there’s another old guy character, Alpha Trion, who’s a kind of sage-like mentor to Optimus Prime. 

M: Optimus! He’s the truck! Everyone knows him, he’s the main guy. 

Me: Yep! So Alpha Trion is an archivist, and when Optimus Prime was younger, depending on what version of the story we look at, he also used to be an archivist. 

M: Librarian truck! 

Me: Yes! 

M: I love it. You worked at a library for a little bit. 

Me: That work placement was the best, loved it. But Alpha Trion, depending on which version of the lore we look at, is hinted to be one of the formative deity-entities on their home planet, Cybertron. 

M: Cybertroooooon. Haha! Good robot planet name. I’m into this so far, very cool.

Me: It is! And Alpha Trion is sort of the living memory of the early days of their planet and civilisation, but nobody knows. Everyone just thinks he’s a kind of cryptic weird old guy. 

M: Relatable. I like this concept.

Me: It’s pretty good. So generally, things vary a lot from version to version of the story, but there are usually a handful of beings, early Transformers, who make up the character of their ancient lore. These are called the Primes, named after Primus, who pretty much always is depicted as their main God. Like Zeus, or Odin. 

M: Very cool. Optimus is a Prime! 

Me: Right! In a few versions of the story, he is the final Prime essentially reincarnated. The Thirteenth Prime. 

M: That’s very cool. 

Me: And in some other stories, Prime is mostly purely a title that has political connotations as well; It gets into a sort of weird Divine Right kind of area to help underscore some of the problems in their planetary political structure that led to the conflict that eventually became their civil war. 

M: That sucks, but unfortunately, also relatable. It’s very real world, especially right now. It’s interesting how Transformers is so incredibly in depth; I never would have guessed from the cartoon ads that were on TV when you were little. 

Me: Yeah, they seem to hide a lot of the lore, which is a shame. The comics are more adult than most of the TV shows, I think you’d like them. 

M: Sounds like it. I love the spiritual robot stuff. 

Me: In the comics, there is a religious practice called Spectralism that you might really like. They see auras by filtering different light wave bandwidths through their optics in order to detect mood, and all the colours have meanings assigned to them. They change their paint colours in accordance with those colour meanings as well, on some occasions. Meditation is part of the practice. One of the transformers, Drift, had at least one vision; It’s hinted there might be more to Spectralism, but we don’t see all that much of it in any further detail, unfortunately. They also believe in Primus as a deity. 

M: It’s a shame they don’t elaborate more on it. It sounds very cool, like the stuff we were doing in the sixties and seventies. I bet Drift has some black light posters in his room, we had tons of them. Loved the velvet ones. 

Me: He does have an altar, I think. Or a least a prayer area, it’s mentioned he meditates fairly frequently, from what I remember. 

M: (Starts singing Smoke on the Water by Deep Purple) That was the best, put some tunes on... Good driving music, too! 

On Femme Transformers and Sexism in Sci-Fi: 

Me: So there are some lady Transformers, too! 

M: Ooh! 

Me: There’s Arcee, who is the pink one you probably remember from the ads or the cartoons, and in the comics she’s officially transgender. 

M: Excellent! Trans-formers. Good. 

Me: Yes! And there’s not just her, there’s Nautica and Velocity in the comics as well, plus Elita-One... (I showed her pictures of each.) 

M: I like Velocity. I love the teal, the Thunderbird on the back is excellent. 

Me: I like Velocity, too. 

M: Elita has the head cones, not sure how I feel about that. She’s also pink, it’s hard to keep track of them all. I like Arcee, she has the Princess Leia hair helmet! 

Me: I figured you’d like that. It’s pretty good. 

M: I like Arcee and Velocity the best so far. 

Me: There’s quite a few female or femme transformers now. There didn't used to be, and there were some mistakes made here and there, but nowadays there’s a much wider cast. 

M: That’s good, I’m surprised, but in a good way. There were never women main characters in sci-fi stuff when I was a kid, it’s why Star Trek was such a big deal, and even then, it wasn’t all that great. There was Uhura, Nurse Chapel, but there were a lot of weird episodes...

Me: I love the Romulan Commander, though. 

M: She was the best! Wished we got to see her more. 

Me: Me too. But in Transformers, they’re doing a good job with the female coded characters, as least as far as I’ve seen.

