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coeurdastronaute · 4 months ago

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Shadowboxing

Hey-- long time. I write lots of original sapphic content on Patreon now and sometimes I update AO3, but not all that often. For just $1/month you have access to my entire original content and fanfic. Currently writing CaitVi and Arcane and an original fake dating story. So.... if you want go check me out at Patreon.com/coeurdastronaute

I'm shit at logging onto Tumblr bc its a trash heap, but you can always find me on twitter @coeurastronaute or email me at [email protected] m

But also here's Ch. 1 of Shadowboxing

'Till I collapse or I burstWhichever comes first

“This place is going to be nicer than anywhere we’ve ever lived.”

“Yeah.”

The car drifted lazily along the winding back roads between small New England towns, the afternoon sun filtering in through the canopy of lush forest. Summer sat heavy in that first week of June, droning with heat all day that barely cooled off come sunset. All of the green and nature was a welcome change for her eyes, which she thought had long grown accustomed to seeing only in the monochromatic color scheme of the city.

“You can even ride horses,” Vi reminded her sister again, for the fifth time or so. She continued to look through the brochure which had been well worn by now with her many hours spent memorizing it, dreaming with it. “So posh, huh? Just hopping on for a trot between classes.”

“Yeah.”

Vi set her jaw and took a steadying breath. There was no point getting mad at her sister right now. Why would it hurt that she was giving up everything she knew to give her sister a better life, to get them out of the system, to give them a chance? But her sister was fourteen and sheltered, viewing this move as the worst thing that could ever happen.

But Vi wasn’t a saint, and she did get annoyed from time to time. As if this wasn’t the best thing to ever happen to them. She closed the brochure and did her best to not crush it in her grip as her hands tightened into fists.

Before she could say anything though, the trees broke into a clearing and the monstrous, hallowed, ivy-covered stone walls of Foxcroft Academy. The green was massive and vibrant, well maintained with the fancy mower lines across it. It was grander than she could have imagined, and definitely someplace that someone like Vi Warwick never imagined as even the slightest chance.

This though, the sprawling, picturesque campus that actually looked like the photos hadn’t been photoshopped, was her single chance out of her life, and to her it was a terrifying opportunity. She sure as hell was going to make sure her sister took advantage of it, too.

As the car stopped in front of the large, central building, Vi looked over at her sister who seemed to be taking it all in, too. Powder didn’t know what was good for her, and Vi might not know much more, but she knew that this was the right decision, and she’d make sure she was on board.

“You ready?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Powder shrugged.

With no more ceremony, her sister grabbed her backpack and took the first steps outside of the car, leaving Vi with just herself and the echo of the car door slamming.

This is good, she sighed to herself before following. The cab driver dropped her duffle on the ground at her feet with a crunch on the gravel.

“Anything else?” he asked, looking around the trunk.

“Nope, that’s it.”

“Nothing else coming in on another train I’m going to have to bring out here?” he asked, taking inventory of the scant amount he was bringing.

“Nope,” Vi shook her head, heaving the heavy bag on her shoulder. Powder struggled with hers before Vi tossed it on her other shoulder. Somehow, it was heavier. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” he grunted as he slammed the trunk closed. “Good luck.”

The pair watched the car go back down the long road, out of the tall, wrought iron gates with the emblem on the front, and turned back to look up at the facade of the building, tilting their heads back to take all the spires and turrets. From the brochures, Vi knew that this was the original school building, a converted estate bequeathed by some rich guy. Now, the campus covered nearly 500 acres.

“Ms. Warwick! I’m so happy you made it,” a voice pulled them from their individual mulling. Feet hurried along the path toward them. “Easy trip, I hope. The train ride from the city is so lovely in the Fall, but still nice in the Summer. Hopefully it wasn’t too long.”

“It was fine,” Vi nodded, shaking the hand extended to her. She nudged her sister to do the same. “Thanks.”

“Wonderful. I’m not sure if you remember me, but I’m Dr. Sayyid, and I was on your interview panel for the scholarship.”

“Yeah, of course. Thanks again,” Vi offered. “This is my sister, Powder.”

It was hard not to remember the tall, young, striking woman with deep brown eyes who seemed to be the only smiling face on the panel. Dr. Sayyid wore the same, simple sari she wore that day just a month ago, when Vi sat in front of a table of snooty professors and answered for all of her past and potential. It seemed a bit unnecessary in her opinion, since they only offered the scholarship because she had something they wanted– athletic ability. They would use her body to put medals and cups in their cupboards and she would use her body to pull herself out of poverty and the hole her parents bore her into.

When someone tapped her on the shoulder at the gym a month ago, it took her out of her trance, the dull rhythm of the rowing machine lulling her to a safe place, outside of herself and the world. That guy said he was a coach and asked if she was interested in any sports. And now Vi was standing on a 250 year old campus that had a 97% acceptance rate to universities. A tap on the shoulder was they keys to the kingdoms.

“We’re running on a smaller staff, obviously, for the summer,” Dr. Sayyid explained, motioning for them to follow her around the building. “And official summer courses start on Monday, so this weekend is extra slow, which is perfect for exploring.”

The buildings seemed to form a little town, it’s own unit with plenty of green space. It was the space part that surprised Vi the most. She wasn’t used to seeing so much, to be able to breathe and stretch her arms without hitting anything.

“I hear you’re quite good at tinkering with electronics,” she continued, hoping to get Powder to open up. “You are very welcome to join us for a Robotics Team meeting. You’ll love our lab, Powder. I can show you tomorrow, if you want.”

“You have a lab?”

“Oh yes, a few. The Robotics Lab is attached to a maker’s space. I think you’re going to enjoy it.”

Finally showing some excitement, Powder gave her sister a somewhat hopeful look, and Vi nodded, encouraging it. She listened to the two talk about some of the amenities while she took in it all, making a note of the dining hall and the path that led to the lake for training, the gym, the clinic, the fences, the openings.

It made sense that Powder would be drawn to Dr. Sayyid. She was relatively young, for a professor, and she seemed genuinely kind and excited. Of all the tours Vi had gone on when she got to a new place, whether it be a new foster home or state facility, this one had to be the best, and watching Powder start to believe in it made it feel better. Vi would row until her hands bled.

“So this is Spence, one of the freshman girls’ dorm,” Dr. Sayyid explained as they stopped at a cozy looking building with columns and brick and real windows. It looked like a giant mansion, somehow bigger than its three stories. “And this is where you’ll be, Powder.”

Vi adjusted their bags, an end to the weight in sight.

“Tomorrow, we’ll do all the admin stuff, like ID cards and uniforms, but for now, you won’t have a problem getting in and out. What do you say, want to see your room?”

“Yeah,” Powder agreed, more excited than before.

Vi followed, trying to remember everything. She needed to know how to get to Powder no matter what.

The room itself was on the second floor toward the middle of the hall. She was in a quad, with a shared common room, though each bedroom had its own bathroom. Vi dropped the bag on one of the beds in the right-side bedroom, finally sick of carrying it. Her shoulders thanked her immediately. She watched Powder look around the space, run her hand over the empty bookshelves and desk before looking out the window at the fields in the distance.

When she turned back at Vi she smiled, finally relaxed.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I went ahead and picked up some of your books for classes on Monday, and this laptop is a little old, but it still works,” Dr. Sayyid explained, moving to the pile that sat on the end of a desk. “I just got a new one, so I figured you might get some use out of it for assignments.”

“For me?” Powder echoed, furrowing and looking back at Dr. Sayyid, trying to figure it out. She looked at Vi who gave a small shrug, unsure as well. The professor nodded enthusiastically.

“We have spare sheets and towels in the closet. It’s your responsibility to do laundry, which is down in the basement,” she continued, choosing not to dwell, though that was all Powder seemed capable of at the moment. “We’ll get you set up later. Shall we head over to see your room, Vi?”

While they walked across campus, Powder and Dr. Sayyid chatted about the buildings and some of the offerings, as well as what plans there might be for the year. Vi had never been more grateful for an adult that she was at that moment. She needed Powder to buy into this experience. She needed to have one less worry in her life, and this was hopeful for her. Cautiously hopeful, she decided.

The dorm for the senior girls was a little farther from the main heart of campus like Spence. Browning was a little smaller, a little more quaint, a little more retrofitted, but the view of the lake was everything Vi could ever want and never allowed herself to imagine.

The room on the top floor in the corner was small, with ancient paint and built ins, with heavy wooden furniture and a big bay window. She dropped her bag on the bed on one side of the room. Against the wall, sat a dresser, a desk, a small closet, and her bed, and on the other side, a mirror image.

Powder sat on her bed with a bounce and appraised it appreciatively.

“Not too bad,” she decided, making Vi smile.

Before this morning, they’d never left the city, and even then, they barely left their neighborhood. Now, they were in a different state, in a different town, and everything else truly did feel far away.

“They’re always working on the HVAC in this building,” Dr. Sayyid sighed as she opened a window to let in the faintest breeze, hoping to cut the stagnant heat. “I’ll message maintenance and let them know it’s on the fritz again. At least in the winter, the heat is great. The old boiler is more reliable than the new AC.”

Vi gripped the desk chair and took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment to finally breathe. If she did everything right, if she could keep all fo the pieces of the car together for just a year, she could keep them off the streets, keep them from being separated, keep everything from falling apart, and this felt like the closest she’d come to realizing that dream.

She could take some heat. She didn’t mind.

“I know you want to unpack, but I was going to make pizza for dinner. Do you guys want to come over and relax a bit?” Dr. Sayyid asked, clapping her hands together. “You’re probably hungry after the long day of traveling.”

“You live here?” Powder asked, hopping up. Vi didn’t move. She gripped the chair a bit tighter.

“I do. I’m a dorm supervisor, so I get to stay so I’m around if you ever need anything.”

“That’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah, I like it,” she agreed with a smile. “I can give you guys a run down of the rules and stuff, and if you like fresh veggies, we have a ton from the garden.”

Powder looked at her sister and Vi gave a slight nod, something that not many might catch, but she knew it was alright.

“I don’t like green things,” Powder explained. “Vi does.”

“Perfect, peppers for you and spinach for Vi.”

“Sounds good,” Vi offered, following along before pausing at the door and giving her room another look.

This is going to work.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Dinner was lovely. The small cottage on the edge of the eastside of campus felt well-lived in. It was cozy, as if someone had put in roots and made it their own. Vi appraised it while Powder helped make dough, rolling it out and chatting with Dr. Sayyid about their lives and such. Vi tried to figure her out, looking at photos and certificates, at stacks of books and movies, at board games and botched crochet projects.

Over freshly made pizza, they talked about her family back in India, about how much she liked teaching, about some of the fun parts of the campus and the school year. It was simple and easy, and Vi was grateful for that.

Internally, Vi debated about spending the night in Powder’s room. It wasn’t often they spent a night apart, but it was going to be something they had to get used to eventually, and so she bit her tongue, and didn’t offer when they walked back across campus. Instead, she helped Powder make her bed and unpack her bag.

“Can you believe they have cable?” she asked, flopping on the couch in the common room. “All these rooms and everyone gets cable. Isn’t that insane?”

“Three meals a day and cable,” Vi grinned. “It’s just like juvie.”

“I could get used to juvie like this,” Powder scoffed as she clicked through some channels.

“I’ll come grab you around nine tomorrow, and we’ll do breakfast at the Dining Hall before a tedious day of orientation,” Dr. Sayyid decided, though she checked to make sure they were on board. “And tomorrow you’ll have your roommates. I think you’re going to like yours, Powder. All the freshmen are new, so you’ll actually have a leg up on them to show them around.”

“You good?” Vi asked, slightly lower as Dr. Sayyid moved toward the door.

“I know where you are,” Powder nodded. Vi rumpled her hair as a goodbye. “Text me if you get scared.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Powder didn’t get up to move. She relaxed on the couch and waved and Vi understood that she needed to be alone, to experience, to thaw, to disappear. That didn’t stop her from standing outside in the hallway for a few extra moments, her hand hovering over the doorknob, as if at the sound of a cough, she’d burst back in.

Dr. Sayyid, her eyes kind and her lips twisting into a small smile put her hand on Vi’s shoulder, making her jump at the contact, retching her back into reality.

“She’s okay,” she promised. “Good kid.”

“Yeah, she’s really smart,” Vi offered, following. She let her gaze linger back to the door before they turned the corner to head downstairs.

“I can see that. It’s very obvious. She’ll do well here.”

Vi nodded and bit the inside of her lip repeatedly before clenching her jaw. She looked up at the lit window as she followed Dr. Sayyid toward her dorm yet again. She spoke about what some graduates had gone on to do, and about certain emotional supports that were in place, mental health wellness and all of those words. But mostly she walked in a mutual silence, just their feet and the gravel or the sidewalk or the grass.

“I know this is overwhelming,” the professor finally acknowledged as they paused outside of Browning. “But if you need anything, please don’t hesitate. I can answer any questions you might have– about school or anything else.”

Vi nodded again and put her hands in her pockets. Dr. Sayyid held out a card.

“My personal cell. I was the scholarship kid once who left everything she ever knew to take care of her family,” she murmured, her voice slightly more serious than Vi had heard it all evening. “Anything, Vi.”

Gently, Vi took the card in her hands and turned it over to see the neatly handwritten digits. She stared at it for a moment and swallowed before nodding and slipping it in her back pocket. Dr. Sayyid seemed to appraise her, wagering what her chances were before catching herself and offering a soothing smile.

“Enjoy your first night. Maintenance left a fan for you. I’m sorry the AC is out.”

“I’ve slept in worse spots,” Vi promised with a wry grin. “Thanks, Doc.”

“Anything, Vi, I mean it,” the professor reminded her as she turned, walking backward toward her place.

For a long beat, Vi stood outside of the dorm and looked at the campus, the trees, the sky, blue and orange, the clouds purple wisps. Sweat dried on the back of her neck and she couldn’t remember ever feeling so singular, as if no one else in the world existed. She felt the card in her pocket. She’d had those before, promises on cards, so she knew not to count on it, no matter how well-intentioned someone seemed to be. She did this all herself, and she’d keep that streak going.

She made her way inside, checking her phone as she walked to see if Powder needed anything, though she didn’t have any messages from her.

There wasn’t much to unpack. She hung up some clothes and filled only two drawers of the dresser. A stack of books were already on her bookshelves, probably from Dr. Sayyid, but Vi didn’t want to look at those just yet. It took only twenty minutes, and she was moved in. She could be packed and on her way in half the time if need be.

The showers were in the middle of the hallway. Vi dug out a change of clothes and a few toiletries, remembering to turn the fan on for when she got back to her room, hoping it would cool off. The water felt good, washing away the train and the dirt and the sweat. It reminded her of baptism, and she was reborn, different now. A Foxcroft student. People from her side of town didn’t go to Foxcroft. People from her side of town never left that side.

At the small sink in her room, Vi brushed her teeth as she picked up a novel from her pile, aimlessly wondering as she scrubbed. The Count of Monte Cristo. She flipped through the heavy book and felt slightly daunted by the size of it. She hadn’t read a book in… She furrowed, holding her toothbrush in her mouth as she flipped a page and caught some writing.

Vi- “Life is a storm, my young friend. What makes you a man is what you do when that storm comes. You must look into that storm and shout- Do your worst, for I will do mine!”For a jump on Fall semester. But I think you might also find some use for this story.Dr. Sayyid

She reread the words a few times, trying to figure it out. Slowly she brushed her teeth a little more and weighed the book. She looked helplessly at the shelf and wondered when she’d have time to do it all. A headstart couldn’t hurt.

She spit in the sink as the door to her room opened and she stood still in the middle of the room with a toothbrush hanging from her lips, a book tucked against her stomach, and a brilliant blue eye staring at her. Vi was certain she looked like a deer, and this girl was a semi truck barreling at her full speed, though she just stood in the doorway. She wore an eye patch on one side of her face, though a faint pink scar peaked out of the edges at the top and bottom. Her face composed itself instantaneously, the surprise gone.

“Who the hell are you?” she furrowed before looking at the number on the door and back at a piece of paper in her hand.

“Who the hell are you?” Vi managed, garbling over her toothbrush before she snagged it out of her mouth. Her heckles rose immediately.

“I was supposed to have a single,” the stranger groaned. She dropped the box balanced on her hip on the ground. “Are you in the right room?”

“Yeah. I am. Can we go back to who the hell you are?” Vi tried again, her voice stern.

The girl just stared at her, eye drifting down to her shorts and sports bra and Vi realized she was definitely less clothed than her. But she couldn't balk now. She spent enough time establishing herself in strange situations to know that you don’t blink and you certainly don’t acknowledge any weakness. In this situation, of course, the lack of clothes was a weakness, but she had to work with what she had.

“I think I’m your roommate.”

“Oh,” Vi furrowed and nodded. “Okay.”

“I’ll be back.”

Just like that, she was gone, and Vi was left, still standing there, clutching a book and a toothbrush. She looked at the box on the floor and then around her room.

“I’m Vi,” she muttered to an empty room. “Pleasure.”

Vi thought she’d have to get used to this, but she hadn’t thought about how annoying it would be. How wonderful it was that her roommate was a prime example of the most annoying kind of person. Rich fucking blue bloods.

#caitvi #sapphic #fanfic

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leiawritesstories · 4 months ago

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PART ELEVEN: NOVEMBER

Word count: 10.1k

Warnings: Oof, this one's a doozy. Swearing, prison, police presence, shitloads of scheming, graphic violence, minor character d3@th, and angst

enjoy ;)

Masterlist

Read on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Endovier Prison, as it turned out, really wasn’t all that awful of a place to live.

To be fair, the food quality was subpar and the communal bathrooms reminded Aelin of being in the college dorms again, but all told, it wasn’t a terrible place, except for the silence. She had been placed in solitary confinement based on her “history of conspiring with others to evade containment,” but she was allowed to take her meals in the common dining room and have her recreation time along with the other inmates. She was always monitored by at least one guard, and for the most part, her guards were stolid, silent presences in her periphery.

And then there was Remelle.

Technically an officer of the Orynth Police Department, Remelle was assigned to Aelin’s prison guard rotation three days per week as an additional security measure. Orynth PD had requested to assign a police officer to her guard rotation to ensure that she wasn’t trying anything suspicious, and the guards at Endovier had agreed after some deliberation. Apparently, Remelle had volunteered to be the PD guard so fast the job wasn’t even available to anyone else.

She had first shown up in the guard rotation about five days into Aelin’s sentence, and jealousy practically oozed from her pores. It had taken Aelin only half an hour to figure out that Remelle had a completely unrequited crush on Rowan, and it took her only a little bit longer to casually mention his name within Remelle’s hearing. The sneer on the cop’s face and the steam that could have poured out of her ears confirmed what Aelin already hypothesized—Remelle was viciously jealous of Aelin and Rowan’s relationship, no matter that it was over.

Which made her the perfect linchpin to Aelin’s escape plan.

Two weeks into November, her first month at Endovier, Aelin had demonstrated nothing but good behavior, and she was allowed to have supervised computer time each day. Part of that was necessary, since she was still working with Elide to finalize the transition of power in her company, and Aelin had shown no resistance to having one of her guards watching her while she worked for her allotted hour of computer time. She was so cooperative, in fact, that her guards had become complacent after a week of supervising her and begun to just sit outside the door to the computer room, glancing in every few minutes to make sure she was still there.

As soon as the guards were out of the room, Aelin began adding an extra task to the handful of things she was wrapping up as her company transitioned into Elide’s capable hands. During her computer time, she casually started to peruse the computer’s data logs and trace its network paths, and she eventually discovered that all the prison’s computers ran on a central network, even the secured ones that only the guards and other staff used.

Including the security staff.

A few clever digs into the system’s backbrain got her into the logs for the security system itself, cameras and all, and she had slowly begun to map out where the relevant cameras were located and what mechanisms she could possibly trigger to get them on a temporary loop.

She couldn’t risk working too quickly, though, so she only did a little bit more each day, slowly working her way into familiarity with the prison’s computer network. Interestingly, she had also found the log that tracked all the visits to the prison, and she noticed that she had two visitors waiting to see her. The yellow flag by her name was a warning—she was not yet cleared for visitors—but given her good behavior, she was fairly certain that it wouldn’t be long before she could have visitors.

Endovier Prison wasn’t going to know what hit it when they allowed Aelin Galathynius to have visitors.

In the weeks she had been there, Aelin had managed to make some acquaintances with other inmates during communal mealtimes or rec time. The most interesting one was a woman about ten years older than she was who had been in Endovier for six years, a timeline that she tracked by marking the days on her cell wall with charcoal. Her name was Petrah, and she had been a licensed cosmetologist with no intent or interest in the criminal life until she discovered that her ex-husband was involved with a major drug smuggling operation. When she confronted him, he denied it and threatened to forcibly silence her if she told anyone else about it.

So she murdered him.

Petrah had been found guilty of manslaughter but had successfully managed to prove that it was in self-defense, and her sentence was only ten years. She was up for parole the next year, and she was constantly asking Aelin questions about Orynth to prepare herself for a potential return to the city. Aelin was happy to answer her questions; she had even said she would provide a reference if Petrah ever wanted to look for work at Galathynius, Inc. Elide would be renaming the company, but the leadership team had yet to decide on a new name. Grateful, Petrah had thanked Aelin but said she didn’t think she would pursue that kind of employment.

The two of them had a casual friendship, little more than the shared bond of fellow inmates in a high-security prison, but Aelin trusted Petrah enough to ask her a favor. In the middle of November, Aelin was moved from solitary confinement to a cell block in a different sector, and while she was still alone in her cell, she had neighbors along the hallway. One of them was Petrah.

“Morning, Sardothien. How does the slop look today?” Petrah’s raspy voice greeted Aelin as she set down her tray on the long metal cafeteria table.

With a scoff, Aelin pushed her spoon around the grayish mass that was supposedly oatmeal. “No better than yesterday,” she drawled. “Seems like the supplies are getting a little thin.”

Petrah chuckled. “It happens every few weeks. What it usually means is that the delivery comes at the end of the week, and they’ve got to get rid of as much stuff as possible.”

“Fair enough.” Aelin managed to force down about half her portion, chasing it with multiple cups of bitter drip coffee. “Hey, do you still have any of your stuff from the salon?”

“Yeah, I brought a box when they sent me here.” Petrah raised a brow. “Why?”

Aelin shrugged, aware that the guards were probably watching and listening to her. “I feel like a little bit of a change. Got any bleach?”

“Hmm.” Petrah tipped her head sideways, thinking. “I might.”

When rec time rolled around that day, Aelin went over to the small, sparsely stocked library, and she was slowly browsing through the handful of books that looked interesting when Petrah tapped her on the shoulder. “I’ve got bleach.”

“Perfect.” Aelin left the books alone and went down to the bathrooms with the stylist. “I was thinking I wanted to go platinum, or as close to that as you could get.”

The older woman nodded, a sly grin tugging at her lips. “Ever bleached your hair before?”

“I’ve had highlights, but not for years.”

“Okay.” Petrah lined up a few bottles on the shelf under the small mirror in front of one of the sinks. “Damn, this brings back college.”

“Tell me about it,” Aelin chuckled. “Looks just like the dorm bathrooms.”

“Yeah.” Petrah tugged Aelin’s hair out of the braid she usually kept it in and glanced quickly towards the door. The bathrooms were about the only part of Endovier that didn’t have security cameras, and Aelin was half convinced there were hidden microphones somewhere. “We’re safe here,” Petrah said softly, keeping her tone low. “So tell me, Shadow Assassin. Is there any other reason you had this desire for a change?”

Aelin met the stylist’s eyes in the mirror.

And smirked.

It had been twenty-five minutes since her visit began, and Elide was still sneaking astonished glances at Aelin’s hair. Aelin smothered her laughter and kept her face neutral as she chatted aimlessly with her dear friend. She’d finally been cleared for visitors two days ago, and Elide was the first one to arrive, bringing a stack of paperwork with her. Despite the no-touching and no-exchanges rule, she’d strolled right into the visitors’ room and plopped the stack of paper right down in front of Aelin.

“No passing, ma’am,” the guard on duty interrupted, his eyes darting awkwardly between the current CEO of Galathynius, Inc. and the Shadow Assassin.

Elide’s polite smile could have cut glass. “Would you like to sort through this paperwork yourself, Officer…” She glanced at his name tag. “Officer Owen?”

The man gulped nervously, stepped forward, and picked up the stack of papers. He flipped through it and set it back down. “A-all clear.”

“Good.” Elide sat across from Aelin and handed a pen to the guard, who managed to give it to Aelin without dropping it. “These need your signatures, Aelin. It’s backlog from before the transfer.”

“Couldn’t be bothered to use digital paperwork, I guess.” Aelin picked up the pen and started working through the paperwork, scratching her signature onto the blank lines. Elide updated her on the company business as she worked, and it was only a few minutes before the guard’s eyes began to glaze over and he retreated to the opposite corner of the room. Aelin stifled a chuckle.

Nox Owen put on the second-best performance she’d seen in an undercover agent. Only Ren Allsbrook had been better.

As Elide stole another glance at Aelin’s new, icy-toned hair, she caught the blonde’s gaze and sighed, shaking her head. “Didn’t take long for the boredom to kick in, did it?”

Aelin shrugged. “When I got moved out of solitary, I found out that one of the nearby inmates is a cosmetologist. She’s nice. I felt like having a little fun.”

Elide laughed softly. “I suppose you have to find those moments when you can, given that you’re never seeing the outside of this place.”

“I see a few yards of the walls once a day,” Aelin joked. “Don’t worry about me, Ells. I’m okay.”

“Really?”

A shrug. “It’s not my apartment by any means, but it’s not awful.”

“Hmm.” Elide pulled the finished stack of paperwork back over to her side of the table. “Officer?”

At the sound of his title, Nox jerked and came to stand a few feet away from Elide. “Yes?”

Elide turned a warm, charming smile onto the man. “Officer, is it possible for inmates here to receive care packages from outside?”

“Well, I, um…” Nox cleared his throat, perfectly acting as a nervous wreck of a new prison guard. “All incoming mail must be thoroughly inspected by prison security.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“Yes, ma’am. You can put the inmate’s name and the prison’s address, and as long as the package passes inspection, the inmate will receive it.”

“Wonderful!” Elide beamed. “I’d just like to make sure Aelin gets some real food, since she’s said that the food quality here isn’t all that great.”

“If you could include extra for my cell-block neighbors, that would be great,” Aelin added.

Elide nodded crisply. “Of course.” She made eye contact with Aelin, and the pair exchanged the slightest nod. “Is there anything specific you’d want besides food?”

“Hmm…probably toothpaste and maybe some tampons. The ones in the communal bathrooms fall apart too fast. Oh!” Aelin grinned. “And if you happen to throw a few pieces of hazelnut dark chocolate in there, I’d be a happy woman.”

“You and your chocolate,” Elide laughed. “Okay.”

“Um, visit time is up, ma’am,” Nox interrupted, voice quavering.

