#{VISAGE}「My Own Clone!」

[hedgehoghavoc]

Look at him. He's having the time of his life. He loves fighting his rivals so much gdjlg

[mazamba]

"You need what?"

"I know it's a lot to ask," cut in Danny before Batman could go from confused to angry, "Just let me explain. I swear it's for a good reason."

Batman eyed his teammate skeptically. King Phantom was one of the League's newest and youngest members. Despite his unorthodox introduction to the team, he and his sister, Stray, had proven to be valuable additions to the Justice League and to the Teen Titans respectively. He was tall and imposing, despite his relatively slender frame. His visage was made the more menacing by the Crown of Fire that hovered above his head in a tiny version of the Aurora Borealis instead of his predecessor's green flames, the royal armor over his jumpsuit, and the fur-trimmed coat made of a rippling window into space.

"Ok, so you know how Bruce Wayne adopted Cassandra Cain, but she's David Cain's biological daughter, right?"

"..."

"...right! So, at some point, David sold human eggs on the black market," he continued, "you have no idea how hard it was to get the information on Vlad's supplier, but we did figure out that he bought the eggs from Cain for his experiments and then completely messed up the cloning process."

"How?"

"We have no idea! But my clone, my sister, has my ghost DNA, but part of mine and someone else's human DNA."

"What makes you think it's Cassandra's?"

He pulled out his phone, a two-year-old model with a cracked screen, and showed him the face of his sixteen-year-old sister in her human form next to a picture of Bruce's own eighteen-year-old daughter from a tabloid.

"She looks a lot like me," he admitted, "but she also looks a lot like Cassandra Cain, so we think Vlad got a sample mixed up or forgot to take out a nucleus or something and made-."

"A daughter instead of a clone."

It was a good thing Phantom wasn't particularly good at reading body language, or his tightening fist might've alerted him that something was wrong.

"I mean... sort of? It's different with clones. She's technically my daughter but I turned nineteen, like, a month ago, so I don't thi- I'm getting off track! The point is, Dani's destabilizing again and I need a clean DNA sample to help her. I tried to get into Wayne manor, but the place is warded to hell and back. You know Bruce Wayne, right? Can you help me talk with Cassandra?"

Batman sighed and turned his head to Phantom's right.

"Orphan."

"Motherfu-! How long has she been standing there!?"

She didn't respond to his yelp/question and instead turned to Batman.

"Take a tube to Gotham and ask Cassandra Wayne for a DNA sample."

Orphan nodded and walked off to the tubes.

"... Is it just me or was she a little quieter than usual?"

Bruce sighed, not looking forward to whatever his week was about to become.

[confessedlyfannish]

DP x DC Prompt (Should I be numbering these?)

Clark knocks on the glass of the Watchtower. It's a futile gesture in the vacuum of space, but the movement catches Phantom's eye and he drifts inside, slipping through the glass.

"Hey," he murmurs, not quite making eye contact.

"Hi," Superman says, resting his hip against the conference table. He pats it beside him and Danny floats down, criss-cross apple sauce. Clark wonders not for the first time if Danny died at 18 or if this is just the body he inhabits, not unlike Connor.

They both look out at the vast wonder of space for a moment.

"We made you uncomfortable," Superman says quietly. "I'm sorry."

Danny is quiet for a moment. He doesn't deny it.

"I thought Kon-El was your son," he says softly.

Superman blinks. When Danny blanched beyond his norm and flew from the room the group had assumed CADMUS' invasive experiments had struck too similar a chord to the GiW's actions. "Do you take issue with cloning?" he asks, feeling deeply hypocritical all things considered. That self awareness gentles his tone but Danny still shoots him a glare at the not-quite accusation.

"No," he spits out. He sags, an awareness in his own eyes. "No, of course not."

His eyes are far too telling and Superman takes a hard seat on the table beside him.

"Oh," he says. He just barely keeps the horror from his voice. He is a grown man, but Phantom lies somewhere between the ages of 4 (his first dated appearance in modern time) and thousands of years old (his first recorded appearance) and his visage is too young for Clark to ever be comfortable assuming the latter.

"Yeah," Phantom says, staring down at his lap.

"Then...why?"

"You act like you're Kon's father," Phantom says. "I never thought about it like that."

"It's complicated," Superman offers, because it's all he can say, because it is not appropriate to demand details, to potentially trigger trauma, no matter how badly he wants to punch someone. Not right now at least. And because while some part of him has healed enough to find warmth in the title, his early actions will never truly make him worthy of it. "In some ways he's more like my brother. Jon considers him an uncle. My parents...they stepped up when I did not."

"But biologically he is your child," Danny says sharply, and the sharpness is not directed at Clark. "He is of you, and she is of me." Clark's inhale is distinct but Danny continues on without acknowledgement. "And I always felt strange about it, I always felt like I treated her differently, but I never put a name to it. I let it be and I let her go." He presses a hand to his chest, to the right of where his heart would be. "But she was mine. She is mine."

"Danny," Superman says quietly. "What do you want to do?" And how can I help?

Danny looks up at the vast wonder of space, and then his eyes flick down and Superman realizes he has not been looking at his lap at all. He's been looking at Earth.

With fear. With anxiety.

With hope.

"I want to find my daughter."

[teeth-farie]

Holographic Shenanigans

Gale/Named Tav

Notes: threesome/cuckholding, handjobs, light oral, overstimulation, improper use of holograms

~ long time no proper fic! Well, not really proper, this started as rambles on discord. I don’t usually post my ocxcanon writing, but I couldn’t resist this time! My tav is Duck(they/them) a 150 year old dwarf sorcerer previously a hermit. Ty to my bestie for helping me with the title!

“It’s another of yours truly, for when you’re feeling…especially insatiable.” Gale says, gesturing to the lightly sparkling blue hologram, which is more like a tangible mass of magic than a simple visage. The hologram smiles serenely. “You can do anything you wish with it, nothing’s off the table.”

The hologram sits besides Duck on the bed, on the unoccupied side. It takes their hand, and brings it up to its lips to kiss. “I concur, I can say on the behalf of Gale Dekarios that I have absolutely no limits and am fully devoted to your pleasure. He would also like you to know that I am 100% anatomically accurate.”

The true flesh Gale clears his throat, a touch flustered as Duck inspects the hologram closer, intrigue and curiosity dancing in dark eyes. “This is…wow.” They say, exploring the cool touch of the holograms hand, its glowing eyes watching them intently. Gale feels a voyeuristic kind of pleasure in watching his beloved enjoy, well, him, albeit a different form.

“Well,” Duck begins, retreating from the holograms touch briefly. “I can still have you, right?” They lean into Gales side, and he answers with immediate reassurance. “Of course! This is simply to accommodate for your, ahem, awakened libido.”

They nod, chewing on their bottom lip. “I’m just, I am new to all this, I don’t know the rules, what I can have.”

The hologram speaks for Gale, resting a hand on Duck’s thigh. “All is obtainable. And I contain all of Gale’s knowledge, so I can assure you that you will learn plenty.”

Duck swallows, face heated, but heart beating faster. “I don’t…know where to begin.” They say, hands held in the air, hovering over the hologram. Gale watches from behind them, setting a reassuring hand on their back. “Touch it like you touch me.” He says, the hologram mirroring his own enticement.

The dwarf nods, settling a large hand over top the holograms chest. Its orb glows faintly in response, an impressive copy to the real thing. With a bit of bravery, they untuck its shirt from its trousers, sliding their hands under and over cool flesh.

The hologram shivers, body arching into their touch. Duck can hear the heavy exhale from Gale behind them, his hands distracted in rubbing their hips and back. “Exactly right,” he says, pausing to wet his lips with his tongue. “You’re just fantastic.”

Duck glances over their shoulder, meeting Gale’s hungry gaze. They realize in that moment that their husband seems to like watching more than they thought. ‘keep going’ he whispers, and they focus on the hologram once more.

Bolder now, Duck moves a hand lower and grabs its clothed, half hard dick. Its reaction is immediate and incredibly accurate to the real Gale Dekarios—a loud and breathy groan, its hips rising into their palm.

They can feel Gale’s hips rut in involuntary response, just shy of their hip. For a moment they contemplate reaching behind to help relieve him, before they stop themself. Gale can sit and watch, just as he desired. It would be rude of them to put such a burden on him- yes, that’s it. They chew on their bottom lip. Perhaps they’re a little more mean than they thought.

Duck unlaces the holograms pants, pulling them down its hips, fueled by its gasp of excitement. Gale would be surprised at the rate his wife has begun to undress his clone, if he hadn’t already been subjected to it. (Not that he disliked it, quite the opposite, really. To have such eager hands upon you, it makes him feel young and desperate again.)

The hologram makes a soft, echoing noise, cheeks colored a deeper blue as Duck traces a finger across the underside of its cock. Gale finds himself pressing closer, up against their back, arms wrapped around them.

“Are you enjoying this?” The dwarf asks and both the human and clone reply a filthy ‘yes’. They grab the hologram fully, the flesh like jelly—malleable, squishy, versatile. They could bend this version of Gale however they wanted, past his human limits. Duck stops, spits on their hand, and grabs it again, stroking slowly.

Gale breathes shakily against their shoulder, unable to resist the temptation of smacking kisses across their neck. The copy writhes under the touch, watching the mortal hand closely, then looking back at Duck, jaw slack and brows furrowed. “Quicker,” it whimpers, toes curling in its boots.

“I wasn’t sure it—you could feel…” they trail off, sliding their thumb over the squishy head, almost failing to resist the temptation of digging their thumb in. The hologram shudders, head lolling to the side. “Ah- G-Gale has ensured I was crafted with the- the most tangible components,” it replies, and Gale hides his face further in their neck, biting almost petulantly.

“You really thought about this, didn’t you?” They question aloud, picking up the speed of their pumping fist until the hologram is squirming. Gale’s voice is husky yet airy when he whines, “yes, more than I’d like to admit.” He’s painfully hard in his underwear already, devouring the table scraps of their attention while they pleasure a carbon copy of himself.

“You’re so smart.” Duck says simply in reply, a genuine little compliment that has him whining into their shortly cropped curls.

The hologram cries softly, rising in volume as its hips cant upwards, quite unruly, Gale would say. Duck pulls their attention back to the illusion, cooing softly, rubbing a comforting hand over its stomach. “There, there, don’t strain yourself, you’re in good hands.”

In that moment, the human comes to the realization that this copy of himself had played him. It grins contentedly around its own moans, lavishing in the resumed attention. Curses, he shouldn’t have given it a sense of feeling.

Gale glares from over their shoulder, squeezing them tighter. “Calm yourself,” they warn, this time not even bothering to spare him a glance. “You’ll get yourself too worked up, and you said yourself this was for my satisfaction. I thought you were too worn out, hm?”

He opens his mouth, and then closes it again, put sternly in his place. “Apologies,” he mumbles into their shoulder, a sour taste in his mouth at the way the hologram looks triumphant. As if he couldn’t banish it from existence with a flick of his wrist.

Still, he lets it remain, because a very obvious part of him is enjoying this- power play. He shivers. He didn’t think his love could be so cruel. He quite likes it.

Duck twists their hand, squeezing tighter, and the hologram comes with an airy, crackling sob. Its ejaculate is translucent and slightly opalescent streaked across its exposed skin, dripping down over the dwarfs knuckles. “Pretty,” they say, and Gale recognizes that lilt in their voice. This hologram might think it’s won, but he knows his wife’s insatiable appetite personally.

The hologram has no time to recover from the orgasmic haze before Duck is touching it again, grinding the center of their palm over the oversensitive head of its cock. It jolts and squirms and they move to sit on its legs, pushing it flat on the bed.

Gale voices his complaints nonverbally, clinging to them until he can't any longer. He grabs his thighs now, still pitifully hard. “Duck,” he calls out, needy, “may I? Please?”

Duck looks over their shoulder, eyeing his tented underwear. For a moment, he seems to twitch under the scrutiny. “…No.” They say, and turn back, refocused on torturing the poor illusion.

The wizard exhales heavily, disappointed and discarded. His erection doesn't flag regardless of that. He pulls at his briefs, eyes rolling at the much needed friction of fabric. He shouldn’t, he couldn’t, he thinks, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Duck hasn’t noticed him, focused on painfully drawing out another orgasm from the starry copy. “Hush,” they tell it, pressing their fingers into its mouth, the cool tongue curling around the digits as it sucked obediently. “You act like you hadn’t expected this.”

The copy looks at them with big, wet eyes, soft despite the way light pours from the sockets. Little crystalline tears gather at its waterlines, but evaporate before they can slide off its face. Duck shivers at the way it copies Gale’s mannerisms with ease, though they aren’t surprised. He was never one to neglect the finer details.

Gale holds his breath as he chances another touch for himself, willing himself to go unheard and unsuspected. If he could just relieve a little of the ache, he could last through their sadistic display of fascination without his body betraying him, as it has so many times before with them, it seems.

Duck releases the clone from their grasp, it gasping shakily around their fingers in relief. It is short lived however, as they descend, a simple thought guiding their actions. ’I wonder how you taste.’

Gale moans in place of the clone as the realization dawns on him, even where he’s been told to stay, only a view from behind. It’s not a bad view however, he thinks, eyes rolling as he palms himself rougher through his underwear.

He can see the copy’s legs shake, hear it cry and plead, guttural. He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help but feel a little inkling of jealousy sitting sour in his chest, festering like the orb had once before. He knew Duck would use it as intended, but now cast to the side, as arousing as it was, he finds himself needing more, craving their attention.