M: That’s good to know. I’m glad that exists for girls who want to play Transformers, too. It always seemed like such a macho thing, the way they advertised it. 

Me: Yeah, that’s still a problem to some degree, but I remember it being way more aggressively worse in the 80s/90s. 

M: It was worse in the 50s when I was a kid! Cooking sets were the girl toy. They made Star Trek for boys, but when all the girls ended up being the main demographic that watched it, they cancelled it. It was Lucy from I Love Lucy who brought it back, I remember you told me that! 

Me: Yep!

M: I’m glad little girls have Arcee. And little boys. They’re robots, they don’t have gender! 

Me: Exactly! 

--

If this kind of interview/conversation excerpt type thing is interesting to anyone, we’re happy to keep doing it! 

Give me questions or things to ask my mom, she’s happy to give you some “old lady perspective”, lmao. ❤️ 

[crimsonskies1124]

My Lovely Human Chapter 2: Beloved

A sigh of contentment was breathed out of the Naga's mouth as he held his beloved in his arms. Risotto moves rather quickly to his large spacious den in excitement, the thought of spending his life with his beloved filled him with desire. The inside of his den is much bigger than an average Naga's den. It was nice and wide and had a big bed made of fur that he collected himself when he goes out to hunt. There was bones and skulls laying around inside the den as well but most of them were near the front entrance of his den for mainly decoration. He appreciate the aesthetic of skulls, enjoying the feel of the dark sockets and bony structure.

Risotto gently places (Y/N) on the king's size bed and drinks up in her beauty. No one was as beautiful as she was. So small, so docile, so kind. He loved her hair, big eyes, round face, and plump lips. How he loved to have her lips around him. His blood red eyes trail down her body, she didn't have the biggest breast but not the smallest either. He wasn't too fussy about that. Risotto places his large hand on her flat stomach and thought how beautiful she be with her stomach all round and swollen with his babies. He gripped her wide hips that are perfect for bearing his children. Risotto growled, his tail swishes excitedly and grips harder until she lets out a small whimper and stops.

"Grr...not yet.." He loosens his hold of her and composes himself. Risotto slithers out of his den and picks up the skull holding it in his hands. The skull was so small in his grip, he moves his long fingers against the rough cheek bones and wondered how soft her face would feel if he caress them. As he was deep in thought from this a voice called out to him, a voice he knew to well.

"Risotto! Where the fuck have you been!?" An angry blonde rushes to him, his hair was tied neatly in braids, icy blue eyes and wore a couple accessories around his neck that were out of gold , especially his long necklace. His scales were dark purple with white streaks that gave a web like design.

"Prosciutto. Lower your voice. You'll wake her up." He grunted and glanced at her. "I told you I was taking care of some troublesome hunters." He placed his skull back down.

"Wha!? Her?" He squinted his eyes and looks over his shoulder to see a young small human sleeping on his bed, a bed that was far too big for her. "Is..Don't tell me that's a human in your den."

Risotto nodded at his question. "Are you fucking kidding me! You know as well as I do how dangerous humans are! Why do you have it here?"

He crossed his arms displeased. "Don't call my beloved an it. She's...different from other humans. She's not like the others."

Prosciutto looks at him with disbelief. Don't tell me that thing is suppose to be his mate? He sighed placing two of his fingers on the bridge of his nose sighing. He opens his mouth about to speak once more until he saw the younger Naga Illuso who is a teenager.

"Capo! You're finally back!" He grins holding a spear in his hand and a bag of fish. "You were gone for a really long time." His hair brown long hair were tied in low braids and had eyes as red as Risotto but it looked like there was more life in his eyes than Risotto. His scales were more bland than the other nagas. His didn't glow as brightly as the others and was a simple beige color.

He nodded. "I just got back today. I was about to head into the village . Come Proscuitto we have matters to discuss with others."

The blonde looks back at the den. He grumbled a bit. It will have to a matter he will have to discuss later with keeping a human in his den. He watches Illuso go back home probably to Formaggio about the amount of fish he got.

Both He and Risotto made their way down to the village where the rest of their kind lived. They were a isolated species that has closed themselves off to the rest of the world due to the confliction with humans eons ago. They did not have a very big population either, in fact their species had one of the lowest numbers in population of this forest.