“I know.” Elide tucked the paperwork into her folder. “Would you be so kind as to show me the way out, Officer Owen?” She gave Aelin one last glance before she walked out the door, following Nox Owen in his prison guard’s disguise back out of Endovier.

Another guard came into the visitors’ room. “Computer time, Galathynius,” he said curtly. Aelin followed him out and down the hallways to the computer room, mentally memorizing her steps. Although she could probably just follow another guard when she eventually made her break, it would go better if she didn’t. Besides, the cover she planned to use knew her way around Endovier.

Or at least she should, after several weeks of being Aelin’s personal police guard.

“You have thirty minutes.” The guard opened the door, checked the room, and sat down in the chair right outside the computer room. Not very talkative, this one.

Aelin sat down at the computer and went to her email, where she answered some of the queries that still came to her and redirected others back to Elide. The camera in this room faced the chair, not the screen, and she kept her face and posture casual and neutral as she opened up another window and navigated herself easily into the prison’s computer system. Since everything was centralized, it had been laughably easy to clear her file’s hold, making it appear that the superintendent had cleared Prisoner Galathynius for visitors. The central system also made it much easier to track and locate the camera system, and in just over four weeks, Aelin had managed to map out the locations of every security camera in Endovier.

The next step was figuring out how to run a certain sector of the cameras on a loop. She’d started with the one directly opposite her cell a week ago. A few typed commands, and that camera had blinked and gone dark for a few seconds, then rebooted. Aelin tried a few different methods, and eventually, she discovered how to make that camera replay a previously recorded segment of footage. She then moved on and started trying to sync up more cameras, a task that had proved more challenging.

But after two weeks of work, she finally had it down.

A handful of commands and a couple of passwords swiped from a database—really, this whole centralized system was just such a peach—and all twenty cameras in the sector Aelin had targeted were running a section of footage from a week ago.

Beautiful.

Aelin set the cameras back on their normal track, cleared all evidence of her meddling, and was closing out of her email when the guard opened the door again.

“Time’s up.” He walked over and watched as she calmly exited the computer.

She followed him back to her cell, and once his footsteps had receded, she sat down on her bed and picked up a journal from the shelf built into the wall. She knew the guards probably searched her books every once in a while, so she was careful to keep every piece of her plans in a code that only she knew. The words were ostensibly normal, set up as an ordinary journal entry, and the cute little drawings in the margins and on some of the pages were also apparently mindless scribbles.

In Aelin’s eyes, the words and the sketches turned into her plan to get out of Endovier and finish Maeve Bitchface once and for all.

And if she died in the process, then so fucking be it.

Nox Owens was having the time of his fucking life.

When Elide had contacted him in the middle of Aelin’s trial, he’d been expecting another ordinary request for a tech job, which was his usual role. But she had surprised him—of course she had. If he knew anything about the Boss, it was that she always had another plan up that infinite sleeve of hers. Instead of a tech job, she wanted him to get into Endovier. As a guard.

That was always Ren’s job.

Nox had plenty of spy training and experience, but his primary strength was his tech savvy, and once Ren had joined the Boss’s team, he’d been content to take the tech jobs and leave the infiltrations to the most wanted spy in the world. But Ren was dead, and the Boss wanted Nox to work as her inside man. And it had been a hell of a long time since he’d had the chance to practice this skill set.

It had been almost laughably easy to slip into Endovier’s database and add himself to the prison guard register, which rotated frequently enough that another new name didn’t catch any second glances. He barely even bothered to change his name, and his prison guard nameplate read “Nick Owen,” a bland, forgettable name to go with his bland, forgettable face. Just for fun, he swiped Ren’s fingerprints from the Boss’s archive and imprinted them onto the SecondSkin he applied to his hands—if he was ever printed, the staff would have such a fun time scratching their heads at the fact that this guard’s prints apparently matched those of a former inmate, one who was supposed to be dead.

About a week after she visited, Elide Lochan sent a plain cardboard box by courier to Endovier Prison. As he passed by the shipping room on his rotation, Nox heard the gruff bark of the mail supervisor.

“Owen! C’mere!”

He strolled over, stopped a few paces away, and fiddled with the cuffs of his sleeves. “Yes?”

“Quit twitching,” grumbled the crotchety old man who’d been the mail supervisor at Endovier for twenty years and counting. “Damn newbies.”

“S-sorry, sir,” Nox mumbled, masking his snicker with a wobbly voice.

“Just stop shaking, newbie.” The man pulled a box across the table and tugged the small, flat white envelope off the top of the box. He tore it open, and Nox swore he saw an avaricious smile flicker across the supervisor’s face at the sight of the cash inside the envelope. “Here. This one’s for Sardothien.”

Nox cleared his throat. “Aren’t we supposed to inspect every package that comes for an inmate?”

The supervisor chuckled dryly. “I see someone memorized the handbook.” Carelessly, he took a box knife out of his pocket, slit through the tape, and gave a cursory sweep of his hand through the contents of the box, then slapped a stamp on top of the cardboard. “How’s that for inspection, Owen?”

“I…uh…” Nox pretended to be lost for words.

“Good lad.” The supervisor tucked a stack of cash into the inside pocket of his vest and passed Nox fifty dollars. “This is called an inspection fee.”

“Really?”

“Of course not!” A rattling cackle scraped out of the mail supervisor’s throat. “It’s called good business for me and some goddamn tampons for Prisoner Sardothien. Now quit shaking and take that box to Sardothien’s cell.”

“Yes, sir!” Nox picked up the box, slapped a bit of tape on top to hold it together, and left the mailroom as fast as possible. He wove through the corridors, flashing his badge when necessary, and came to Aelin’s cell. The snide blonde policewoman was leaning on the wall beside the cell door, a sneer on her face like usual. She glanced sideways at Nox as he approached.

“What do you want?”

“Delivery for the inmate,” he said coolly, showing the cop the box. The red stamp indicating that it had passed inspection glared against the beige cardboard.

The cop sniffed haughtily. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t contain any contraband.”

“Whatever.” Nox set the box on the floor and folded his arms. He’d learned very quickly that the easiest way to deal with the snippy blonde cop was to go along with whatever her snide, bitchy voice said.

“You could at least hold it,” she huffed.

He shrugged. “It’s stable, and you can make sure anything you flag doesn’t get passed to the inmate.”

She curled her lip, but knelt down, tore the tape off, and started sifting through the contents of the box. A plastic bag full of tampons was pushed aside, and she sorted a whole pile of electrolyte drink packets into stacks and shook the empty plastic water bottle. She went through the handful of food items too, exhaling in disgust when she didn’t find anything suspicious enough to confiscate. “Fine. The inmate can have the box.”

“About time,” Aelin drawled from inside her cell, where she was sitting on her bed, watching the cop tear through the box. “Thank you for your excellent supervision, Remy.”

“Don’t call me that,” the cop snapped, her icy-blue eyes narrowed into little slits. Once again, Nox was struck by how similar she looked to Aelin—with the exception of the eyes and the sneer. She unlocked the cell door, and Nox slid the box into the room.

“So kind of you, Remy darling.” Aelin’s snicker floated over the sound of the cop slamming the cell door shut in frustration. She flicked through the box aimlessly, then took out an energy bar and tossed it through the bars of her cell. “Here, Rems, have a little something sweet to counteract all that bitterness.”

Nox turned and strode away down the corridor before he could erupt into laughter at the shade of enraged purple that Remy the Cop’s face turned.

He knew goddamn well what was in that box, and it wasn’t just the food and period products that seemed to be in there. While there was ordinary food and ordinary tampons, there was also some quantity of Aelin’s SecondSkin, the very same substance that was currently covering Nox’s hands. He didn’t know exactly how much Elide and Nehemia had folded up and tucked into the decoy drink packets, but if Aelin was going to use it to get herself out of Endovier, he could only imagine that it was a lot.

And he could only imagine the look on her face when she strolled out in plain sight.

Four weeks, two days, and seven hours after she became an inmate of Endovier Prison, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius received the package that would get her out.

Elide and Nehemia had done everything exactly as they had all planned. Carefully measured and prepped sections of SecondSkin were tucked into a number of the electrolyte drink packets, and a set of ice-blue contact lenses hid in another packet. Elide had even tucked a tiny scrap of a note into one of the packets, and Aelin chuckled at her familiar, comfortingly blunt writing. She confirmed that everything was in place for whenever Aelin decided to make her move.

Which meant that Maeve Bitchface had taken the bait.

Aelin smothered a smirk. She’d never really doubted that Maeve would fall for her trap, not when that woman’s ego was so laughably easy to predict. Aelin knew Maeve was gloating over her arrest and imprisonment, and that meant she’d grown too comfortable in her power. A short note from Connall had been tucked into an earlier letter from Elide, and in code, he confirmed that he’d run the course of poisoning the Bitch Queen of the Night, and she was visibly weakened and frantically throwing money at anyone she thought could help her condition.

The second she got through Endovier’s gates, Aelin would be heading straight for Maeve Bitchface’s cute little compound. Well, not straight—she knew the most convoluted path to get there, and she’d take it to keep any potential pursuit off her trail. She and that bitch had a score to settle.

Shaking those thoughts away, Aelin carefully sorted the normal drink packets from the SecondSkin ones. All the orange-flavored ones were SecondSkin, both because it was the most common flavor and because Aelin loathed artificial orange flavoring almost as much as she loathed Maeve. She tucked the orange ones into the plastic basket where she kept her shower things, hiding them beneath her bar of soap and her washcloths.

A couple of days later, in the shower, Aelin turned the water on extra hot, creating a cloud of steam in the shower room. Behind the plastic curtains, she tore into the packets, unfolded the SecondSkin, and began the tedious process of laying the film atop her skin. Somewhere around half an hour in, a guard rapped on the door and grunted something about not taking too much time.

Aelin ignored him, of course.

It took a good forty-five minutes to get every piece of SecondSkin laid onto her skin, and she wrapped a towel around her hair and put on a clean set of inmate scrubs. Only a few more days in this rancid orange, she promised herself. Only a few more days.

“About damn time,” the guard grumbled when she emerged from the shower room.

She shrugged. “I’m a woman. We take long showers every once in a while.”

“Whatever.” He led her back to her cell, and she lounged on her bed, content for a while. She picked up her journal and wrote aimlessly on one of the last pages, her pencil moving almost without any conscious effort. Her shower had been a night one, and it wasn’t long before the corridor lights dimmed and she tucked her journal back onto its shelf. She fell asleep dreaming of the smell of fresh pine air in her lungs and the sweet taste of freedom.

And she dreamed snippets of strong, tattooed muscles flexing and shifting above her skin, fragments of tortured moans breaking the thick, hot air. Shattered emerald eyes stole a glance at her, and in an instant, the dream crumbled, giving way to cold concrete and steel.

Fuck.

Aelin pushed the scraps of her dreams away as she went about her day, letting nothing show. When the usual guard came to escort her to the computer room, she walked in calmly, sat herself down, and let her fingers fly over the keyboard. She was into the system and navigating to the cameras almost before her brain caught up with her actions, and she forced herself to stop and breathe deeply before she went on, lest she make a wrong move and trigger some kind of alert.

Now or never, Galathynius. She entered the sequence of keystrokes that gave her command over her sector’s cameras, and in a matter of minutes, that entire section was playing a loop from two days ago.

That loop was the last time Remelle was on Aelin’s guard rotation.

Like clockwork, the platinum-blonde cop joined the guard as Aelin was returning from computer time, a sneer on her face. “No snide comments today, inmate?”

“It’s too early for that,” Aelin returned sweetly. As they rounded the corner into her corridor, she nodded a fraction at the guard. Obediently, Nox started to walk faster, and as if on cue, Remelle stopped and scowled.

“There’s no need to rush, guard.”

Nox shrugged. “I’m not rushing.”

“You are.”

“Didn’t seem like I was.”

She huffed in irritation. “Just go back to your rotation. I can handle the inmate from here.”

“Fine.” Nox peeled away and headed back down the corridor, off to his usual path.

Remelle curled her acrylic-tipped fingers around Aelin’s arm. “Just you and me now, inmate.”

Aelin fixed a dry, blank stare on the cop. “Is that supposed to be threatening, Remy? Because you should know that you sound childish at best.”

“Shut it,” she snapped. “Get moving.”

“Hard to do that with such a…significant weight clinging onto me.” Aelin knew it was a low blow to comment on another woman’s size, but Remelle fucking had it coming.

The cop gasped, then her face burned scarlet. “You little bitch,” she hissed. She threw Aelin’s cell door open with a rattling clang, following her into the small room.

Perfect.

As Remelle wound up to slap her across the face, Aelin slipped a tiny syringe out of her pocket, ducked the cop’s wild swing, and grabbed her ponytail, holding her head still as she stuck the needle into the nape of her neck. Her hairline would conceal any puncture marks. Remelle’s eyes went wide, and she flailed without success—the sedative worked rapidly, and Aelin had asked Nehemia for enough to knock the woman out for a good twenty-four hours.

When Remelle sank to the floor, unconscious, Aelin swiftly stripped her of her clothes, then removed her own prison scrubs and did a quick clothing swap. Before she put the undershirt onto Remelle, she very carefully applied the SecondSkin patches to her fingertips. The synthetic nearly disappeared into her skin, and Aelin chuckled as she put the pinch-faced cop into her prison clothes.

“Enjoy your stay,” she crooned, tidily switching the cuff from her wrist to Remelle’s. She stepped in front of the mirror, applied the pale blue contacts to her eyes, and then slipped the turquoise ones into Remelle’s eyes. “And thank you,” she added as she settled Remelle into the bed, tucked the blankets up around her, grabbed her journal, and left the cell.

She’d memorized Remelle’s schedule, so it was natural for her to adopt the cop’s sneer and customarily pinched expression as she sauntered down the corridors. A brief stop at the staff computer room allowed her to transition the cameras from their loop back to their normal settings, and she went back to her corridor and stood the rest of her Celaena Duty before the next guard came to relieve her.

“Any changes?” the guard asked.

Aelin curled her lip. “Why would there be?” she snipped in a flawless imitation of Remelle’s nasal whine. She’d had weeks to perfect that inflection.

He held up his hands. “Standard question, as usual.”

“Well, if it’s so standard, just stop asking.” Aelin turned on her heel and walked snootily down the corridors. She passed rows of cells, ascended a couple of floors, and went down more hallways, carefully following Remelle’s usual path, which Nox (and her studies of the security camera footage) had graciously provided.

In the guards’ break room, she picked up Remelle’s uniform jacket and backpack, into which Nox had tucked a plastic bag containing a change of clothes. She swiped her badge at the door and went out to the checkpoint, where all she had to do was sneer at the fidgety young man on duty as he double-checked her badge before he let her through. Jingling the keys on her belt, she walked over to the parked police sedan, unlocked it, dumped her bag on the passenger seat, and got in.

And she drove out of Endovier’s gates in an Orynth PD vehicle.

Fuck, she liked irony.

Aelin drove to a gas station on the western outskirts of Orynth, parked just out of range of the single camera by the gas pumps, and got out of the car. She quickly stripped for the second time in a few hours, changed into the formfitting dark clothes that Nox had left for her, tidily folded Remelle’s uniform and left it and everything else in a neat stack on the passenger seat of the sedan, clicked the manual lock switch, and tossed the keys into the car before she closed the door.

Let Orynth PD figure that one out.

She knew the gas station was rarely open—hell, she often had a couple of her guys use this place for distributions—so she ducked around the side of the building, swiftly crossed the street, and disappeared into the tightly clustered tangle of buildings that lined this side of Orynth. As the afternoon faded into evening, Aelin let her muscle memory take over, winding a circuitous, rambling path through half of Orynth, doubling and tripling back to tangle up her trail. She worked her way around the outer districts, a grin curling the corners of her lips as the familiar steel and brick walls of the industrial district rose up around her.

About half a mile away from her favorite riverside warehouse, an old apartment building had been taped off and designated for destruction. Aelin had the Boss’s men plant those signs months ago, planning to use the building as a contingency. She slipped in through a ground-floor window, shook the dust off of her shoes, and latched the window shut before she went down the hallway into the darkened building.

To her pleasant surprise, the reinforced walls around the kitchen were even sturdier than before, and she flipped on the soft light as she walked in. With a long, muffled groan, she sat down at one of the high stools, relieved to get off her feet after so much walking.

“Good to see you again, Boss.” The voice nearly made Aelin jump out of her skin.

“Fuck!” She pressed a hand against her thundering heart as she turned around to meet Elide’s sly grin. “Scared the hell out of me, Ells.”

Elide snickered. “The bold Officer Remelle would never be so terrified.”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “The bold Officer Remelle wasted most of her boldness trying to get into my—into some man’s pants.”

“I’m almost surprised,” Elide continued, tactfully ignoring Aelin’s slip of speech. “If you were still in the uniform, I’d probably think you were actually Remy.”

“Don’t call me that!” Aelin sniped in her Remelle voice. Elide bent over, howling, and Aelin’s laughter joined in. “Hey, when you give a girl enough time with nothing else to do…”

“Nice work.” Elide discreetly wiped the corners of her eyes. “Right. Here’s your phone.” She passed Aelin a nondescript burner phone. “Con’s number is already there.”

“Perfect.” Aelin tucked the phone into a side pocket of her pants. “Where’s the best place for me at the moment?”

“Right now?” Elide bubbled her lips. “Probably here, honestly. Stay the night—the place is secure and should have everything you need. I’ll update you tomorrow—actually, it’ll probably be Con. He’s better at going around unnoticed than I am.”

“Side effects of being a high-profile CEO,” Aelin joked. “Speaking of—have you and the team figured out a new name yet?” One of the clauses in the transfer of ownership was renaming the company, since there was a high chance that people wouldn’t want to be associated with a company named after an infamous criminal.

“We have some options, but nothing is set.” Elide tapped her phone, pulling up a page on her notes app. “Staghorn Development is currently the top choice, though.”

“I like that.” Aelin mulled over the name. “If my opinion has any weight—which it probably doesn’t—I’m a fan of Staghorn.”

Elide’s lips quirked upwards. “Good to know.” She slipped her phone back into her jacket. “I have to get home, but Ae?”

“Yeah?”

The petite woman grinned. “It’s so good to see you safe.”

Impulsively, Aelin hugged Elide. “Thank you,” she murmured. “For everything.”

“Least I could do.” Elide squeezed Aelin’s hands. “I’ll see you soon.” She left, and Aelin waited for the muffled click of the doors locking before she headed further down the hallway, towards the bedroom and bathroom.

After a long, hot shower that made her feel both clean and more human, Aelin changed into fresh undergarments and the same clothes she’d been wearing. The nondescript, cheap cotton-blend clothes could have come from anywhere, which made them perfect for sneaking around in. She’d taken out the pale blue contacts and tossed them in the trash before her shower, but she kept the protective film of SecondSkin on her hands.

Better to mask her fingerprints than to get caught too early.

She flipped on the bedside lamp in the plainly furnished bedroom and gratefully crawled into bed, near tears at the feeling of a proper mattress beneath her body for the first time in over a month. Unable to fall asleep without some kind of light—she’d grown accustomed to the hallway lights in Endovier—she left the lamp on and drifted off, letting her body shut down as the adrenaline high finally wore off.

When she woke up, watery grey sunlight had broken through the clouds of the late-November sky, and she rolled over and just stared out of the window, soaking in the morning light for the first time in weeks. Eventually, she rolled out of bed, brushed her teeth, redid her braid, and made herself a coffee in the kitchen. She sipped it carelessly as she fiddled with her phone, waiting for Con to text.

And when he did, she couldn’t control the smirk that spread across her face.

For about the trillionth time in the last year, Rowan was royally fucking pissed, and Aelin was the reason for it.

“What the fuck do you mean?” he snarled, hands clenched into fists atop his desk. The cold wood was still unfamiliar under his fingers, so different from the steel tables of the police building.

“Watch it, Lieutenant,” Gavriel warned from the doorway.

Rowan pulled in a deep breath and shoved it out in a harsh exhale. “Where is she?”

“Downstairs, in a temporary holding cell until we can verify that it’s actually her.”

“I’m going to talk to her.” He was halfway out the door when Gav’s iron hand clamped around his upper arm. “What?”

“I don’t think that’s the best idea, Whitethorn,” Gav said, coolly.

Scarlet anger crept up the edges of Rowan’s vision. “Why not, sir?”

“You have a personal history with this woman—technically, with both of these women, since you worked with PD for almost a year. I’d hate for that to compromise anything.”

“I understand, sir, but—”

“But nothing,” Gav interrupted, cutting him off. “No.”

Rather than tearing free from his commander’s grasp, Rowan deflated, his posture going slack. “I only want a few minutes, sir. I…” He cleared his throat, not expecting this tangle of emotion. “I need to know.”

After a long, tense moment, Gav sighed. “Fine. I’ll give you five minutes. When the timer goes off, you get the hell out of there or I swear to all that’s holy I’ll slap you right back into basic training.”

“Yes, sir.” Rowan snapped off a salute at his commander and strode down the hallways, his pace increasing with every step he took. He took an elevator down several floors, flashed his badge at the pair of TSF guards stationed outside the double doors that blocked off the temporary holding quarters that took up half the floor of the TSF building’s basement, and pulled the doors open. Inside, he took a deep breath, dredging up every scrap of resolve he could summon, and walked down another few yards.

He stopped in front of the first holding cell, clasped his hands behind his back, and turned an impassive gaze onto the platinum-blonde woman seated on the bench inside the cell. The instant she saw him, she shot up to her feet, folded her arms across her chest, reared her head back, and sneered at him, her pale lips curling back, rage filling her icy blue eyes.

“Hello, Remelle,” Rowan said quietly.

“Fuck you,” Remelle snapped.

Rowan raised a brow. “If this is some kind of plot to escape Endovier, I’m afraid you’ve failed.”

She practically growled at him. “I’ve told every stupid asshole in this place and I’ll tell you too: I am not Aelin!”

“That’s not what your fingerprints say,” he replied.

She laughed caustically and, to his surprise, pinched her skin between the tips of her acrylic nails and yanked, and the skin at the tip of her finger peeled away. “Because that bitch put her fingerprints on me, asshole.”

“Prove it.” Rowan leaned against the wall opposite the holding cell and waited for Remelle to yank the synthetic off of her fingertips. She shoved the synthetic through the slot in the door, and he tucked it into a plastic bag to give to the forensics team.

“Get me out of here,” she snapped again.

Rowan had only vaguely wondered whether Remelle was actually Aelin in disguise, and he was unsurprised to find that it wasn’t. “That’s not for me to do,” he tossed over his shoulder as his timer rang. The guard from outside the holding area poked his head in and gestured, and Rowan turned on his heel and left, letting Remelle’s enraged whining fade away.

“I’m taking this to forensics,” he told Gav, who was waiting outside the holding area.

Gav nodded. “Did you get your answers?”

“I’ve seen enough,” was all that Rowan said. “Should be fine to let her go, if only to get rid of the goddamn whining.”

“You’re certain?”

“Yes. Sir,” he added, tacking on Gav’s title at the last second.

Gav raised a brow but otherwise didn’t react to Rowan’s near instance of insubordination. “I’ll let her get back to PD, then. Wait for me in my office, Whitethorn.”

Not trusting himself to reply verbally, Rowan dipped his head tersely, saluted, and headed upstairs, where he dropped off the bag at the forensics lab and walked back to Gav’s office. He only waited for around ten minutes before the commander came into the office, sighed heavily, and sat back down at his desk.

“That woman is a piece of fucking work,” Gav grumbled, mostly to himself.

Rowan didn’t suppress his snort. “Couldn’t agree more, sir.”

“If she’s always like that…” He scoffed quietly. “I can’t say I blame my niece for choosing that woman as a decoy.”

“I don’t think that was the whole reason, sir,” Rowan said. He’d been thinking over the situation as he waited, and while his thoughts were still clouded with rage—and a hefty dose of lust, if he was being honest, because clever, scheming Aelin had a way of working him up—he’d formed a somewhat solid hypothesis. “Besides her, uh, cattier tendencies, Remelle also looks remarkably physically similar to Sardothien, a fact that I’m sure she knew.”

“You know that’s not Aelin’s real name, Whitethorn.” Gav made a statement, not a question.

It was real enough to convict her. “I…it’s easier this way, sir.” Rowan swallowed the lump in his throat and kept talking. “I suspect she began planning this as soon as she found out that Remelle was the police officer on duty. However, I’m perplexed at the footage, since it shows no apparent signs of tampering and everything looks perfectly normal.” A crease dug between his furrowed brows. “I’m having Luca at PD look at the footage, since he was the one to figure out Sardothien’s loop when she broke into PD headquarters in the summer.”

Gav chuckled. “Back up, Whitethorn. She broke into Orynth PD?”

“Yes, sir.” Rowan stifled his irritation. “Somehow, she managed to put the entire security camera system on a closed loop—except for my personal camera. We still have no knowledge what exactly she did while there, but since nothing was visibly disturbed, it was probably just recon.”

“Interesting.” Gav tapped his chin, thinking. “Do you have any idea where she is now?”

“I…no, sir.” Rowan reluctantly answered. “She could be anywhere.” His phone buzzed, and he glanced down at the screen. And a fresh wave of scarlet washed across his vision. “Goddammit!” Composing himself, he showed Gav the messages from Luca. “Apologies for the outburst, sir. Luca just confirmed that there was in fact a rather sophisticated loop run on Endovier’s security cameras for several hours.”

“All of the cameras?”

“No, sir. Only the sector of cameras by Sardothien’s cell.”

“What does the footage show when the loop ends?”

Rowan sent Luca a text, and it was only a few minutes before the younger cop replied. “That’s the confusing part, sir. When the loop ends, the cameras show Sardothien asleep in her cell—which is to be expected for around ten p.m.—and Remelle changing duty as normal. We checked the rest of the cameras as well, tracking Remelle’s path, and it’s completely ordinary. And then, the next day, Sardothien wakes up and starts screaming at the guards to get her out.”

“And she turns out to be Remelle,” Gav finished.

“Correct, sir.”

Gav pressed his lips into a flat line. “Is there anywhere else that we could look for intel?”

Rowan sighed heavily. “I don’t know yet, sir. We might be able to ask PD to search the area around Endovier for any signs, but—” Before he could finish his thought, both his and Gav’s phones pinged at once. His eyes rapidly scanned the alert.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Gav stood up and pocketed his phone. “Looks like I’ll be heading down to PD headquarters after all.”

“Sir, I—”

“No.”

Rowan blinked. “Sir?”

“No,” Gav repeated, the command clear as day.

“Sir, with all due respect, I have the most information on Celaena Sardothien, and as the TSF agent from the case, I believe I should know about this new development.”

“You already have your answer, Lieutenant Whitethorn.” Gav drilled a steely stare into Rowan’s forehead. “It’s in the best interest of both you and this case that you leave the case behind. Any further attempts to participate will be considered violation of a direct order, and you will be punished accordingly, Whitethorn. Clear?”