Gale leans forward and grabs their hips, driven on lust as he lowers his head and licks them through the cloth of their underwear.

Duck jerks in surprise, the hologram’s dick slipping from their mouth, much to its combined relief and frustration. “Hey!” They shout, though it’s more of a bark of surprise as they whip their head around to catch glimpse of their husbands head from behind their ass. They move away, and kneel up, turning their focus completely on him.

In the lapse of focus, the hologram dissipates in a puff of fine, sparkling mist, its duty fulfilled. Gale however, still needed to answer to his misdeed.

“What do you think you’re doing?” They raise their hand grab a fistful of his hair. He bends with it, lowering where they guide him, hissing softly.

“I was only wanting to worship you, my goddess.” The wizard says, and the sorcerer feels a flare of excitement and wild magic surge from within. Duck tamps it down—an unruly creature their magic be, settled between their ribs and below the lungs, waiting for the right emotion to seize control of.

“You know to ask before you take. I thought I taught you better.” They tut, keeping him tightly wound in their grip, his mouth an aching distance from theirs. He watches intensely, lips parted in anticipation.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, his throat bobbing as he swallows. “I won’t disappoint you again- but I needed you. Just a sliver of your affection, that’s all I’ll need, I won’t be bad again.”

“Is that so?” Duck coos, releasing his hair to cradle his face instead, squishing his cheeks and puckering his lips. “Don’t tell me you were jealous of your own copy.” They laugh and Gale burns red hot. “But don’t you worry your pretty little noggin about it. I’ll refresh your memory about how loved you are…” Duck leans in closer, lips brushing against his. He shudders, closing his eyes leaning into them.

Suddenly, they pull away, letting go of his face and stroking down his chest. “After you’re punished for earlier.”

Gale's eyes snap open again, just in time to be pushed flat on his back, his dearest looming above him despite their stature. He laughs, a clipped chuckle that’s as breathy as it is desperate. He won’t be picky tonight, even if it yields him sore by daybreak.

[kalevalakryze]

Shatter Meet Point

@jedijune Week 1; Prompt 1 Fun/Joy

Relationships: Mace Windu & Original Female Character, Mace Windu & Original Clone Trooper Characters

Characters: Mace Windu, Chessaf're'krudo (Original Female Character), CT-00-2010; Droidbait, Original Clone Trooper Characters, Anakin Skywalker (Mentioned)

Tags: No Major Warnings, Droidbait Lives,

Word Count: 717

AO3 Link: Here!

"Master Windu!" Chess called out, violet hair impossibly to miss in the seas of white-helmeted clones. Even with all the activity around her, the young knight's voice seemed to echo through the hangar as she deftly wove between the different platoons of marching troopers.

A gap between Mace's own 187th and Skywalker's 501st opened up, allowing the Keshiri to dart between them before being trampled, sidling up to her old Master's side with a bantha-shit eating grin on her face.

"Knight Krudo." He greeted civilly, carefully eying the fresh purple and red paint streaked across the battle-worn plastoid, barely hidden by equally worn robes. His brow rose inquisitively as he focused back ahead. Large gatherings of the troopers outside of Coruscant or Kamino were rare where so many different battalions were concerned. "Have you decided which of your troopers you'll be sending to our combined vanguard?"

He didn't need eyes to know that her grin was widening to a concerning stretch, able to catch the way the dark scar across her face wrinkled as her face contorted into something worrying. "Of course, Master. My men are ready... Would you like to meet them?"

Mace hesitated- Chess only knew some of the story, and could barely seem to grasp his... distance, from the troopers who'd fought and died at his command. She'd only been conscious for part of the first disaster on Geonosis. There was a reason his battalion never removed their helmets in his presence, and it all came back to that face. And unfortunately for him, his young knight could never seem to let. it. go.

A gloved hand reached to encircle his wrist. Mace barely uttered a grunt of protest before she was pulling him away towards the fleet of crudely painted LAATs.

"Generals on deck!" A voice shouted, commanding the attention of his brothers. The 141st snapped to attention, no helmet that faced them was alike, all with varying shades of reds and purples, capturing the visage of the Jedi they served.

"At ease," Chess called, waving the hand not keeping Mace prisoner as she continued to drag her Master through the ranks of her battalion, weaving once more as they resumed what had been interrupted. Despite their ease, not a helmet was removed. Mace couldn't help the swell of warmth in his chest, knowing the knight had asked them to refrain while he was among them.

"Master Windu, these are the troopers I've selected for your vanguard." There was something dangerous in her tone- not in the danger that came with the dark side, no. Something variably worse. The danger in a youngling's voice before a Master would find themselves sitting on a cushion full of goop.

"My finest ARCs-" The two specialists stood in a modified form of parade rest, hands clasped behind their backs, chins held high with the hangar lights glinting off their visors. The trooper on the left had paint crossed throughout his armor, giving the visage of a shattering transparisteel viewport . The soldier to the right was decorated in minutely detailed star maps and arrows, etched with the same care one would take if they were bleeding the ink into skin, not plastoid. "This is Shatter, and Point."

Mace blinked... then again. Chess poorly stifled the laughter that threatened to roar through her throat. Somewhere behind Mace, Skywalker's steps paused, openly guffawing at the interaction.

"Knight Krudo." Mace monotoned, staring at the troopers before him. "I find your so-called humor... lacking." He spun on his heel, causing Skywalker to run for the hills, hiding in the throngs of his own battalion. "Droidbait!" He called, zeroing in on one of the blue-painted troopers. "Welcome to the vanguard."

Chess paused, her grin slowly twisting into a scowl. Anakin's head poked through his platoon. "Uh... Master Windu? I was just going to give you Echo and Fives..."

"No need, Skywalker. Droidbait... and Cutup will do just fine with General Krudo's troops for this operation."

"Master?" His padawan's weight pressed into his side.

Watching her from his peripherals, brow raising as mirth threatened to pull at his face. "Master, you are not dodging the funny Mace Windu accusations after this one. Not for as long as I'm alive." The Keshiri's laughter rang through the hangar- Now, it was Mace's turn to scowl.

[lultimagoccia]

@thetravelershub is calling, pick up phone!

Shield! / From Papeeno! Sacch, you may not be the same Peppino that Papeeno's been freeloading off of for several months, but you've met Omino once, so you're a buddy of his too, as far as he's concerned! Just accept the frog's help, Sacch, we'll all question how much sense this interaction makes, later -

Send “ Shield ” for my muse’s reaction to yours placing themselves between my muse and danger.

Sacchetti had encountered a number of powerful clone beings over the last year or so, one which had become a trusted and faithful companion, and one which had beaten and broken his body. There would always be a little fear of them, a little wariness as he regarded his own twisted visage peering back at him. Which parts of himself did they draw from? His persistence, his rage, his sorrow? What did it mean that they were him? And would he like which parts of himself he saw reflected back?

" ... thank you, " he stammered out, a hand laid upon the other's head in a token of appreciation. Of trust.

Every being had the right to prove themselves. Part of his own healing process over the years had been learning that all beings could not be so easily understood as good or evil by birth. The choices one made with the gift of life they'd be given, that was what he gave weight to.

The moment was brief, and may not even be fully remembered after all this madness. But in the least, it was nice to get some confirmation that his belief in the power of one's actions still held weight. That even creatures borne from the most wicked intentions were still capable of doing and being good.

[chloe-caulfield94]

Max and Chloe in a Galaxy Far, Far Away

Max was kneeling in a bomb crater on a mud-covered battlefield. Her hands were metal claws. At the bottom of the crater was a puddle of dirty water, reflecting her visage. She was a machine, with a cuboid torso and long, thin limbs. Her face was an elongated beak with two beady eyes. Her body was covered in beige paint, chipped and scratched in a thousand places by shrapnel and exposure to the elements on countless battlefields across the stars. But on her face ran a strip of fresh, brown paint. She was not alone in the foxhole. Another machine just like her, but with a blue strip of paint covering its face, was lying next to her. The other machine spoke in a most peculiar voice. It was on one hand monotonous, but on the other conveyed a lot of emotions. Somehow it combined sarcastic resignation and naïve hopefulness. “Corporal M4X! Central command has given the order to regroup! You must head to the rendezvous point! But I can’t go with you. My functionality is sub-optimal at the moment”.

M4X looked down and saw the other machine was missing one of its legs. She responded in the exact same voice: “No. No! I won’t leave you, private CHL03! I’m staying! I’ll take care of you!”

“But corporal … Central command has given the order. You have to go. That’s just our programming. We obey. There’s no choice”.

M4X touched the blue strip of paint on the other machine’s face with her claws. Someone heartless might say it was just metal touching metal, but there was tenderness in that gesture. “These colours. You painted me and I painted you. Remember how angry lieutenant D4V1D was with us for doing it? He said we broke army regulations. And on top of that we used a paint designed for starship hulls, so nothing could dissolve it. He assigned us to unload transports of artillery shells for a standard month. Carrying those shells, each bigger than the both of us, we would constantly laugh at how mad he had been. But these colours, that wasn’t just two bored soldiers goofing around. They mean something. They are proof that we both outgrew our programming. We were made to destroy. But instead, I choose to care. To care about you. We were made to hate. But instead I choose to love. To love you, CHL03. I no longer hear the voice of central command in my processor. I only hear a voice telling me that my purpose is to protect you and to be with you. And whatever happens to you, I will share that fate with you”.

“Corporal … I mean M4X! I feel that way about you, too. But I didn’t dare to imagine you loved me back. Now I know. And even though I’m lying in a bomb crater with my leg blown off and I can hear the clones approaching, it’s the first time in my short and dark life that I feel joy. Thank you for that gift, M4X. But there’s nothing we can do. It’s too late for us”.

“There’s something we can do, CHL03. We’re deserting, right now. We owe nothing to our makers. This is not our war. It’s high time we strike out on our own”.

“There are enemies all around us. And once our superiors find out we disobeyed orders, they’ll want us killed, too”.

“There’s a landing strip one klick to the south. We go there, we take a transport ship and we leave all this behind”.

“M4X … My leg …”

“It doesn’t matter. Just lean on me. We go together. We both survive or we both die. We share in each other’s fates. I in yours and you in mine”. CHL03 put her left arm around M4X’s shoulder and in her right hand she gripped her rifle. M4X held her sister-in-arms with her right arm and gripped her rifle in her left hand.

“Ready, CHL03?”

“I rolled off the assembly line ready, M4X!”

They left the foxhole, one machine with three legs, shooting two rifles. The weapons were short, boxy and black, spewing lightning bolts instead of bullets. Their enemies were soldiers clad from head to toe in plates of white armour, with helmets resembling sneering skulls. M4X and CHL03 limped forward, blasting their enemies, who fell to the ground, streams of smoke slowly leaving the burnt-out holes in their armour. M4X’s and CHL03’s robotic reflexes carried them through the fires of battle to the landing strip, where the means of their salvation awaited.

Around them thousands of soldiers, machines and humans, killed and died. They carried flags and shouted the names of countries that cared less than nothing about them. Essentially any war ever fought, no matter the galaxy.

M4X and CHL03 blasted off into space in a captured transport ship. They left behind the battered planet, covered in raging fires so immense, that they were clearly visible from orbit. Swarms of enormous warships hung heavily over the dying world like lead clouds, exchanging broadsides of laser fire from close distance, the lust to kill enemies depriving their crews of any sense of self-preservation.

The two deserters zoomed past the senseless carnage.

They chose a secluded planet with no charted settlements as their destination. They had enough power cells and spare parts on board to last them decades.

During the hyperspace jump, they sat in the cockpit, admiring the blurred stars outside. CHL03, with a brand new, shiny leg already attached, asked: “M4X, who do you think is going to win? The Confederacy or the Republic?”

“I don’t care. It matters that we both have already won. For grunts like us, the only way to win a war is to walk away from it”.

Their metal claws found each other and gripped.

[skaruresonic]

"And that's not even getting into the logistics of how Infinite managed to learn about Maria in the first place."

I remember exactly two times when people attempted to explain how a scenario like this would occur: one is basically playing off the already vague powers of the Phantom Ruby to make it like "the Ruby's powers pick what illusion to create for the victim based on the victim's memories/fears/etc.". That one has a wee bit of plausibility since again, we don't really learn how the Phantom Ruby works exactly beyond "it makes illusions that are also kinda real". The other attempt was just saying "Eggman told him". Which only makes me wonder why would Eggman of all people bring her of all people up to Infinite of all people.

I... have my doubts about that, because the game doesn't sufficiently establish that the illusion goes as deep as brainwashing. Infinite instead appears to take whatever's in the victim's immediate vicinity and exaggerates it (ie. enormous missiles, stretching his own visage into those grotesque tree things).

It doesn't seem plausible for him to fuck with deeper memories than those of the past five minutes. And in Shadow's case, Finny was injecting his own memories of humiliation into Virtual Space, not Shadow's, so. Idk. The brain isn't a passive receptacle for stimuli; it operates in tandem and conjunction with stimuli.

We have thoughts, feelings, memories, and experiences to counter these manipulations. It's one thing to present someone with an illusion; you'd basically have to rewrite someone's sense of self in order to make them believe that it's real. And... I just don't see how Infinite can succeed where Black Doom and Gerald failed. I feel like what they were going for with the Ruby was something loosely in the vein of The Matrix. While redpills know on an intellectual level that the Matrix isn't real, that doesn't prevent most of them from dying whenever an Agent shoots them because the body still registers the stimuli as real.