As they both make their way to the headquarters a lot of Nagas bowed and greeted Risotto with respect and a lot of Nagi saw Risotto and followed him and three of them linked arms with him. "Nero! You finally came back." One spoke out and giggled. the second spoke out next. "Nero do you have time for us please? You been gone for so long." The third agreed and rubs her head against his chest.

Risotto pulls away without looking at them. "I don't have time for this. I have important matters to attend to." He could hear them whining and hearing how much they missed him. He knew how desperate those nagi were.

"Popular as ever capo." A naga with with long blonde choppy hair that covered one eye grins at him. " Shame those cute nagi are perfect candidates for an heir." He licked his lips from the thought . His scales were black with purple circle patterns on it.

Risotto sighed . "Maybe you should spend time with them instead Melone."

Melone lets out a small laugh. "Oh they simply won't do my dear capo! I want the mother of my children to be perfect." Not any nagi would do for him, he had high expectations. He follows both Proscuitto and Risotto in and yelling could be heard. " Ahh..looks like he got Ghiaccio all fired up again." Letting out a small hissing sound at the end of his sentence.

The room was in a disarray , there was milk on the walls and eggs were cracked open on the floor and two nagas fighting. "That's enough. You two clean this mess right now." Risotto speaks in a commanding voice.

"But it's Formaggio ! He started it first!" A loud booming voice was spoken by a male with curly blue hair and red glasses.

"I don't care. Both of you clean this up now." He glares at the both .

"R-Right! c'mon let's just clean it before he gets more mad." The male with a buzzcut hairstyle went to grab the the cleaning supplies and Ghiaccio clicked his tongue against his fangs and went to help clean up the place.

Once the two nagas cleaned up the place to how it was suppose to look before. They could start discussing the meeting . "You sure took your time coming back. Gone for 5 days. You're never gone for that long Capo." Melone spoke.

"Yeah that's true." Formaggio agreed. "

Prosciutto nodded. "Mind telling us what took you so long when you should have been hours later on the same day not 5 days."

Risotto sighed and nodded.

5 days ago

Risotto took it upon himself to take out the hunters that are in their territory and he could not risk the humans finding out about their species again. Humans were ugly disgusting greedy creatures that killed nagas out of fear and take their skin to make purses and take their fangs for profit that was what he thought before he met her, the love of his life.

Risotto had spotted one human that was rather close to the village. Something he must not allow to happen. The hunter was a young male who was smoking a cig. Risotto cringed in disgust. He would do not be a good meal at all. He moves from behind without making a sound and bites his shoulder and the hunter lets out a scream as the vemon was injected into his body and within moments the hunter was gasping for air and was coughing and hacking as he felt so much pain and his heart was pumping faster and faster as the vemon spread throughout the body until his heart couldn't keep up and stopped and didn't see his body move anymore. Risotto had a expressionless face as he watched the hunter perished before leaving him there.

"Wait! We shouldn't kill it! Aren't you suppose to preserve wild life?" A young woman spoke to a hunter and it was none other than (Y/N) who was trying to stop a hunter from killing a garden snake.

A hunter who looked like he was in his 30's looked at her and chuckled . "what gives little missy . We are preserving life . Our life and that's all that should matter. Now give him back. His skin would do good for a purse. Wouldn't you like that? All girls your age fancy those." Risotto hissed and glared at the hunter in disgust, oh how he wanted to end him right then are there.

(Y/N) shook her head holding he garden snake her hands as it wrapped itself around his arm. "The hunter's association is suppose to preserve all life. Even this little guy." She smiles and pets the little snake head.

The hunter looks at her in disgust. "Ugh! Whatever I'll be off . Stay away from the others they are dangerous!" He grabs his belongings and head off to the west side of the forest.

(Y/N) sighs. "They're all the same. " She gently puts the garden snake down . "There now run along now little guy before they find you again." She smiled as she watch the snake return to the wild. She hated how they abuse the system and killed any animal that had nothing to do with them or that they were a threat when they weren't. "Hm? Is someone there?"

Risotto quickly hid from her sight. He was always a master at stealth it was one of his abilities as a naga.

"Hmm..I guess I imagined it . I better get going." She turned her back towards him and headed back into town.