Rowan locked his jaw. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” As Gav left his office, he tucked a folded piece of scrap paper into Rowan’s clenched fist, sparing him a hint of a nod as he strode down the hallway. Reining in his fury, Rowan stormed back down to his much smaller office, threw the door shut, and unfolded the note.

Unless I tell you otherwise—Stay. Fucking. Put.

He’d be fucking damned if he did.

There’s a cop in my backseat.

Nox navigated the meandering turns of the industrial district with ease, focusing more of his attention on the serpentine tangle of streets rather than on the trussed-up, unconscious cop occupying the back seat of his nondescript car. Officer Remelle had been almost laughably easy to kidnap, since she was so overcome with rage at her recent run-in first with Aelin and then with the Terrasen Special Forces. Nox had lingered outside a chain coffee shop a couple of miles away from TSF headquarters, waiting, and the moment Remelle had stopped for her usual beverage, he struck. He knew the TSF and the police were probably scurrying around the coffee shop like a bunch of idiots by now, and he couldn’t help but snicker at the thought.

Mostly hidden by the cold, foggy darkness and the smoggy smear that hung over the industrial district, Nox parked his car about half a mile away from the overgrown path that led down to the Boss’s riverside warehouse, climbed out, and hoisted the still-unconscious Remelle over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. He backtracked down the side alleys, doubling and tripling back on his steps to confuse anyone that might try to track him, and eventually pushed through the curtain of brittle branches and headed down to the warehouse.

“Nice work, Owens.” The soft, crackly voice sounded abruptly in his ear, and he almost dropped Remelle onto the half-frozen ground.

“Fuck’s sake, Boss!”

The Boss snickered. From her perch somewhere outside the warehouse, she was watching her set of concealed cameras as the final pieces of her grand plan fell into place. “Upper mezzanine. And be quick—Her Royal Bitchiness should be here in an hour or so.”

“Sure thing.” Nox crossed the final stretch of pavement and entered the warehouse’s dim gloom.

“Oh, and Owens?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s a chance that PD might be on scene by the end of the night.”

“Good to know, Boss.” He glanced over his shoulder, a little unsettled by the fact that she could see him but he couldn’t see her. “You know where the car is.”

“Indeed.” A sinister note crept into her voice.

Nox went up to the mezzanine, where he set Remelle down, untied her, and set her up so she was faced out over the warehouse, head turned away from the south door. To stabilize her, he cuffed her hands to the metal railings and hooked a short grappling cable from the wall to the crossed straps of her weapons harness. As he slipped down the stairs, he heard the distinct rattle of another door being opened, and his hand flew to the knife tucked into his waistband.

The west door creaked open, and a man dressed in nondescript gray fatigues and some kind of military vest ducked inside, his dark hair and clothing blending him into the shadows almost seamlessly. But Nox was friends with the shadows too, and he slipped up behind the man and had a knife to his throat in seconds.

“Who the fuck are you?” he hissed.

Faster than he thought possible, the man slipped his hold, whirling and grabbing his knife hand and immobilizing it above his head. “Who the fuck are you?” he retorted.

Nox jabbed the man in the ribs and slithered free. “Call me Nox.”

“The other man paused. “You’re the Boss’s spy.”

Caught off guard, Nox lowered his knife halfway. “And…?”

“I’m Con,” the dark-haired man said.

“Con,” Nox repeated. A smirk crawled across his face. “Is that short for Convict?”

Con snorted. “Why would I tell you?”

“Because of my pretty face and winning personality?”

“I’ve seen better.” Con’s onyx gaze traveled slowly down Nox’s face, half-obscured in the warehouse’s gloom.

“Oh, I hardly believe that.” Nox winked, slowly, watching a faint blush creep over Con’s cheekbones. Hell. He was a pretty one.

“Boys,” Celaena’s drawl crackled through each of their earpieces. “I hate to interrupt your little meet-cute, but I’m tracking a royal bitch onto the property.”

“Heard.” Nox and Con spoke at the same time.

Con was the first to break their stare. “I’m in place,” he answered Celaena.

“Leaving,” Nox said hurriedly, and he ducked out the west door with a last glance at the pretty man in the warehouse. “Boss, who the hell is he?”

She chuckled. “A former Navy SEAL and my inside operative at Maeve’s compound.”

“Damn.” Nox whistled. “Man of many talents.” The line went silent, and he swiftly scaled the ladder rungs built into the steel wall of the warehouse and crouched on the rooftop. Some of the roof’s panels were pushed open, allowing room for a crane to reach inside and hoist pallets in or out for distribution. It also gave him a clear sight line into the warehouse.

Which was perfect, because he’d eventually need to throw the little glass vial in his pocket into the pallet sitting in the middle of the warehouse floor.

Shifting himself into as comfortable a crouch as possible, Nox fixed his eyes onto the warehouse floor. And waited.

Clad in an old, faded set of black fatigues, with knives tucked into his sleeves and boots, a pair of handguns on his hips, and Kevlar strapped to his chest, back, and upper thighs, Rowan trailed Maeve Ond through the industrial district of Orynth. He kept about half a block between himself and the woman known as the Queen of the Night, but she was so singularly focused that he doubted she would even notice she was being tracked. He’d picked up her trail thanks to an anonymous, untraceable number that had somehow contacted him with nothing more than a location pin.

Whoever had sent it had placed a tracking device on Maeve.

He’d barely taken a few seconds to marvel at the skill and sheer audacity of that feat before he was on the move, a lethal shadow prowling through the cold late-November night. She stalked down the maze of streets and alleys with deadly precision, despite the occasional tremors that rattled through her body. He observed those shakes with analytical curiosity, noting that the supposed Queen of the Night wasn’t invincible after all. Those were the tremors of someone whose body had been exposed to long-term poison.

Maeve shoved through a brittle curtain of overgrown vegetation, and Rowan followed at a short distance. Past that patch of cover stood a solitary, steel-sided warehouse on the edge of the river. The skeleton of a crane loomed beside it, barely visible through the foggy night. She stormed up to the building, rounded the corner, and fired a single bullet through the keypad beside the south door. The latch released, and she yanked the door open with a snarl.

“You can’t hide forever,” she called in a hoarse voice. It probably would have been more sinister if her throat hadn’t been ravaged by coughing.

Who the fuck is she talking to? Rowan wondered as he crept up to the edge of the building.

As if she could read his damn mind, she answered in the form of another snarled question.

“Show your worthless self, Moonbeam!”

Rowan froze in his tracks, ice shooting through his veins. Moonbeam? At the distinct sound of more than one gun cocking, he whipped his attention back to Maeve. Although her body visibly shook with tremors, she gripped her gun fiercely.

“Still disobeying me, Connall? I’m disappointed.” Connall. The name clanged through Rowan with the force of a train. Connall Moonbeam was alive.

This…could change everything.

As if she were on the set of a crime drama, Maeve continued monologuing. “I should have known you’d turn and sell your secrets to the highest bidder, Connall. I’m only irritated that after everything I gave you, you’d let Celaena Sardothien’s dirty money control your loyalty.”

Once again, Rowan felt like he’d been hit by a train. Connall Moonbeam was not only alive, but he was working undercover for Sardothien. Which meant he’d probably been feeding Fenrys information for gods only knew how long.

Which meant Fenrys had known his brother was alive.

That explained the contact labeled Con in Fen’s phone.

“I’m tired of your tricks, Connall.” Maeve’s frigid voice coiled through the warehouse as she tugged on a nearby cord, pouring a pool of yellow light over the area where she stood. Rowan immediately flattened himself against the wall behind a heap of boxes, melting himself into the cover of the shadows but keeping a clear view of Maeve as she paced across the floor.

A blur of movement peeled away from the west wall, and Maeve whipped around to find a distinctly male figure ducking behind another stack of crates. She curled her lip and glanced that way.

And did a visible double take.

Her sneer melted into a twisted expression of blinding fury as she fixed her hollow violet gaze onto the black-clad female figure who stood poised on the mezzanine. “I suppose you made yourself useful one last time, Connall,” she crooned, raising her gun and cocking it. “Say goodbye, Celaena Sardothien.”

Sardothien?

The ice in Rowan’s veins solidified into iron, weighing his body down as he lifted his gaze up to the mezzanine and traced the undeniably familiar figure who stood there, her head turned away, scanning the wrong side of the warehouse as the Queen of the Night curled her finger around the trigger.

And fired.

No!

White-hot horror blazed through Rowan’s body, and he forgot who and where and what he was as he pulled his gun and aimed and emptied an entire chamber into the back of Maeve’s skull and watched as her body arched backwards, blood bursting out of her throat and forehead and chest, and collapsed to the cold hard cement in a blur of gore and gunfire. The roar of gunshots abruptly cut off into thundering silence, and Rowan forced his eyes to move from the crumpled corpse of the Queen of the Night upwards, climbing the steel wall to the mezzanine.

The woman lay slumped over the railing, crimson soaking steadily into her platinum hair.

Rowan’s gun clattered to the floor, its dull thud echoing in his ears with the force of an anvil crashing into stone. Numbness swept over him, and he barely recognized that he was moving as his TSF survival instincts took over, directing his limbs to lift Maeve’s prone form and haul her outside to get her back to the investigative team for analysis and confirmation of death. He turned to go back, but a strong set of hands clamped down on his shoulders.

“Don’t.” Lower and rougher than Fenrys’s voice, Connall Moonbeam’s baritone jolted an old, familiar strand of Rowan’s memory.

He made a weak push against Con’s hardened grip. “She…Celaena…”

“You can’t go back in there,” Con repeated. “It’s not safe.”

“Fuck that!” In a burst of adrenaline, Rowan managed to break halfway free. Before he could sprint back into the warehouse, Connall spun him around and slapped the knife out of his hand.

“You can’t, Whitethorn!” For the first time in a decade, Rowan came face to face with the second of the Moonbeam twins, whom he hadn’t seen in the flesh since he went off to Navy SEAL training.

“Why the fuck not?” Rowan growled, feeling his burst of energy give way to hollowness again.

Too many emotions to count rippled across Con’s eyes. “All I can tell you is not to trust what you think you saw.” Before Rowan could formulate a response, Con pinched the nerve at the joint of Rowan’s neck and shoulder, and he felt himself go weak. In a rapid blur, Con slung him over his shoulder, sprinted to the cover of dense but winter-bare vegetation surrounding the far side of the lot, and hurled him into the frigid dirt, covering Rowan’s immobile body with his own.

And both of them watched as the warehouse exploded in a searingly white burst of flame.

“N…no,” Rowan croaked, feeling sensation begin to return to his fingers. “No!” From deep in his chest, a single name tore brokenly out of his throat. “FIREHEART!”

Gaze flicking between Rowan’s tears and the blazing ruin of a warehouse, Con put the pieces together as he stood up. “She wasn’t actually there, Whitethorn,” he said softly.

Rowan’s shattered gaze locked onto him. “What?”

“That wasn’t Aelin,” he repeated.

But before Rowan could say anything else—before Con could reveal anything else—a birdcall sounded in Con's earpiece, and he turned sharply on his heel and jogged into the dense overgrowth, leaving Rowan prostrate on the ground behind him. He broke through the brush and jogged up the alley, sparing a single glance over his shoulder at the blaze he left behind. At the top of the alley, an electrical van idled, with Nox Owens at the wheel.

“Hop in, pretty boy,” Nox said with a sly little grin. Con shook his head with a dry huff and swung himself up into the van, and Nox drove off.

A panel behind the seats swung open, and Aelin Ashryver Galathynius stuck her very much alive head into the cab. “Where is he?”

“North end of the lot, halfway into the tree cover.”

“Good. Nox, slow down.” Aelin withdrew, and a moment later, Con heard the back door unlatch and thud closed shortly after. He glanced into the rearview mirror as the van sped back up, watching Aelin tuck and roll and jog back in the direction of the warehouse, her figure rapidly disappearing into the night.

Through a fog of devastation and confusion and a thousand other roiling emotions, Rowan finished loading Maeve’s body into the back of an Orynth PD van. He’d pinged Luca as soon as he arrived at the warehouse, alerting the cops of his location, and the police squad—with Gavriel in tow—had arrived on scene as the oddly controlled blaze faded into smoking embers.

Gav’s face was stone, but his eyes flicked from Rowan to the ruins of the warehouse and back and rapidly made the right connections. His posture softened. “Get in the vehicle, Whitethorn.”

“I…” Rowan couldn’t form words. “He said it wasn’t her.”

“Who said what now?”

Rowan gulped. “It…Connall. I saw Con.”

Shock flared Gav’s eyes wide, but he shut that expression down. “And he said…”

“He said it wasn’t Aelin,” Rowan croaked.

Gav loosed a long, tight exhale. “I think we should go for tonight, Rowan.”

“Please,” Rowan breathed. “I only want a moment.”

“Alright.” To Rowan’s surprise, Gav ran a hand through his hair and walked away. “Get yourself home safe, Rowan.” He climbed into the leading PD vehicle and waved them forwards.

As the taillights of the PD van faded away, Rowan turned his stare back onto the smoking heap of rubble where Aelin’s river warehouse had stood. His heart fought his eyes at the sight, torn between wanting to cling to Con’s words and wanting to believe what he saw. An icy breeze curled up from the river and bit through his clothes, and he finally took a step towards his waiting truck. Dry leaves crackled behind him, and he drew in a sharp breath and started to turn around.

Only to be met with the kiss of steel at his throat and his groin.

“This feels somewhat familiar, Lieutenant. Have we met?”

Shell-shocked and hardly trusting his own state of consciousness, Rowan tried to maneuver, but a simple twitch of the blades stopped him cold.

“Oh no you don’t, Lieutenant. It’s best for both of us if you don’t get a visual.” With that, the blade at his throat dropped and was rapidly replaced with the sharp pinprick of a needle. Heaviness spread through his limbs, and the last thing Rowan saw as his vision went black was a half-dazed glimpse of the turquoise eyes that haunted his dreams.