This phenomenon would help explain how the Resistance knows the enemy clones aren't real but still face very palpable danger from the sun drop.

Glia, connective tissues of the nervous system, are responsible for delivering sensory information from our bodies to our brains:

Glia exist throughout the brain, spinal cord, and other parts of the nervous system, whereas the parts responsible for memory are the hippocampus and the prefrontal cortex.

There's not much to suggest that Infinite fucks around with the latter parts of the brain very much beyond taking whatever's in the immediate vicinity and exaggerating it. The glia are probably most affected, since they're connected to the parietal lobe, the part of the brain that processes sensory information... which is canonically mentioned in Forces.

In Episode Shadow, Omega diagnoses himself with "damage to parietal lobe region" and claims his sensors are offline:

---

The other attempt was just saying "Eggman told him". Which only makes me wonder why would Eggman of all people bring her of all people up to Infinite of all people.

[renma-2]

Log #1

~​˖⁺. ༶꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦~​˖⁺. ༶

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[…] - Segment “Eta”, otherwise known as The Heart. He was rumored to be Il Dottore’s first ever prosthesis, created shortly after acquiring Balladeer as part of the Fatui. Aged around 30 in bodily years, he is by far the most devoted and steadfast subject amongst the menagerie. His sole duty is to assist Prime in his endeavors, hardly ever allowed to leave his side for reasons that are unknown even to us, his fellow Segments. […]

[...] - You’d be wise not to cross Renard’s path. Although he is known for his mellow and friendly nature, he is Prime’s eyes and ears. Whatever you say to him, know that sooner or later, Prime will know of it too, whether Renard wants it or not. So choose your words wisely, Traveler. δ

Renard is a Segment that was created shortly after Scaramouche joined the Fatui, and Dottore obtained knowledge on how to create beings similar to him. After obtaining all the necessary resources, and after a set period, his very first clone was brought into Teyvat. A snapshot of his current self at that time, a mirror image so identical and yet so different, his blank eyes and unamused visage staring back at him as he sat on the operating table.

“He” was a breakthrough. The confirmation and first phase of his plan.

A creation that was frail, wobbling like a newborn fawn before the man’s very eyes; and yet, he was a divine being, in a way. Molded in the shape of an Archon’s puppet, bestowed with the mind of a genius. Bearing no name of his own and no sense of self, the clone both fascinated, and evoked a sense of benevolence in the Doctor. After all, this one would be the baseline of all the other segments that would come around in the future. “He” could be considered important, as every new discovery of his, and every step would be a rush of new data, new possibilities to improve every other clone that would be created after him.

“He” was destined for more, though.

And it so happens that the Doctor had already written his fate.

What is Renard?

[…] – I am the fruit of your labor, carrier of the brunt of your sins. Should you wish to end my life, I will drag you into the grave with me. η

The void in his chest was easy to get used to. The Doctor was always known as a heartless monster dressed in the robes of a charming man, all this talk about his cruel ways and inhumane methods could finally be justified. He was no longer ‘human’. A human must have a heart to be considered a living and breathing unit. And his, has found a new body to inhabit.

A commodity, at first. To transplant his heart into the body of a pliant vessel, that would abide by his every whim. One like “him”. Given a heart, the segment awoke anew, drawing in a sharp breath for the first time.

This time, though, he’d gaze at his creator with wonder, sensing the thin thread that connected them. Although the organ was no longer in the Doctor’s body, its behaviors resonated within him through “him”.

‘What shall be your name, my creation?’ The Doctor’s lips curl into a wry smirk, observing the faint, azure glow from under the wound dressings on the clone’s chest. He feels its every beat, the apprehension that lingered in the segments head. It’s exhilarating, like a bird fluttering in a cage, reverberating like an echo in his own, empty chest cavity.

Finally, he speaks, his voice an unfamiliar timbre, soft like a wisp of wind in a quiet chamber.

‘Renard.’ He says, and the Doctor nods, reaching to grab his chin between his thumb and pointer finger. There’s excitement lingering in his eyes, a keenness to see what else ‘Renard’ can bring to the table.

[…] – Two bodies, one heart. The Canopic segment not only houses the physical organ of the heart, but also its burdens and past experiences. Some even claim the heart to be the seat of one’s soul. Perhaps it is why this difficult task, of tending to the heart, was given to Eta. The number eight is a constant flow of power and energy; in other words, the number 8 represents everything that makes up the universe which is infinite: love, time, and energy. Additionally, the number eight is a connecting number representing the link between the earthly and the divine worlds. A body carved from the branch of a white tree, seemingly transcendent, yet still fleshly in a way. Burdened with an inconsolable human heart, meant to forever nurture it to preserve its owner.

~​˖⁺. ༶꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦~​˖⁺. ༶

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END OF LOG [...]

[hedgehoghavoc]

Is now a bad time to post about one of my favorite headcanon Sonic-Eggman dynamics? Source

[wizard-spider-man]

The Oculi Anathema - Shadow in the Mirror

In the city of Asfelaeia, the Wizard Spider-Man, a self-proclaimed guardian of the mystical metropolis, embarked upon his nightly vigil, the patrol of the city.

Without warning, his spider-senses were overwhelmed by a searing pain; A bolt of crimson lightning, from the dark corners of the unknown struck him mid-swing, sending him plummeting from the starlit sky into the alleyways below.

He awoke in a void of absolute darkness, disoriented and wracked with pain. A sinister energy pulsed within him, bypassing his arcane safeguards and infiltrating his very being.

It was emerging, a malevolent force given form, and he knew he had to act quickly.

With a swift incantation, words of power flow casting starlight, he uttered a protective spell around himself and transported himself into an alternate dimension.

It was a simple parking lot, mirrored from a mortal realm, but within the confines of the Sanctum Sanctorum.

Here, he knew, whatever horror was about to unfold would be contained.

He examined himself, searching his form for any physical manifestation of the corruption that now coursed through his veins.

"What is this? ...something's off. I feel... wrong," he muttered, a sense of dread washing over him like a tide of shadow.

The dark energy within him began to manifest, forming a figure before his eyes. Red and black swirls of malevolent mana radiated from his body, coalescing into a form that was eerily familiar, a twisted reflection of his own visage.

He stepped back, arcane sparks dancing on his fingertips as he pointed them towards the nightmarish apparition. "What are you? Why are you here?" he demanded, his voice echoing in the empty lot, a graveyard of empty cars.

The familiar red and blues were present, but they were accompanied by ominous black robes that seemed to drink in the light around them. The sight disturbed the Wizard Spider-Man, making him grimace.

"No..." he muttered.

"Yes," the figure replied, its voice a chilling echo of his own, devoid of warmth or humanity.

"What are you?"

"A dark spell has stricken the chosen in this realm. Without rhyme or reason, they must face their mirrored opposites. So. Here we stand," the opposite replied, his voice as cold as the void between stars.

"A little late, I might add."

"Opposites, you say? Is that what you are? My shadow given form?" Spidey says, his scowl worsening.

"We've done the clone dance, let's not do it again."

"Indeed," the figure replied, casting a bolt of lightning, as red as blood and as dark as the blackest night.

"This is more than a mere Clone Crisis."

Spidey saw the attack the moment it was unleashed, his spider-sense barely warning him of the strike. He leapt back with grace, avoiding the crimson blast as it scorched the air. He landed on his feet, his eyes never leaving the shadow. He had witnessed himself perform this similar casting countless times, yet the sight of it now made his blood boil with righteous fury.

It was corrupted, a mockery of his own power.

"So we're just gonna fight then? Simply because some spell demands it?" he asked.

"We would come to blows at some point, why not now? Should I go kill off some innocents to give you a better reason?" the Shadow quips, his voice filled with malice that dripped like venom.

"No. I'm gonna send you back to whatever hell you came from." he retorted, clenching his fists as arcane energy crackled around them.

Green mana, vibrant and potent surrounds him, empowering his form with celestial might. He held out his hand, sending a pulse of magical energy towards the shadow. The figure absorbed it, laughing at him with bullying intent.

"You would really hold back. Against me?" the Dark Wizard taunted him, his voice a twisted mirror of Spidey's own. It lacked empathy and compassion.

"You're me," the Wizard Spider-Man spoke through gritted teeth, his words laced with determination. "I know the extent of your strength. I know your tricks."

But his spider-sense, that mystical warning that had saved him countless times, was suddenly blind to this dark reflection. The Dark Wizard appeared behind Spidey with the speed of thought, kidney punching him with a magically enhanced force that could shatter mountains.

THOOM!

"Die!" the figure shouted, his voice echoing with otherworldly power.

The impact of the strike against his back sends him crashing into the unyielding earth. After the initial shock, and successive rolls, he stands back up with some spring in his step still.

"Die? My opposite says boring things like 'die'?" he quips, taking a stance.

"What's next, resistance is futile? Your soul is mine?"

Raising his hand, he casts a glowing web of pure magical energy at the shadow, hoping to ensnare his legs in its arcane threads. The Dark Wizard leapt over the web trap with typical inhuman agility, firing his own volley of webbing. It grabs Spider-Man by the ankles, and the Dark Wizard tosses him into a grouping of cars with the force of a missile strike.

Crashing into the heap of steel and glass, he groans in pain, feeling as if he had been struck by the entirety of the cars in this magical lot.

He grunted in frustration, forgetting to account that this was still another Spider-Man.

He leapt from the pile of marred metal, lunging at the shadow with the speed of fury, attempting to pin him to the ground in a futile flurry of punches that shattered the ground beneath them.

The Dark Wizard kicked Spider-Man off of his person with force, and stood back up, hardly phased by the onslaught. He cracks his joints in a display of arrogant confidence.

"You really want to do this the old fashioned way? What's wrong, Mage? Is your arcane might not strong enough?"

Spidey sighs, rising once more into a fighting stance, his body channeling mystical energy.

In a flash of arcane brilliance, he fires a pair of crystalline projectiles at the shadow, aiming for his wrists with unerring accuracy. Consequentially, the figure burned them without a second's notice, the mystical diamonds turning to ash in an instant.

"Ha! Again with the silly tricks," he sneered, dark energy crackling around his form like a storm of shadows.

The Dark Wizard Spider-Man melted into the floor, becoming one with Spider-Man's shadow.

"What the hell- Where did you go?" he asked, looking around frantically.

A choking feeling descended upon him, as if the very air had turned to poison. He grabbed at his throat feeling his lungs turn against him, betraying their purpose. He tried to breathe, but even the slightest gulp of air was like drinking liquid fire.

He looked down at the ground, his vision swimming. Within his shadow, he saw the dark figure, his doppelganger, with one hand raised in a gesture of dark power. Like some nefarious Sith Lord.

"I... should have... seen this...coming..." he gasped, the life-giving oxygen becoming more and more restricted with each passing moment.

"Stupid... evil... sorcerer..." he gasped, his words barely audible.

"Your soul is mine." the Dark Wizard continues to mock Spider-Man, his voice dripping with malevolent glee.

He dropped to one knee, desperately trying to keep the last of his precious air inside his burning lungs. Spidey felt helpless, unable to fight back against this unseen assault.

Frantically, he casts mage light, a spell of pure radiance that drowns out his shadow in a sea of brilliance. The dark form reforms next to him, and kicks him in the chest.

"Choke on that, buttercup!"

The kick sent Spider-Man flying backwards through the air like a ragdoll caught in a hurricane. He landed with a hard thud on the unforgiving ground, the impact reverberating through his bones and inside his head.

Coughing and wheezing, the fight to breathe was forcing desperation into the Wizard's mind, each moment a battle against passing out.

Attempting to gain footing, each breath coming in short, shallow gasps, he was starting to feel dizzy, the world spinning around him like a maelstrom.

The Dark Wizard stepped into his field of vision, crouching to meet his level, a twisted smile playing on his lips.

"Looks like you're fading, old friend."

Determined to defy the encroaching darkness, the Wizard forces in a painful gust of air, using mana to send life-giving oxygen surging into his bloodstream like a river of pure vitality.

His strength returned, even if just for a fleeting moment. He smashed a fist into the ground, cracking the pavement and sending tremors through the earth. He glares at his shadow in front of him, his eyes burning with defiance.

"I'm still here. This battle is far from over..." he said, his voice confirming newfound focus and determination.

"Then rise, and face your death like a man."

The Wizard Spider-Man pushed himself to his feet, unsteady but regaining his composure, arcane energy crackling around him like a thunderstorm of power.

"Your strength is impressive, I'll grant you that. But you're just my shadow. A pale imitation," he said, circling the figure, analyzing his moves with scrutiny.

The Dark Wizard chuckled, a sound that could freeze the blood in one's veins, taking a step forward. "A mere copy? You underestimate the depths of your situation. I am you, but so much better."

"Your lack of ambition is your downfall. Always holding back... always fretting over the 'greater good'. It's pitiful, really. You simply drown your guilt with the problems of lesser people."

The Wizard Spider-Man scowls, hearing his voice twisted with malice, mocking everything he stood for.

"My guilt is what I draw strength from to aid others. It is what sets me apart from your darkness," he retorted, jumping backwards with a flip. He casts fireballs from his wrist, each a miniature sun, attacking the shadow with the fury of a thousand infernos.

The Dark Wizard dodges the fire with an amused smirk, the flames barely singeing his dark robes.

"Your guilt is a shackle that binds you. It's what prevents you from gaining real, true power. You cower in fear. Afraid of seizing control. Afraid of the chaos that you know lies dormant within you. I am unburdened by such weakness. I embrace the darkness, I even revel in it."