Risotto watches her leave the forest. So there were kind humans too. Humans were ugly and odd looking but she looked so beautiful , her beauty could even rival a goddesses. It was at that moment he had to have her and had taken care of the hunters while he slowly learned more about her. Watching her. Stalking her for those 5 days until that storm took him by surprise and by then it was too late for him to get back to his own village until she saved him too like that harmless garden snake.

Present Day

" That's the reason I was gone for so long . If it wasn't for her I wouldn't be alive." He clasped his hands together and the rest of the naga looked at him like he was crazy.

"A human!? A human of all things saved you!?" Ghiacco flailed his arms in disbelief . Risotto nodded

Melone had a playful grin on his face while formaggio still had a hard time processing this on how and why would Risotto would want to bring a human . Maybe as a pet or food he thought.

Prosciutto crosses his arms. "I don't agree with you bringing a human here. You're placing us in danger like this. But you are the alpha so I'll back off for now." He turns away not fully accepting it. "The minute the human opposes a threat it will die whether you like it or not Risotto."

Risotto nodded fully understanding this. Though he would make sure no harm comes to her not even his closet allies. "You're all dismissed."

(Y/N) groans a bit in her sleep and slowly opens her eyes as her vision slowly clears up. "Nnn.." She pressed her head against the pillows of the bed. It was the comfiest bed she ever laid on. Her vision finally clears up and looks up at the ceiling which was just the cave. "W-Where..? Where am I?" Her eyes widened after realizing that she was not home. She sat up and moves her head around and could see bones scattered on the floor.

"You're awake."

(Y/N) eyes widened and saw the giant serpent and her memory finally clears up . "Ahh!! Y-You! You're that Naga!" She backs up as much as possible on the bed.

"My name is Risotto, beloved." He moves closer to her which causes her to move back more until her back hits the wall.

"W-Where am I?" She started to shiver, her mind was still a bit fuzzy after being squeezed the life out of her earlier. She only remembers bits and pieces of it and was hoping that this was just a nightmare.

"You're in my den, away from human civilization." his tail wraps around her small wrist pulling her close to him making her gasp and wraps his arms around her placing her in his lap. He loved how small she was compared to him .

(Y/N) struggled in his grasp . His tail and scales felt cold and it scared her how easily he can pull her in . "What? Why! " She shook a bit, scared how far away she was from everyone else.

Risotto placed his hand under his chin and tilted up so she was looking up at him . "You're too good for them. Too pure hearted to live with those greedy humans. I mustn't let that happen. not to my mate." He leans forward and kisses her gently. Her lips were so soft and warm . It caught her by surprise and pulls away and Risotto just moves again to kiss her once more.

"W-Wai- mmph! Risotto St-" He kissed her once more and holds the back of her head and kisses much more deeper. She places her hands on his shoulders to try and push him off but couldn't he was so much stronger than she was. He brushes her tongue with his long forked tongue trying to get it in her mouth but closes her mouth and he growls and pushes her on the bed earning a gasp and kisses her once more before she had the chance to close her mouth and his tongue enters her mouth and explores her warm cavern it felt so good. he wrapped his tongue around hers . (Y/N) tightly closed her eyes squirming under his body as their tongues battle in dominance. He unwrapped his tongue around her and pushed his tongue down her throat which caused her squirm even more . His tail wrapped around her hips keeping her still and heard a small moan and deep throat her tongue and could feel himself being turned on more, more so than he has during mating season. He slowly pulled away watching her gasp for air.

[darks-ink]

Exorcism - Ectoberweek 2019

What do you mean it’s June? Shush. Anyway, yeah. Final entry for Ectoberweek 2019 which I finally finished up for my birthday! Whoo!

Rating: Teen Warnings: yeah. Don’t wanna go into it too much because it kind of spoils the story, but just look at the title, the fact that this is angst, and that the ending is kinda ambiguous, and work off of that Genre: Angst Words: 3,347 Additional Tags: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Identity Reveal, Alternate Universe

[AO3] [FFN]

---

Maddie looked over at Jack, steeling herself. Her husband met her gaze and nodded, once, resolute.

They didn’t want to do this. Didn’t want to risk their baby. But they had to. The alternative was far worse.

“Danny,” she said, summoning a shaky smile. She hoped he wouldn’t see through it. Had counted on it, in fact. “Could you come with us, please?”