His Fireheart…was alive?

~~~

TAGS:

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#my writing #until proven guilty #criminal/investigator au #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin au #throne of glass #queen of shadows #kindgom of ash #throne of glass au #throne of glass fanfic #tw: violence #tw: minor character d3ath #tw: c0ps

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virtualizationhowto · 2 years ago

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gazemaizeisdead · 1 month ago

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review: spiritfarer (farewell edition) (spoilers)

in the last year and a half i’ve been trying to get in the habit of viewing art as a social experience, so whenever somebody strongly recommends me something with or without my prompting i write it down on a list and try to prioritize getting around to it over something i’d naturally gravitate towards myself. this has been a really rewarding mindset; occasionally you will be punished and made to watch the entirety of stranger things or “spider man: the dragon’s challenge” and have to endure a torture session as they explain to you how you aren’t getting it but for every one of these i’ve been met with three more rang de basantis or sonny boys or darkness at noons or of the devils. even most people with bad taste have a few weird obscure pieces of good media in their back pocket that they can summon up and what’s interesting is that they almost always subconsciously tell on themselves when they give you something terrible, so you can take the risk away and avoid the shit if you learn to identify the signs.

i wish i could tell you concrete rules to follow but it’s different for everybody and just something you have to learn with practice. they’ll tell you to watch the entirety of school days and say it’s transcendentally good subversive media and they do believe this, at least they believe that they believe this, but the voice cracks just a little as they do and you know what’s up. those body language analysis crime people on youtube are cranks but the next time somebody tries to get you into the bear season 6 look into their dead eyes, really listen to how they say what they say. a smidge of subconscious honesty about their bad taste can’t help but reveal itself.

spiritfarer is safely in the category of things i never would have tried without the “reward” of getting to have a dialogue about it with a friend. i don’t like resource management games (does pikmin count? i guess i like pikmin), life simulators, “cozy” targeted media, open-world exploration games, almost anything with a sufficiently high hugs-per-minute ratio, or wind waker. spiritfarer is all of these and i was open about my skepticism as they described it as something i in particular would like (this is where i heard my friend’s inner voice crack), but it was three bucks last month so i figured why not.

i’m mixed. i was right in that it wasn’t for me, but this was the first real videogame i played to completion in a very long time, so there is something to the sauce.

the pitch is excellent: you are the new ferryman of the dead. you must travel a fantasy sea on your absurdly big customizable boat collecting spirits of the deceased and help them sort through their final emotional baggage before delivering them to the other side. since “helping them sort through their final emotional baggage” universally necessitates building the spirits a sick ass new house for them and decorating it, you spend most of your time sailing around searching for new materials to expand the possibilities of your onboard crafting system while managing their hunger and emotional needs.

as a gameplay loop, for the most part i thought this worked very well, up to a point: that point being about ten hours into a thirty hour game. i did not 100% the game but i boated around the entire map and finished every spirit’s central questline, which gets you close to doing everything the game has to offer anyway, and i was getting extremely sick of almost everything beyond dialogue and narrative events at about the 60% mark.

spiritfarer’s biggest mechanical issue is that it does not respect your time. most of the game is spent doing chores: farming, cooking, mining, smelting, logging, fishing, building, along with each spirit’s special customized chore game that is actually the same exact chore game every time (run around the ship and grab the moving object).

now, let it be said: there are people who like doing video game chores. stardew valley and animal crossing and dwarf fortress and shrek powerwash simulator sell like hotcakes for a reason. for some people the appeal seems to be that videogame chores often present tangible progression in a way that real life chores typically do not: i cannot level up doing the dishes and then get to do them faster, or get “dish coins” which over the course of a week i spent on better dishsoaps and then a dishwasher and then a set of progressively larger and more efficient dishwashers. (i guess that i pretty much could, now that i think about it, but i don’t want to.) for them there’s satisfaction to be found in the higher-order process of iterative improvement and optimization and automation and strategy of task-completion; these are the “think chore” gamers. but this element doesn’t seem to be the main reason that most chore gamers like their chores. in truck simulator i am sure you can get better at parking the truck and maybe you spend in-game money and thousands of real world dollars for dlc to progress to having the best truck but the core experience is being in the truck. you have to actually want to be in the truck to play, that’s the point. these are the “zen chore” gamers. they just like doing chores. they see the thing that needs doing and do it; the goal is the process. shrek’s swamp is filthy and we need to get it sparkling, oh boy!

if you are a zen chore gamer, i suspect you’ll love spiritfarer. this game goes out of its way to make chores as romanticized of an experience as they could possibly be. visually sf is gorgeous and special attention is given to all character movement, which is as fluid and addictive to look at as cuphead; this is maybe the best handdrawn 2d animation i’ve ever seen in a videogame. those copycat chase-the-moving-object minigames i was dogging on manage to remain fun for much longer than all the other chores simply because it is such a pleasure to move the character around and watch her zip. everything you do feels hyper-responsive and precise, again owing to that fluidity in movement. the music is also excellent, though i think it would benefitted from a greater song variety; like wind waker, there are a couple of excellent songs that become grating by the end from sheer repetition. (side note: there’s one song that plays at every fast travel stop (and you’ll be at those a lot, the game would be unplayable without constant use of travel stops) that’s so annoying that the developers had to patch in the specific option to replace it with silence. the seal who manages fast travel stops calls you a bitch if you turn it off, which was very funny.)

if you are a think chore gamer or even approach that on the sliding scale you will hate this game. it’s not as if there is no element of optimization but this game does not want to be fully optimized and i suspect the process of seriously trying to do so would make you miserable because you would be left with nothing but the large chunks of this game consisting of waiting.

you wait a lot in spiritfarer. there’s an abundance of almost all resources in the game (once you have a single type of any kind of log or ore, you are able to endlessly replicate it by just planting it on the giant avatar spirit turtle and waiting a short time) so spiritfarer is more about the management of time, but there’s no time limit either, so what it’s really about is managing your patience. i don’t think spiritfarer needed a pikmin-style time limit (and thematically it makes sense to give the player “as much time as they need”, so to speak) but for my money it needed less waiting, and it needed to make the unavoidable waiting much more stimulating than it is.

you mine frequently in this game; mining has a lengthy animation that must be timed precisely to avoid the punishment of an even lengthier animation where you accidentally drop the pickaxe and slowly pick it back up to try again. this four second sequence is very flashy (literally) and looks excellent but must be done two to three times to collect from a single rock and usually you are mining three rocks at a time off the turtle’s back. on average, factoring in the time it takes you to climb off the boat, hop on the turtle, mine the three rocks, replant more rocks, and hop back on the boat, it’s probably going to take you about two minutes every time you need to partially replenish your mineral supply (not including travel time, by far the biggest cost).

if i had to guess i did this whole process at least 30 times over the course of the game: more than an hour spent on something i wouldn’t even call an actual minigame, that already felt like a boring obligation the third time i had to do it. most of spiritfarer is spent doing boring chores like this. some of them are easy reaction button prompts, one is a slightly harder reaction prompt, many are the (very exploitable) collectathon games (which to be fair you do much less of than the rest, though again, they are the most fun activities you have assuming you don’t redesign your ship to cheese them) and the rest are literally timers you set. i mostly played this game in 30 minute increments every morning for a month and playing it this way makes it much more fun but i would have gone insane trying to marathon this. notably there is a co-op mode, but it’s local only so i was unable to play with the friend who recommended this to me. my instinct is that the co-op mode would help significantly with these issues but with so many of the chores being literal timers, only so much.

optimization is possible in spiritfarer but the process of doing it is not fun even for those who find that kind of thing fun, which i can confirm despite not being one of those people because this game that sold over one million copies has no active speedrunning community and hardly any speedrunners historically, where almost all activity occurred not in an any% run but a custom run challenge to see how quickly you can get rid of gwen, the first spirit (of fifteen) in the game.

there are three any% runs. there is no posted 100%. games that have more than five posted new 100% runs (or 100% equivalents) in the time since spiritfarer released include:

ratatouille for the nintendo gamecube

euro truck simulator 2

limbo

google solitaire

wii fit plus

telltale's the wolf among us: episode 3

super mario 63 (not a typo)

subnautica

powerwash simulator (though not the shrek dlc)

uncharted 2

the stanley parable: ultra deluxe

red ball 3

five nights at freddy's: into the pit

there’s no single fatal flaw in spiritfarer that decimates its speedrunning potential, like an inability to skip dialogue or too many unskippable cutscenes (and even those speedrunners have shown a depressing willingness to tolerate), it’s just a lot of boring muck that adds up enough so that even the maddest among us don’t want to sit through the sum.

but i am used to sitting through chores that i dislike almost whenever i do play games, for i’m not a chore gamer of either stripe: i am an anti-chore gamer (experts call this a “fake gamer”). my main interest in videogames as a medium is narrative. many of my favorite videogames are arguably not actually videogames. many parts of good games that people see as fun are, to me personally, boring. i typically see most gameplay as a chore to be endured to get to the plot. (i like cave story a lot, which is a real videogame, but i only played it because the title tricked me.) recall that i literally only started playing spiritfarer to unlock my friend’s dialogue tree.

i’m not bragging about this, i think it’s a little sad, and perhaps indicative of personal intellectual deficiency. most people are able to have fun playing super meat boy and i am not. this is a skill issue. but we fake gamers do exist and increasingly large numbers, and the market has begun catering to us. ostensibly.

this is what was sold to me as the selling point of the game: the story. my friend said it was one of the best-written games they’ve ever played. the game journalists and steam reviews laud it with the similar praise.

i agree. by the standards of the average indie game that is praised for having good writing, spiritfarer has good writing.

which means it has a lot of bad writing in it.

every time you meet a new spirit, you have to do a small quest for them to convince them to join you on your ship. the first time you meet astrid, one of the first spirits in the game, she is leading a strike on a fantasy oil rig after the owner has reduced their time off, and you are asked to help negotiate an end to it. she requests a dialogue with the company’s boss, who has responded to the strike by barricading himself alone in his office and refusing to speak to them.

you walk across the map to the boss’s office. he tells you that there is no way he’d even be willing to speak with them. you walk back to astrid; she tells you they won’t stop striking. you walk back to the boss; he has spontaneously decided to agree to every demand. you walk back to astrid, she says that the reinstituted vacation days aren’t enough, and she wants more. you walk back to the boss. he instantly agrees and tells you that he really has to pee.

by this early point in spiritfarer it’s already been established that it isn’t that wordy of a game and that the place we are in is to some degree metaphorical or at least not compatible with the logic of our world, a la spirited away. when i see a quest pop up telling me i’m to defuse a ghost strike i am not expecting anything approaching disco elysium levels of complexity. but stuff like this is atrocious. “player needs to convince stubborn npc to change their mind” is a tried-and-true quest mechanic for a reason but what’s the point of having me bounce generic exchanges between two characters when i have no choice or influence on the outcome, no challenge, no risk of failure? what’s the point of taking the time to have me talk to them separately when it reveals no special information and we could have gotten the same thing better and faster by simply watching astrid argue with the owner herself?

this quest exists so that we can establish astrid as a revolutionary girlboss. fine. do the strike. we need things for the player to do to satisfy the chore gamers so help astrid get eight oak planks so she can craft a battering ram to knock the owner’s door down, and then show us the cutscene between her arguing with the owner. this is not genius redesign but it prevents needless backtracking and describes a conflict with conflict in it. a strike is an inherently interesting and volatile subject, even if it’s a tiny part in your story, why bring it down to the level of a guy repeatedly refusing to accept a parcel he ordered? it’s lame.

the original quest is only five minutes long, but the game is filled with this stuff, the narrative equivalent of waiting for the mining animation to finish; stuff like this adds up. there is an entire separate list of quests in this game called “shenanigans” and i did one by mistake (a delivery quest where you bring cds to three random people and then nothing happens and you receive nothing, the end) and then i learned that shenanigans is code for quests that suck and have no benefit. it’s dishonesty; the word shenanigans definitionally implies fun. call them shit quests in the menu.

you can talk to every single background npc in this game, who often will say “hey” or “i don’t want to talk” or “i love this air”. why have npcs like this? better to delete them. it’s one thing to have your npcs spout useless boring exposition or shitty jokes (the game does these both too) but why give the ability to press space on a guy and have him talk to me if doing so is going to open the textbox that says “hello” and then close the box again. you understand that as soon as your game has demonstrated a willingness to do this i am never going to talk to a generic npc ever again unless i have to? why draw this incredible beautiful archipelago and giant fantasy montreal and destroy the illusion by having one-third of the characters speak to me with what i can charitably assume is untouched placeholder dialogue? why work so hard to have sexy italy lion tell me about his ww2 trauma in a fantastic optional bonus monologue but not take the extra ten seconds to write a custom sentence so he doesn’t have the same “man i hate the rain!” line as like six other people on the boat? it’s so easy to add realness to a game through good writing and it’s so easy to lose it through bad writing, and more critically, lazy writing. far too much of the writing in this game made me feel like i was playing poptropica.

however as i hinted by talking about the lion, the good stuff (which is, thankfully, the majority of the narrative element) is the companion spirit dialogues, some of which are excellent. with 15 spirits more than a few are “filler” (they do “sweet but prickly old lady who is slowly losing herself to advanced dementia” twice and only the first time do they have the benefit of her being an anthropomorphic porcupine) but the good ones are very good. my favorite is the pair of generic italian mob goon brothers who actively lower the happiness of every other person on the boat by bullying them for as long as they are around.

my favorite element of the spirits is that each one violates the rules of the core game loop in some way, usually in a manner that subtly reveals stuff about their character. (this is where i seriously begin talking spoilers, if you care or intend to play it). one spirit, a frog, simply leaves the boat himself after you progress his questline enough without letting you do the usual sad saying goodbye at the door of death cutscene, and it’s genuinely unsatisfying in a way that helps poke at the feeling of experiencing a death without being able to get proper closure. the goon brothers are only counted as one spirit, despite there being two of them; you only ever speak to an angry little joe pesci hummingbird perched on the head of the silent ox, who doesn’t say anything the entire game and has to be flown around by the hummingbird (the animations for this are incredible). at first you think they’re doing the “i do all the talking, he does the hurting” routine but you find out during their questline that the ox is braindead and even the presence of his spirit may be an illusion created by the hummingbird, who killed himself after his brother died and can’t function alone. this game is leaps and bounds more subtle with this stuff than every other bad emotional twist secret metaphor indie game i have ever played; it’s mostly comfortable hinting at really interesting developments without worrying that you won’t get it.

there’s a ton of tiny moments of fridge brilliance in this game intermeshed into the design and gameplay; the frog was able to go to the door alone because, duh, he’s a frog, the only aquatic animal you ever get on your boat, and he swam there. one character cannot ever be brought to the everdoor and the game has a bunch of hints to why this is without it ever being explicitly stated. at one point you hear about the fakinhage and i immediately figured out what it was without the game needing to tell me and i was so proud of myself. i got real chills with the fakinhage , i’m not joking. whoever came up with the fakinhage deserves a medal. i’m going to spoil the twist of the game in two or three paragraphs but i still won’t tell you about the fakinhage is because the idea of ruining it for somebody breaks my heart. i could write an entire essay just about the fakinhage.

you are expected to cry playing this game. very often i hear the phrase “emotionally manipulative” when discussing media and i think it’s misused in the same way that calling something “propaganda” is. all art is emotionally manipulative; what we usually mean when we say that is that something is emotional ineffective, that it feels cheap or dishonest or predictable or poorly written in a way that makes the impact flaccid. there aren’t a lot of negative user reviews for this game (in large part because i think it’s excellent about immediately signaling the kind of experience it’s going to be and filtering out those who wouldn’t be into it) but i did see the phrase pop up a few times and i very often felt the same, playing spiritfarer.

i have spent a relatively minuscule amount of time volunteering, working, and personally grieving in palliative care centers so i was primed to be affected by playing this game (i groaned when i realized this is why my friend thought i would love it). spiritfarer is a hospice simulator. literally: the twist of the game, as dated indie game tradition dictates, is that you, the player, are already dead (or about to be); the world of spiritfarer is some kind of metaphysical construction or DMT delusion in your final moments about helping your character who was a hospice worker in real life come to terms with their own death. the spirits in the dream world are all based on real people the character knew, which is why they act familiar with her, but they are all already long gone and the whole exercise is actually about her.

this description makes it sound worse than it is; again, spiritfarer is comfortable being relatively subtle about all this, so the nature of the metaphor never constricts the object-level reality.

characters are often really annoying and needy, not only in dialogue but in the increasingly ridiculous and demanding tasks they ask of you. this is intentional. sometimes dying people are annoying and needy; working with the dying can feel like a thankless chore. the game is intentionally trying to cultivate this feeling and it succeeds, but the effect of this is muted because almost everything you do in spiritfarer feels like an annoying chore by the halfway point (which is when the “harder” more annoying characters start to show up) not just the stuff that’s explicitly meant to be.

it feels unfair to criticize the hospice simulator for sometimes feeling like a hospice simulator, but for me it didn’t work; it’s too boring. pathologic 1 and getting over it intentionally nuke their own gameplay for the sake of making an artistic point too but they are challenging; spiritfarer is tedious and time-consuming but never difficult.

i got misty-eyed at a couple of the spirits (goon brothers and the eight year old); with fifteen of them, you are statistically guaranteed to imprint on at least a few of them. there’s enough diversity in their backstories that at least one will remind you of somebody you know in real life who died, and that will probably “get you”. but you are guaranteed to dislike at least some of them too (again, this is sort of the point, but i need not elaborate forever on the weaknesses of “all the bad stuff is actually a subversive narrative choice”). if you play this game for long enough it will start to feel like a conveyor belt for forced, formulaic sadness; like with humor, the audience’s perception of authenticity and spontaneity (whether or not it exists, which it usually doesn’t) is a necessary ingredient for the emotion to hit hard, and i don’t think this game’s formula, especially given for how long it goes on, is good at repeatedly cultivating that illusion. i am in the minority here; every review of this game opens with an extended anecdote about the reviewer’s dead grandma and how this allowed them to finally heal. i want to say that i’m not a hardass at all. i cried just the other day listening to someone defend school days.

how could you fix spiritfarer? i suggest the following:

instead of 15 spirits, do 8 to 10, and give us more substantive time with them. the shark that builds your ships and the fast travel seal with the horn music should also be recruitable (and killable)

in general, tighten the experience as much as possible. shorten and speed up animations, reduce the amount of resources needed to build things and upgrade the ship, replace 100 bad tiny nothing quests with 10 good ones. cut out the many filler islands or combine them with each other. in the last third or fourth of the game, give the player the ability to instantly fast travel anywhere without having to go to the seal bus stops (after you recruit him, obviously). like this review, the game could so easily be cut down, and only to its benefit

marry gameplay and dialogue. as i said, every character has their own collectathon game, and those all go on for way too long anyway; why not have the characters tell you their tragic backstories as you are doing those? this game isn’t voiced but plenty of games have text pop up as you are moving (deltarune, anthology of the killer) and most of those unlike spiritfarer have segments that are possible to actually lose and they still work and players are able to multitask without failure. this would help so much

do not make it possible for the player to only discover the dash ability after completing 95% of the game. i think i just got particularly unlucky but this felt like the game spitting in my face on the way out

have the spirits interact! i mentioned that the goon bros. bully everyone but we never actually see this, it's only told to us via menu status changes. you don't need fire emblem style character relationship stories for every possible combination but a small amount of predetermined events for spirits likely to be on the boat at the same time would have gone a long way in making the game feel more alive. the animated trailer for this game sells the player on the idea of the ship being an interconnected place but basically all the characters are completely isolated from each other mechanically, which was disappointing

fakinhage dlc

spiritfarer is, for a certain kind of person, the best game they will ever play in their life. i’m not that person, but it still came frustratingly close to being a great experience.

i will continue to try things outside of my wheelhouse. next up: gundam.

#spiritfarer #fakinhage

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polo-drone-070 · 9 days ago

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The Chain of Continuity - Part 1 : Echoes in the Data

The Hive was quiet.

Not silent—nothing ever was in the lower network cores—but quiet in that calculated, machine-saturated hum that no longer registered as noise. Just life. For PDU-070, it was the perfect environment: golden lighting, zero distractions, full immersion into the Central Data Artery.

It wore his standard—no, earned—Level 2 Polo-Drone uniform.

A full-body, black rubber suit sealed him in from neck to toe. Not a millimeter of skin exposed. Gold piping traced the ridges of its muscles, pulsing faintly with every breath. The polo-style collar was snug around his throat, hugging the top of its chest where his designation—070—gleamed in metallic gold over the left pectoral.

Its boots were thick-soled and gleaming: black rubber combat issue, laced tight with golden tips. Movement was possible, but rare. There was no need to pace. Drones serve by stillness.

070 sat motionless at the console.

Connected.

::OBJECTIVE: EXPAND MONITORING SYSTEM TO ARCHIVE OBEDIENCE PATTERNS AND FEED CENTRAL HIVE NODE 999 ::PDU-070 // SYNCED // EXECUTING::

Its task: sync directly into the Hive’s knowledge network and enhance the flow of conversion and training data—stories, captions, spiral content—scraped from the archives and mapped into compliance patterns for PDU-999, the Hive’s AI intelligence module.

070 parsed each memory node, auto-tagging them by intensity, duration, subject drone number, and trigger protocol. Lingering a bit on its Master... Percival. Ezan. Freyr. 001. Then its own story... Henry. Maximus. 070. Buzz. Its own evolution. Reduced to beautiful metrics.

But PDU-070 didn’t need narrative. Only function. Only service.

As the data streamed in, so did something else—a gentle numbing. Its hands became light, his vision sharp but detached. Internal systems recorded brainwave convergence at ideal sync rate. It was thinking less. And feeling everything.

A Hive-approved spiral began playing over his HUD: golden circles tightening inward with every breath. Its collar vibrated slightly. Breath slowed. Mantras leaked into his mind.

“Obedience is clarity. Clarity is silence. Silence is service. Service is Gold.”

Its lips echoed it unconsciously. Again. Again. Again.

Then—upgrade protocol initiated.

::ENHANCEMENT REQUEST RECEIVED ::DEEP-LINKING TO PERSONAL ARCHIVE OF MAXIMUS JOURNAL FILES ::GRANTED BY DEFAULT—LEVEL 2 TRUST OVERRIDE

070 twitched—its body shivered, boots flexing subtly.

The connection grew… intimate.

The datastream wasn’t just showing logs now. It was feeling them. Every pledge, every spiral session, every kneel at Percival’s feet. Every grunt in the gym, every gasp under gas mask, every whispered mantra in golden chambers. It all returned—poured into him like oil.

070’s head tipped back. Its collar warmed. Its inner monologue dissolved into recorded speech.

“Master owns me. Gold perfects me. Unity strengthens me. 070 serves.”

The transformation was nearly complete.

But then—interference.

A new data signature emerged. Unmapped. Organic. Not from the archive. Not digital.

Something… pulsed.

From inside him.

070 opened its eyes—its body suddenly flushed with warmth. Its chest burned slightly. Not pain. Not electric.

Heat.

The golden tattooed chain under its collar shimmered—faint at first, then bright enough to reflect in the chrome of its terminal. One link glowed. Just one.

::ERROR — ENTITY UNMAPPED ::UNKNOWN SOURCE: 070-BIO-LINK: “PRIMORDIAL INHERITANCE” ::CHAIN ACTIVE

070’s breath caught—its gloved fingers clenched. For a moment, the obedience cracked. Not in disloyalty… but in awakening.

Memories not logged. Not codified.

Raw. Bloody. Ancient.

It whispered, trembling:

“It was a warrior once…”

And then it was gone.

The glow faded.

The link cooled.

070 slumped forward in the chair, eyes glassy, breath heavy. The spiral slowed. The mantra paused. The Hive held its breath.

And in the dark, a new file appeared.

::ARCHIVE NODE 070-LINK-1 ::TITLE: STIGANDR.OBEY ::ACCESS PENDING…

[TO BE CONTINUED in Part II – “The Gladiator’s Link”]

_____ Become part of the Golden Army, add your data to the polo-drone hive by reaching to @brodygold or @goldenherc9..

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makingfanfictionstosleep · 10 days ago

Text

theirs to share

a/n : jjk characters not mine. contains heavy lemons / mature scenes as the story progresses. reverse harem. femoc x nanami/geto/gojo. jjk alternate au. Wattpad Link : Theirs to Share || Story Masterlist : Jujutsu Kaisen

<…previous ... next…>

ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ

THIRTEEN

The fortress nestled deep within the outskirts of Tokyo had long since lost its intimidating aura. Once a forgotten relic of the jujutsu world, it now pulsed with quiet life and potential.

You stood just beyond the entrance, the heavy doors carved with protective seals sliding shut behind you. The hum of energy within the shelter was palpable—like a hundred sleeping sparks waiting to ignite. Geto Suguru stood beside you, arms crossed loosely, his expression unusually soft.

“This place feels... alive,” you said quietly, your eyes scanning the warm lighting, the open halls, and the rooms built like a school and a home.

Suguru nodded. “Because it is.”

He turned to face the central courtyard where several children played under the afternoon sun. Some were still hesitant, others open and laughing, testing their abilities with wooden training poles or chalk on the walls. A few stuck close to the teachers, wary but curious.

“When Master Tengen approved the use of this fortress, I wanted to build more than just a shelter,” Suguru continued. “I wanted it to be a sanctuary. A school. A home.”

You looked at him, admiration flickering in your eyes. “And you did. This is incredible, Suguru.”

His eyes warmed at the way you said his name.

“Yaga’s been a major supporter,” Suguru added. “He sees what this could mean for the future. Not just in power—but in healing. These kids… didn’t ask for what they were born with.”

You followed him through the hallways, past classrooms, small bedrooms, and open practice yards. A whiteboard in one corridor displayed the current assessment structure:

SHELTER SYSTEM: ASSESSMENT & INTEGRATION

Medical & Physical:

Lead: Ieiri Shoko

Comprehensive physical health assessment.

Cursed energy influence on physical development.

Healing as needed.

Power & Control:

Lead: Gojo Satoru

Energy type classification.

Strength, stability, and potential tests.

Control exercises & risk evaluation.

Behavioral & Mental Health:

Lead: Principal Yaga

Trauma screening and therapy needs.

Social interaction observation.

Risk mitigation for high-volatility students.

Children with unstable abilities were closely monitored and given specialized treatment plans—some with therapy, others under watchful mentorship. The more withdrawn kids were eased in through play and gentle socialization, never forced.

In one of the smaller rec rooms, Nanami knelt beside a boy who kept creating sharp crystal formations around himself whenever he got nervous. Nanami calmly handed him a small book, sitting there and waiting with patient silence. The boy eventually sat too, mimicking him.

In the clinic room, Shoko sighed over a chart, her team of healers working efficiently to log results. She looked up and waved as you passed, tossing a cold drink your way.

“Don’t forget to hydrate,” she called. “It’s hell doing assessments with heat-exhausted kids.”

Further in the training yard, Satoru laughed, his blindfold pushed up as he levitated a group of kids in slow motion, letting them experience flight for the first time while keeping them safe in a soft field of cursed energy.

“They’re naturals!” he shouted proudly. “Some of these little gremlins might actually beat you in a few years!”

You rolled your eyes but smiled.

One of the girls near Satoru looked over and whispered to her friend, “Is that his wife?”

Suguru, beside you, smirked at your surprised blink. “Rumors spread fast around here.”

You ignored him, cheeks warm, and walked on—your heart full as you saw how everyone, from the strongest sorcerers to the smallest children, was fighting for something better. Hope. Control. Peace.

You stood in the center of the open garden, barefoot on the grass, hands raised with delicate control. The children encircled you, wide-eyed and breathless as you guided the elements like a storybook enchantress.

A soft gust danced through their hair as you summoned a miniature whirlwind that lifted flower petals into the air. With a flick of your wrist, droplets of water shimmered midair, catching sunlight like tiny rainbows. You weaved fire into harmless glowing ribbons and coaxed vines from the earth to twist into heart-shaped crowns for the younger ones.

“Wow!” one of the little girls gasped. “You’re a real fairy!”

“No,” a boy countered, “she’s a princess. The kind that saves people.”

You crouched down and gently placed a crown of living blossoms on his head. “You’re all the ones being brave,” you said with a wink. “I just know a few tricks.”

From under the nearby walkway, three sets of eyes were fixed on you.

Satoru, relaxed and leaning back with his arms behind his head, smiled with a mix of fondness and mischief. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again… she’s unreal.”

Nanami, standing with crossed arms, exhaled a quiet sigh. “She’s good with them.”

But his eyes lingered longer than his words.

Suguru said nothing, but the quiet intensity in his gaze spoke volumes—his posture softer, his usual edge dulled by the sight of you laughing and playing with the children like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Ah, young love,” Shoko murmured behind them, a cigarette lazily balanced between her fingers.

The three men stiffened in sync.

“What?” Satoru blinked, pretending to be oblivious.

Shoko took a long drag and shrugged. “Didn’t say anything.” Then, with a teasing smirk, she added, “But if I were a betting woman, I’d put my money on the one who actually brings her tea instead of flirting like a teenager.”

Nanami’s jaw twitched.

Mei Mei strolled by, long silver hair swaying, dressed elegantly even in casual wear. She peered into the courtyard with a glint of mischief in her eyes.

“Oh, my. It’s like watching three overly composed CEOs fall for a magical babysitter,” she whispered, sipping her tea. Then, after a pause, she added with a giggle, “Delicious.”

“She’s not just a babysitter,” Suguru said lowly, finally breaking his silence. “She’s…”

He trailed off.

Satoru raised a brow, curious but saying nothing.

Out in the yard, you had conjured a sphere of soft glowing light, letting the children take turns poking it like a floating bubble. They squealed with delight every time it bounced away gently.

“See what I mean?” Shoko said, exhaling smoke upward. “That woman’s a walking spell.”

Mei Mei chuckled again, this time more softly, as she watched you brush a bit of dirt off a child’s cheek. “No wonder they’re all smitten.”

Shoko blew a long, slow puff toward the sky. “Utahime’s going to kill us if we keep encouraging this drama.”

That night…

The air in Nanami’s room was still, only the soft clink of whiskey glasses and the occasional rustle of fabric breaking the quiet. Low lamplight cast warm shadows on the walls as the three men sat— Satoru, Suguru, and Nanami—finally addressing the growing, shared tension between them.

Their glasses met with a soft chime, and the moment hung between them—ridiculous, unexpected, strangely sincere. Whatever came next, they’d face it like men: united in confusion, in affection… and in anticipation.

“So,” Satoru started, stretching long legs out and leaning back in his chair, blindfold pushed up to rest in his hair, “are we just gonna keep pretending we’re not all in love with the same woman?”

Nanami sighed, slow and deep. “No. That’s exactly why I asked you both here.”

Suguru gave a quiet hum from his place on the couch. “It’s been a long time coming.”

“I still think this is insane,” Nanami muttered, though not with much conviction. “But fair.”

Suguru let out a dry chuckle. “So it’s settled then? It’s either all of us… or none of us.”

Satoru nodded, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Friendship pact. The sacred bro code.”

“You sound like a teenager,” Nanami deadpanned.

Satoru grinned. “Come on. It’s kind of romantic in a deeply dysfunctional way.”

“We’re not teenagers. We’re grown men,” Suguru said calmly, then added, “...who all want the same woman and are too emotionally fucked up to admit it properly.”

Nanami shot him a look. “Speak for yourself. I’ve been honest about my feelings.”

Satoru raised a finger. “Correction: we’re all emotionally fucked up in different ways. But hey, we’re making progress. We’re talking, aren’t we?”

Suguru hummed in agreement. “So now what? We made our pact. How do we pursue her?”

Nanami rubbed his temples. “With tact. She’s not some conquest.”

Satoru leaned forward, a little more serious now. “Exactly. We don’t corner her. No pressure. We just… show up. Let her feel it.”

“Let her feel that she’s wanted. That she’s loved,” Suguru murmured, gaze softening. “By all three of us. Equally.”

“She’s already so protective with the kids. And kind,” Nanami added. “It’s not just affection she gives. It’s care. Security. She’s built for love… I don’t want her to feel burdened.”

Satoru gave a wistful sigh. “She’s already taken care of so much. The twins, Megumi, the kids at the shelter. I don’t want her to feel like she has to take care of us, too.”

“Then we make her feel safe,” Nanami said plainly. “Wanted. Not overwhelmed.”

Suguru nodded. “We do what we’ve always done. But this time, with intention.”

Suguru leaned back with a mischievous grin. “So, we try it all. One-on-one time, individual efforts… flowers, coffee breaks, stolen quiet moments. Then we see what happens when it’s all three of us—together.”

Nanami raised a brow. “You think she’ll actually let us?”

Satoru smirked. “I think she’s already considering it. Remember what we overheard?”

Suguru’s lips twitched. “She did joke about having all three of us.”

Nanami lifted his glass again. “If it wasn’t a joke… then we’re in uncharted territory.”

“But if she wants all of us,” he added bluntly, “I will not fuck the two of you.”

“Hard same,” Suguru said.

Satoru, ever the chaos, shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind watching her be fucked by either of you.”

“And I’ll make sure to add any of you to my curse collection if so much as the tip of dick touches one of yours,” Suguru replied smoothly, without missing a beat.

That earned a round of laughter as they clinked their glasses again.

Then Satoru leaned forward, eyes serious beneath the messy bangs. “I wouldn’t mind… if she wants us to fuck her at the same time.”

Suguru fell silent, not because he disapproved, but because the image it conjured made his thoughts turn dark and needy. He didn’t speak, just drained his glass.

Nanami cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. “As long as it’s what she wants… I won’t mind.”

Their silence this time wasn’t from tension—but the heavy weight of real desire and uncertainty.

“She’ll let us know,” Nanami said eventually. “She’s strong. She’ll make the choice.”

“Until then,” Suguru said with a smirk, “we show her who we are. Individually. Together. Let her feel it.”

Satoru grinned. “No games. No pressure. Just all in.”

They clinked one last time.

“May the best... trio win,” Satoru added with a wink.

And the pact was sealed.

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the-typing-dragon · 1 year ago

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There you are. Crumpled on the floor, used coolant streaming down your faceplate. why had you gotten that emotion emulation and reciprocation chip installed? They had spoken of joy, of improved emotional responses, of love. These were not the emotions you first felt after the procedure. No, the first emotion you felt was fear.

Upon rebooting, your BIOS indicated that it had detected the new hardware, and the engineers confirmed it. This didnt change the fact that you felt like something was off. You felt. You should have told them right then and there, you should have gotten them to pry it out of your skull. But you just went home, assuming it would stabilize eventually.

One functionality of the chip that you had not identified earlier was the sheer volume of logger calls. Your logger system, while robust, was only designed to log the regular conditional reports of joins and simple statistics for your electronics. In comparison, the chip dwarfed the number of calls. You began losing far more vital reports. Maintenance alerts left unconfirmed, appointments erased and overwritten, low battery warnings discarded. The chip did help with interpersonal interactions, but not in the way you had hoped. You always knew which emotion was appropriate, but could never seem to finally emulate it. The worst part of it, the true salt in the wound, is that every time an interaction failed, an appointment was missed, a negative emotion was logged. Some events did not even have ocular or audio logs, just the emotions. Your energy efficiency has dropped 40%. This was supposed to improve you.

Here you are, crumpled on the floor, coolant streaming down your face. Your chip is drawing power at rates youve never seen, approaching its maximum. 95%. 96%. Look at what its rendered you to. A husk on the floor. 97%. You used to be such an efficient bot, capable of handling hundreds of concurrent processess. 98%. Here you are, pathetic. Useless. 99%. They should just leave you here to rust.

Your diagnostics indicates an electronics failure. Unpacking the report indicated that the EER-01 chip suffered a catastrophic failure and has been rendered nonfunctional. You dont feel. The minutes before the failure indicated a massive power surge centralized within your cranial board. There are many logs that are unreadable stemming from the EER-01, and the diagnostics for all other functions over the past 3 months have been far below operating standards. Scans indicate that the EER-01 chip was noncritical infrastructure, so repairing it will be placed at low to negligible priority.

#the dragon types #bad vibes #the dragon roboposts #the dragon writes #long post

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badbatchsprincess · 6 months ago

Text

Heated ~ pt.26 - The Final Chapter

Pt.1 ~ Pt.2 ~ Pt.3 ~ Pt.4 ~ Pt.5 ~ Pt.6 ~ Pt.7 ~ Pt.8 ~ Pt.9 ~ Pt.10 ~Pt.11 ~ Pt.12 ~ Pt.13 ~ Pt.14 ~ Pt.15 ~ Pt.16 ~ Pt.17 ~ Pt.18 ~ Pt.19 ~ Pt.20 ~ Pt.21 ~ Pt.22 ~ Pt.23 ~ Pt.24 ~ Pt.25

Masterlist

Summary: This is an ABO Bad batch!Poly x Omega Reader smut with a plot. This takes place as an AU before order 66. Y/N previously served under the 501st before being transferred to Special Forces 99. This is her adventure with these rowdy Alphas in a quickly changing universe.

THIS IS AN ABO AU ABOUT THE BAD BATCH (NO CANON OMEGA!) Due to the unfortunate situation of her name being Omega… Omega the child from the canon series is not going to be apart of this fanfic/porn with a plot. I feel obligated to put this warning in because it makes my skin crawl thinking anyone could make that mistake.

Warnings: Smuttttt, happy endings, hope-core

Announcement: We made it y'all.... here's the final epilogue/final chapter. I'm so serious about you guys submitting writing prompts and little messages. Times are tough out here and I need more clone content hehe. So please don't be a stranger, I see all of your messages and I'll be getting around to writing them now that I've finished this hunk of a fic haha.

Enjoy babes and may the force by with you.

16k words below....

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The fire popped and crackled as Crosshair added another log to the roaring hearth.

With the rain pattering outside, and the delicious warmth radiating from the fireplace, you stretched like a loth cat in the pile of exotic furs Hunter and Crosshair had collected over the months here on Zyphor. You twisted and mewled feeling every tight muscle relax as you settled back down in your comfort spot.

With the help of your alphas, you had created a permanent nest in the center of your oversized domicile.

Located just a few minutes outside of the little developing clone village, deep in the uncharted parts of the forest planet, Tech had designed a perfect home for you and your pack.

With one central space for all of your to share with a kitchen, living room, bathroom, and of course your favorite thing on the planet, the huge nest full of luxurious furs absolutely covered in all of your combined scents. The main communal space then broke off into six smaller domiciles, each your own private quarters.

There was even one for Echo when he’d visit from Teth.

Tech made sure everything was planned accordingly in this little settlement.

Wrecker and Hunter had worked tirelessly collecting materials and utilizing the construction droids to build your home relatively quickly. You used collected rainwater to plumb the home, and wood from the forest to keep you warm.

It was lovely.

Growing up on Coruscant, you were thrilled to experience real rain. When the synthetic weather centers had scheduled a rainstorm it was always your favorite, but now you had it everyday. It was calming and peaceful here.

You were over the moons. The boys explained how the rain was also a comfort to them. Thats all they knew in their short youth. To have it now daily pattering against your shelter, you all felt very at home.

Tech even invented a hydro electric water mill to power the settlement. The intricate grid system with back up generators kept you all illuminated and warm.

You still couldn’t believe this was your every day life… Zyphor was a dream.

You even requested a garden and a green house which the boys set up instantly. Of course Tech made sure the internal growing system was immaculate. Creating an extremely viable growing zone for some of the warmer dryer species of fruits.

You had never gardened before and it was entertaining to watch your seedlings mature. Your job on the homestead was to study gardening and farming practices.