Lightning cackles around him, surging with dark energy that could rend the very fabric of reality. Several Dark Forms, each a manifestation of pure shadow, surround Spider-Man, and shock him with their red form lightning.

The blast overwhelms Spidey, and he is brought back to his knees once again, feeling as if the weight of the cosmos itself was pressing down upon him. He casts a ward, a shield of pure magical energy, only for it to shatter like glass against the onslaught. He casts another one, stronger, infused with his indomitable will, and it too breaks as if it were nothing more than a child's toy.

Quick on his feet, channeling the very essence of his mystical might, he phases through into the ground, becoming one with the earth itself.

This was a mirror dimension of his design, a realm shaped by his will. He had to change the rules.

The desert becomes an ocean, vast and fathomless, and the Dark Wizard Spider-Man simply stands atop the water as if it were solid ground, a dark god surveying his domain. Rain starts to fall, first a light current, then, a mighty cascade that could drown worlds. Thunder and lightning illuminate the clouds, and the sky turns black as the void.

The Dark Wizard grows impatient, his inner rage a palpable force, and raises his hands towards the clouds. With a gesture of cosmic might, he parts them, turning the clouds into balls of water, dropping them into the ocean.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5 lightning strikes, each carrying the power of a thousand storms, blast the shadow, sending him plummeting into the water. The water itself turns to steel, encasing him in a suffocating coffin of solid metal, a prison forged from the very elements themselves.

Relentlessly, the Wizard Spider-Man gives in to his dark side, and crushes the ocean itself, the very laws of nature bending for his anger.

He generally had rules against the taking of lives, but this shadow could not be allowed to escape, to threaten the world with its malevolence.

The gigantic crumpled mass sits upon a surface of molten rock and magma, slowly turning against the unstable flow of the ground beneath.

Spider-Man compresses the air between his hands, crushing the mass into a denser, smaller, denser, smaller ball.

"You told me to die, Let's see how you handle this."

This was out of character, relishing in darkness he rarely allowed to surface. He would rein it in, only too late, seeing blood ooze from the pores of the ball.

His guilt would be wasted, however, as the shadow would regain form, rising from the blood pool like a dark phoenix.

"You really are a fool. Trap me in an alternate dimension? I *am* an alternate dimension."

"That doesn't even make-"

The Wizard Spider-Man is flung like a ragdoll, drawn immediately in vicinity of the reflection. His chest is pierced through, with the Dark Wizard holding his still-beating heart in a grip of iron.

Without a second to spare, a last word to whimper, the shadow crushes his heart with malevolent glee.

"Your soul, will be mine." He says, withdrawing his blood-covered arm, a triumphant sneer on his face.

Spider-Man collapses, and the alternate dimension begins to crumble around them. The Dark Wizard allows it to, as he teleports out the palantir, stepping into the realm of mortals once more.

He steps out onto the fresh air of Asfelaeia, taking in the sounds of a town busy beneath him, unaware of the cosmic drama that has unfolded. Satisfied with his victory, he breathes in the stench of society, and draws a sinister smile under his mask. So many plans, so much more time.

SNAP

The Shadow falls to the ground, his triumph cut short in an instant.

The Wizard Spider-Man, alive and well, had taken the ultimate risk; letting him out. He knew himself well enough, and knew that if he had abandoned all sense of responsibility, the only alternative would be to relish in his ego.

He knew that the spider-sense did not work around the Dark Wizard, so logically it had to work both ways. He also knew that the Dark Wizard was Mortal like Him, and would be susceptible to death.

However, like he, it wouldn't take long to overcome it.

Muttering an incantation of ancient power, words that could reshape reality itself, the Wizard Spider-Man burns the body of his double, flames of purification consuming the dark form. With a gesture of cosmic might, he chains the malevolent soul to a runestone, binding it to the gem with permanence and scrutiny.

Holding the runestone in his hands, its surface pulsing with barely contained darkness, he ponders the consequences of losing this battle. There were many safeguards, many fallbacks, woven into the very fabric of his own soul to ensure something like this didn't happen. Yet here he stood, holding the essence of his own darkness made manifest.

Spider-Man opens a portal, the howling destructive forces of the End of All Things beckoning from beyond, a void of absolute nothingness that could unmake creation itself.

He throws the runestone into it, damning the shadow to an existence with its peers in a realm beyond mortal comprehension.

He closes the portal with a gesture, sealing away the darkness, and opens another one, this time to the Sanctum Sanctorum. It was time to heal, to reflect, and to think upon the nature of light and shadow, of power and purpose.

Have no doubts, true believers, the Wizard Spider-Man inherited the mantle of Sorcerer Supreme for a reason: he is a being of incredible power and boundless potential, a guardian standing at the crossroads of reality and myth.

And with Great Power... Comes Great Responsibility.

[im-no-jedi]

MLWTBB: First Time For Everything

aka the (continued) journey into my self insert nonsense✨

chapter summary: a mission from Cid comes with a very surprising caveat in the form of a familiar escort. the Bad Batch also discovers a hidden talent within Hannah that will hopefully help with the mission.

notes: this is a continuation of my story, “My Life With The Bad Batch”; I highly recommend reading that first before this one! I created a few new planets for this story. I’m also not 100% versed in SW terminology, so forgive me if some things are labeled incorrectly! each chapter will be rated accordingly, as opposed to the overall fic. lastly, there is romance in this story. hope you enjoy! 💙

add. notes: this chapter was edited and proofread by my sis @jam-n-ham! thanks sis!! 😋💙 and for those who would like a visual of the dress mentioned near the end, here’s the virtual doll I made as inspiration for it✨

Chapter 2, 2500+ words, rated G (just more awkwardness and pining, you know how it is 😆)

previous chapters: Prologue - Chapter 1

next chapter

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A few minutes passed in silence, with each of the Bad Batch members going about their own business, save for Omega, who was still sticking close to Hunter. Then from around the corner, out of the hallway, came the very recognizable visage of Cid, who promptly rounded up everybody in the room for an announcement.

“What kinda job do ya got for us this time, Cid?” Wrecker asked before Cid could say anything else. “Somethin’ exciting, I hope!”

“Oh, it’ll be exciting alright,” Cid responded. “Mostly because it involves all of you bein’ on your best behavior.”

Everyone looked at each other in confusion. “What does that mean?” Hunter asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“It means that you all got your work cut out for you this time. I’m currently in the process of tryin’ to acquire some... business from a high-profile dignitary. We’ve been in contact for some time now, but haven’t gotten anywhere due to her interests lyin’ more in throwing parties than doing business.” Cid shook her head in disgust. “So, I’ve arranged a meeting to talk in person; these things tend to go better when you talk one on one with someone right to their face. You boys are gonna go along and make sure this meeting happens without any problems, got it?”

“Where is the meeting happening?” Tech inquired.

“Hosnian Prime.”

“That would explain the ‘high-profile’ then,” Echo noted. 

“What’s on Hosnian Prime?” Omega asked, cocking her head in curiosity.

Tech stepped forward, already prepared with information to share, as he always did. “Hosnian Prime is an ecumenopolis planet that houses several factories and businesses, such as--”

“Yeah, yeah, save it for the trip there, Goggles,” Cid interrupted, waving her hand near Tech’s face to make sure he would stay quiet. Then she pulled a small data card out of her pocket and flicked it towards Hunter, who caught it with one hand. “That’s got all the info you need about my potential client. I suggest you study up. She won’t be easy to please, I can tell ya that.”

“Gotta say, I’m a bit surprised,” Hunter said as he put the data card away. “I didn’t figure you’d ever wanna try to do business outside of this place.”

“Yeah,” Wrecker added with a laugh. “I don’t think we’ve ever even seen you leave this place!”

“Oh, I’m not gonna be the one doin’ the negotiations,” Cid corrected them. “I’m sendin’ someone else on my behalf. Someone that I’m sure can get the job done right.”

The Clones all looked at each other in confusion. There was someone that Cid actually trusted that much? “Who?” Hunter asked curiously.

Suddenly, a very giddy Hannah came hopping in from the hallway. “Hey guys!” She threw her arms out and posed excitedly behind Cid. “Gueeeeeeess what?”

Hunter was struck with realization, and his eyes went wide.

“Red here will be doin’ all the talking,” Cid said, gesturing to the still posing woman behind her. “You boys are just the escorts. Keep her safe and stay outta trouble, got it?”

The reactions around the room were as varied as the Bad Batch themselves. Wrecker and Omega were visibly excited at the prospect of bringing Hannah along on one of their missions. Tech and Echo began asking questions, wanting to know as many details as possible. And Hunter remained frozen in place, still trying to process everything.

“This is so great!” Omega exclaimed happily. “We’re finally gonna all go on a mission together! Just like you wanted!”

“Yup!” Hannah could hardly contain her giggles. “It’s been a long time coming.”

“You think you’re gonna be up for something like this?” Echo asked her.

“I guess I have to be!” Hannah responded with a chuckle. “It’ll be fine. I’ll have you guys with me after all.”

“Yeah, you will!” Wrecker added, wrapping an arm around Hannah and giving her a squeeze, which sent her into another giggling fit.

Omega turned back to Hunter and said, “Isn’t this great, Hunter? We’re finally bringing Hannah on a mission with us!”

Hunter was still silent. Internally, he was having yet another battle with his emotions. On the one hand, yes, he was looking forward to having Hannah with them, especially since this wasn’t going to be a dangerous mission. But considering the events of the day, he was unsure of how having her around would affect him emotionally. Especially if something did happen during the mission. His mind was suddenly flooded with memories of Volruna, and it made him shiver a bit. He absolutely did not want something like that to happen again.

His thoughts were interrupted by Hannah herself suddenly appearing in front of him with a smug look on her face. “Looks like you and I are headed for another adventure together, Mister Vigilance. Uhh, with everyone else of course. Not just us this time. Unless we get separated again. Which hopefully we won’t. But it’ll be fine if we do! It’s not like it’s bad if it’s just the two of us or anything.” She ended with a nervous laugh that turned into a sigh, with an obvious blush spreading across her face.

A small smirk grew on Hunter’s face and he chuckled uncomfortably. How in the galaxy was he supposed to respond to that? Tell her the truth? No, this wasn’t the time. He had to shift into mission mode. Anything he wanted to say to her could wait until later. Just like every other time he’d wanted to say something to her.

He had to say something though.

“As long as there’s no confetti this time, right?”

What the kriff was that, he immediately thought to himself. He nearly facepalmed, he was so disappointed with himself.

Thankfully, Hannah’s sense of humor was still as quirky as ever, and she threw her head back with an eruption of hardy laughter. Hunter actually sighed with relief, unable to keep himself from smiling at her.

“Alright, enough of that,” Cid said with obvious disgust. “You gotta go get ready, Red.” Before letting Hannah leave, Cid placed a hand on Hannah’s arm. The look Cid gave her gave was serious but encouraging somehow. “Don’t let me down. Keep your wits about you, and don’t let these bozos distract you.” Then she gave Hannah a good pat on the chest. “And remember... keep the fire lit.”

Hannah smiled and nodded at Cid in response before Cid began shooing everyone out of the parlor. “Don’t have too much fun!” she called out as everyone left.

As they all made their way into the streets, Hannah could still hardly contain her excitement. “Oh man, I still can’t believe this is happening. It almost doesn’t feel real. I know I probably shouldn’t be this excited about it, but...” She squealed and rapidly shook her fists in excitement before taking a deep breath. “Alright, ok, I think I’m good now. Mostly. For now.”

“Well, I’m still gonna be excited!” Wrecker exclaimed with a laugh.

“Save some of that energy for helpin’ us get the ship prepped, Wrecker,” Echo said to him.

“Oh right!” Hannah suddenly exclaimed. “I gotta go get ready too.” She looked down at Omega and asked, “Think you can help me for a bit, Baby Girl?”

“Sure!” Omega happily replied.

“What exactly are you getting ready for?” Tech inquired curiously.

“Well, this is a pretty fancy place we’re going to, right?” Hannah answered. “So I gotta look my best. You know, get into the role and all that.”

“Ahh yes, I am familiar with the concept,” Tech responded with a nod.

“Does that mean we gotta change too?” Wrecker asked.

“No, Cid said you guys can stay in your armor,” Hannah replied. “You all are gonna be my bodyguards, after all.”

Wrecker groaned. “Just like at the Prism Palace...”

Hunter’s face scrunched up into a deep scowl. “Hopefully, it’ll be nothing like the Prism Palace.”

“Agreed,” Hannah added, her face also in a scowl.

After that, Hannah told the boys to go ahead and get the ship prepared; her and Omega would meet them there once she was ready. It took significantly less time for the boys to get the ship prepared though, and they ended up waiting around for quite some time without the slightest idea of when the girls were going to show up. Tech used that time to do as much research as he could about the client they were going to meet. Her name was Eldya Madri, and she apparently owned several businesses on Hosnian Prime. Like Cid had said before, she was mostly known for the lavish parties and other extravaganzas that she regularly hosted. She was also known to be quite judgmental and had been known to actually arrest people for offending her.

“Oh, well I’m sure we won’t be a problem then,” Echo sarcastically stated.

“As long as we let Hannah do all the talking, we’ll be fine,” Hunter responded. “That’s why she’s comin’ along in the first place.”

Wrecker chuckled and playfully punched Hunter in the arm. “Bet you’re pretty happy about that, huh?”

A deep exhale came out through Hunter’s nose, and he crossed his arms as he turned away from Wrecker.