“Uh… Sure?” He looked confused, but got up anyway. He didn’t seem suspicious.

Good.

“What’s this about?” he asked as they entered the stairway down to the lab. “Why are we going to the lab?”

“We just need you to lend us a hand.” She looked at him over her shoulder, hoping that he would take the bait. Phantom was always a sucker for helping people. She wasn’t sure if that was genuine, or an act, but she hoped that he would fall for it all the same.

Danny scoffed. “Can’t Jazz help you?”

But despite his protests, he didn’t stop following them. Trailed after her into the lab, Jack staying behind Danny. Just in case he made a run for it.

Well, they wouldn’t be able to stop him if he fled in a non-human direction, but still. There were limits to what they could prepare for, and a ghost’s intangibility was one of those limits. At least Jack’s Specter Deflector would stop Phantom if he tried to phase past them.

The three of them stopped in the center of the lab, a mostly-clear spot in the chaos that covered the rest of the room.

She and Jack had cleared it for this exact purpose. The chaos surrounding them would hopefully distract Phantom so he wouldn’t notice the Ghost Catcher, assuming that he knew what it did. They didn’t know how long he had been there, overshadowing Danny. They had no idea what they had told him, unknowingly.

They had no idea how long they had been talking to a ghost instead of their own son. How long Phantom’s possession had gone unnoticed.

“So, uh… What did you need my help with?” the ghost asked with her son’s voice. With her son’s face.

“Just step over here,” Jack instructed, pointing at a seemingly random spot. While Phantom was distracted, Maddie shifted closer to the Ghost Catcher, hoping to keep it out of his sight until he could no longer dodge it.

“Alright…” He sounded reluctant, but followed their commands nonetheless. Maddie wondered if it was Phantom, trying hard to blend in, or Danny, who was exerting all the power he could, trying to help them save him.

She hoped it was Danny. She feared it was Phantom.

She hated that she couldn’t tell.

Her hands wrapped around the rod of the Ghost Catcher. She met Jack’s eyes, and he nodded, sharply.

Danny, having apparently seen Jack look at her, turned to look as well. His eyes, the crystalline blue she loved so much, grew wide.

“Mom, no—” was all he managed to say before she swung the Ghost Catcher at him, the net passing through Danny’s body harmlessly.

He stumbled, the ectoplasm clinging to him so tightly that he was tugged along a little. But the Catcher finished its sweep, drawing out all ectoplasm that Danny’s body contained.

The ghost regained his normal appearance—stark black and white coloration, vivid green eyes—as he fought the cables of the Ghost Catcher. It would serve him no good. They had replaced the normal netting with a new one, designed just for this occasion; sticky enough to hold a fully matured ghost.

Phantom flailed, growling like a trapped animal, his hands lighting up green. That was all the proof Maddie needed. Phantom was too dangerous to restrain, to trap.

They couldn’t risk him escaping. Having him take revenge on them, or, far worse, having him take revenge on Danny.

She shifted her hands down, flipping the safety off of their second new feature.

Jack stepped forward to hold onto the Ghost Catcher as well, and met her eyes. Inclined his head once.

Thus agreed, she pushed the button.

Phantom screamed. The sound was high and cutting, so loud Maddie was almost certain she could see the waves his voice created. His hands grasped wildly, unable to reach anything to hold onto, then tightened onto themselves. Had he been human, his knuckles surely would’ve gone white.

Danny watched the proceedings, wide-eyed, hunched in on himself. Poor boy. Phantom’s almost constant overshadowing must’ve been hell on him, on his mind. She made a mental note to herself to check in on Danny after she was sure Phantom was neutralized, make sure he wasn’t overly traumatized. Make sure he got therapy if he needed it.

Finally, after a few eternally long moments, Phantom started to lose his shape. His extremities grew softer, melting down as they lost their structural integrity. Color draining away to leave them a sharp green.

Unlike Danny, he had his eyes closed, still yelling terribly. At least the sound was petering out now, as he lost power.

The ghost started to melt away entirely, globs of ectoplasm smearing down the netting of the Ghost Catcher, unable to fall off entirely. The sight apparently spurred life back into Danny, as he gasped and set a single step forwards, towards Phantom.

She reached out and stopped him easily.

“No,” Danny keened, like he was in pain. “No, you can’t! Stop!”