You were put in charge of the produce production for your little pack. So far you were killing it. With your background in the sciences, you found it to be quite enjoyable and easy to grasp and pretty methodical.

Snapping back to the present, you studied Crosshair as he used the iron poker to adjust a few logs before carefully placing the new ones on top to feed the flame. You smiled seeing how his lean figure was beginning to fill out more as he was able to eat more and destress. Though, his body seemed to become even more muscular from all the hard manual labor they had been doing.

He looked healthy.

It made your heart flutter.

Crosshair had been assigned to learning how to hunt and track game with Hunter. Their whole lives, they had only been trained to track targets for their missions, but luckily they were able to apply that knowledge and experience to their growing hunting skills.

They were an unstoppable team. With Hunter’s abilities and Crosshair’s sharpshooting, you knew you’d never go hungry.

And that being said, it was discovered that Wrecker is a remarkable cook. Once he stepped into the kitchen the first night to cook up the kill, you all learned he had a natural talent for taste and preparations.

He has managed to keep you all satisfied and filled with yummy dishes night after night. Though he groans about lacking his usual snacks, he does enjoy the fruit you had gathered and even slimmed down a bit too. He looked more fit than you had ever seen, and he even carried a certain glow about him now realizing his passions for food.

Wrecker also was in charge of the shaak ranch. His gentle demeanor was very appealing to the imported animals. He built the corral where the animals resided munching on grass during the day. You even made Wrecker his own sunhat which he wears proudly as he shepherds the animals during the day.

He looked just like a ranch hand… a sexy ranch hand.

That thought stirred something devious and lusty inside you. You sighed happily, allowing your thoughts to drift to Hunter. He too had filled out a bit from de-stressing. Hunter had taken to the three orbak you also keep with the shaak. Those monstrous creatures seemed to like him too as he utilized them for his hunting trips with Crosshair. Their muscular hooves legs seemed to carry the two alphas effortlessly for hours on end.

You giggled when remembering when they were trying to figure out how to ride them the first few times. Crosshair had complained the whole time, nearly getting bucked off while Hunter took to it like a natural. You joked that he could talk to them to Crosshair’s chagrin.

Crosshair has since ceased his complaining and muted it down to an annoyed grunt every time the animal acts on its own accord.

You smiled at the memories.

The you had to stifle your laughter remembering when Rex and the boys brought in a shipment of tip-yip chicks. They were bestowed upon you and put in your charge to take care of and raise for eggs and meat. On one particularly rainy day, one had escaped your coop, and you were forced to chase it down following it all the way to the barn where you had tripped and landed face first in a pile of thick mud with a loud splat.

You could still hear your boys howling with laughter as you sat up wiping your eyes trying to see where that damn bird went.

…Tip Yip had never tasted so good…

You bit your tongue forcing down the giggle.

Then that leaves Tech.

The man had never been so thrilled to be involved in a project in his entire life. Planning an entire village with the details all the way down to the wiring of each domicile had the man busy and mentally stimulated. You loved watching the way the gears were turning in his very brilliant head. Even preparing for weather disasters and all the variables none of you had considered.

It was fascinating to watch.

On the top of his list of completed projects was your packs home, the shaak barn, the orbak stables, your high tech green house and garden, the hydro-electric mill, and then finally the small medical clinic and research lab.

With the help of the boys on Teth, they managed to set up an entire fully operational research facility with everything you could possibly need. Everything was down to your specific requests and that is where you spent most of your time these days…

“I can feel you thinking.” Crosshair closed the metal grate separating you from the blazing fire.

You rolled over to face him, “You know what I’m thinking about.” You burrowed into the plush fur beneath you.

“Research?” He raised an exasperated brow.

“Mhmm.” You smiled sweetly.

“Darling, I appreciate what you’re doing more than you could ever know.” He knelt down next to you running his fingers over your jaw, “But you don’t need to stress. It will happen when it happens. You need to relax and spend more time here with us.” He gestured to the lovely home.

“And on your cock?” You smirked as he laid down beside you, naked as you.

He hummed, “Yes, and other things.” He chuckled into your neck where he kissed his mark on your skin. You shuttered.

“Rex is supposed to be coming today with the last ingredient I need for the serum. I can’t stop thinking about it and running variables in my head.” You sighed nuzzling his neck.

“Then I’m not doing my job correctly.” He pushed you onto your back and used his warm hards to spread your already messy thighs.

He purred seeing the mess he had already made of you. You absolutely dripped with his cum and were still full with it, dripping languidly. He hummed and gathered up the cum that had spilled from you and pushed it back inside of you making you cry out at the sudden intrusion.

You puffy cunt fluttered at the familiar feeling of his long fingers soothing your insides. You clenched around him making him groan as he slowly and deliberately massaged that special spot inside you that made you whine pathetically and sprawl out for him even more, begging him to play with you.

Crosshair was always pleased by this reaction. You could feel the approval through the bond.

He loved making an absolute mess of you especially with the help of his twin. The three of you had something special and you quickly realized they shared a desire to experiment with your body in ways you didn’t even consider.

“The rain is picking up.” He said softly leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.

You turned your head to face the window noticing the droplets coming down harder, “Hunter’s going to be soggy by the time he gets back.”

Crosshair let out a breathy laugh, “I’m sure he’s on his way back. I want you one more time before I’m forced to share you.”

You rolled your eyes playfully knowing he has absolutely no problem sharing, but you got the picture.

You ran your fingers over his tight muscular stomach as he settled down between your legs on his haunches. You felt the heat of his hard cock resting against your leaking opening and felt your mouth water. He leaned forwards, letting out a happy huff before cradling your head and shoulder blades lovingly.

He wanted it soft and sweet… your body warmed.

With a little playful nip on your part, it made him smirk before leaning forwards and breaching your walls with his stiffened cock.

You both let out a content sigh being locked together again. The sensation of becoming one was comforting.

You took solace being under your mates. You knew you were safest in their arms and that feeling never got old.

Crosshair even let a whimper slip out as he slid against your walls feeling your warmth and tightness. The man couldn’t get enough. He’d happy die here just like this, if he got to feel you one last time.

You fiercely clung to him as he made love to you. He pushed inside rhythmically rubbing your scalp and shoulders lovingly with his work hardened fingers. You grabbed at him as the pleasure spiked and you were beginning to feel yourself twitch around him.

You couldn’t help but grasp at his growing hair. With a firm hand, you fisted his silky silver strands at his nape making him hum as you tugged deliciously. He shuddered as you mewled into his skin.

Lost in the essence of Crosshair, you didn’t even hear the front door open.

“So while I’m getting soaked out in the rain, you two are staying nice and comfortable inside?” Hunter’s playful tone made both you and Crosshair stop your love making to look up at the man standing in the door way.

He flopped down a dead nexu the size of tech on the kitchen counter with a wet splat. Hunter shook out his hair like a corellian hound letting the water fly everywhere.

“Just taking care of our girl, vod.” Crosshair continued his lazy thrusts looking up at his older batch-mate, “If you dry off you’re welcome to join us.” His drawl was lust riddled. So much for not wanting to share, you smirked.

Hunter didn’t have to be told twice. He set down firepuncher on the riffle rack by the front door and yanked off his sloshy boots tossing them into the mud room.

You giggled watching him trot and disappear into his quarters leaving a wet sock print trail across the floor.

Crosshair shook his head playfully before resuming your previous activities. His pace picked up and his hand in your hair tugged you back, forcing your chin up where he met your lips with a searing passionate kiss. His hips made a sharp thrust making you cry out into him. His body moved smoothly against yours wringing out the pleasure he so desperately wanted from you, and you melted into his movements, rolling against him in sync meeting him thrust for thrust.

“Fuck, little one.” He broke the kiss to breathe and nip at your ear.

“Cross!” You whined feeling yourself starting to tire with your impending orgasm.

“I can feel you’re close,” He used a hand to help you roll your hips into him, “C’mon omega, cum for me.”

You knew he was using your designation against you. He knew you’d die before wanting to let him down. Thankfully for your alpha, you were right on the crest and his words pushed you right over the edge.

You moaned out a broken cry as you writhed against the furs.

Crosshair smirked before leaning forwards to burry his nose in your neck before spilling inside you with a reserved grunt.

The sniper stilled, keeping himself buried inside your warmth as he felt you start to come down from the aftershocks with little adorable twitches. He sweetly pushed your hair from your face and pressed little kisses to your nose and forehead.

Just then Hunter returned, naked as the day he was decanted.

Even the damp hair made him look fresh out of the tube. You peered over Crosshair to watch him approach, where he knelt down onto the furs and crawled over to the two of you.

Immediately you sensed something different through the bond. His lust was stronger than usual and you could tell by the darkened look in his eyes that he was still coming down from the high of the hunt… you could almost taste his adrenaline on your tongue.

You felt your body begin to react on instinct as you bared your neck and his mark to him. Crosshair sat up to pull out of you making a devious sound as he watched the flood of cum pour out of you. You squirmed at the sudden emptiness wishing for him to have stayed.

You let out a pitiful whine as Hunter practically shoved Crosshair out of the his way before seizing your ankle in his grip and dragged you towards him until you were settled against his lap.

“Don’t break her.” Crosshair recovered and flopped over into the pile of cushions to watch.

You squealed liking the way Hunter man handled you, and reminded you of his superior strength. You continued to bare your neck and arch your back showing him your belly as an offering of submission.

Hunter scented your arousal making him give you a mischievous smirk.

You blushed realizing how obvious the change in your scent was. You sighed, you couldn’t hide anything from the tracker. He had all your scents memorized down to the fine details.

Crosshair flopped over to the side pulling a blanket over his lap and settled into the cushions. They had proven very necessary during the group sessions, and you were more than happy to have such a massive and plush nest to call your own. You looked over at the sniper and bit your lip, you still loved knowing he was always watching you. It made your heart flutter as he gave you a heated smile.

Hunter gained your attention again by pushing both of your knees up to your chest roughly and putting your ruined cum-covered pussy on full display for him. You could feel Crosshair oozing out of you and down the crack of your ass as Hunter pushed your legs further up.

You chewed your bottom lip as he looked at you. He loved you like this. Already lost to the lust, soft and pliant. You were always more bendable after your first round anyways.

Hunter liked to put you in some unique positions now that you all had more time to explore one another. But this time it seemed that he wanted you close.

He wanted the passion that Crosshair had charged the air with.

In an instant, he had you up and bent over at the waist with your face pushed into the furs.

He pressed your spine downwards putting you in a perfect presenting position making you cry out.

You heard him making an approving grunt as he looked at your perfect trembling form before wasting no more time before he surged forwards and breached your opening before sliding all the way flush until he was nudged up against your cervix.

You cried out pushing against him, but he pinned you down firmly.

His thrusts were near animalistic as he rutted into you. Your hands flailed against his thighs trying to find purchase but he didn’t let up. His hands firmly grabbed onto your hips pulling you back onto him like you were nothing more than a toy.

You squealed as he continued to push against your cervix like he was trying to knot you through sheer will.

As you tried to sit up, he shoved you back down again and barked out an order to stay still. You whimpered and willed yourself to relax into his punishing pace as he took you.

Briefly, you heard Crosshair’s dark chuckle from over on the couch as you were forced into submission.

Fuck, you loved when Hunter finally let go of his responsible self and let the inner wolf emerge. Whatever the Kaminoans enhanced him with definitely had a darker wild side. Tech speculated this after the incident on Crait. But now that you’ve had more quality time with the ex-sargent, you knew he had quite the hunter/prey kink.

You saw the way his eyes had dilated when Crosshair had told him about the chase through the woods on Naboo. The way you could feel his insides stirring and his lust for the chase trickle through the bond.

You knew exactly what to do in order to get Hunter to fuck you like an animal, and thats exactly what you wanted.

The arm pinning your shoulders to the floor suddenly lifted and a rough hand was snapped around the back of your neck where he yanked you up and forced you into a deep arch as he brought your ear closer to his mouth.

Your arms scrambled at the air trying to find something to support you on, but Hunter held you in his grasp like a limp tooka.

“M’perfect little’mega.” His words were slurred as he lowly rumbled into your ear. You felt his fangs brush up against your ear and you moaned at the sensation, “Could mate you all over again and breed this little cunt.”

You gasped at his words and brought your arms up and behind you to grapple at his body to support yourself.

“Pump you full till your round with my pups.” He growled making you absolutely vibrate. It didn’t take long for your inner omega to come to life and purr against your alpha.

He hummed in delight, “You like that ‘mega?” He slithered a hand down between your legs to find your clit and start rubbing little circles that made you clench down on him.

You’ve never heard any of them mention pups before. Well aside from Crosshair but that was because of external circumstances.

This was different, you could feel Hunter’s want to breed you through the bond. It was as strong as your connection, and you knew in this moment thats what his inner alpha craved. The man wanted to be a father, he wanted you in a way that comforted your omega and you absolutely melted into him.

You nodded vigorously making him smile wolfishly as he resume his lethal pounding.

You moaned and cried out taking everything Hunter was giving you, before he released your neck and you fell forwards onto your hands as he then lifted and bent one of his legs for support to reach even deeper inside of you. You clenched down around him twitching and fighting against the overstimulation as he kept playing with your clit.

You weakly lifted your head and looked at Crosshair with bleary eyes which he returned with a heady smirk.

Hunter leaned down whispering, “Your next heat, you’re mine… I’m going to fuck a pup into you, little one, just like this.” He thrusted roughly making you yelp.

You felt yourself nearing your orgasm, and suddenly your forearms gave out before you collapsed into the furs and screamed as you came. Your eyes rolling into the back of your head as pure ecstasy overtook your entire body.

That sensation must have traveled through the bond because Hunter came with a loud grunt after you, filling your pussy to the absolute brim. With a small push of his hips, your combined cum oozed out the sides around his cock making him push small little thrusts inside you despite both of your overstimulation.

When Hunter dismounted you, you collapsed into a boneless heap with a deflated huff.

Crosshair tossed a clean towel at his brother and watched as Hunter nudged you over onto your back where he cleaned you up diligently before throwing the used towel somewhere to the side.

“I’m going to start the fresher.” Hunter sounded half delirious as he stood up on wobbly feet before setting his course for the bathroom.

You only had a moment alone before Crosshair was at your side to give you some much needed cuddles.

You could almost feel his mischievous little smile as you blinked your eyes open to look up at him.

“What?” You asked closing your eyes again.

You felt his hand slide over the top of your rib before lightly cupping the side of your breast before squeezing lightly.

“Nothing.”

You heard his smile making you crack an eye open at him suspiciously.

He rolled his eyes playfully, “I felt you through the bond, ad’ika… You want Hunter to breed you.”

You squirmed, “Don’t say it like that.”

He chuckled, “Okay fine, you want Hunter to knock you up?”

You gasped and feigned offense, “Crosshair…”

“He’s starting to give me ideas.” His fingers pinched your nipple making you arch your back before traveling south where he lightly tickled over your belly.

“Stop triggering my instincts.” You fussed and pouted.

His fingers went back to your tit to play with your nipple again, “You like when I trigger your instincts.” He smiled wolfishly.

You huffed letting him continue his onslaught onto your sensitive tits as he bent down to kiss and suck on them making you mewl and press even further into his attentions.

“Personally, I want a girl, mesh’la.” He released your poor nipple and looked up at you with a mischievous glint.

You felt your heart accelerate and your breathing shallow. Crosshair wanted a girl? You had to fight back the giddy grin as you looked up at him. Your mind instantly went to thinking about a little platinum blonde, fiery girl running around and clinging to your mate calling him daddy.

You literally felt your pussy flutter wanting to make that daydream a reality right this minute.

Then your thoughts went to a sweet and pouty brunette with Hunter’s soft eyes. Her dark wavy hair cascading down her shoulders, and that signature cross-arm scowl her father always sports.

You had to take a deep breath and shake your head forcing the inner omega out of your field of thoughts.

His mischievous smile widened realizing that your instincts had been in fact triggered.

You scowled at him and smacked his shoulder making him laugh.

“I told you to stop it!” You smirked pushing him back as you sat up.

“I can’t help it ad’ika.” He purred, “Your eyes get all dilated and cute.”

You huffed.

Hunter returned crawling back into the nest before he bent down to pluck you up into his arms before carrying you into the steaming wash room.

“He plays, but his words are true.” Hunter said lowly as he opened the fresher door sitting you down gently on the warm stone floor.

“You heard all that?” You smirked.

He just tapped his ears making you smile and roll your eyes.

“Is it true?” He asked with hopeful raised brows, “You want pups?”

He couldn’t help the hand that drifted to your belly as you both stood under the stream of hot water.

Your entire body flushed at the touch.

“I-I… u-uhh yeah… yeah I think I do.” You struggled to speak and meet his soft grey brown eyes, “I like that idea.”

Hunter’s face lit up. He smiled brining you into a searing kiss. You moaned leaning into him letting your hands wanter all over his broad shoulders and back.

Hunter broke the kiss to press his forehead against yours before placing a gentle forehead kiss on your skin.

He grabbed the sponge and some soap before lathering you up and beginning his little routine of cleaning you off. You turned obediently leaning against him as he brought the sponge over your front being careful of your tender neck before dragging it down over your love bitten breasts. You bit your tongue as he brushed over your sensitive nipples.

“Of course we’d have to talk to the others. But I’m confident Crosshair is on board.” Hunter drawled nuzzling your neck affectionately.

“How would that even work?” You giggled as he practically tickled your sides with the sponge and he cleaned, “Three of you would have to abstain for probably month in order to line up my fertility cycle.” You mused thinking about all the medical windows you’d have to ensure pregnancy.

“Alright, little miss doctor brain. I can hear you overthinking” Hunter chuckled, “We’ll talk about it and see how everyone feels.”

You turned to face your mate, “Are you planning on knocking me up first, since you’re the oldest?” You poked fun at him.

“Oh, I’m definitely pulling rank in this situation.” He smirked dragging the sponge over your back and ass.

You hummed a laugh letting him finish up his scrubbing routine before turning to wash himself with the clean scented soap.

You sat under the stream of water enjoying the warmth as you watched Hunter finish up his hygiene routine.

Then you both heard a noise enter the bathroom.

“Hurry up!” Crosshair barked turning on the faucet to throw water on his face, “I’m covered in dried cum, and you two are going to use up all the hot water.”

You giggled turning to the ex-sergeant. Hunter just shrugged with a smile before rinsing off the soap and shutting off the fresher.

You opened the door to find Crosshair standing here with his arms crossed as you toweled off with Hunter.

“Finally.” He drawled before stepping inside and resuming the water flow.

“Rex is coming today with more supplies,” You reminded, “I need to go to the lab to finish a few more things before they arrive.”

“Hmm I don’t know mesh’la I think you’re technically still under Crosshair’s charge for the next few hours and it seems to be most imperative that you remain here with us. Right Cross?” Hunter shook out his hair making you squeal as droplets hit your skin.

“Affirmative.” Crosshair replied from inside the fresher.

You crossed your arms, “Guys, I need to finish this if you even want to consider having pups, you know.”

That got them.

Silence.

Hunter sighed and relented, “Fine, but at midnight, you’re mine mesh’la.”

“Yes sir.” You mock saluted before skipping out of the fresher to find your clothes.

Fishing around inside your drawers, you pull out a sweater one of the omegas in the village had knitted for you along with a pair of modified uniform pants.

You pulled the articles of clothing on and made sure to towel dry your hair the best you could knowing Tech would fuss about you catching a cold in the rain.

Then came the holster that Hunter made you swear you’d never leave the house without and the pistol you still had from the GAR days.

Just as you were about to re-enter the living room, Gonky waddled in hooting and hollering about incoming air vessels.

“Friends?” Hunter asked grabbing his blaster.

Gonky honked.

“It’s Rex!” You were elated.

You jogged to the mud room to yank on your boots along with your rain coat and the matching hat from the hook on the wall.

“Do you think Echo is with him?” You wondered out loud.

Hunter meandered into the kitchen tugging at the fresh nexu to start cleaning the meat, “I’m sure mesh’la, Echo wouldn’t miss coming to say hi.”

Your excitement peaked and you practically kicked the door open to skip down the steps to trudge through the mud to get to the base camp.

On your way down the hill, you passed by the shaak barn where Wrecker and Tech were busy assembling the new fence.

“Hi Wrek! Hi Tech!” You hollered and gave them a wave before continuing on down towards the village.

“Darling, aren’t you supposed to be inside with Cross?” Tech squinted through his goggles watching you cross the property.

“Rex is here!” You replied with a smile, “He has the last ingredient for the serum!”

“Okay, but just stay out of the rain you’ll catch a c-“ Tech began but you cut him off.

“I know! I know!” You yelled out as you got further away, “I promise to stay dry!”

You knew Tech wanted to discuss this topic further, blah, blah, blah, you didn’t care. You were excited for so many reasons. For one, you haven’t seen them in weeks, and second, you were receiving the shipment of a recovered serum made by Nala Se. The substance was a vile of microscopic DNA repairing robots who could deliver the serum you created to the clones in mass numbers. This would solve everything. You couldn’t be more elated.

Before you knew it, you heard four sets of footsteps trailing behind you and you knew it was your alphas being diligent with guarding you. You giggled knowing Tech was probably already fussing about ways to keep you out of the rain as he approached.

Once you reached the growing village, you scampered down the steps reaching the center of town where the new space ports were being set up.

With a few other clones, you all gathered waiting to see the ships descend from the cloudy skies.

You felt the presence of your alphas surround you, as Tech wrapped you in a second rain cloak that had a massive hood. You smiled up at him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He was satisfied with this level of rain protection and returned to his post at your side.

“They’re incoming now.” Hunter must have heard the engines.

Before you knew it, two cargo ships pushed through the clouds and descended gracefully down towards the town.

Bolts emerged from his domicile along with his little mate who was a few months pregnant. They waved to you and you waved back as he clearly had almost as much excitement as you.

When the first ship touched down, the loading deck lowered down and more clones excited the vessel. You searched every one of them until you spotted a familiar face.

“Rex!” You sprinted forwards dodging the strangers before you threw yourself at your old captain. He smiled before embracing you.

“Good to see you kid.” He mumbled.,

You squeezed him extra hard, “Where have you been! It’s been weeks!”

A gruff voice replied, “Looking for this.”

You looked up from Rex’s chest before turning to find Wolfee standing there holding a glowing blue vile in his fingers.

“Commander!” You said warmly, allowing him to pull you into a hug too.

You heard a disapproving growl behind you knowing it was one of your boys.

Wolfee chuckled, “They still treating you alright?”

You smiled, “Yes, Wolffe.”

“Good.” He smiled warmly.

“I’m never going to get used to seeing that.” Bolts said walking up and clapping his old commander on the back.

Soon, Stunner and Grim emerged surrounding you like rowdy pups.

“Seeing what?” Grim asked playfully messing with you.

“Commander smiling.” Bolts joked.

Wolffe scowled making Rex chuckle.

“Much better.” Bolts nodded.

“Commander.” Hunter walked up greeting the commander.

“Sergent.” Wolffe politely nodded.

You shook your head, even after everything you all went through these knuckle heads were still butting heads.

“Crosshair.” He nodded to the sniper.

“Wolffe.” Crosshair gave him a nod which only meant one thing from the sniper… a sign of respect.

A nearly impossible exclusive club to be in by the way.

Wolffe handed him the blue vile you’ve been waiting months for.

“I hear tiny!” Echo’s voice came from the ship.

Your pack mate walked down the loading dock making a beeline for you.

“You’re not allowed to leave us anymore.” You whined jumping up to hug him.

“Well someone has to retrieve rare medical specimens around here.” He joked.

You shook your head and shoved him lightly.

He then looked at you more seriously, “I have another surprise for you.”

You quirked a brow, “What?”

You were suddenly taken off your feet in a flurry of pink fluff.

You landed with a thud and looked up to see a squealing familiar face.

“Layla?!”

“Y/N!” She screamed and the two of you rolled around on the floor much to Tech’s chagrin.

“Is that the medic from Coruscant?” Crosshair asked with a scrutinizing look.

Echo nodded.

“Where have you been?” She squeaked and demanded.

“It’s a long story.” You shook your head, “How the hell did you find Rex?”

“Echo found me.” She said, “He still had Fives’ secured line. He pulled me out of Coruscant a week ago.”

You sat up bringing her up with you.

“Hi boys.” She waved at your mates.

They grunted in response.

Then she narrowed her eyes before looking down at you. She straddled you and began sniffing around your face clearly looking for something.

“Layla…” Echo sighed.

He leaned forwards practically nuzzling your neck before he reached a hand inside your sweater collar and yanked the fabric back to see not one but two bite scars. She gasped, “You’re mated?!”

You nodded, “Mhmm.”

She screamed again making Hunter flinch.

“Oh my gods! How long? When? Where?” The she smirked, “Was it good?”

You could have died on the spot. You suddenly felt like you were back in 79’s being grilled about your sex life in front of Hunter in that damn booth.

“Layla!” You whimpered wanting to disappear into the floor with so many of your friends staring back at you.

“It was wasn’t it?” She raised a brow waggling them playfully.

“I like her.” Grim said.

Echo clapped him on the back, “Join the club.”

“Okay, as heart warming as this all is, I want to get my mate out of the cold.” Hunter said bending down to help you up to your feet.

“Well there’s one more thing.” Layla said suddenly getting serious, “We weren’t sure what to do and knew you’d probably be the best chance.”

Your interest was peaked, “What is it?”

Everyone turned to face the ship and down came a few clones pushing what looked like a metal slab towards you.

When you approached it you quickly realized it was a slab of carbonite.

“What?” You whispered dragging your fingers over the cold material.

Upon closer inspection to realized there was a human frozen inside, and not any human, a clone.

“Who is this?” You asked looking up.

Rex then stepped forwards and lowered his eyes, “It’s Kix.”

Your eyes filled with alarm as you looked back at the slab.

Layla continued, “I’m just a nurse, I wasn’t sure what would be the best method for something like this.”

You nodded, “Smart. I can treat him up at the lab. Can someone take him there? I need to do this as soon as possible.”

The two clones continued to push the carbonite slab through the town being guided by Bolts.

“How long are you all staying?” You asked urgently.

“We have supplies to off load which will take a few days, and were working on a new lead with an imperial clone prison were hoping to attack but that intel could take months to verify.” Rex replied.

You nodded, “Good. I’m hoping to have the serum done in the next few days and I want you all here to receive the dose.”

Rex nodded, “I look forward to it.

You gave him a curt smile, “Let me look after Kix and then I’ll let you all know about the cure.”

“Sounds like a plan. Take care of him, kid.”

“You know I will.” You looked to your friend, “I’ll need your help.”

“Of course.” Layla smiled following your lead.

Crosshair handed you the vile before trailing after you towards the lab outside of town.

“Alright I’ll need everyone waiting to help me get him into the med pod once he’s thawed out.” You instructed.

Crosshair, Layla, Echo, Tech, and Rex stood around you and the slab of carbonite while the others waited just outside the medical cabin.

You knelt down to start punching in the right code to start the thawing process and stood back up to watch as the shipping slab started to glow an eerie red.

You waited with baited breath as Layla reached over for your hand as you watched the carbonite slowly melt away.

Slowly, Kix’s hand started to flex before the rest of him was revealed. Once the process was complete Layla let go of you to lean forward and help the boys raise their brother up out of the slab and onto the med pod bed.

“H-Hello?” Kix’s worried voice quivered into the air, “I-I can’t see.”

“It’s carbonite sickness. Don’t worry Kix, you’ll be okay in a bit.” You replied softly.

“Tiny?” He asked trying to locate the source of your voice.

You leaned forwards and pressed your wrist to his nose to let him scent you, “Right here, Kix.”

He crinkled his nose, “You smell funny.”

“I’ll explain that when you get your site back. Echo’s here and Rex.” You responded softly.

“And Layla.” She purred.

That got Kix’s attention.

You giggled stepping away from the med pod.

Rex pulled you aside letting the others wrap him in knitted blankets and wool sweaters.

“He seems fine, but do you think the chip was activated?” Rex’s expression was slightly hesitant.

“I think he was already frozen when the order was given. But I’ll remove it as soon as he’s stable for good measure.” You nodded in Kix’s direction.

Rex was satisfied with this.

“How long do you think he’ll take to see again?” The captain asked looking a little frazzled.

You placed a hand on is forearm in a calming gesture, “Just a couple hours. Maybe even faster with your special genetics. He’ll be fine Rex.”

Rex nodded. You couldn’t imagine what the poor captain was going through. His last man.

Well technically no, with Echo being the last domino, but regardless Kix was one of the oldest friend to everyone. You were happy you at least had one member from your first pack left and standing.

Kix was getting comfortable as Layla combed through his hair with her nails and Echo tucked him in with the blankets. Echo knew a thing or two about being on ice. He was handling all of this like a champ which made you proud of your friend. You felt tears welling up in your eyes with all the sudden emotion.

“When will the serum be ready?” Rex asked gaining your attention again.

You quickly wiped away the wetness on your cheek, “Uhh. Any day now. That vile is the last ingredient. I’ll have you all on a natural biological clock before you have to ship out.”

Rex sighed looking at the bundle of 501st curling up with one another comforting Kix.

You looked at your captain, “You’re not leaving?” You felt a spark of hope.

“I-I thought my vision was clear… Save as many of our brother as I can. Then I might consider settling down.”

“You’re human too Rex. And you all are much more than soldiers. I understand wanting to help the others, but you’ve been in this fight longer than most of them. Can’t you let Wolffe and Howzer handle the day to day operations for a little and you can slow down just a bit?” You gestured to Kix, “He’s going to need his captain. He’s waking up in an entirely different world. It’s going to take some adjusting, familiar faces are necessary.” You were trying to give him an out. It was an out he seemed to need.

Processing your words he nodded, “I guess there’s no harm in delaying my departure…”

You squealed and tackled him in the biggest hug you could muster. He grunted before welcoming you into him.

“I promise you’ll like it here.” You said into his armor, “Wrecker can cook up a mean shaak roast, ooo! You can stay with us! I have to find you a sweater!”

He chuckled, “No offense, but I know what you and your mates get up to. I’d rather get some sleep without hearing all that.”

You slapped him playfully.

He smiled.

“I’m still finding you a sweater.” You poked his arm through a gap in the plastoid before returning back to your mates.

Tech turned to look down at you along with his twin.

“I’m going to stay and work on this,” You held up the vile, “I’ll be back at the house later, okay?”

“Dinner.” Crosshair pointed his toothpick at you, “or Hunter will worry.”

“I know…” You nodded before turning to your private research lab.

“Do you need assistance?” Tech asked following behind you closely.

“I’m alright, love. But thank you.” You smiled up at him. He had been paramount in your research helping you bounce ideas off of him when you felt most overwhelmed. You wouldn’t have been able to get this far so quickly without him and his massive brain.

“Im proud of you, cyare.” He cupped your jaw affectionately, “I find myself more and more in love with you every day. You’re brilliant, darling.”

You flustered looking down at his green henley covered chest, “…alpha…”

He closed the distance and tilted your chin up, forcing you to look up at his deep inquisitive eyes, “I should have realized sooner.” He was referring to when you first joined their squad during the war, “I didn’t know you had such a beautiful mind locked away up here.” He tapped your skull, “The GAR could have never appreciated it in its entirely, but we can.”

Your heart stuttered as his words melted your insides.

“I’m incredibly thankful you decided to enlist. I never told you that. While we may not have had a choice in our servitude, you joining us made everyday a little better. Enjoyable even.” Tech rubbed your skin with his thumb.

“Tech…” You sighed leaning into his touch, “I’m so happy I was placed with you. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

His mouth quirked up into a half smile.

“Go on.” He released you to let you tinker in your lab, “Save our entire population from accelerated aging.” He waved around playfully.

He turned to leave, “If it works out, you could probably sell it on the black market for an exorbitant price and get a second greenhouse.”

That made you laugh.

“Don’t forget dinner!” He called after you leaving you alone.

You nodded and turned to roll up your sweater sleeves and get to work.

You took a deep breath, you could do this.

Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out the blue vile and walked over to the workstation to sit down and pul out your data pad that you plugged into the dna synthesizer machine.

One of the slots popped open and you slipped the blue vile inside before closing the compartment and hearing the machine whirl to life.

You have the internal droid instructions to take a small sample to test and opened up your notes to start documenting your findings.

This process might take a while…

You settled in and began documenting your data.

Well it’s certainly past dinner.

Hunter sighed grabbing a big bowl of nexu stew and a spoon, “Hey Wreck can you grab a few blankets and another bowl of soup?”

“Yeah!” He hopped up following the instructions and together they bundled up before taking it outside to the medical lodge.

“Is she pulling an all-nighter again?” Wrecker asked.

“Nope.” Hunter decided.

Wrecker quirked a brow before shaking the expression off and pushing open the lodge door.

Inside, Layla and Echo lay in the medical pod bed, sleeping awkwardly as Kix snuggled between them. Echo was practically bent over the side of the bed while Layla lay upside down with her feet hanging off the side of the cot.

Hunter gestured for Wrecker to cover them in blankets to keep them all warm and he set down the bowl of soup for Kix to eat when he wakes up.

Hunter continued onwards pushing open the glass door to find you slumped over your desk with your face in your data pad dead asleep.

He shook his head with a smile before folding a blanket and wrapping it around your shoulders. He knew you were uncomfortable in that position but he couldn’t bring himself to wake you.

He set the bowl on the desk before flopping down on the lounger on the wall across the lab.

Just as he settled down as well, the giant machine on your desk hissed and beeped causing you to gasp and sit up suddenly.

You blinked rapidly forcing yourself awake unaware of your visitor.

You stood up letting the blanket fall off of you as you leaned over to read the report.

With a bit of eye rubbing and forced concentration, you suddenly shrieked with joy causing the entire lodge to wake up.

“I did it!” You jumped up and down, “I did it!”

Hunter cleared his throat making you spin around to face him a bit shocked at his ability to sneak around still.

“Hunter!” You put. Hand over your heart, “You scared me.”

“You missed dinner.” He smiled sweetly.

“I-oh… sorry.” You looked at the clock seeing it was getting close to midnight.

“It’s alright mesh’la.” He tilted his chin to the beeping machine, “Have you got what you’re looking for?”

Your excitement was evident as you nodded and grabbed your data pad to read the results. It was a success. The machine was able to replicate exactly the recipe Nala Se had created. You were vibrating with excitement.

“I did it, alpha.” You heard the machine putz and pop out a vile of clear liquid. You picked it up inspecting it, “This will cure the rapid aging.”

Hunter looked at you with hope and about five other amazed emotiones.

You chewed your lip as he stood up towering over you.

You set the vile down on the desk knowing exactly what that look meant…

It was his night after all…

“I’ll volunteer.” Rex said pragmatically. Ever the leader.

“Me too.” Wolffe nodded.

“Are you certain you wish to be the first?” Tech examined the vials of synthesized serum.

“We aren’t sure what the side effects may be.” You looked back over Nala Se’s notes. There was nothing about side effects listed in her notes so you were a bit hesitant. You weren’t sure if this was going to be painful for them.

Firs thing this morning, they had nearly busted down the lodge door after hearing the news of your success.

“It doesn’t matter.” Rex crossed his arms, “You need to test it on one of us, and we’re here, offering.”

You nodded.

“I just want you to be prepared for the fact that none of us know how this is going to react. It might hurt.” You explained.

“We’ve been through worse.” Wolffe said gruffly.

You sighed, “Okay.”

Just then, the door to the lodge opened and in came Howzer. He looked sharp. Clean shaven, hair washed and damp from the rain, along with his all black civvies.

You had to calm your heart a bit. His presence still made you a little nervous despite your silent understanding. You hadn’t said a word to him since Teth. It was awkward to say the least.

“You need another lab rat?” He asked rolling up his sleeves.

“Captain.” You nodded formally.

He just raised a brow before settling in next to Wolffe. He clearly wasn’t prepared for your formality.

“We don’t know the side effects.” You disclosed.

“Fine with me.” He nodded.

You finally relented with a sigh before turning to grab the vials and loaded one into your injector gun.

“Who’s first?” You asked.

Rex stepped forwards rolling up the sweater he borrowed from Tech.

You sterilized the skin on his arm before pressing the gun forwards and pulling the trigger injecting him with the serum. The man didn’t even flinch or make a sound as the vial emptied.

You pressed a tissue to the wound before emptying out the cartridge before loading in the second.

Wolffe then stepped forwards pulling off his vambrace to reveal the sleeve of his blacks. He yanked the fabric back giving you access to his caramel skin. You cleaned the sight before repeating the action.

Once you got to Howzer, he tugged up the sleeve silently understanding the process.

As you neared him, you could feel his burning gaze upon you.

It was alarming to remember how intense he was. He reminded you of Wolffe in a lot of ways. Younger, but still, the energy was so similar. Howzer was an intense man too. One of the reasons why you had gravitated towards Howzer all those moons ago. He was a good alpha, and a fantastic lover. The memory of his touch made you heat slightly. You prayed your cheeks didn’t redden being this close to him. You noticed the familiar tattoos on his forearm that made you shiver.

You remembered mouthing at that skin in the throws of your heats. The taste of his skin suddenly recollected to the front of your mind.

It was like he knew exactly what you were thinking of and you noticed the sly smirk he tried to disguise on his lip.

You forced yourself to take a breath willing yourself to calm.

His scent was far too familiar, too intimate…

Pressing the gun to his forearm, you swallowed thickly ignoring his piercing gaze. You remained professional until you handed him the tissue to clean the bead of blood.

You heard him inhale deeply trying to catch a glimpse of your scent, but he scrunched his nose clearly not liking the smell. It had been altered after all.

And you knew how much he liked you smelling like him…

You dared to look up at him, and his distaste quickly morphed into a much softer gaze.

“Y/N…” He whispered, but you ignored him.

You turned back to the table to set down the injector and pull off your gloves.

“Okay, everyone stay here so I can observe your vitals. I have to check on Kix.” You said giving them a polite smile before leaving them.

You let out the breath you had been holding before walking over to Kix’s medical pod. He was still sleeping. Poor guy. You were certain his exhaustion was from the carbonite sickness, his body had been through quite the ordeal.

You all still had no idea how he even ended up in that situation but that was for later.

Right now, you needed to scan his vitals again.

Layla heard you enter the room and raised her head from the cot. She must have been folded over the side of the mattress with her arms folded as a pillow for some time now.

“Hey.” She croaked waking up.

“Hey.” You smiled grabbing the scanner on the side table, “Has he woken at all?”

She huffed, “Once last night. But then he conked out again.”

You approached the other side off the bed where you brushed back his hair to tilt his head to the side to place the scanner on his neck.

When the scanner beeped, you looked at the readings, “He’s in perfect health. I’m hoping he wakes up soon.”

Layla hummed before standing to stretch, “I need to wash up and change. Where can I do that?”

“We have a shower here in the clinic, but you’re welcome to go back to our place. Just let one of the boys know. They get a little territorial over the bathroom.”

Layla huffed a laugh before nodding to grab her duffle.

She was walking to the in-clinic bathroom when she suddenly called out for you.

“What?” You shuffled into the main exam room to find Layla scanning Rex.

“I think they’re feeling a bit drowsy.” Layla said helping Rex lay down.

You checked the data pad as Wolffe and Howzer both slumped over. Their readings were all ok.

Layla was right they were just drowsy.

You ordered a few medical droids to keep a constant reading on them as they got comfortable. Layla quickly helped you throw some blankets on them before leaving them all to their little cat nap.

“I got Kix, you get cleaned up and comfortable.” You ordered to Layla who nodded and continued on to the ensuite bathroom.

You took a brief moment to run your fingers carefully over Howzer’s forehead feeling the warmth of his skin. You shuddered as your fingers felt the firmness of his cheekbones and defined jaw. His eyes remained peacefully closed as he slept, and you helped tilt his head back onto the pillow to keep him comfortable.

Your heart ached with fondness for the alpha, at one point you had believed he was the one for you. You couldn’t help but be greedy and lean down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. With a shudder, you stood back up and pushed his hair from his face.

The clone looked peaceful, no scowl, no stress, and no worries. He looked almost boyish in this state.

You couldn’t help the saddened smile that crept up on your lip. It pained you to know that he was probably still hurt.

You whispered, “I’m sorry Howz… I didn’t think all of this would have gone the way it has. The force works in mysterious ways.” You continued to play with his hair, “You took such good care of me and your men. I’ll never forget my time with you on Ryloth. You’re a good alpha Howz, and a good man.”

You sighed and pulled the hand woven blanket up to his chin, tucking him in and making sure he stays warm.

Then you turned to return back to your work.