“Oh hey!” Wrecker continued, clearly ignoring Hunter’s reaction. “Maybe you can, ya know...” He elbowed Hunter a few times. “Do the thing?”

With an eyebrow raised, Hunter slowly turned back to Wrecker and gave him an exasperated look.

“You know!” Wrecker elbowed him again and leaned in closer, like he was trying to keep his words a secret. “The thing ya couldn’t do earlier?”

Hunter pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Wrecker, this isn’t the time for--”

Suddenly, Omega came running into the docking bay. “We’re here!” She ran up to the others, barely able to contain her excitement. “Sorry we took so long. I was helping Hannah do her makeup. Eyeliner is really hard to apply!”

“Well, where is she?” Echo asked, looking around for Hannah.

With a grand gesture, Omega held her arms out behind her just as Hannah was stepping into the docking bay. Wrecker audibly gasped, while the others went wide-eyed. Hannah was almost unrecognizable in the ensemble she wore. The last time they’d seen her so dressed up was back at the Prism Palace on Volruna, but this wasn’t the same at all. She was wearing a black dress very similar to the one she’d worn at the Prism Palace; in fact, it looked exactly like the same dress, but altered. The sleeves had a sheer orange fabric draped off of them, and an orange belt was wrapped around her waist. A long skirt in the same shade of orange wrapped around her hips and legs, with the front split open by a sheer lacy orange fabric. Orange ribbons decorated her hips, held together by a single bow at the top of the skirt. Long black gloves covered her hands that went up to her elbows, and her neck was decorated with necklaces in shades of gold and a single emerald green pendant. An orange headband ran through her hair, adorned with a single yellow flower on the side. Her lips were painted bright red to match her hair, while her eyes shimmered with an icy blue hue. And most importantly, she looked much happier than she ever did at the Prism Palace.

“So, what do you think?” Hannah asked after coming up to the boys. She did a single twirl and giggled, waiting for their answers expectantly. “Fancy enough?”

All four of them seemed to be equally flabbergasted, and Omega could barely hold back her laughter. Wrecker tried to speak, but only nonsense sounds were coming out of his mouth. Echo chuckled and also tried to speak, but he couldn’t make any noise at all. Tech seemed to be stuck examining the different sections of Hannah’s outfit and didn’t even attempt to speak. And Hunter was completely frozen, his eyes still wide and his mouth agape.

“Don’t overwhelm me with details, guys,” Hannah joked with a snicker.

Echo was the first to finally say something. “Sorry, but who are you and what have you done with Hannah?”

Laughter erupted out of Hannah, even more so after Tech came up and started physically inspecting the different parts of her outfit. “Fascinating... is this your dress from the Prism Palace?”

“Yup,” Hannah proudly responded. “With some personal modifications.”

“You did this yourself?” Tech inquired, adjusting his goggles.

Hannah just proudly nodded in response.

Tech looked extremely impressed, a rare sight for Hannah. “I should be surprised, but I’m merely in continued awe of your skillset, Hannah.”

“Oh stop,” Hannah said playfully and covered her increasingly blushing cheeks with a giggle.

Like a curious child, Wrecker came up beside her, his eyes wide with wonder. “Gee Hannah, I almost didn’t recognize ya at first. I thought you were like, some sort of princess or somethin’ like that.”

Hannah had to cover her mouth to keep from screaming. “Wrecker, oh my gosh...”

“I told you, you looked like a princess,” Omega said, grinning up at her friend.

“I’ll agree with that too,” Echo added. “This fancy lady we’re visiting is gonna have some competition, I guarantee that.”

Clearly getting overwhelmed with the praise from her friends, Hannah began fanning her face and laughed. “You guys are gonna make me cry, come on...”

Echo then elbowed the still frozen Hunter beside him. “You agree, don’t ya, Hunter?”

The gesture barely knocked Hunter out of his stupor. It seemed like he hadn’t even blinked since Hannah first showed up. He had told himself earlier to not act weird when Hannah would show up, but he should’ve known that was a pointless endeavor. Once again, she had blown away all his expectations, and it was taking everything in him to try and keep it together. She was looking at him expectantly now, which didn’t help at all either. In his mind, he was thinking of dozens of different things he wanted to say to her, but nothing was reaching his mouth. He had to keep it simple, nothing fancy. Just tell her the truth, he tried telling himself.

Another elbow from Echo finally knocked the words out of him, almost violently. “Yes, I agree. Completely. You...” He gave her a quick look-over and sighed contentedly. “You look beautiful, Hannah.”

Too much truth, that was too much truth. Hunter felt his face immediately begin to grow scolding hot and loudly cleared his throat before walking into the Marauder without another word.

Everyone watched him leave and then looked at Hannah. Her face had grown so red, it was hard to tell where her hairline began. Echo made a satisfied face and mouthed “you’re welcome” to her before heading inside the ship as well. Omega and Wrecker looked at each other and shared a playful snicker as the little girl began leading her flustered friend into the ship. Tech was the last one left and sighed dejectedly.

“This is going to be a long trip,” he lamented before joining the rest of his family inside the Marauder.

[anakinisvaderisanakin]

But it wasn’t Tarkin that caught Rex’s eye; neither was it the red guards, nor the dozens of troopers - his brothers - lined up behind them in a perpetual salute. No, behind the raised podium hung a large decorative banner. It was beet red, the freshly minted Imperial symbol printed in black aiming to deliver one single message. Yet, in the shadow of the ceremonious event; both figuratively and literally, loomed a man with unmistakably familiar features. The banner was tall enough to block out the bright sun rays spilling from the clear blue skies overhead, obscuring the man.

Rex couldn’t help but focus entirely on that man, even from a distance there was something uncanny yet recognizable about him. At the same time, he seemed a total stranger - enough so, that Rex almost willed himself into believing he had been mistaken.

Until Tarkin called the man forward, that was.

“As a final announcement, the Emperor wishes to introduce to you the very exception to the rule. Amidst the Jedi riot and their attempted treason, one man would not be swayed. One man would prevail, and remain loyal to the Emperor above all. Jedi Master Mace Windu’s attempt on the Emperor’s life was foiled by this very man, and it is the Emperor’s wishes that we accept him wholeheartedly as a sovereign and a paragon of the Imperial government. I shall allow the man to speak for himself, however. I introduce to you; Lord Vader.”

Tarkin’s voice was commanding, speaking with authority that seemed nigh impossible not to admire and marvel at. He had been born for this, born to be a military leader and perhaps a politician as well. But Rex cared little for that, instead the colour drained from his face as the man he’d been struggling to place stepped out of the shadows.

Tall - taller than Rex remembered, even - as he towered over the small crowd. Clad in black robes that seemed a malign parody of the Jedi council’s robes, his armour reminiscent of the Clone Wars, but in black with burgundy accents drawing to mind the visage of fresh blood cut right from the veins.

His hair was short, shorter even than when Rex had first met the man. It was meticulously combed back, with one single golden curl springing over his forehead as if to rebel against the subjugation of assimilation. The man’s arms were folded nonchalantly over his broad chest, a billowing black cape dancing in the wind as it rushed up from the Coruscant streets many miles below. The man took his place in front of the microphone upon the podium, a microphone that appeared comically tiny. The crowd had fallen silent, but for the occasional gasp of recognition.

As soon as the man nodded his head in affirmation, his face was projected onto every holo screen. Plastered up and down the buildings, projected on every marketing poles. It was a face Rex had seen a million times, a face he had frequently sought in the heat of battle for guidance, a face he had woken up to in the medical bay after treatment from injuries on the battlefield. A man who had saved his life more times than he could count. But instead of the friendly, encouraging blue eyes Rex had come to know - a pair of sickly, yellow irises gleamed in their place. The man's face was ashen, pale and gaunt. A fresh scar adorning his left side cheekbone. Two months since Order 66, since Rex and Ahsoka alike had perceived him dead.

Yet, there he was. 

 But the man atop the podium, despite any superficial likeness to the young Jedi, was not Skywalker.

Making fan art for my own fic, link to Ao3 below:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32029582/chapters/79401946#workskin

[inkweaver22-blr]

Four for four baby! This is perhaps the last of my daily updates as I’ll be busy the next few days. Here’s another little filler chapter but it’s a good one as it’s the first one where we directly see references to other creators’ Monkie Kid works! There’s three references here, two subtle and one explicit. I’ll make sure to have links to each work in the notes at the end of the chapter. Hope you enjoy!

AO3 Link

<Previous | First | Next>

Scattered Cicadas - Chapter Four: Childish Behavior

Tang often feels like the only adult surrounded by children. Literally sometimes.

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If there was one thing Tang had learned about these timelines he kept jumping between was that they were consistently inconsistent.

The minor details that changed randomly but never really affected the outcome of the events from his original time were still abundant and rarely phased him much anymore.

(Although that one time he had platinum blonde hair had been interesting.)

It was when entirely unique situations arose that the scholar was caught off guard.

New events sprung up every now and then and inserted themselves between the original ones. As with the smaller changes, these new scenarios were unpredictable and varied wildly in scope.

A surprisingly durable MK clone that somehow managed to escape being dispelled, gaining independence, and becoming Macaque’s apprentice.

An ocean demon sinking ships just outside the bay and Sandy getting to go on that water adventure he wanted.

MK’s birth parents trying to reinsert themselves back into his life after seeing his achievements on the news.

(Tang was so incredibly proud of his kid for standing up for himself and refusing their empty platitudes. The pranks that he, Mei, and the Monkey King had pulled on them in retaliation were great stress relievers.)

Since Tang could still do his best to help out in each new event without horrible consequences, it seemed the rule of “No Interference” did not apply to them. He supposed that made sense as he had no way to predict when or if they might occur and thus couldn’t change an outcome he didn’t know about.

He was grateful for that small mercy at least.

Still, with how these cycles seemed to be endless so far, a few of these events would happen over multiple timelines.

Getting de-aged by a mischievous trickster demon or spirit was a strangely common occurrence.

MK seemed to be the most popular target for this particular curse. The brightness of his personality seemed to shine even stronger whenever he was reverted into a child, which simply made Tang love the kid even more.

(He wished he could have helped the Monkey King tear Macaque apart for kidnapping their precious little one in that cycle.)

They all had their own turns of having their biological clocks reversed of course. Mei was a little trouble maker, Pigsy was a shy and timid toddler, and Sandy liked to have things he could break apart. Tang couldn’t clearly remember the times he had been de-aged but was pleased when an exhausted Mei and Mk had said he was the easiest of the adults-turned-kids to take care of.

Then there was the Monkey King.

Having to corral a rambunctious young monkey with the strength to crush boulders and the ability to duplicate or shapeshift was not easy.

(He still had no idea how MK had managed to do it alone once.)

With the amount of times they had all been subjected to this specific curse, Tang only really had himself to blame for not seeing it coming.

Tang poured over the scroll in front of him, trying to find the counter for this timeline’s version of the curse. Behind him, Mei distracted a de-aged Red Son, or Red Boy as that’s what the small fire demon was calling himself.

Getting kidnapped by a somewhat feral child with the ability to freely toss around the True Fire of Samadhi hadn’t been the most pleasant start to his day. While being mistaken as the monk Tang Sanzang was a little flattering, the threat of being roasted over the sacred blume flames and eaten had quickly dampened those feelings.

Luckily the young demon had fallen asleep, the fires dissipating as he lost consciousness. If only Tang knew how to cast the Monkey King’s fire ward...

“Ahem.”

Tang glanced up and paled at the sight of a displeased looking Demon Bull King.

“Little thief,” the demon addressed an equally freaked-out MK. “I believe you have something of mine.”

“Father! You’re here,” Red Boy called out as he jumped from Mei’s arms. “I have wonderful news! I’ve found a husband!” He quickly ran over to a petrified MK and leaned against him like he was presenting some great treasure. “Look! Look! Isn’t he pretty?”

Tang had almost forgotten about that particular detail. If they got out of this alive he was never going to let MK live this down for the rest of the cycle. Prerogative of being a dad and all.

“What do you think father,” Red Boy continued, ignoring MK’s desperate plea for him to stop. “I can marry him, right?”

DBK’s expression was frankly unimpressed as he stared down into the hopeful one Red Boy wore. Tang had a bad feeling about what was going to happen and slowly made his way around the room to hide behind MK and Mei who were also backing away.

“No.”

Tang winced a bit at the bluntness of the answer and braced himself for the explosion that was sure to follow.

“What? But… why? WHY NOT?!”

The genuine hurt and confusion in the young demon’s voice would have made Tang feel a bit sympathetic, if Red Boy hadn’t tried to eat him of course.

“Because I said so,” DBK growled as he knelt to be closer to his de-aged son. “Now, enough of this. Time to stop being a child.”

Tang frowned. That was... not how to calmly explain to one’s child about why you were refusing their request. Not if you wanted to avoid a full-on meltdown. He should know, having to take care of a young MK multiple times.

Looking into the Demon Bull King’s scowling visage, he wasn’t sure if the older demon simply didn’t know how, or just didn’t care.

“That’s… NOT FAIR!” Red Boy’s disbelief predictably turned into anger as his hair once again burst into blue flames.

“THAT’S NOT FAIR! I am not a child!” The True Fire of Samadhi burst out around the boy, seeming to startle DBK who took a step back. Tang was just thankful that it wasn’t aimed at him this time.

“I… I’m not-” Red Boy’s anger quickly melted away, as did the fire around him. The young demon sniffed a few times before dropping onto the ground and beginning to cry.

Loudly.

“You’re recording this, right?” MK whispered to Mei.