“Shh, honey,” she shushed, pulling him against herself in a hug. She ran a hand through his hair, comfortingly. “Shh, he’ll be gone soon. He won’t hurt you anymore.”

“No!” Danny wriggled in her arms, like he was trying to get out. But it was weak, and pointless. This was just an after-effect from Phantom’s overshadowing. She would protect Danny until he was alright again. “No, you can’t! Stop! Stop!”

Maddie tucked Danny against herself, locking him in her embrace. “It’ll be okay, honey. It’ll all be over soon.”

Danny whined, a wordless cry of pain, and Maddie felt her heart clench with empathy. Her poor boy. How long had he been Phantom’s puppet? How long had they missed the obvious?

How long had he been watching a ghost take his place?

Jack grimaced where he stood, clearly itching to get closer, to comfort Danny as well. But he couldn’t. He was the only person holding on to the Ghost Catcher, and they couldn’t risk it malfunctioning. They had to wait until it was certain that Phantom was no longer a threat.

The ghost blubbered, a noise that might have been intended as a cry of pain. She wasn’t sure why—shouldn’t the ghost be too occupied with its disintegration to play pretend?—but it was a clear sign of its decay, at least. Almost all color had gone from him, body more liquid than solid. Phantom wriggled in the cables, but it was weak.

Finally, they had him. If only they’d been quicker, had noticed sooner.

Danny made another pained noise in her arms, and she shushed him. Her eyes were settled on Phantom, watching him dissolve. Cruelly, she wished the ghost could feel pain, that she could make it suffer for what it inflicted upon Danny.

With her son crying in her arms, and her husband grimly staring back, she watched Phantom fall apart. They stood still, stiff and tensed, until there was nothing left but a puddle of sticky ectoplasm.

“I’m sorry,” she said to Danny, ruffling one hand through his hair. “We should’ve noticed sooner, honey, I’m so sorry.”

Danny sniffled as she released him from her tight hold. His eyes were locked on the remains of Phantom; they’d dripped to the floor when Jack had turned off the Ghost Catcher.

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “Right.”

She stepped closer again, one hand up to offer comfort. But Danny flinched back, eyes finally ripped away and towards her.

They’re wide and blue, but cold, so cold. Fear and— and so much more.

“Danny,” Jack tried, voice far quieter than usually. “It’s okay, kiddo. Come on, let’s go up.”

Danny’s eyes wandered back over to the ectoplasm.

“I… would rather be alone,” he finally settled on, and before either of them could think of a reply, he wandered to the stairs.

It felt like a lump of ice had settled in her chest, replacing her heart. Did he blame them for not noticing sooner? He would be right, yes, but she didn’t think… didn’t expect…

“Jack,” she turned towards him, trying to swallow past the blockage in her throat, “Why do I feel like we’ve just done something terrible?”

“It’s just an after effect.” He didn’t sound like he really believed it either. “It’ll wear off. He’ll get better. He has to.”

---

But Danny did not get better. Maddie watched him, constantly, every moment she could, and he never seemed to get any better.

No, quite the opposite. His condition seemed to worsen by the day. By the hour.

Danny’s eyes grew dull and lifeless, his hair lost its shine, grew brittle. He became weak, sickly, in just a few days.

It didn’t make sense. The long-term exposure of ectoplasm should’ve been making him sick, but it didn’t. No, removing the contaminant—and the overshadowing ghost—seemed to be the cause of his sickness.

Even if it defied all science, everything Maddie knew…

She couldn’t deny it. Not when her son’s health—and his life, even—was on the line.

Still, Danny refused to talk to her or Jack. He avoided them when possible, and was silent and sullen otherwise. It hurt her to see him like this, slowly withering away, and unable to talk to him.

Somehow, the destruction of Phantom had hurt Danny, and she couldn’t even apologize. Couldn’t even ask him how he was feeling, how they could help.

Had the Ghost Catcher malfunctioned? Had Phantom’s grip on Danny been so strong that removing him had hurt her son in the process?

She didn’t know, and neither did Jack. And they couldn’t ask Danny, because he didn’t talk to them.

But he did talk to Jazz. Often they fell quiet when they saw her, breaking apart or drawing away into their rooms, locking the door behind them. But it was enough for her to notice them talking, near-silent whispers.