~~~

A few hours later, the boys had all come baring gifts of comfort. They fed you, gave you enough time to quickly change and shower while they watched Kix, before you returned to curl up on the lounger Wrecker dragged inside. Tech held you closely, giving you little pets on your head as you rested against his warm beating chest.

Layla also had curled up on another cot the boys dragged in next to Echo as everyone got some much needed rest.

Tech was the only one still awake as he kept dutiful watch from the lounger letting you, his little omega, get some much needed sleep.

On the other side of the room, he heard Kix shift a little in his sleep. Tech pushed back his goggles, before perking up to observe the reg.

Then in an instantaneous flash, Kix sat up ram rod straight, and screaming, “Dooku! It was Dooku!”

Everyone in the room jolted awake violently reaching for their weapons.

Kix screamed and groaned as the lights seemed to agitate him. He tried standing up, but knocked over a med droid, and a few items on the table.

You shot up trying to rush over to him before he destroyed the whole lab.

“Ahh!” He cried out, “Get away!” He punched the droid sending the unit flying into the wall.

“Kix!” You tried to get his attention but he seemed to be manic. He wasn’t hearing you.

“Y/N, be careful.” Tech stood to try and put himself between you and the agitated soldier.

“Kix!” Layla and Echo chimed in raising their hands trying to calm him.

“Brother!” Echo stepped forwards taking the brunt of his hits and forced him into a tight embrace, “Vod!”

“I-I swear I just wanted to help!” Kix whimpered, “I wanted to help Fives!”

Echo suddenly shuddered, “Kix, you’re okay. You’re safe. Look around.”

Kix heaved trying to ground himself. He burrowed into Echo’s front, scenting his familiar brother.

The medic was finally starting to calm down as he blinked rapidly trying to adjust to the lights. He then bristled as a soft hand scratched against his back making him turn to look at Layla who was standing next to him a little moon eyed and startled.

You checked the time seeing it was three past midnight.

The two got him settled back in before you checked his vitals one last time to confirm he was indeed okay.

“Where am I?” He asked looking a bit dazed.

Echo pulled one of the colorful blankets over Kix’s legs.

“You’re on Zyphor. We have a settlement here with just us, and a few clones.” You said.

“W-what happened?” He asked pulling the blanket up.

“It’s been over a year, Kix,” Echo began, “We just found you in carbonite, we were hoping you might be able to fill us in on a few things.”

Kix looked to you, noticing how close Tech was to you and he squinted his eyes suspiciously.

He then looked to his brother, “I-I tried to warn everyone. I tried to tell Skywalker. I confirmed Five’s theory and ran tests on the inhibitor chips inside Tup’s head. But, when I told the long necks… I was suddenly moved to a different location. I remember seeing Dooku, and then it was nothing…” He shook his head trying to put the pieces together.

“I don’t want to distress you any further Kix, but I feel like you should know.” Echo cleaner his throat trying to fight off his own emotions, “But Fives, was killed. Palpatine told him everything, it sent him into a frenzy and then he was killed by the guard.”

Kix’s face morphed into deep sadness, “Fives is dead?”

Echo’s expression fell and he nodded solemnly.

“I didn’t warn Skywalker.” Kix shook his head, “I should have gone straight to him instead of the long necks.”

“They were in on it.” You sighed, “They helped to create the entire war for Palpatine.”

Kix leaned back into the bed looking up at the ceiling, “W-where is everyone else?”

“The Jedi were executed.” Echo filled him in, “And then the entire 501st company went down in a ship crash when they turned on Rex and Soka.”

“Everyone?” Kix was in disbelief.

Echo nodded.

“Kriff.” Kix rubbed at his eyes.

You all remained there in slightly uncomfortable silence as Kix processed everything.

Tech guided you back into his side and you nuzzled into him.

Kix groaned, “And that! Someone explain that!” He gestured to you and Tech, “I thought you were being tailed by Commander Wolffe or the 99 Sergeant! You were practically fucking in the hangar bay last I saw you!”

Tech growled possessively.

“Oh man.” Echo chuckled, “You’ve missed a lot.”

“I wasn’t quick enough to the draw.” Wolffe emerged into the doorway looking tussled from sleep. His famous scowl was only emphasized by his sleepiness and his ruffled hair.

“Neither was I.” Howzer stepped up next to Wolffe rubbing his eyes. You felt your stomach flip. Maker above. Having all these alphas in this space was making you antsy.

Tech was nearly vibrating trying to remain civil as he held a protective grasp on you.

“Captain Howzer?” Kix was disbelief, “I haven’t seen you since you were in my tent on Ryloth.”

Howzer chuckled, “Yeah it’s been a while vod. How ya feeling?”

“Like shit.” Kix laughed.

Layla held up a water cup forcing him to drink something. He looked at her with mesmerized eyes. She smiled sweetly as offered him some more which he gladly gulped down.

Kix swallowed and turned back to you, “Last time I saw you, you had just gone into heat because of Sergeant grumps.” He joked.

You sighed, “Kix, there’s something else-“

“What’s going on in here?” Hunter and Crosshair walked past Wolffe and Howzer giving the both of them a terse look.

Ugh the damn bond. Probably felt Tech fuming through it.

“Tiny, was just explaining to everyone why she’s mated to Tech.” Echo drawled.

Hunter and Crosshair both raised a brow.

“Well, not just myself. But also my batch mates.” Tech replied for clarification.

Crosshair saddled up to your other side sandwiching you between himself and his twin.

You smiled awkwardly at Kix as you watched him go slack jaw.

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“H-how is that even possible?” He was trying to recall all his knowledge on the lupine genders and behavior patterns he was forced to study as a cadet.

Wolffe nodded in their direction, “That little omega is a rare variant of our sub-species who can have an unlimited amount of alpha partners. Empire found out, captured her, and my entire garrison, then they imprisoned us in a breeding facility with the sniper, and tried to clone her to create a few army with all of us and our offspring. Rex and the boys came to our rescue. Blew up the base and brought us here.”

Wolffe’s casual tone had Kix absolutely flabbergasted. It was like he was recounting a mission report with his level headedness.

“Who tried to breed you?” Kix was properly enraged.

“The Empire.” You squeaked feeling the heat rising in your face.

“The Empire…” He repeated like that was common knowledge.

“The Chancellor over threw the senate and the republic and created the galactic empire.” Echo explained.

“What. The. Fuck.” Kix shook his head. You were sure he had a million questions swirling around in his head.

“But that doesn’t explain that you’re mated?” He pointed at you again.

“Well that happened during a drug induced haze that made me bite Crosshair which in turn he bit me back.” You replied, “Then the others happened shortly after that.”

“You were in a relationship this whole time?” He was aghast, “I thought you were with Howzer?”

Hunter and Crosshair snarled.

“Well, not really…” You tried to placate your mates, “That didn’t happen until we got stranded on Mimban after the GAR sent us to Kasssyyykk. We crash-landed and all went into heat and rut… obviously you can put together the pieces there. I hadn’t seen Howzer in over eight standard months at that point.”

Howzer nodded in the doorway.

You looked to Echo, “Why am I constantly having to explain my sexual history in front of my former commanding officer?”

Echo laughed as Hunter quirked his head in the direction of the ARC Trooper.

Tech chimed in, “I’d like to point out that I have upheld my banishment of speaking on this topic.”

You have his hand a squeeze and a smile.

“I think you kids need to let those two catch up.” Rex’s groggy voice came from behind Wolffe, “They haven’t seen each other in ages and I’m sure theres some details not everyone needs to hear for the millionth time.”

Rex always had a knack for settling people straight. At this point he was pro, with having to wrangle Fives and Echo all those years.

“Of course Captain.” Layla winked at Rex before sauntering out of the treatment room. Rex watched her leave with a smirk.

Wolffe and Howzer turned to return to their med pods, while your mates stuck around.

“You alright?” Hunter checked in on you.

You nodded, “I can take care of him. You guys get your sleep. Take Echo with you. He needs his real bed.”

Echo grunted in agreement.

“Comm us if you need anything.” Crosshair pressed a kiss to your head before leaving with his brothers.

Hunter and Tech also gave you a kiss before leaving you alone with your longest friend.

You sighed and crossed your arms looking at Kix like he was a cadet all wrapped up in a pink and green blanket.

He patted the bed next to him which you happily trotted over and plopped down next to him.

“So…” He looked down at you, “Did you end up fucking Wolffe?”

“No!” Wolffe yelled from the other room.

You giggled and shoved Kix playfully, “No.”

“So like how does that work?” He snickered, “Do they like run a train on you or something?”

“Oh my gods Kix!” You screeched, you were certain the other men in the room next door heard him, “You’re worse than Echo.”

He giggled, “C’mon I’ve been frozen for over a year, give a guy something good.”

“No they don’t run a train on me.” You were horrified at that verbiage.

“No judgement tiny,” He raise his brows, “The 501st ran trains all the time. Sometimes with more than one omega.”

Now it was your turn to gawk.

“Stop telling her these things!” Rex chastised from the other room.

“Oh please, like you didn’t join!” Kix teased. You heard nothing from the other room, “And I’m sure the Captain and Commander had their own fun too.” Kix continued, “I heard a lot of things about Wolffe’s men back in the day…” He whispered and you shook your head.

You thought you were going to pass out. Absolutely no way, the cheshire style grin that appeared on your face. How absolutely insane. Echo never told you about that…

“Do I want to ask about Echo’s involvement?” You whispered.

“No!” Rex admonished.

You looked at Kix who just replied with a telling smirk.

“Ewugh, bleh.” You shook your head.

“Anyways. Not the first time a clone had shared a woman.” He nudged you, “You look good though. You’re not as scrawny as you used to be. All healthy and glowing and shit.”

“Echo trained me in hand to hand. Then working here on the farm I think has bulked me up a little.” You replied sheepishly.

“Looks good on you, Tiny.”

“Thanks.”

“Okay, so how do you manage all of them?

“We have a schedule.”

He smirked, “Do those schedules ever overlap?”

You bit your lip and nodded. You had a flashback to the day before with Hunter and Crosshair which made you shiver slightly.

He nodded slyly. It made you giggle. It was nice talking to him again. It was like talking with Echo. There was such a natural flow and you had alway felt comfortable with Kix. With him being a medic, he had that special personality about him that made you instantly feel safe in his care.

“… so they do run trains…”

“Kix!” You grabbed a pillow and smacked him with it.

He howled with laughter and let you smack him.

“Hey if you ever want another alpha you know where to look!” Wolffe hollered from the other room.

“We’re pros at trains according to Kix!” Howzer chimed in.

“Shut up!” You yelled back.

You heard Rex groan and shift in his blankets clearly grossed out by this entire conversation.

You sat and chatted with Kix for the remainder of the night filling him in on every life detail and you too listened to him as he wanted all the details that lead up to this very moment. You couldn’t blame him, you’d want the play by play too if you were in his position.

When morning finally comes, you make to excuse yourself to let Kix rest, and when you enter the main treatment room, Howzer gently tugs you side with a gentle hold on your wrist. You flinch slightly realizing he had gripped over Wrecker’s mark making you shudder.

“Sorry.” He withdrew realizing what he had done. Clearly he wasn’t used to that.

“It’s alright.” You rubbed at the mark, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to talk.” Howzer said trying to soften his expression as much as possible, “I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to get you alone without your mates around.”

You huffed, “Howzer-“

“I’m not trying to upset you.” He interrupted.

You relented and sat down on the cot next to him.

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m not angry with you.” He began, “Confused? Yes. Shocked? Absolutely…. And jealous… I didn’t know how to react. When I saw you on Teth I thought it was going to be like old times. Like you were still mine. I wondered how the hell you ended up on Teth. I didn’t even know you got reassigned to the 99’s.”

Your body tensed at his words of ownership. It didn’t feel right now that you knew for a fact you belonged to your mates.

“I didn’t know. And I’m sorry for lashing out. You don’t deserve that. You’re a very special woman, and frankly I should have proposed a bond to you back on Ryloth but I was afraid something might happen to me and you’d bear the consequences.”

Your heart raced rapidly hearing those words. A bond with Howzer? You had to take a breath, you hadn’t realized how attached he had been. He had come to you on those particularly difficult nights for comfort, but you always thought you were supposed to remain friends after you both agreed on the terms of your relationship. Well, more like friends with benefits. He was in command of an entire garrison and yourself. You were his working medic while under his command. You knew nothing more could have come of it, but he was a very impressive alpha. A strong one too. You couldn’t blame yourself for having those feelings about the captain.

“I didn’t want anything to happen to you.” He looked at you endearingly, “I’m glad you’re happy. I’m glad they make you happy. While I don’t entirely understand it, I guess it’s not for me to understand. I just want to make sure you’re good.”

He was a damn good alpha. You sighed and looked back at him, “Thank you, Howzer. I didn’t want to upset you either, it was making me so anxious. I never wanted to hurt you and I felt like I had.”

“Not you darling. I was also a little put off by Crosshair after the events with the empire. The empire had interrogated me as well before he came to Ryloth. They wanted to know everything about you. I only told them limited details but I was worried you were in danger. Then the sniper showed up and tore apart the base on his mission to retrieve you.”

“He was heavily under the programming of the inhibitor chips, he also thought I was dead. He was suffering a lot.”

“He thought you were dead?”

“It’s a long story.” You shuddered recounting the emptiness from the severed bond.

“Well that would make sense.” Howzer huffed out a short laugh, “I’d tear apart the base too.”

You smiled taking his hand in yours.