“Obviously.”

Tang sighed at their antics and looked over at DBK. The demon still looked angry but the scholar could see the uncertainty in his eyes. He seemed completely out of his depth and unsure on what to do.

Tang took a steadying breath before mustering his courage and stepping out from behind MK. If Demon Bull King didn’t know how to act like a good father then perhaps he could show him.

If he survived this he was going to need a vacation to fight back against the grey hairs this was going to give him.

The other adults all looked at him as if he had sprouted another head as he approached the sobbing child and knelt next to him.

“Red Boy?”

“H-huh?” The young demon looked up in confusion at being addressed.

“I know that right now everything seems pretty unfair and that can be upsetting,” Tang soothed, keeping his voice steady and reassuring. “But I promise you that your father has a good reason for not letting you marry MK. Would it help if he were to calmly explain that reason without getting angry at you?” He aimed that last sentence more at DBK than Red Boy, who’s sobs had slowed.

“M-maybe…” the young demon finally admitted.

Tang turned to stare expectantly at the Demon Bull King. The demon glared down at the scholar.

“Why are you treating him like a child?”

The harshness of his tone made Red Boy start to tear up again. Tang glared right back at DBK.

“Because right now, until we can reverse this, he is a child,” the scholar snapped, his fear replaced with righteous anger. “And like every child, he deserves to be treated with kindness and respect. He deserves to be comforted by a parent whom he obviously adores and be told that it’s okay to cry. He deserves to feel safe and loved.”

The room was silent save for the hiccups and sniffles from Red Boy as they all stared at Tang. DBK’s mouth hung open as he gazed incredulously down at the human, seemingly struck speechless.

“F-father?”

The small and unsure voice of Red Boy snapped the Demon Bull King out of his thoughts, and something seemed to loosen within him.

Tang stood and retreated back to MK and Mei to give the demon some privacy as he knelt next to his son and began speaking in a hushed tone with him.

“What the hell Mr. Tang,” MK hissed into his ear as he stared wide eyed at the pair of demons on the ground.

“Language MK,” Tang hissed right back before leaning over to Mei. “I know you aren’t recording two incredibly powerful demons having a moment of vulnerability who would stop at nothing to destroy us if they discovered the existence of such a video, right?”

“Eep!” Mei nearly dropped her phone as she rushed to stop her recording and then delete the last few minutes of the resulting video.

There were a few minutes of tense silence as the three humans did their best to pretend that there weren’t two demons having an emotional moment together just a few feet away. They gave a sigh of relief when Red Boy launched himself at his father, wrapping his arms around his neck. DBK seemed panicked at first before slowly wrapping his own arms around the young demon.

Tang adjusted his glasses and gave a nervous smile to the Demon Bull King who was scrutinizing him like a particularly confusing puzzle.

At least he didn’t seem angry any more.

Perhaps they would escape this fiasco unscathed after all.

----------

I was not expecting this chapter to turn into another Dad Tang story. It just kind of happened that way. So onto the references!

First is Durability by TaintTheUnstoppable which is beginning to shape up into something really interesting.

Second is Little One by @its-kall-the-clown which is just a huge fluff fest capped off with some nice angst. Highly recommended.

Finally we have the Red Boy comic by @purble-turble! Now obviously the Tang in their comic probably won’t do what this one did, by this Tang is too much of a Dad to let a little kid cry for too long.

Next chapter won’t be up until sometime next week! See ya then!

[accursedkaleeshi]

Hondo Has the Opposite of a Crisis of Honor

3K word fic about a job Hondo Ohnaka ran for Kalee earlier in his career & his later wartime run-in with General Grievous.

Business was on a steady incline for Hondo Ohnaka. He had escaped slavery, poverty, the Hutts & now, as planned he would escape the attention of authority. What kind of authority? All kinds, of course. He was a self-made man. An entrepreneur & a leader. His gang, made mostly of fellow Weequay, were operating just as ordered; The Ohnaka Gang! Yes, things were going most swimmingly. For his crew to flourish they had to fly low & strike fast, as his mother would have said.

While they worked up their spice sources, doing good work in front of other backroom businessmen would help get their name out into the right circles of the galaxy. The open ended bid from the planet Kalee for smugglers was a tip top opportunity. The Galactic Republic had brought embargos down on Kalee hard & they had no choice but to turn to underhanded humanitarians (for lack of a better word). Many other gangs & syndicates showed hesitation: the distance, the environment, & the natives all had reputations for being dangerous. Nonsense!, Hondo had thought, We will do it & we will do it with good deals. The Ohnaka Gang could come out looking quite good from this & so very far from the core worlds. Out there was little in the way of pesky patrols that might get their names out into the wrong circles of the galaxy.

From the relative safety of one of his classic Weequay ships, Hondo fixed himself a drink. He flipped on the vidscreen to a call from Kalee & spread himself over his seat. Between his antique rig & their equally antiquated tech, the signal was a bit scrambled.

“Hold on, hold on,” he relayed whilst he threw a cork bottle stopper at his young pet Kowakian monkey-lizard, “Mukmuk, help me out.” Stirred into action, Mukmuk squawked a pompous little laugh but begrudgingly leapt from his perch. The monkey-lizard gave the comms unit a couple good smacks that echoed against the casing but seemed to do the trick. The screen righted itself but the color flickered on & off. At this Hondo opened his arms in a greeting gesture. “Trade Captain Blys’aan! My most beautiful 4th quadrant customer!” he exclaimed jovially, “Your run has departed as planned. You would like more good news, yes-?”

He was interrupted by his contact.

“Save ya wiles for yer core clients, Ohnaka,” Blys’aan said, the audio coming in uncorrupted. She had a thick but warm foreign accent &, although her voice was just as jubilant as Hondo’s, her words were often sharp. The both of them knew very well he did not have clients on the core worlds, not at this point in his sure to be illustrious career. “We givin ya what we agreed,” she said amenably. It was hard to describe how her voice matched her visage. Warm & welcoming, perhaps, but with a sharp wolfish wit about her. A fellow businessman.

“An don’t you go try an upsellin my boys at Hakaleel, eh?” Blys’aan had barked this as if chiding a child. As she spoke she seemed to be sorting or washing vegetables. Her motion would leave artifacts as the vidscreen dropped in & out of monochrome. This Kaleeshi woman had such a vibrant green scales that her form would blend into her backdrop of some lush foreign jungle. Only when she began peeling things did Hondo recognize the vegetable (a popular, cheap export). Consequently, he realized it seemed small in her clawed hands & that Kaleesh must be larger than the average humanoid species. This did not worry him, of course, there was no reason to make things difficult.

“You know we can’t be affording more,” she had added. Hondo knew this to be relatively true. Kalee had next to nothing in the way of recognized galactic currency but Hondo always preferred to trade in goods. Most of what the Kaleesh had been trading to the other smugglers were caches of liberated Yam’rii weapons & tech as well as Kaleeshi people willing to find work off planet. Hondo was sure the Kaleesh made for excellent crew & security but, not to be exclusive, he had his own theme going.

The Ohnaka gang got a few caches of alien weapons but they didn’t mind trading in some of Kalee’s native goods. These were composed largely of animal products: feathers, hides, cuts, live specimens, & bones. Lots & lots of bones. Raw or crafted into traditional pieces of masks or weaponry. It made sense that other less cultured crews referred to the Kaleesh as bone lizards. Hondo knew he could tremendously upsell these to any would-be trophy hunter or self-proclaimed mystic looking for exotic trinkets. Kalee was on the edge of the civilized galaxy & considered to be in wild space; it was legitimately exotic. He would barter these for basic supplies that Kalee seemed to need most of all until such time it ceased to be profitable. Therefore the smiling & nodding he was doing was not at all a lie. For now.

“Tell ya lads t’ be behavin’ themselves on planet,” Blys’aan followed. Her voice suddenly went up half an octave in a mischievous tone. Hondo bowed his head a bit before she finished, his money-making smile still plastered on his face. He liked Trade Captain Blys’aan. She was sassy. Full of spirit. It was too bad she had retired from her position & was only fielding the remaining contracts in her name to her trade company. “We don’ take kindly t’ swindlers out here in wild space.” Naturally, what was a good deal without threats thinly veiled or otherwise? That’s how you know it is good! His mother had told him as much.

Other people (Kaleesh, he assumed) had wandered in & out of the background of her call a couple times & he had taken no notice. That was until Blys’aan said, “Hate for my husband t’ haff ta make’n example outta you to de other pirates, no?” She said this with such glee, her lips pursed into a playful smile behind her bone-crested veil, that the realization of someone coming to pause behind her almost startled the smile from him. They were large. If Blys’aan had 12 standard centimeters on him, this figure would have been nearly 30 centimeters taller than him in his finest boots.

Hondo could only assume it was her new husband; the General, they called him. There was nothing coy & playful about this man. He was only on screen for a few seconds but had looked directly at the pirate, gesturing the universal signal for watching someone. The moment the General motioned to his eyes with two clawed fingers the color on the old monitor cut back in. For a split second Hondo might have been intimidated, barely registering the pointed jab his direction under the piercing predatory gaze of the General’s bright gold eyes glowering at him from behind the hollowed sockets of some animal’s bleached skull. By the time Hondo began to voice a reply to Blys’aan, the General was already out of the frame.

“Of course, of course!” Ohnaka began, very loudly & very reassuringly, “I am a man of substance, Captain! We wouldn’t dream of- of profiting off the suffering of your people. We can be excellentfriends!” He clapped his hands together at this for emphasis. Blys’aan giggled very boisterously. She must have seen her husband walking away & realized that he had been behind her. That must have been a solid relationship, threatening pirates together. Good for them. “There is no need to take the good General away from his duties,” Hondo insisted.

He had no idea what those duties were but he would prefer he keep to them. All Hondo knew about General Grievous was that he was some sort of globally celebrated veteran folk hero, & not the jaunty fun kind of folk hero. He’d heard from the other gangs considering Kalee’s jobs that the General protected his system so fiercely that even Zygerrian slavers would no longer come out this way. The details did not concern him. Hondo was there to do business!

The call carried on another few minutes as he wanted to be positive he postured assuringly enough to not get his crew killed by the natives. Blys’aan had ended the conversation with, “You be good t’ all yer space rat friends, now Ohnaka,” which he took to be endearing in a matronly way. How nice of her to wish them well. This was the last time he spoke with Import Trade Captain Blys’aan. He certainly had hoped in the moment that it was the last time he ever had to see the General.

From then on Hondo’s Kaleeshi contact was the High Trade Chief of the planet’s premier trade organization. They liked their titles, the Kaleesh. High Trade Chief Yaitee was an alright sort, very shrewd & severe. He was quite a fine businessman but desperate (the best kind of businessman) & much less fun. A couple members of his own crew would splinter off & join a poaching ring on the planet, never to be heard from again. You win some, you lose some. Then the Intergalactic Banking Clan showed up to the system. They had apparently worked out some sort of deal with the good General. Many smugglers did not like that kind of presence. Even with the IBC, the Kaleesh tried to maintain many of their under the table contracts as there wasn’t much to go around, apparently.

Over time the Ohnaka gang was getting right to where they wanted to be in the galaxy, cutting deals & running spice. Kalee became less profitable every quarter until they quietly stopped taking their jobs & moved on to greener pastures, so to speak. The last time Kalee was on his underworld radar was maybe 8 standard years after he’d taken on Blys’aan’s contract. Something about an urgent need for medical supplies. Ominous, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it even if he wanted too. Meds were very hard to smuggle & supplying them tended to land people in a lot of drama. Too much trouble to do as a regular gig. But life with spice was going quite nicely.

Hondo did not think back on dropped deals very often. Life must go on, after all. Years later the Ohnaka gang became quite good at conducting business on the fringes of the Clone Wars. Now, he was not one to take sides, but it is hard to sell to battle droids. Not impossible, but very hard. The money in the Separatists was their leader Count Dooku of Serrano. The man was loaded with money. But unfortunately their engagements fell through & Hondo hadn’t managed to make friends with the Count.

He had hoped perhaps the Count was an honorable old man that would take their falling out with grace & humility. He learned he was incorrect in this assumption when a fleet of battle droids showed up to his beautiful home & base of operations on Florrum. The Count himself did not show, busy doing Sith lord things, whatever that was. He sent his dog of war. Of course Hondo had heard the commander of Dooku’s droid army was wreaking havoc on the galaxy. Not the jaunty, fun kind of havoc. Supreme Commander of the Separatist Droid Army General Grievous. The Kaleesh liked their titles. However, up until that day, Hondo had the good fortune of never meeting him & thought maybe good for him, getting promoted to death machine, but never lingered on it.

He had not been worried. What are a few battle droids? He was not prepared for what marched into his lobby that day. It was big. Sharp. Cold. Most of all, furious. King of the clankers, indeed.

“Hondo,” it growled his name with disdain upon entering.

“General Grievous, I presume!” Hondo had greeted his guest as jovially as ever. “What a surprise! Have a seat. What, may I ask, is the honor?” The hope that maybe this could be an amicable meeting faded with each long, loud step the General took, until this overgrown battle droid stepped directly onto his desk to leer at him. When the General grabbed his very rare vintage coat lapels & lifted him off of his feet there was a split second of something, maybe horror or disgust or maybe even pity. Whatever it was had him briefly aghast to find those same blazing golden eyes he’d glimpsed so long ago. Did the General remember him? Or was he acting purely on the spiteful orders of his master?