Jazz knew what was going on. Her sharp glare, as fiery as her hair, all but confirmed it. Danny had told her what was going on, when he wouldn’t trust his parents with the same knowledge. Even though they would be able to fix it, while Jazz couldn’t.

And despite all this, Jazz didn’t confide in her or Jack either. They all saw Danny grow sicker and sicker, and still Jazz did not come to tell them how to help, how to fix Danny.

Had they really hurt him so badly, that he would rather suffer through this than come to them for help?

Well, she wouldn’t stand for it any longer. Couldn’t stand for it any longer.

---

The sound of her knocking on Jazz’ door was absurdly loud in the quiet hallway. Next to her, Jack shuffled uncertainly.

Jazz opened the door, her eyes immediately narrowing when she saw it was them, not Danny. “What do you want?”

“To talk,” Maddie told her, honestly, almost pleadingly. “Danny is sick, Jazz. We all know it. Please let us help. He won’t talk to us.”

She snorted, a vicious sound. “Of course he won’t, not after what you two did.” But Jazz shook her head and opened the door to let them in.

“We tried to help,” Maddie protested, even as she stepped inside, Jack right behind her.

“You could’ve tried talking first, instead of immediately going for the violent approach.” Her voice was sharp, bitter. Relentlessly disapproving. “Hell, you could’ve talked to me, if you didn’t trust Danny. But you didn’t.”

Maddie felt her heart skip a beat. “You knew? About Phantom overshadowing him?”

“It wasn’t overshadowing,” Jazz said, nonsensically. “But, yes. I knew about Phantom.”

“It had to be overshadowing,” Jack countered, his voice quiet and strained. “Phantom was a fully formed ghost influencing Danny.”

Jazz shook her head, dismissive. “Phantom wasn’t a full ghost, although he was fully matured, or so I’ve been told. He was only half ghost.”

Only half ghost. The other half, what, human?

Oh.

Oh.

“Are you saying that Danny and Phantom were one and the same?” Maddie asked, sharply.

It was supposed to be impossible. One can’t be alive and dead at the same time, ghost and human. But removing the contamination from Danny’s body was killing him, wasn't it?

And they had always frowned at how much Phantom looked like Danny. The same haircut, although in white instead of black, and the shape of his face… The jumpsuit, so much like theirs. Colors inverted from the one they’d made for Danny.

Oh, Danny.

Jazz nodded, her mouth flat and thin. “You’re seeing it now, aren’t you? Finally connecting all the dots?”

“Oh, what have we done?” Maddie turned to Jack, his expression heavy and despairing as well. “It was our fault, wasn’t it? That he was Phantom in the first place? And all we did was threaten him for it, for something we did to him.”

“You didn’t just threaten him,” Jazz pointed out. It felt like knives stabbing into Maddie. “You have hurt him, shooting at Phantom or spitting vitriol. Not to mention the incident a week ago.”

“We just tried to help.” But they hadn’t. They had made everything worse, just because they had skipped talking and went straight for their weapons. “We thought Phantom was overshadowing Danny, so we separated them.”

“But that wasn’t the only thing you did, was it?” Jazz prodded, folding her arms. “Just separating them wasn’t enough, was it?”

No, it hadn’t been.

“Phantom was struggling too much, too violent,” Jack admitted, lowly. “We destabilized him, to make sure he wouldn’t hurt anybody anymore.”

Their own son. They had torn out half of him and destroyed it.

“That’s what did it, I think.” Jazz’s expression had softened somewhat, growing thoughtful. “He’s been separated before, but never for a long time, and never quite this perfectly. Phantom was always a little human, and Danny always a little ghost.”

“So that’s why he’s sick?” Maddie asked, frowning. “Because we forcibly tore away part of him? Part of his soul?”

“I don’t think that it’s that,” Jazz denied. “I don’t think he lost any part of him, of his soul or whatever. I think it was the ectoplasm, specifically. Danny had a terrible accident with the Portal, which could’ve—maybe even should’ve—killed him. But it made him half-ghost instead.”

The Portal? They had known that Danny had been in an accident with it, but… it had been downplayed, apparently. He’d said he hadn’t been hurt, not really. Just a little zap.

It could’ve killed him. It did kill him, in some awful way.

And they hadn’t even noticed.

“The ectoplasm was keeping him alive,” Jack said, coming to the same realization as her. “And we took it away from him.”