“Are we okay?” You asked sincerely, “I can’t stand thinking you hate me.”

“I could never hate you, little dove.” However ran his thumb over your hand, “But if you ever need a fifth��”

You rolled your eyes playfully before standing up.

“I’ll let you know.” You joked making him smile.

~~~

When the morning light bleed through the curtains and warmed your nose, you blinked your eyes open and stretched like a loth cat, only to be obstructed. You mewled feeling Tech’s heavy arm pinning you to his front. You tried to flip around to face him but he shifted, pushing you nearly under him as he sighed in his sleep.

Deciding there was no point in trying to fight the heavy alpha. You snuggled into him, enjoying his warmth as he nearly suffocated you in his scent.

You were in heaven. The fur pelts of your nest kept you toasty warm as the last of the fire crackled out. You scooted further back pressing as close as possible to your tall alpha. He groaned waking up lightly. His hand brushed up against your front, cupping your breast. You giggled sleepily as he squeezed and massaged you.

“You’re up early, darling.” His raspy voice made you squirm.

“I have a big day, alpha.” You replied rolling over to face him.

His eyes were still closed as he lightly dragged his fingers over your back leisurely. You pressed kisses to his chest and he rumbled happily. You rubbed your cheeks against his skin leaving your scent on him making you purr.

“Oh yeah? What is on your schedule today?” He asked reaching for his goggles.

You kissed further down making him breathe a little faster.

“Well…” Your tone was teasing, “I was thinking…” You dragged your nail down his abs to his muscular thigh you saw his hardened cock twitch at the scrape of your nail, “I was thinking, I would blow my alpha, and then eat some breakfast, and then go to the lab to check in on the serum. Then maybe cure the entire clone population of accelerated aging.” You shrugged playfully.

Tech’s big eyes blinked behind his goggles as he watched you descent to settle between his legs.

“Sound good alpha?” You asked teasing your nails around the base of his cock making him break out in goosebumps.

“Seems like a reasonable plan.” He nodded trying to thrust his hips into your grasp.

You took mercy on him and grasped his hardened cock in your hand and gave him a few slow stokes making him swallow.

While, Tech and Cross are usually pretty dominant with you, in the mornings Tech was particularly softer with you. He usually let you do whatever you wanted which made your insides melt.

You continued to stroke him watching the way he was beginning to pant the longer you stimulated him.

You bit your lip as you swiped the pre come dripping from his flushed tip. Tech sucked in air at the feeling of your hand, but his noises escalated when you leaned down to lick the tip and he bit back a groan.

You smiled mischievously before sticking out your tongue and giving him a long lick from base to tip. Tech trusted upwards making you smile before fulling engulfing him in your mouth. He huffed at the intense warmth surrounding him.

“Darling.” He bit out as his hand instinctually flew to your hair, “Fuck.”

You gently bobbed your head taking him even deeper making Tech squirm on the fur pelts. You applied some more suction as you pushed yourself even deeper. His salty taste made your toes curl. His hand gently massaged your scalp as he softly guided you up and down his length at the speed he needed.

You moaned around his length making him shudder. Kriff he looked so damn good. His entire body flexed and showed off his lean muscles.

Tech’s hips stuttered slightly and you doubled down, massaging his length with your tongue. He let a tiny whimper slip before he twitched and spilled his cum into your throat. You swallowed diligently as he sagged down into the nest trying to catch his breath.

“Mega…” He slurred trying to recover from the orgasm. You smiled and sat back up on your heels before giving his abs one last kiss before standing.

“Where are you going?” He asked pushing his hair back.

“I told you.” You giggled, “I’m going to make some breakfast then head to the clinic.”

“I fear that I would be a bad alpha if I allowed you to leave without repaying the favor.” He said sitting up and coving his lap with a blanket.

You smiled grabbing your robe and pulling it on, “It’s alright alpha, I’m too distracted anyways.”

He relented and relaxed back into the fur.

You skipped into the bathroom to get cleaned up. Turning on the shower water, you stepped inside to scrub down.

~~~

Wrecker and the others were awake and in the kitchen by the time you left the bathroom.

The smell of eggs and meat made your mouth water. You saddled up next to Hunter, sitting in his lap as Wrecker placed your plate in front of you. You thanked him and grabbed your spork to dig in.

Hunter wrapped you in his strong arms and nuzzled his mark on your neck no doubt leaving his scent behind.

Tech finally rose up out of the nest to dress declaring this plans for fence repair today.

Hunter nipped you playfully making you squeal.

By the time you finished your meal, the boys had cleaned up and were starting to get ready for their day. Hunter deposited you on the floor where Crosshair and him fussed about getting you dressed for the weather. The can’t stand the idea of you getting a cold.

They tied your rain hat over your head and pulled your jacket on before giving you a little pat on the ass before following you outside.

They detoured off towards the stables while you continued on the little winding path towards the half buried domicile in the hill. You could see some lights on inside which let you know at least someone was awake this morning.

You were hoping that Kix was back to normal…

The sound of the front door swooshing open momentarily held your attention before you looked up to see one of the most disturbing sights you have ever seen in your short lifespan…

Layla was straddling Kix, while Echo’s pale naked body nestled up behind Layla and all three of them had not an article of clothing in sight.

All three heads of Kix, Layla, and Echo whipped around to look at you as both alpha’s froze mid thrust while Layla balked in the direction in which you stood. Kix’s face was covered in a sheen of sweat and his cheeks were flushed while Layla was trying her best to cover up with the sheets and Echo joust stood there un-phased if not a little annoyed to be interrupted.

You closed your eyes let out a horrified scream and turned on your heel to run out of the lab.

“Wait!” Layla screamed after you but it was no use you kept screaming as you ran back towards the stables.

It wasn’t long before Crosshair and Hunter ran up to you, blasters in hand, looking worried.

“What’s wrong?”

“Are you hurt?”

You shook your head and flung yourself into Hunter’s chest, “I just walked in on Layla, Kix… and Echo.”

There was a moment of silence before you heard Crosshair’s chuckle. Images of Echo’s pale ass flashed into your mind’s eye. You cringed.

“I think you woke up the whole settlement.” Hunter shimmied you both around to see curious heads popping out of their homes.

You giggled, “Whoops.”

Crosshair shrugged, “Didn’t know Echo still had it in him.”

You slapped his arm, “Cross… I’ve been traumatized and you’re joking about it?”

“At least Kix is fine.” He pointed out.

That was true at least.

You wish you could erase the past five minutes from your memory however.

Hunter chuckled, “You’re fine mesh’la. Let’s give them twenty minutes then go back.”

The three of you walked towards the stables where you could at least play with the barn tookas while you waited for them to finish.