“You can dispense with the pleasantries, pirate,” Grievous had rasped as he approached. “This planet is now under Separatist control,” he had asserted from somewhere on that uncanny plate armor that was now his face. It truly was the same man. Bone white was an interesting color choice for a killer war robot. Bold.

“Uh huh,” Hondo blinked a few times before remembering he was currently being threatened with military occupation by this fancy cyborg. “And what do you suppose that means?” he asked. His flash of empathy vanished completely as quickly as it came. He got the feeling this meeting was not going to get him any deals & in fact he may be swindled. The gall did not have time to be voiced as the General threw him to the ground with an unnecessary amount of force. Luckily he was still drunk enough not to be phased by impact.

“It means you have a new master, pirate scum” the General jeered & threw something to the ground in front of him. Hondo had another second of panic, thinking perhaps the good General was insane & opted to bomb them. But it was just a holocom. And there was the man of the hour over hologram to greet him.

“Hondo Ohnaka, we meet again,” Count Dooku began over coms with just as much disdain as his monstrous errand boy, “As I recall, last time we met face-to-face I was your prisoner.” Hondo muttered a syllable. He supposed the Jedi would never hold a grudge like this. “And you attempted to barter me off to the highest bidder.” Dooku’s face never once changed expression.

“But can you blame me?” Hondo interjected with a smile & a sheepish shrug. “I mean a Sith Lord-“ He used the same gravitas to pronounce it that everyone else did, although still not having any idea what exactly a Sith lord was. “What a handsome price you would-“

“Silence! You will pay the price for your treachery,” the Count barked.

“Well, I’m a reasonable man. Name the price. I’m sure we can reach a-“ Hondo was again cut off.

“There will be payment, but no deals…” No deals, he said? No deals? “Only demands. Your entire arsenal will be melted down. Everything you own is now property of the Separatist Alliance.”

“Now you go too far!” Hondo exclaimed indignantly. “Unacceptable! This is an outrage. This…” All of his little kingdom he had worked so hard for! Scrapped by this cad & his metal toys? He had stolen all of this fair & square. He would not stand for this! Now that he was making a scene, two commando droids clacked up & seized him by the arms with very unforgiving grip. “Hold on,” the pirate changed his tone as the droids led him away to his own brig. “We can make a deal! This is not good business!” he shouted over his shoulder.

That was a very long day for Hondo Ohnaka. Luckily the half-gallon Jedi he had captured earlier came back to rescue him with the troupe of pint sized Jedi in tow. How nice this was! Not only did they free him, but he got to witness the construction of a Jedi lightsaber. Very rare, very exclusive. In return he led them to his secret fleet of pirated ships in which they could escape. Very generous of him. They got separated in the dry canyons of Florrum but Hondo was convinced to courageously save the day in the Fetts’ souped up patrol ship, Slave 1. It was a very nice ship that the same half-gallon Jedi had grounded there some time before.

The ship had now come to the girl’s rescue in the midst of a lightsaber duel with the General himself. There were far too many laser swords flashing down there in the dust. Tano leapt dramatically into the open gangplank just out of reach of the droid general’s claws. Grievous stood & stared down this highly modified attack ship, yelling some threat. Hondo felt threatened, at least, as his initial impression concerning the General’s level of sanity seemed to be true. This completely justified opening fire on the cyborg with dual ship-graded laser cannons. The tiny Jedi were surprisingly very open to obliterating him. It would have been a nice end to the day if Hondo had stopped a galactic war right then & there but, after a bolt or two struck the ground around him the General dropped & took cover. He folded rather like a very expensive lawn chair as his Separatist tanks rolled up behind him. It was time to go.

This was exactly how he retold the tale to Jedi Kenobi. Except maybe the part about waylaying a craft full of children. The important thing is Hondo saved the day! His friends in the Republic were happy to free his base system from Separatist control or, in the very least, not arrest him for waylaying a craft full of children. Whilst Hondo & his battered gang went back to Florrum to start picking up the pieces, he may have had a quiet moment of intoxicated introspection (the best kind of introspection?).

He reflected on the concepts of good & evil, whether or not they exist, & if so, to what degree. Was his sense of honor different than his friend Kenobi’s? From the Count’s? From the General’s? Surely these were all honorable men. At least at some point in their lives. Hardship tends to polarize people. Hondo liked to be in the middle. Maybe a little to one side. Then he went to drunkenly order new ships from the holonet to defend his base from any other ideas the Count might get.

The very last time his mind wandered all the way back to the Kalee contract was when the news broke. That was a lot of news to take in, to be fair. The Clone Wars had ended with the death of General Grievous & a betrayal by the Jedi of the Republic? Where did everyone’s honor get them in the end? He fleetingly wondered how Import Trade Captain Blys’aan was doing.

[omorphiavelvet]

Kiss of Death.

The rain was incredibly tranquil, bouts of pitter-patter dropped onto different surfaces of concrete, creating a constant tempo and rhythm, one that could easily lull anyone to sleep. The imminent thunder was absent, but lightning would show itself every now and then, nonetheless, the rain poured. 

On the many surfaces, the raindrops landed, stood two people. Boys, one tall and the other short by a considerable margin. The short, fair-skinned boy was clearly battered, holding his wounded arm whilst a cross lodged into the ground stood beside him, the glow of the markings within the cross was faint, and the black hues outside the markings only begun to serve as a contrast to the faint but determined glow. 

The boy he was facing was unscathed, but it was clear how he was irritated and unwilling to tire himself out. He held a regal air over his lean and tall figure, hands behind his back as his lances stood by his side much like an extension of his regalia. His sculptured face was slashed neatly on the cheek, and although the wound has long healed, the scar was visible. 

“How long do you intend to do this? You cannot defeat me.” The taller spoke, voice cold, clearly irritated, but his deep voice eerily calm as he gives the boy a cold stare, his brown eyes dull and empty. 

The shorter boy merely scoffed, as battered as he may be, he was not one to give up easily. Letting go of his wounded arm to see that it no longer bled, but only left a scar, his own eyes glaring up in determination towards the taller, as the cross split lengthwise, and spears popped out of its mechanisms, adorned with onyx-silver chains.

“Until you give him back.” the shorter started with a stammer, grabbing a spear from the cross and clutching it tight in his hand, “I’m not going anywhere!” he declares, charging towards the man as the spears from the cross soon followed. 

The taller made no move to intercept his oncoming attack, as the shorter lifted himself off of his feet and threw the spear as a preemptive strike, with frightening accuracy to add as the spear aimed to lunge itself at the man’s chest. 

A portal opens within the spear’s trajectory, swallowing the object as another portal opened behind the shorter, spitting the spear back out with the blunt end as it knocks him over, nearly groveling at the taller’s feet had it not been for his hands that stopped the momentum.

“You are weak,” the man spoke again, “The honkai may have chosen you to hold a core, but you are no more than an ordinary human holding a powerful weapon, how do you intend to stop me, a god?” this time, his cold voice turned into a mocking one as he floats up to the air. 

A barrage of portals surround the weakened boy, and within an instant, lances were spat out, though clearly aimed to kill him, they only bound and immobilized him, restricting his movement with the sheer girth of the lances. 

“Give…” the boy started, shaking in determination and pure fury, making the lances vibrate, “Mingyu back!” he cried out as the lances that held him shattered, jumping up towards the taller with renewed vigor, his tattered blue and black getup replaced with white and lilies adorned the edge of his garment as the marking on his back glows a soft yet regal blue. 

The man, with his irritation, now etched on his handsome face, summons a force of shockwave as it pushes everything within the back with terrifying power, but the boy, suspended in mid-air, refused to budge and only sought to have the man within an arms reach.

Within fingertips reach and before the taller could make any moves to get away, a collection of crosses sprouted out of thin air, surrounding the pair as chains sprouted out, binding the taller in quick succession as the crosses immediately planted themselves to the ground, leaving the dust to settle. 

The man now kneeling down at the mercy of the shorter, was wrapped and completely immobilized. 

Meanwhile, the shorter was panting, out of breath as he held the man by the cheeks, his gloved hands were gentle as if holding a lover’s face, perhaps to even kiss him. But the shorter’s sight was on the ground, trying to regain his composure and focus his sight. 

“Two cores. . .reason and death no less.” The taller spoke, after a while of silence, “and to wield a weapon of the previous era so effortlessly, that’s foolish.” he remarked, though no trace of emotion was heard in his voice. 

“You’re just a pathetic human, how could you have all this power?” He finished, disdain and envy clear in his deep yet distorted voice. 

“I told you...I’m different.” The boy choked out, his voice clearly weak, but the look in his eyes once he looked up to face the taller was enough to back up his statement. 

“Now...give Mingyu back.” He states, composure now regained as he never lets up his rather gentle grip on his visage, his eyes still holding the same amount of determination despite his rather calm voice. 

“Oh...you mean this body?” The man merely scoffed, “Without my core, this man is merely a husk, a doll if you will.” He answered. 

“Stop spouting bullshit and give him back to me!” his voice shook in anger, though he tries to sound as level-headed as possible.

“It’s true, the man you call your lover...Mingyu, was it?” he started mockingly, “He’s long gone- ah, that’s not fair to say, it’s more plausible to say that I am him.” The menacing declaration only served to fuel the shorter’s already bubbling anger.

“Stop lying and give him back!” The shorter tried, releasing a gust of power the rendered the nearby plant life as good as dead as his eyes were no longer humane, his pupils and irises now shaped into a cross, tilted to an angle, more specifically, an x. 

“Why do you keeping asking for him? He’s just a clone, a vessel made to house my soul.” The man asks, incredulous, making no moves to attack, but rather he was trying to comprehend how this human went to great lengths for a human, a clone even. 

The shorter succumbed to his knees, his pants returned, til they turned into soft sobbing, his hand slipping from his cheeks and to the neat blazer the taller wore, clutching it tightly as he kneels, humiliated, tired, and heartbroken. 

“Please...” he hiccupped, pleaded to particularly no one as he lets out choked out sobs, looking up to face the other, cheeks tear-stained as they continue to flow, looking straight into the taller’s eyes, his determination long tempered into grief. 

“Give him...give me Mingyu back…” He continued, his sobs becoming coughed out as he feels himself being ripped apart by a force stronger than anything he had encountered, “I’ll do anything, please, just give him back…” He begged. 

The tranquil rain was no longer tranquil, as the arrival of the roaring thunder filled the grieving silence between the two figures, one bound by chains and the other holding onto them, placed in the center of the collection of crosses that surrounded them. 

Before the taller could mock the other’s pitiful state of being, a flurry of memories rushed and flooded his senses. Memories of the one they call Mingyu. 

“Mingyu, you have to let go of me.” A gentle voice resounded, too familiar not to be recognized by the one who possessed the taller.

“No! I refuse!” The shorter, presumably Mingyu, petulantly refused, holding onto the arm of a boy with eyes closed. 

“Mingyu, come on.” The gentle voice began, as a hand reached to cup the other’s sunkissed visage. 

“This isn’t how you play tag. Now, will you let me go? I promise to treat you to ice cream if you manage to catch me next time you’re it.” The gentle voice soothed the child, though not much taller than him as he wriggles his arm out of his grip and brushes some of the messed up tufts of raven black hair away from Mingyu’s sight. 

Memories continued to flash in front of the taller. Laughter, tears, kisses, and the way the certain figures held each other, love clearly so evident in their shared gazes and longing stares. 

Another memory began to play within his sight. 

“Mingyu, look! I’m officially a valkyrie!” The gentle voice, now much cheerful and rather proud, showed himself off to Mingyu, who was all grown up, much, much taller than the owner of the voice. 

“Valkyrie?” Mingyu tilts his head in confusion, “Isn’t the title for girls?” He asks, blinking slowly. 

“Ah! well...Principal Theresa and the higher-ups decided to name me that for the time being...until I’m officially put in a squad, I’m an A-rank Valkyrie!” He explains meekly. 

“Really? I thought you were aiming to be S-rank?” 

“Well, I barely passed the written part of the exam.” 

Soft laughter emitted from the pair as Mingyu lifts up the shorter, singing words of praise for him. 

The last memory was too vivid to be called anything but recent.

“Mingyu, no!” the voice cried out, “Let me hold the core instead! Your body might not take another core!” 

“I can’t let you do everything!” Mingyu replied. 

The boy stopped in his tracks. 

“You think I didn’t know?” Mingyu says, and for the first time, his voice broke from the sadness. 

Flashes of memories began showing again, showing the familiar back of the shorter, adorned with the mark of an orchid flower and a frazzled orb. 

“Two years,” A blue-haired girl started. “That’s all you have left,” She explained. 

“The cores may be benevolent in nature, but the honkai energy is ultimately a chaotic force that powers the cores.” She explained. “Even if we took out the cores from your body, your Honkai adaptability, will do next to nothing to improve your lifespan.” 

the boy, now draped in hospital gowns with things attached to his wrist, smiled sadly, giving out a soft sigh. 

“I guess it was only a matter of time, huh?” he muttered, looking at his palms in silent thought. 

he looks back up to the blue-haired woman before him, “can I make one request, professor?” 

“go ahead.” 

“Can you not tell this to Mingyu? I want to be able to tell him myself, at least.” 

“Alright, but you'll have to tell him quick, that boy's been sweating buckets ever since he found you in the shipwreck.” 

The shorter merely chuckled. 

Little did the pair know, Mingyu was listening from the other side of the wall, a stray tear falling down from his cheek as his lips quivered.

He returns to the prior memory. 

“You always try to do everything, always trying to save everyone! And maybe it is for the better…” Mingyu started. 