“That’s what I thought, too.” Jazz nodded, a frown on her face. “He heals—healed—faster, especially if he was in ghost form. I think the ectoplasm healed his injuries quick enough for him to survive, but in turn, he can’t live without it.”

He was dying. He was dying because of them. No wonder that he refused to tell them.

“Oh, Danny… What have we done?”

“You need to fix this. We need to fix this.” Jazz sighed, one hand coming up to twirl her hair. A nervous tic. “I’ve been working on it, thinking of possible ways to fix it, but it comes down to the fact that we’ll need to reintroduce ectoplasm to his body without poisoning him.”

“We need to bond it to his body again,” Jack agreed, a thoughtful frown on his face as well. “But we took away all the preexisting systems his body had to accept it, and we can’t possibly make him go through the original accident again.”

She was running through options now. This was where she excelled; making the impossible possible with science. “More like Vlad’s accident, then? It was a low amount of contamination compared to Danny’s, and it made him sick, but Danny must be biologically wired to be more accepting of contamination…”

“Uh, if I can interrupt,” Jazz said, her voice breaking Maddie’s train of thought. “Vlad’s accident was probably a lot worse than you guys think, since he’s also half-ghost. And, uh, the whole ecto-acne thing.”

The silence that fell was so thorough that you could hear a pin drop. She wasn’t sure she could even hear Jack breath. Hell, Maddie was sure she’d stopped breathing herself.

“Excuse me?” she managed, after an eternity of silence.

Jazz blinked at them. “Vlad is also half-ghost, although he’s not as much in the spotlight as Danny was. He calls himself Vlad Plasmius. The vampire ghost?”

The vampire ghost. The Wisconsin ghost, the one that had attacked them during the reunion. Which had overshadowed Jack and attacked the guests, had attempted to kidnap her.

That was Vlad, their old college friend, as creepy as he’d become.

“Oh,” she said, turning to look at Jack. Jack, who seemed to be taking that revelation harshly.

Not that she could blame him.

“Maybe not that, then,” she said. As much as she wanted to linger on this, properly deal with it, it could wait. It had to wait. Her son’s health was more important.

“I think that the problem is that you purged all contamination from his body,” Jazz said, apparently also willing to dismiss the previous topic to focus on Danny. “We all have some contamination, just from living here, you know? And Danny was always very bad about wearing a jumpsuit while cleaning the lab.”

“He built up a natural defense against it.” Of course. It made perfect sense. Slow, gradual exposure to ectoplasm weakened the reaction. Made him more susceptible to it. “But how could we possibly replicate that quick enough?”

Before he died, she thought, but did not say.

Jazz made a face. “I’m not sure, to be honest. I’ve been encouraging him to eat some of the ecto-contaminated food we have in the house, slowly building up from the weaker stuff to the stronger, but it hasn’t been helping. Not enough, at least.”

“It might be building up his defenses, anyhow.” Maddie considered the plan. “It doesn’t have to contain enough ectoplasm to revert his condition, just enough to rebuild the acceptance. We can try diluted ectoplasm, but we need to make sure he can take it without poisoning him.”

“We’ll need some way to test for it,” Jack said, visibly shaking off the previous topic to refocus. “To make sure we don’t give him anything he’ll react badly to.”

“I’ll look into making more contaminated food as well.” She was good at making them accidentally, but on purpose? That was a whole new ballpark. “To make the transition gradual enough for him, and to bridge the gap between contaminated food and the diluted ectoplasm.”

“You realize that this won’t fix everything, right?” Jazz asked. “Even if you solve this, even if you help make him half-ghost again… It won’t be the same. It won’t undo everything you’ve done.”

She knew. One look at Jack confirmed that he did, too.

“That doesn’t matter,” Maddie said, shaking her head. “He’s our son, Jazz. We did this to him. Both the initial accident, and the purging afterwards. We’re fixing it, too. The rest is a problem for later. First, we need to make sure there will be a later.”

Jazz nodded, stepping aside, clearing the way to the door. “I’ll be watching. Making sure everything goes okay.”

“Of course, honey.” Maddie wrapped an arm around Jazz, pressing a kiss to her temple. “We couldn’t have done this without you.”

They were going to fix this. Danny was going to be okay.

Everything else was a problem for later.