“But why am I the only one who feels this way?” He continued. 

“I may not be as skilled as fighting or as smart as the others, but all I know is…” 

“Mingyu, please.” 

“This world, this wretched world…” he croaked out, “Means nothing to me without you!” 

and as Mingyu grabs the suspended gem, light completely envelops both of them and their surroundings.

He's immediately brought back to reality, and breaks free of the binds fairly easily, blowing the shorter of the male, including the crosses that surrounded them, away from him. 

“Foolish human! sacrificing yourself for a clone, loving a soulless husk of flesh! no matter how many cores you take,” the man began, summoning cubes out of thin air. 

“you will never stop the Honkai!” he cries out in anger, trapping the grieving male in the cubes and commanding his lances to slice the cube cleanly with much anger in his gestures. 

He finishes his attack with a powerful blast at the sliced cubes, but his brown eyes were already fighting to be alight with life and vigor, causing a splitting headache that he forcibly chose to ignore. 

The male, arising from the wreck as the dust settles, was completely beaten up, his beautiful getup shattered as he held on to a stray spear from his cross before. 

He was completely silent, the black cross growing in purple flocking to him as he heaved labored breaths. 

From this distance, the taller could not clearly see the man's expression, and slowly became unnerved by the silence that befell upon them. Having grown used to the cries of anger and grief of the other. 

“Die! Die! Die! Return from whence you came!” The taller repeatedly cried out as he launched attacks towards the battered male.

Each attack was dodged gracefully as the shorter geared up and charged towards him, his cross becoming a skateboard of sorts as two spears joined on both ends and transformed into a double-ended one, parrying and blocking each attack that came his way. 

Mingyu, the shorter began.

I'm sorry that you had to find out this way. That I didn't break my obsolete habit of doing everything for everyone. For giving myself to the world so readily without thinking of the people that wanted me as I am. 

The attacks continued and did little to slow the shorter down, his eyes flaring up in a different kind of determination. 

But to tell you the truth...I failed my written exam on purpose. Principal Theresa had told me that If I became S-rank... I'd have little time to see you, kiss you, hold you, and even fight alongside you. 

I know I told you that I was gonna become the best soldier ever, but even then, what was being the best soldier when I couldn't see your smile? telling me how proud you are of me? teasing me about my height despite me being able to wreck your shit one hundred percent? 

what was being the best soldier if you weren't there to scold me, telling me to be more careful next time, patching up my wounds, then cooking me the best dinner buffet ever? 

He continued to charge towards him, jumping off of the cross, as another one materialized above the taller. 

“using the same trick again! how foolish!” the taller cried out, gathering power in his hand, ready to toss it above. 

“Judah!” the shorter cried out, fully materializing the cross, as it split in half lengthwise, spitting out spears that shot everywhere, held by golden chains as it surrounds the taller. 

By then, the power had dissipated from his hand, effectively neutralising the taller's next attack as the cross drops behind him, pinning him on the surface of it through the chains that pulled.

“this...what is this?!” the taller cried out in anger, panicking when he was unable to channel and utilise his power. 

“the oath of judah— or a complete perfect replica of it...principal theresa's cross.” the shorter explained. 

“the cross contains the core of the herrscher of binding, who can neutralise honkai energy and bind the target...however this cross doesn't have that core...but it has enough power to bind you.” the shorter panted, the pain of infection flaring up from his back. 

“the more you use your herrscher powers...the more your physical body will be infected.” the blue-haired woman explains again. 

“so I'll turn into a zombie?” 

“not specifically. the core of reason is sentient and rather benevolent...the core will probably eliminate your physical body...and turn you into a part of it.” 

“and what about the core of death?” 

“it's an independent core, it won't fight your disintegration, but I doubt the core will find the strength to work with the core of reason again if it doesn't have your body.” 

Two years. He could've spent the remaining two years of his life with Mingyu. Images and thoughts of marriage, family, and lifelong accompaniment begin to swirl in the shorter's thoughts. 

But Fate was far too cruel to the both of them. 

As the taller struggled and mocked the shorter, pitifully bound by the chains who only flared up in response to his anger, the shorter takes a few steps forward, leaning down to the kneeling man. 

“the core of death?” 

“yes, it's abilities are quite... interesting.” the blue-haired woman, now known as einstein began to ponder verbally. 

“what's so interesting about it?” 

“for one, the core doesn't just kill living beings...or bring living beings back to life.” 

“I'm not following.” 

“I have studied the core for quite a while, and tested it on numerous samples, which were mostly physical.” she began. 

“but there is this theory, that the core doesn't only kill living things... physically.” 

“I'm still not getting it.” 

“Part of why the Honkai zombies become essentially brainless is not only their cognitive functions becoming impaired, but also their egos being reduced to a number of commands.” 

“so you're saying the core is capable of killing personalities? I don't see how that's beneficial.” 

“With the right amount of practice and power, yes, it can kill personalities, but also bring them back to life.” 

Einstein, your theory had better be true, the shorter remarked in his thoughts as he comes face to face with the taller. 

the orchid flower mark on his back began to glow softly as he cups the other's cheeks yet again, before planting his lips upon the other's. 

the kiss was nothing romantic, maybe to the taller, but to him, it may be the last kiss he'll ever give to him. 

The taller began to feel a sense of drowsiness at the contact of their lips, not only was he feeling completely powerless, but his limbs were completely going slack, and his struggles ceased. 

he couldn't move anything, not even his lips, as sensations slowly left his body. the patter of rain against his now drenched outfit, the hammering heart within him, and the cool winds that would've let his body shuddered in response. 

The last sensation he felt was his lips, until his eyes met the darkness. 

Mingyu finally comes to, as if he had awoken from a nightmare. His breaths were labored, like he was drowning and he was just resuscitated back to life.

he was not in the place that was ruptured into pitiful pieces by the powers capable of bending physical laws, but he was in a different space. 

a peaceful one. 

colors swirled all around him, he felt weightless, like a burden was relieved off of him as he looks around in mere confusion. 

then the thought hits him. 

he cries out the shorter's name, frantic, scrambling to his feet to run, in hopes of finding a way out of this space. To finally reunite with who he loved, the person he's been aching to hold in his arms. 

“what are you flailing about? you look like a deer caught in the headlights.” the familiar voice spoke up, causing Mingyu to turn sharply to his back, seeing the owner of the voice he wanted to hear the most. 

“How— When did you— god, you fucking idiot!” He immediately stammered, collecting the smaller into his arms, tears silently flowing to his cheeks as he gives him a squeeze, happy to have him in his arms. 

“Hey, Hey. Deep breaths, baby.” The shorter one removed his death grip on him, smiling gently as he held him by the shoulders. 

Mingyu collects himself and his composure, all too elated to finally be reunited with his lover. 

“Wha— What happened? All I remember is grabbing the core and the light— What happened to the core?” Mingyu asks. 

“The core is within you.” He began, his smile subtly dropping, “In the process of trying to fuse with the core, you awakened something within you.” He continued. 

“So much is happening, Mingyu. I can't really tell you everything because I don't know how to begin.” He heaves a sigh at that. 

“Oh.” Mingyu merely responds. 

“How can we get out then? I wanna see everyone! I wanna make up for the things I did.” Mingyu questions. 

The shorter a sad smile on his face, though Mingyu doesn't seem to notice it. “Come on, walk with me for a while.” He reaches a hand out. 

Mingyu took the hand, intertwining their fingers as he followed his steps, letting a comfortable silence fall upon them. 

“Mingyu.” He calls out. 

“Hmm? Yes, my love?” 

“How are you feeling?” 

Mingyu draws a blank upon the question. How was he feeling? He couldn't describe it. He knocked out, heard a menacing voice whispering bitter remarks into his ear. 

He could recall fragments of what seemed like him hurting his boyfriend, mocking him. He could hardly believe that he himself was saying such horrible and demeaning things. 

Even in such a state of slumber, Mingyu refused to believe that he was hurting the ones he loved. 

And when he saw his determined, yet tearful eyes, he almost believed that it was really him, he was really doing all of this. 

He didn't want to believe it, he didn't want to listen to the voice that keeps planting sinister thoughts into his head. 

So he dreamt. 

He recalls every memory he has with him, fond, sad, lovely, and even when they first fought. All these memories, they were precious to him, and he allowed himself to be foolishly trapped into the dream, reliving his greatest memories. 

“Mingyu?” 

“Yeah, sorry.” 

“You spaced out, it's okay.” 

“What was the question again?” 

“How are you feeling, my sweet?” 

Mingyu ponders again, this time not recalling the series of events that transpired. Instead, he looks at their intertwined hands and the sweet smile his lover wore.

“Like home.” He finally answered. 

“Like home?” the shorter repeated, clearly amused. 

“Don't laugh, it's true!” Mingyu whined, pouting at him. 

“Alright, alright. I won't.” 

They shared a few chuckles as they walked, the pathless route seemingly endless as they fell into their natural state of conversing, banter and some sweet kisses here and there. 

Mingyu was chuckling when he suddenly let go of his hand. 

“We're here.” He says. 

“Where?” Mingyu asks, before turning front and facing a rather ancient door.

“The end.” He answers, as calm as he could possibly be. 

“What do you mean?” 

“When you walk through that door, you'll wake up from the nightmare, my love.” He answers. 

Silence befell upon them again, this time, it wasn't a comfortable one. 

“What about you? Will I see you when I wake up?” Mingyu finally breaks the silence. 

He couldn't bring himself to answer his question. 

“Then I'm not going.” 

“Mingyu, please—” 

“No, I won't! That's final!” Mingyu began, firm. 

“Mingyu, please you're acting like a child—” 

“I don't care!” he added. 

“I don't care if I'm living in a nightmare, If I'll sleep forever...I don't care! as long as I'm with you, I'll be fine!” 

“Mingyu—” 

Before he could continue to reason with him, Mingyu lunged into his hug, wrapping his arms around him. 

“Please...please let me stay with you.” He pleaded. 

“Mingyu, I can't.” He began. 

Mingyu didn't let up, only hugging the smaller as tears began flowing down his cheeks again. 

Mingyu, still holding onto him notices how weightless he's gotten. 

“Mingyu, you have to let me go.” 

“No!” 

A shaky sigh escapes him, trying not to let the tears fall as he begins losing sensations, and at this point, he could barely feel Mingyu's grip around his body. 

He was fading. 

It was as Einstein had told him, the core was slowly consuming him before the Honkai infection could. 

“Mingyu, please— we can't keep going on like this.” 

“No!” Mingyu replied, defiant.

A sob escapes him at his reply, unable to hold back the tears. 

“at least hold me properly?” he finally says, softly. 

Mingyu reluctantly agrees, shifting and putting the boy on his lap as he wraps an arm around him from behind, and in this angle, he could see how the boy was becoming transparent. 

“Why?” Mingyu asks, now full on crying as he gazes at the fading body of the love of his life. 

“I told you to rest! eat your meals! and not strain yourself…” He trailed off, crying. 

“It was my only chance of bringing you back…” He answers, smiling sadly as he relishes what he could in Mingyu's arms. 

“You idiot…” Mingyu merely added on, still crying as he holds him tight, afraid that he'll completely slip from his arms. 

Mingyu keeps crying, hoping that this was another nightmare the voice had conjured for him to break his spirits, he hoped that he could wake up and he would be waiting for him with his sheepish smile, and he could scold him again for staying up. 

but it felt real. all too real. 

The way his body was phasing to and fro being transparent then physical, the sweet words whispered into his ears that did nothing to soothe his pain. 

“Please... don't go…” Mingyu pleaded. 

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry...Mingyu.” He only replied, crying. 

Mingyu didn't say anything else and fully hugged the other's fading body, as light from the door envelops the both of them. 

Mingyu comes to, this time, he was in the place he last saw before his seemingly eternal slumber, and before anything else, he felt lips against his own. 

His lips. 

They were breathing life into him, and washing away the pain the core brought upon him, opening his eyes. He sees the dimming light of life from his eyes, his arms instinctively coming up to wrap around his figure. 

the shorter had enough strength to pull away from the kiss and let himself be held by the taller. 

“Ah...I feel so light...Is that you, Mingyu?” He weakly calls out. 

“Yes, yes. it's me.” He answers softly but frantically as he holds onto him, crying softly. 

“Thank goodness…” 

The silence would've filled the room if not for the hardly silent cries that were Mingyu's.

“Mingyu?” 

“Yes, my love?” He answers, his voice breaking.

“I love you…” He muttered. 

“I love you too, so much…please, stay with me…” He pleaded, but he knew it was too late, his pleas were never heard by the gods in the first place. 

“Thank goodness...I was afraid...I couldn't say it again…” He muttered, before he closes his eyes, a soft glow enveloping his figure, the light becomes harsh for a short while that Mingyu had to look away for a short while. 

When Mingyu looks again, the body of his lover was completely gone, like they were never there in the first place, and instead, he was holding two gems in his hand. 

one had the orchid flower carved beautifully onto its azure surfaces, and the other merely held a smooth cerulean surface.

Mingyu's cries became louder at the sight, the reality of the situation finally sinking in as he holds the gems close to his chest, the only remaining reminders of the man he loved so dearly. 

Yet the rain has stopped, and only the silent light of the sun peeking through could be seen. 

The turbulently tranquil rain had stopped, and if only Mingyu had looked up, he would see a beautiful sunrise, bringing a surge of new hope to many. 

But to Mingyu, he could only fill the skies with his tears, and the new day had only brought him pain, as his cries were hardly heard by the one he lost.