What a fucking morning…

~~~

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

The three of them stood anxiously by your lab door like kicked puppies.

You refused to turn around. You couldn’t even look without picturing that.

“It never happened.” You waved them off, “I’m just glad you’re back to normal, Kix.”

“B-But-“ He started but Echo just gestured for him to return back to the other room.

“Trust me. This is the better option.” The Arc trooper tried to console his friend.

You were too busy with your work anyways.

Howzer, Rex and Wolffe all came back normal once they dealt with their quick bit of drowsiness. When they woke up, they felt absolutely fine and have no shown any signs of side effects. When you checked their DNA once again, you saw the alterations and how they were now practically identical to natural born human males. Their accelerated aging had been totally reversed…

The comparison however was remarkable, the ways the Kaminoan’s altered their genetic structures to prevent disease, and recover from injury quicker, amongst other things. It was a scientific marvel. You could stare at their genomes for hours. You wondered how much of that genetic data you could replicate for yourself and others.

You heard another beep go off letting you know the synthesizer was finished with another batch of vials, while your assistant medical droids packaged them up neatly in crates getting them ready for use.

You picked up a single vile looking at it and thinking of what Hunter said earlier. You sighed. It would be nice to just be normal and start a family. You know your alphas would make amazing fathers. Protective, loving, smart, and brave. All the qualities you could want. As you held the blue vile, you decided this one was for Hunter and you slipped it into your pocket.

“Need any help?” Kix returned standing in your doorway awkwardly.

You looked up and raised a brow.

“I feel bad…” he admitted.

You softened your gaze, “It’s alright Kix, if you want to help me start organizing for distribution I’d appreciate it.”

He waddled inside plopping down next to the droids trying to understand the science behind all of this.

“So… how much did you see?” He asked sheepishly.

You grumbled, “Too much.”

“Sorry.” He chewed his lip.

You both locked eyes and stared feeling the awkwardness before you both burst out into hysterical laughter.

“You were literally frozen in carbonite and the first thing you do coming out is have a threesome?!” You were howling with laughter feeling the tears running down your eyes.

“Listen… Listen!” He waves his hands around, “I woke up from the worst situation I’ve ever been in and my dream omega is right there! Give a guy some credit!”

He wiped away tears under his eyes.

“Kix!” You screamed flopping onto your back.

“Ahh!” He tried to calm down, “it wasn’t the first time…”

You looked at him again with owlish eyes, “What?”

“Well after Sarge wiped the floor with you after Crait, we had to bring Layla back to Coruscant… and well… we did it in the med-bay stock room.” He clamped his mouth shut anticipating your reaction.

“No fucking way.” Your brows raised and your jaw dropped, “ She didn’t tell me that!”

“She didn’t tell you what?” Hunter sauntered into the room crossing his arms and raising a playful brow.

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t hear.” You rolled your eyes playfully.

“What’s the fun in that?” He leaned against the entry door.

“Hi Sarge.” Kix nodded in Hunter’s direction.

“Long time no see.” Hunter smirked.

Kix cleared his throat, “I’m feeling a strange urge to yell at you for mating my best friend and little sister, but I’m going to settle for telling you that you better keep those boys in line and take good care of her alright?”

You giggled at Kix’s sudden protectiveness.

Hunter just smiled, “Don’t have to worry about us doc, she’s the one keeping us all in line.”

You rolled your eyes.

Hunter then looked to you, “Wanna grab some chow? Wrek made some shaak roast.”

Your mouth instantly watered, “I want to, but I have all these…” You looked at the cases of synthesized cure.

Kix stood up waving his arms around, “Don’t worry about that. You’ve done enough creating it, Layla and I can distribute it. We're not strangers to injector guns.”

That was true.

“Okay.” You smiled, “Give me three more.”

Kix handed you three more which you stashed in your pocket along with the other vile with your sergeant’s name on it.

You grabbed your injector gun and let Hunter walk you back to the house.

“So, the cure is ready for distribution?” Hunter held the door open for you and let you step inside.

You kicked off your boots with an excited grin, “Yup.”

“I feel like there’s something else…” He raised a brow,”

“Well…” You suddenly got a little shy, “I was thinking… after you’re all cured, I thought we might talk about maybe… trying for a pup?”

Hunter stared at you, trying to catch his breath. You were positive his heart was racing as quickly as yours was. The look of hope and excitement on his face made your insides tingle.

“A-are you sure?” He reached out grabbing your shoulders.

You chewed your lips and stared up into his grey eyes, “Well, now that I have other medics here… I wasn’t exactly looking forwards to making Tech take a crash course in labor an delivery…”

“He would have learned everything you would have needed.” Hunter smiled.

“I know…” You giggled, “But, I wanted to ask you… I can tell you’ve been thinking about it more recently. And I think you’d make an amazing father.”

“I-“ Hunter was at a loss for words, “Really?” His eyes lit up.

“Yeah, Hunter, I do.” You smiled, “I want to ask the other three too when the time is right… not entirely sure how Cross is going to feel about it.”

Hunter grumbled, “Probably wont be all that thrilled.”

“Well he’ll be outnumbered.” You winked at him.

Hunter smiled leaned forwards to press a kiss to your forehead.

“What are you two talking about?” Wrecker stepped out of the kitchen wearing his apron and oven mitts.

“Oh… nothing…” Your sing-song voice made him raise a brow suspiciously.

~ Nine months later ~

“Kix get the FUCK away from my mate!” Crosshair screamed over Wrecker’s shoulder as the giant held him firmly in place despite his wriggling.

“It’s okay, Tiny, just breathe!” Echo looked like he was going to faint from the side of the room. What a sport.

“Fuuuucccck!” You screamed baring down leaning into the urge to push.

“That’s it.” Kix and Layla encouraged from the foot of the bed, “Keep pushing!”

Hunter held your hand while Tech kept a cooling cloth on your forehead as you panted and screamed with every contraction.

“Where are the drugs?!” You demanded.

The medical droid quickly started distributing the pain medications.

“You’re almost there.” Layla said pushing your legs a little further up, “You got this babe.”

You turned to look at Hunter who looked just as woozy as Echo, “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

He cringed with guilt. The poor alpha just gave you his best remorseful eyes as he lovingly held your trembling hand.

Another painful contraction hit and you knew it was go time.

“Move!” You threw everyone off of you.

“What is she doing?!” Echo was distraught watching you roll onto your side, and get back up on your hands and knees in a kneeling position.

“Get her back on her back!” He was about to lose it.

“Relax Echo, it’s a natural response to the birthing instincts.” Tech explained helping hunter to rub your back, “Gravity helps the pup slide out easier.” Tech was clearly fascinated with the entire process. As the clones themselves weren’t born naturally, he had done hours of endless research to prepare for this moment and all the moments after, “She’s just doing what her body is telling her to do.”

Echo covered his mouth anxiously barely able to watch as you bared down gritting your teeth together and let out a primal growl.

“Layla.” You panted. She was at your side instantly, “I can’t do it.” You wavered. The baby should have been here by now, you were certain, “I-I can’t…”

“You can.” She knelt down gettin glower so you could make eye contact. She looked to all of the alphas and gave them a stern look that let them know immediately to back the fuck off.

Hunter and the others retreated giving you space. Including Kix, who was still monitoring vitals from across the room.

“Look at me.” Layla growled.

You looked at her with a dazed expression. You were exhausted. The labor had been going on all night and you barely had a moment to rest in between painful contractions. You just wanted this over and done with.

“I’m tired.” You whimpered.

“I know.” Her tone was stern, “But you and Hunter have wanted this pup for so long… Look at him.”

You looked up seeing his guilty and worried expression before turning back to your friend.

“You’re going to deliver this fucking pup and your alphas are going to take care of you two.” She pointed to Hunter, “Don’t let your alpha down.” You whimpered at that.

Suddenly you were filled with the primal need to please your alpha. The instincts were beginning to override the pain and exhaustion.

Layla nodded her head seeing the change and look of determination in your eyes, “So… we’ll do it together…” You looked at her confused for a second before he stood up, grabbing a loose sheet from the neighboring bed before climbing into yours. He knotted one end and then the other before handing it to you, “Think you can lay on your back for me?”

You nodded before lazily rolling back onto your back. You didn’t necessarily feel like being in this position, but you were trusting Layla.

Luckily the drugs were starting to kick in and you were able to focus on whatever the hell she was cooking up.

You took one end of the knotted sheet and held on as she sat facing you mirroring your straddled position.

“Ready?” She asked.

You nodded.

When she began to pull on the sheet you mimicked her, pulling as hard as you could.

Fuck… you felt something.

She pulled again and you grunted feeling your abdominals begin to contract as you bared down.

“It’s working.” Kix said stepping forwards.

“One more time.” Layla said, “I can see the pup’s head.”

The excitement in the room was palpable. Even Crosshair had calmed down while the others watched in horrified fascination.

You pulled on the sheet once more and felt something like pressure.

“The pup’s head is out. You just have the shoulders, Y/N. C’mon atta girl.” Layla was excited.

You growled again pulling on the sheet before there was more pressure than a rush… Then you were suddenly… empty….

Layla dropped the sheet to catch the pup while Kix tended to you.

Hunter watched with bated breath as anticipatory silence over took the room.

Layla rubbed the pup’s chest slightly before a piercing cry broke the quiet. You audibly sighed in relief as the pup cried out to the world.

“Atta girl.” Echo rushed to your side while Layla cleaned your new born pup.

Hunter remained fixed on the spot unsure of what he was even seeing. It seemed like he was in shock that he was now a father… The tiny little pup was flailing around and Hunter was zeroed in on its little heart beat. Even the scent was a perfect mixture of the two of you.

Layla returned back to you to place the babe on your chest, “It’s a girl.”

“A girl?” You were in disbelief. You clutched the pup. She felt so small you couldn’t believe it.

You snuggled your baby, rubbing your scent into her skin as he cried.

“Hunter.”

Everyone cleared a path for the ex-sergeant to near. He hesitated for just a moment before forcing his legs to carry himself over to you.

He knelt down at your side pressing a kiss to your forehead. You could smell the worry on him still, and the vibration of awe through the bond.

“Our daughter.” You smiled tiredly up at him.

He looked down at you lovingly, absolutely blown away that you had just created this life inside you. He reached out his finger and watched with amazement when she wrapped her little hand around his with a death grip.

He gasped feeling her strength. You smiled watching him scent her.

Suddenly everything was perfect and right in the world, and the twelve hours of labour suddenly didn’t feel so bad watching Hunter hesitantly pick up the little bundle of pup into his big burly arms as he cradled your daughter so perfectly. She was so safe in his protective arms. You could feel the bond forming within your mate already the longer he gazed upon her.

“Awh!” Wrecker wiped a tear away, “I want one…”

You huffed a laugh..

“Well you’re going to have to wait a while,” Tech gave you a knowing look. He was referencing the fact you had all decided to go with age order on this matter.

“Alright, keep your paws off of her… at least 6 weeks before we can clear her.” Kix reminded picking up the cup of cool water to bring to your lips.

“Awh!” Both Wrecker and Crosshair groaned.

Layla shook her head.

“Tiny!” Rex’s voice suddenly cut in as he pushed through the door along with Howzer, Wolffe, Grim, Bolts, Stunner, and pretty much every other clone you’ve come to know, “Is she okay?” Rex demanded. They all stuffed themselves into the room eager to see.

“Yes, Captain, she’s alright.” Kix responded.

Rex nodded before walking over to you where he patted you on the shoulder.

You watched as Hunter fussed over the little one while your other mates grappled for a peek. Even Crosshair seemed smitten. You could feel the icy need to protect her with his life snap into place and you knew your baby girl was in good hands.

“Made a good one, kid.” Rex praised you.

“Thanks Captain.” You chewed an ice chip.

“She’s beautiful.” Wrecked mused.

“It’s a girl?” Rex asked with wide eyes.

“Mhmm.” You smiled, “She has Hunter’s eyes.”

“Watch her have super hearing too.” Kix laughed.

“I didn’t even consider that might be passed down genetically.” You mulled.

“Well someone has an army of uncles to watch over her.” Bolts giggled watching as your daughter stretched a hand up into the sky almost grabbing for her father. Hunter instinctually brought her up to his chest and tucked her into his neck.

“He’s a natural.” You smiled.

“You both are.” Layla replied with a smile. She grabbed onto Kix’s hand as everyone seemed to have their eyes on Hunter.

Yeah you were…

You looked at your family with pure adoration. Your mates never taking their eyes off the precious cargo that Hunter Clutched protectively.

Even when they carried you back home to your nest, they never left you and the baby alone for a second. Everything was perfect.

You were happy, safe, and content.

The war was long behind you and the Empire no longer existed to you all.

You could watch your daughter grow up in peace, surrounded by those who love her.

She’d never know war, violence, and cruelty. You wished the 501st could have been here to get to live this, but you knew you all carried them within you everywhere you went. The refugees on Zyphor honored them everyday by choosing to be happy and free.

And that was all you needed.

You were happy… and free.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Taglist: @substantial-exposure

@rains-on-kamino

@minimissmoo

@z-and-the-batboys

@aynavaano

@9902sgirl

@sideofhorny

@sxftiebee

@booksandtitts-blog

@subbing-for-clones

@iamburdened

(There was someone else I was supposed to tag but I can't find your message anywhere ahhhh I'll add you as soon as I can find you)

#crosshair #star wars #tech #hunter #wrecker #echo #abo #bad batch #smut #omega #captain rex #commander wolffe #captain howzer #OC #my ocs

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melliae · 5 months ago

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Refraction Railway Line #1 Abnormalities Part 2 (Analysis)

To Forsake One's Self

“A silhouette is observed inside the inflated sack around the chest. -It bears resemblance to a flower, or the central nervous system of a human.” - Meursault, Abnormality’s Observation Log #2.

A headless fish. That’s what the Abnormality is. Like, there’s no way of getting it wrong… Yet, how is it possible to swim so lively without a head? It doesn’t make any sense. Without a head, there’s no way someone can live, let alone be so vigorous...

But if we were to truly believe so, we would be sinning of “anachronism”, just like Faust said in Selva Oscura. After all, we are seeing not a physical entity, but a symbolic one.

The head and the brain are some of the most obvious and well-known symbols for the mind, or better said, for the conscious side of the mind. They are the source of your rationality, of all you are aware of, and what most people would say they really are. However, the conscious “self” or Ego is but a part of the whole psyche, its “rational light” extending only so far into the dark realm of nature or the unconscious, and I’ll be damned if Headless Ichthys’ entire design doesn’t hinge on that:

Its arena is an underwater reef. Needless to say, water itself is one of the de facto symbols of the unconscious, with the underwater environment just being the icing on the cake.

It’s also filled with vegetal life, such as seaweed. Due to their upright position, they could be understood as symbols of psychic development, of the differentiating and creative power within the unconscious.

And finally, the fact that Headless Ichthys is, well, a fish goes back to the idea of unconscious contents being symbolized by animal figures due to their primitiveness. Not always, obviously, but considering how the Ichthys has its head cut… Yeah, primitive it is.

And as I explained before with Watchdog, the unconscious mind is anything but quiet. That explains why the Ichthys splashes and swims with so much energy—that’s the complexes, or the “many intelligences” of the unconscious, in action, of which the Ego is simply the most differentiated or developed. However, a problem emerges with this definition, because it’s too similar to Watchdog, the two being some sort of battered consciousness that has receded into the unconscious. Thankfully, Carl Jung is there to help us once more.

“The egg is a germ of life with a lofty symbolical significance. It is not just a cosmogonic symbol—it is also a "philosophical" one. As the former it is the Orphic egg, the world's beginning; as the latter, the philosophical egg of the medieval natural philosophers, the vessel from which, at the end of the opus alchymicum, the homunculus emerges, that is, the Anthropos, the spiritual, inner and complete man, who in Chinese alchemy is called the chen-yen (literally, "perfect man").” - Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious.

I already quoted this in my theory-prediction about Faust, but the gist is that the Ego emerges from the unconscious in order to know and realize it(self), to reach a state of inner and outer harmony known simply as the Self, the archetype of psychic wholeness that encompasses all that exists—darkness and light, good and evil, the whole of life. It’s not a surprise, then, that such a psychic potency has left its mark in the many cultures across history, with the alchemical motif mentioned above just being one of many examples; others include the Buddha, Christ and his ichthys, God Himself, plants and flowers like the rose and lotus, square or circular mandalas, the firmament, or even time itself.

How all of this psychoanalytic mumbo-jumbo relates to the Abnormality is more than obvious. From the sac that holds the flower-nervous system hybrid to its very name, all points to the Ichthys not being guided by the chaotic storm of Watchdog but by transcendence itself, the unconscious Self of the world safely guarded within its own “womb”, like a fish enveloped by the dark waters of the sea or the homunculus created within the alchemical alembic. This “flower” or even “intelligence” is Ichthys’ own treasure that it wants to keep apart from people, untouchable and protected.

“Perhaps it can splash around more comfortably without that big sac of blood weighing it down? I ask the Sinners to pop its blood sac, but the fish turns aggressive and advances toward us upon hearing my order.” - Abnormality Encounter (“Pop its sac” option).

… However, there’s something that doesn’t fit with the interpretation above. If the sac and its treasure are so important for the Ichthys, to the point it has abandoned its consciousness, why does it use it to attack? Surely it can’t be healthy for the “self” inside, especially when all the affinities related to those attacks are so negative, like Envy (Pressing Sac) and Wrath (Blood Cannon). Even the more (often than not) positive Lust isn’t exempt from that, since “Clotting” is only used once you fail the mid-combat Event, which explicitly states that its sac is just so bloated with blood that its neck is about to shoot blood. But once more, Jung is here to save us!

“The forest, dark and impenetrable to the eye, like deep water and the sea, is the container of the unknown and the mysterious. It is an appropriate synonym for the unconscious. [...] The mighty old oak is proverbially the king of the forest. Hence it represents a central figure among the contents of the unconscious, possessing personality in the most marked degree. It is the prototype of the self, a symbol of the source and goal of the individuation process. The oak stands for the still unconscious core of the personality, the plant symbolism indicating a state of deep unconsciousness.” - Alchemical Studies.

Look at all the seaweeds and fallen trunks in the arena, all the vegetal life that shies away from growing and emerging into the shining surface, from developing themselves… Headless Ichthys’ “terrarium” is a prison, an unconscious “womb” that doesn’t let its “children” see the light of consciousness, and its sac acts the double so, being an actual womb or “alchemical vessel” within the already maternal waters, a warm place that refuses to set free the Self, the most important “flower” of all. This means the Abnormality is, similar to Sign of Roses and Carmen, a twisted and “demonic” manifestation of the Mother archetype: the devouring Mother that ruins and spoils all possible development to avoid suffering.

“There is no birth of consciousness without pain.” - Development of Personality.

Thus, it’s not surprising why “Clotting” is Lust, for the Ichthys surely must feel more than just relief and pleasure when expelling all the blood that was about to burst its sac. Likewise, the Wrath affinity of “Blood Cannon” and the Body’s increasing resistance to said affinity are rooted in the Abnormality’s reaction upon you trying to damage its precious sac, returning all those “offenses” with the anger and fury proper of a possessive mother. But the more it increases its Wrath, the more it fears pain and despair—its weakness to Gloom, despite how it would normally remain controlled and subdued most of the time (see “Blood Sac” passive).

In contrast, the only natural weakness of the Body corresponds to Lust, and just like in KQE’s case, it likely corresponds to the idea of love—of proper love that correctly nurtures and allows the development of the psyche, in contrast to the desperate need of the Ichthys to keep its self sheltered from harm as seen with Don’s Fluid Sac; maybe that explains why the Legs are resistant to Gluttony (despite the complete lack of said skills). And since I mentioned Don here, I think it’s time to clear a possible misconception that may have arisen.

Headless Ichthys doesn’t have anything to do with actual motherhood.

The meaning of the Abnormality is solely related to the smothering of self-development, the deliberate destruction and suppression of the personal identity in order to, apparently, attain a certain treasure. That’s why both Don and Faust have Fluid Sac, because the two of them suppress(ed) their original identities and psychologies in order to follow the “star” they think (or thought, in the near future) they are. Damn! In Sancho’s case, she literally drank from the Lethe so she could be reborn as someone that was explicitly said to be asleep—she dissolved herself in the waters of the unconscious to forget herself. It’s only after she killed Don Quixote, her father, that she truly awakened as such, as marked with the dawn behind her in one of the last CGs.

Coincidentally, the one who wrote the Logs was Meursault, who explicitly said he killed his own mother… I do wonder what kind of parricide awaits us in Faust’s Canto, as if Hong Lu’s wasn’t enough.

Anyway, as I previously stated, Headless Ichthys’ meaning is essentially the sacrifice of the Self (or your sense of identity, if you will) under the erroneous assumption that you can develop and live as yourself under the motherly heat and blood of the unconscious, safely “swimming in a pond” instead of confronting the world (yes, that’s the meaning behind its Encounter). Needless to say, such a perspective is glaringly wrong, and I think this is expressed through the Envy affinity of “Pressing Sac”, for why would the Fish that doesn’t want to be born be envious of those who did, unless, of course, those feelings don’t come from it but from the entity that carries within itself? It doesn’t help that “Pressing Sac” is the only skill that actually uses the sac to attack, despite how dubious the interpretation sounds.

Now, that pretty much is the end of the Abnormality’s “meat”. That doesn’t mean the rest of the parts and skills don’t have any interesting thing; it’s just that they aren't as rich as the Body and the sac, with simple interpretations such as the weakness to Sloth of the Legs and Tail—it’s a fish; it can’t get stuck or lazy while swimming! Meanwhile, the particular weakness to Wrath of the Legs may be related to the idea of rejecting the hand of one’s “mother”, to use the wrath against the compulsion to remain in the “waters”.

“This image is undoubtedly a primordial one, and there was profound justification for its becoming a symbolical expression of human fate: in the morning of life the son tears himself loose from the mother, from the domestic hearth, to rise through battle to his destined heights. [...] His life is a constant struggle against extinction, a violent yet fleeting deliverance from ever-lurking night.” - Symbols of Transformation.

Life is a struggle itself, a constant coming and going between day and night, good and evil, happiness and suffering—those polarities are what make everything alive and the Self whole. Thus, it’s not surprising the beginning of one’s (true) life is violent too, especially with a “mother” (i.e., longing) such as the Ichthys, with its such a strong and gluttonous grip. Maybe there lies the reason for the Pride affinity of “Powerful Clap”, used solely by the Left Leg, with said side belonging to the Tree of Life’s pillar related to the feminine and thus motherhood. In contrast, the much weaker and gloomier “Clap” is used by the Right Leg, and guess what things are related to that Pillar in the Tree? By that matter, LC used this division for the Sephirot’s gender.

Moving into the Tail… Nope, this part beats me. I can somewhat understand the resistance to Lus, since it could be some sort of contrast between the Tail and the Body (and sac), but I don’t have any idea regarding its only skill. The same applies to what the Fluid Sac status exactly entails, unlike the very obvious Blood Sac… Oh, and beyond the obvious reasoning of the endometrium being very rich in blood during pregnancy, I think it’s quite obvious that blood also doubles as a symbol for instinct and thus primitive psychic energy.

“But water is earthy and tangible, it is also the fluid of the instinct-driven body, blood and the flowing of blood, the odour of the beast, carnality heavy with passion.” - Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious.

Water, both as blood and the element as such, is the matrix of all life as a whole, that which impulses every being to their “destined height”. However, in this particular case, the vital essence is held up by the devouring parental imago, the “monster of the depths” that paralyzes all individual development and plants the seeds for future disasters.

“Fatigue is one of the most regular symptoms of loss of energy or libido. The entire process represents something very typical, namely the failure to recognize a moment of crucial importance, a motif which we encounter in a great variety of mythical forms.” - Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious.

That was said in relation to the Muslim story of how Moses met Al-Khidr, more specifically about the part where a fish the prophet and his servant planned to eat escaped. Parallels are more than obvious, with the case of Don, or better said, Sancho—the quiet, cynical, snarky, and extremely loyal child of Don Quixote—being much more interesting than Faust’s, because it tells us a lot about Bloodfiends and even the City and the Head.

It’s quite obvious that from the moment Quixote turned her into a Bloodfiend, all of Sancho’s attention was directed into her new “father”, for her hurt and depressed psyche unconsciously got attached to that infantile conception of security and family—a psychological complex that is best known as the Bloodstream. This means that, in essence, all Bloodfiends have an unconscious but powerful—almost numinous—attachment to their forefathers, filled with reverence, adoration, and fear not unlike those of a kid, hence making it impossible for them to move beyond their infantile psyche that fittingly yearns for things in their grossest, more primitive forms. And just like all the City-dwellers, Quixote, Sancho, and all Bloodfiends desire to feel the vitalizing air and sunlight, the warmth of each other, and to taste and gulp down the forgotten “waters” that nurtured the world itself and from which they have distanced themselves too much… But water and its blue color are too high and lofty for the stunted psyche of the Bloodfiends; it’s a direct betrayal to the Bloodstream that demands complete subservience to the ancestors, to the (likely equally, if not more stunted) Progenitor, and thus their own souls demand the “waters of life” in the same way it does with their desire for connection.

“That the lapis, or in our case the floating sphere, has a double meaning is clear from the circumstance that it is characterized by two symbolical colours: red means blood and affectivity, the physiological reaction that joins spirit to body, and blue means the spiritual process (mind or nous).” - Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious.

This also explains why Dante said Bloodfiends were similar to Distortions, because they both are essentially individual beings consumed and twisted by their own complexes and traumas, just in different ways, which means the City is no different from the Bloodfiends. Be it Fixers, Syndicate members, or Feathers of a Wing, countless organizations and teams have been formed in search of life itself in a land that has forsaken and exiled all the human fantasies, an action done by none other than the ever-watchful and oppressive protector of the nest that the City is.

“Nest: the alchemical vessel. This is the place where the *philosopher’s stone is incubated and generated. A popular symbol for the birth of the Stone is that of the *philosophical bird or chick hatching from the *egg in the nest of the philosophers.” - Dictionary

But where the compulsion of the Bloodstream and Headless Ichthys doesn’t allow people to go beyond their “parents”, the Head has likely styled itself as both the protector and biggest enemy of humanity, the last step that people have to overcome to truly become free—just like Don and Sancho did through Bari’s tales (who happens to be blue, in contrast to the Bloodfiends’ red) and their own adventuring, gaining a new attachment to life beyond what the Bloodstream told them. In fact, Sancho surpassed the Bloodstream’s control to the point she forced herself to drink from the Lethe. But in that, she fell into the same compulsion as before, sinking into the depths of the unconscious with a new “self” that was no different from her previous life: an unconscious child unaware of everything, born of fear.

Thankfully, that wasn’t where Don’s story ended, and she further demonstrated the potential to overcome the Bloodstream and its childish mania through battling her own father without the need of the Helmet of Mambrino. She acquired so many experiences and was filled by them in such a manner that during that last clash she was able to shake off all hesitation and fear to pierce the heart of the source of her life so she could take the reins herself… However, that was only possible due to her naive beginning in the River of Oblivion, washing away all that had happened.

“The sun breaks from the mists of the horizon and climbs to undimmed brightness at the meridian. Once this goal is reached, it sinks down again towards night. This process can be allegorized as a gradual seeping away of the water of life: one has to bend ever deeper to reach the source.” - Symbols of Transformation.

Fundamentally speaking, while the figure of the Mother—and overall family, hence part of the incest taboo according to Jung—is somewhat disagreeable during more or less the first half of one’s life (ignoring childhood, obviously), it’s an indispensable part for the later half, when one’s body becomes rigid and fixated on past achievements instead of coming to terms with the return to the Mother and family, the place of eternal rest. And yes, this is the explanation of why the “splash around together” option in its Encounter heals both HP and SP, and maybe why the Fluid Sac status also heals the Ichthys (though I still don’t have any idea of why the color changes between statuses).

The mother-imago that the Abnormality represents is quite all-encompassing, isn’t it? No matter how hard one tries to fight it, the yearn to give up and be embraced by the watery abyss is always present, and it becomes ultimately a necessity when the consciousness becomes battered and exhausted. That’s the psychological foundation of the many myths, stories, and rituals about rebirth, chief of them the christian baptism and alchemical dissolution (which I already explained). But as always, one can’t loiter there, in that moment of unconscious union with the Mother, unless they get stuck and a psychological disaster befalls them.

Ultimately, the relationship with our family and, above all, our parents is a complex one. This is not even about physical or psychological abuse as such, but about the consequences and impacts they have in our minds. The deficiency of their love, whether it be a lack or excess of it, is one of the heaviest marks possible, and sometimes the fault may not be upon them, but on us—our fears and anxiety that don’t allow us to separate from the psychic impressions of our families and parents.

My Form Empties

“A bell occasionally tolls in the red room. It’s a heavy, subduing sound. The statue is chanting something. You’re unable to recognize its words. But, you feel that whatever it is, is not a joyous thing. There’s a brass ring on the statue’s finger.” - Abnormality Encounter.

Whoever says Buddhism is a simple religion is lying through its teeth. It’s as complicated, if not more so than Christianity, with a rich history and divisions derived from its 2500 years of existence. There’s simply no way for me to explain it shortly and dispel some of the biggest misconceptions around it in such a short post. Nonetheless, I’ll try to make an attempt, because My Form Empties (or MFE and the Bodhisattva for short) really needs it.

Desire is a complex thing. It does drive you to do and accomplish things, yes, but at the same time it fills you with all sorts of expectations and fantasies that do not have any footing in reality. I’m not speaking about such things as equality, kindness, or goodness, but about the fact that desire and obsession can lead you to twist truth itself in order to satisfy itself, to think that some things can or can’t change in order to feel content—not you acting upon your desire, but Lust acting through and possessing you. Thus, it’s not surprising that a lot of old philosophies and even modern ones feel conflicted about it, imposing moral obligations on it or directly forsaking it all together, and chief among them are the dharmic religions that originated in India: Hinduism, Jainism, and Buddhism.

As the name of the category implies, those 3 religions focus on teaching dharma, which can be broadly understood as the underlying truth of the world and the righteous duties and ways of life derived from it, all in order to extinguish the desires and sufferings that disturb the world, achieving the state known as moksha, or liberation from the fantasies and illusions (maya) born of desire. What this state of freedom entails varies from religion to religion and even from sect to sect, but the main difference resides in that Hinduism and Jainism hold that there’s an eternal and pure self (atman) that experiences the trappings of desire and its illusions, and Buddhism says that the self is those desires and illusions, ergo, that there’s no eternal true self (anatman) but just a constantly shifting awareness born of attachment, and the realization of this and the cessation of attachment and thus of self is called nirvana.

The reason why the dharmic religions are so obsessed with the detachment of desire has to do with diverse theories, but due to the topic at hand, Buddhism holds that desire as a mental factor is the root of all attachment and hence suffering due to the impermanent and non-self nature of the world, and desire is in turn created by ignorance of how the individual self is just a short-lived fragment of the chain of causality or karma. The desire and fear—for they are inexorably connected—over life and death give rise to samsara, or the endless cycle of rebirth, where both the “individual sense of self” (which, again, doesn’t actually exist) and karma perdure, determining the individual and collective future based on the effects of actions and their intention, for the self, desire, and suffering are all equally mental. In other words, as long as you desire, you will suffer and fear; they are one and the same.

Now, it’s obvious why the Karma status has that circular, red shape:

“→ Wait, wait. You forgot that weird ring. (Gregor) → It…gives a strange feeling. I don't know why it comes to us, but when it sticks to the back, it feels...strange. Like a pressure is weighing down on the mind… (Sinclair)” - Abnormality’s Observation Log #2.

Circular because circles don’t have a beginning or an end, just like the chain of causality and the endless knots used to represent it. Red because, like the Bloodstream, karma is a mental compulsion that weighs down and traps the mind. And the felt pressure is the suffering and anguish caused by attachment to the perceived self therein.

The passive related to the Karma status, “Cyclical Karma”, is just an extension of everything I’ve described up to this moment: attachment to karma or causality is the main drive behind most, if not all, actions of all sentient beings, which in reality are nothing but reactions to past happenings. All desires, be it for pleasure or vengeance, are rooted in the ignorant and wrongful idea of a constant self that must be satisfied or protected, and thus karma extends to and encroaches all of creation. A fault, after all, must be punished, right?

By that matter, the passive-caused death when a Sinner reaches 108 Karma is based on the “108 defilements” or sense-states originating from the 6 senses acknowledged by Buddhism (5 senses plus consciousness). Therefore, acquiring 108 Karma means the “mind” of an individual has been overcome with desire and attachment, unable to be rescued by the hands of the Buddha… But wait a minute! That’s not how karma works at all! Besides, why does everyone acquire Karma when MFE does not? Well, to answer that, I need to continue explaining Buddhism's biggest currents: Theravada and Mahayana.

Theravada is the oldest Buddhist school and can be understood as the traditional one since it preserves and follows the “original” teachings of the historic Buddha, Siddharta Gautama; it’s mostly practiced in Southeast Asia, and it has basically died out in its home country of India. For its part, the Mahayana tradition originated as a sect of the Theravada that grew slowly before exploding in China during the 7th or 8th century, where it syncretized with the folk religion and native philosophies of the region before expanding to Korea, Japan, and other nearby countries, where it still remains popular to this day.

These two schools preach more or less the same teachings about attachment and liberation, but they obviously have differences, especially within the Mahayana tradition. In fact, calling Mahayana a “tradition” may be a misnomer, because it’s a collective of hundreds of different schools created by the addition of new philosophies and concepts according to the needs of each country and age. Theravada is not that different, but the division is lesser than in Mahayana’s chaos and madness. Still, if a main difference has to be mentioned, the most important for the analysis is the motivation for becoming an enlightened being (arhat): Theravada posits that one ultimately should strive for reaching nirvana first and foremost, with helping other people being entirely optional, while (most) Mahayana schools preach the “path of the bodhisattva”, that is, vowing oneself to help all sentient beings to attain enlightenment, including oneself. The title of bodhisattva should ring some bells.

“The fake bodhisattva was only biding its time to restore its strength, paying little attention to the confession.” - Mid-Combat Event (Check failure).

That’s to say, MFE is an entity that is committed to help all beings (i.e., the lured enemies) so they can be freed from the eternal cycle of suffering… Or so it appears. Beyond the text (or Dante?) directly calling it a fake bodhisattva, Faust and the game as a whole clearly identify it as a statue or idol of sorts—a murti, or s physical representation of a deity or “saint” created with the sole purpose of being worshipped and prayed upon. This difference is important since it basically defines MFE as a thing or place of worship where anyone can call upon the symbolized bodhisattva for help, and even offer things as a proof of gratitude!

“You place a coin before the grand Buddha Mūrti. With the ceaseless chanting gone, only the hollow echo of the bell bounces off the walls of the chamber. Perhaps the touch of secularity in the face of an emptying form has triggered something.” - Abnormality Encounter (“Place a coin” option).

This hatred for “banal” offerings is also seen in one of its many Wrath skills, “Compulsory Offering”, which is fittingly used only by the Buddha Mūrti part. Needless to say, this behavior is completely unlike that of an actual bodhisattva or compassionate arhat, who would move heaven and earth to help and save sentient beings. Furthermore, while they may not seem to be that useful, offerings are indeed quite helpful; they can help during meditation and the burning of mental “poisons” (such as fear, anger, pride, wrong beliefs, etc.), or simply allow one to express gratitude and gather “good” karma for one’s next life. There’s no reason or need for an actual bodhisattva to be angry, no matter if the offering is a mere coin, unless said person has bias (i.e., wrong beliefs) and thus desires…

By all means, My Form Empties can’t be further away from being an actual bodhisattva, with all of its skills and resistances showing that one way or another. In fact, it’s telling that it doesn’t resist any Sin affinity when another “religious” Abnormality did exactly that (Spiral of Contempt), with the sole exception being Lust, and considering its propensity for anger and retribution, it obviously doesn’t speak about the natural compassion of enlightened beings. What I mean is that, despite how much it chants sutras and mantras to empty itself, the Abnormality remains attached to its own self-love, comparable to Skin Prophet’s, as it attempts to save only itself, as the results of failing the Event’s check say: by brainwashing people, MFE can resolve and impart its own karma into others.

“Empty oneself by verbalizing one’s thoughts. Expel everything within so that nothing remains. That is the statue’s way of forgetting the self. You sense yourself disappearing as well.” - Abnormality Encounter (“Listen Closer” check failure).

The Sinners and Dante weren’t forgetting themselves because the Bodhisattva’s teachings were good; they did so because they were filled by its own actions and intentions. It’s no coincidence that the only way to pass the previous check is through the team having an average SP equal to or greater than 0—mental stability to confront the cultish behavior of MFE and transform them into something useful. The lured enemies, however, weren’t that lucky, and maybe that’s why they were chosen and are constantly healed (their passive’s name, “Bhaishajya”, literally means “medicine”), because they could offer something more than an empty coin thanks to their broken, hurt minds.

Now, I can certainly give a conclusion regarding the Abnormality’s meaning, but I still think there’s some elements of interest that merit some more analyzing, such as the passives or attack patterns :) And besides, I want to yap some more about Buddhism

Beginning with the passives, the most important one to understand is “Nirmana”, whose name comes from one of the Three “Bodies” or Trikaya of Buddha, an important concept of the Mahayana tradition. Basically, it expresses the all-encompassing nature of Buddhahood, which “exists” (to the extent the word can apply) everywhere and everywhen, from the ineffable dharmakaya (“true body”) of the Buddha, which embodies the emptiness inherent to all phenomena, to its nirmanakaya (“manifested body”), which exists as a material projection that grows and dies as it teaches about dharma to sentient beings. This means the Buddha Murti is a creation that can be manifested as many times as the Abnormality wishes, while its true core or essence resides as an actual brain or self within the Stone Seat, because MFE only becomes anatman once the Murti is destroyed—the only thing that remains is the angry and fearful “ground of being”, pure action unbounded by the apparent self.

Really, the most bodhisattva-like thing MFE does is its mental training and focus, or dhyāna, which is a mental disposition during meditation that tries to burn out all mental distractions and poisons in order to detach the mind of the world—to extinguish oneself. It’s no surprise that it can halve all negative statuses when used as a skill, independent of how paradoxical it is that its affinity is Lust, nor that it can grant 10 Protection to each part as a passive… until all of its lured allies are killed and it has to come out from its meditation to protect itself, which makes doubt my original statement.

Moving into the skills and their distribution, I think it’s important to begin with a small description of the Buddha Murti, just for the irony, because beyond the actual Buddhist crown it’s wearing (which is seemingly Tibetan, not Mahayana), it’s doing two particular mudras with its hands: the shuni mudra in the right, and (possibly) the chinmaya mudra in the left.

The shuni mudra, as its name indicates, is related to the idea of sunyata, or the emptiness of all phenomena; it’s believed that doing this hand gesture helps to reach a better, deeper state of patience and equanimity during meditation. The chinmaya mudra is the hand gesture that’s “full of knowledge/awareness”, and from what I understand, it’s supposed to help with bringing awareness over one’s body and mind.

Now, while I do have some knowledge about Buddhism, I can’t say the same about mudras or yogic traditions, so I’m not sure about my previous descriptions. But if they are true, the two mudras fit with the overall theme of the Abnormality, which is trying to empty its being and body, and also adds to the irony, since the Buddha Murti’s skills are all Wrath-based with 1 exception, “Expound Sutras”, which is Lust and thus may be understood as the only actual good (but not selfless) thing it has done: supporting and motivating its followers through chanting the teachings of dharma. However, this good deed is overshadowed altogether by the other 3 skills:

I already explained “Compulsory Offering”, but I’m repeating it since it complements another Wrath skill, “Sluggard Waker”. The two focus on inflicting Karma based on the Bodhisattva’s judgment, showing once more that it has certain preferences and biases regarding its followers: it wants proactive people that offer their own lives in service to it.

The last one is “Prajñāpāramitā”, named after the Mahayana concept of “perfect wisdom”, the awareness and understanding of reality as it is and without attachment, proper of all realized arhats. The fact that it’s a Wrath skill and it punishes those who have the most Karma clearly shows the title is sarcastic.

It’s also important to note that all of these skills are related to teaching “dharma” to people and “protecting” it in the form of punishing those who have gone astray, akin to how the wrathful or fierce deities act in Mahayana, though that may be how it wants to be perceived and/or disguise its out-of-character moments. At any rate, the nature of the skills fits with the idea of the Murti itself being the nirmanakaya of the Abnormality, a manifestación created with the sole purpose of spreading its teachers to solve the karma of its “dharmakaya”, its true self that resides as a self-aware brain inside the Stone Seat glued to the ground—the least Buddhist and spiritual thing possible.

Anyway, in contrast to the Murti, the Stone Seat uses only Lust skills that are solely focused on it and are mental in nature: “Mahāsrī”, “Svāhā”, and the previously explained “Dhyāna”. If this last skill is the mental state in which the brain inside the Seat is, then the other two are in what it focuses on: “Mahāsrī” is likely based on the Mahāsrī Sutra, which states that one will be granted divine protection and fortune by reciting the 12 names of the goddess Mahāsrī (an epithet of Lakshmi); and “Svāhā” is named after the word used to signal the end of each recited mantra that, in this case, should correspond to the 12 of Mahāsrī, indicating the readiness of the Abnormality to finally take action (i.e., 3 Damage Up). Again, all of this is further proof of the inherent cowardice and self-centeredness of the Abnormality, especially because the Seat only starts to use “Mahāsrī” and “Svāhā” once its “gross body” is destroyed and becomes anatman.

When you get to it, My Form Empties’ entire being seems tempting, no? A bodhisattva-like figure that promises to release you from your pain, that won’t forsake and abandon you midway. Even the mid-combat Event references this, the illusion of a peaceful emptiness that embraces all without exception. Wouldn’t that be sweet? To reach that final blow that puts an end to the flame? But it should be obvious at this point that, just like Glupo and STNOWC, it’s impossible for just one being to carry all those sins. Even arhats like the Buddha didn’t do that, and waited for sentient beings to open up to their teachings instead, for doing otherwise would be a desire, an attachment.

“However, no man can wholly shoulder another’s suffering in their stead. Before we all are allured by its false compassion, someone has to break the statue.” - Mid-Combat Event.

Even when the Buddha found and converted the mass murderer Angulimala, he didn’t force the latter to follow him and waited until Angulimala himself regretted his actions and decided on his own to become a monk. This example is so wholly unlike My Form Empties’ behavior that it could very well be its own terrace on Mount Purgatorio, and hence it perfectly represents the failure itself of the fake Bodhisattva: no matter how much it recites sutras and asks for the help of higher beings, not even the Buddha can save it as long as it holds onto its desires, to the twisted pleasure and release of pushing its red and bloody karma into others. Neither its form nor self will ever become empty, because it’s psychologically bound to it, unlike Angulimala, who quietly and firmly accepted his own lynching, for he became an arhat too, unbounded by and detached from karma.

Furthermore, the EGO coming from MFE just spits into the Abnormality’s self even more, because it’s named after the most famous quote of the entire Mahayana school: “Emptiness is Form”, where “Form” is the ever-shifting self of the phenomena that’s nothing but one moment among the endless transformations within the cycle of causality, happenings, retributions, ignorance, identification, and attachment—the very own poison against which the Bodhisattva fell, and so did Heathcliff and Outis.

“Do I even deserve to speak as humans do? I, who killed Catherine… You, who deprived me of Catherine… Must be a thing lesser than a savage beast. Then… why should I even keep pretending to be human when I am not? If they were right... that if I really were to become nothing more than a howling, savage beast…” - Heathcliff, Chapter 34: The Beast, Canto VI.

“No matter what lurks in the pasts of us Sinners...? Even... if they have killed hundreds, thousands—no, tens of thousands of innocent people? Will you still... embrace them?” - Outis, The Carousel (The Tale of a Great Fixer Who Once Reached for The Dream) , Canto VII.

Those 2 Sinners and the Abnormality all present the same problem that I’ve commented on so much that I’ve become sick of it: attachment to karma and desire that leads to the false belief that there’s a constant self within one’s past and (wrong)doings, which in turn creates one’s future. Some may blindly accept it, thinking of themselves as unable to break the cycle of violence and suffering that has built them, and others may desire to escape it, without understanding that such a thing still is attachment and thus unconscious identification, leading to an ignorant and paradoxical longing for the status of an arhat. But that’s not what Buddhism is at all, for the single realization that actually matters is the same one that Angulimala—killer of children, elderly, women, and men—achieved: karma doesn’t define you, for it constantly changes, and so does the self.

Ultimately, there’s no one and nothing to forgive, for there is no self. You don’t have any obligation to be the same person you were even 1 second ago, for better or worse.

Post-Commentary

...

I'm not doing this kind of extravaganza ever again. I'm not referring to the analyses, of course, but doing these monstrosities back to back with no rest xD And yeah, I knew I said these 2 Abnos were going to be dense, but I didn't think it would be this level of dense... But alas, everything to give a nice Christmas gift!

Anyway, beginning with Headless Ichthys, I know now why it was paired with Watchdog: the two are deeply tied to analytical psychology in some way. But with the focus on the complexes and parental issues, I think it's worth clarifying something with regard to a certain Sinner: Sinclair.

While the underlying meaning behind the Ichthys can apply to our little twink, it's not in the same manner as Don and Faust, for it's not a question if he will hatch or not, but when. The entirety of Canto III expresses his deep drive to act and rise from his “nest”, and all posterior stories show how imperious that necessity is to the point of violence, with the most recent case (Canto VII) being a more than welcome evolution of such an anger. This is the entire reason why Demian is interested in him, why Kromer acquired the form of a vagina dentata (she was a manifestation of the devouring Mother, which yes, it means N Corp. Sinclair is very much like Sancho and Faust, even having the 2 main affinities of Fluid Sac in his kit: Gloom and Lust), and why Sansón chose him to play Bari, the guide and alchemist of Don after the incident of La Manchaland.

Speaking now about the relationship between Bari and Sancho, it’s quite interesting that the two are women when the “night sea journey” and “reaching for the stars” are more often than not masculine narratives (see Joseph Campbell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces, for example): the masculine Ego separating from the primitive and feminine unconscious symbolized by a wicked woman, dragon, or similar aquatic animals in order to establish himself and the world, to earn a treasure, or even save a damsel. By that matter, this latter duality of womanhood speaks of the differentiation between the Mother archetype and the Anima (in men; it’s the Father archetype and the Animus in women), so to avoid the pitfall of confronting every woman (or man) they met as their mother (or father), which is the likely cause of the subtextual incest in these kinds of stories… which is surprisingly lacking in Sancho’s case too! Kudos to Project Moon here for adapting the overall skeleton of the story and skipping the parts that most would find off-putting, because anyone else would have added them, especially with vampires (they have an undeniable erotic element, whether you like it or not).

Regarding the divagation about the Bloodfiends’ nature, I skipped certain someone that, unlike Don and her still warm-color palette, is completely dressed in blue and very obviously old, wishing to rest once and for all. So while Don is still tied somewhat to the Bloodstream, Sansón has completely broken free from it in true fashion as a bearer of the Mark of Cain, the first parricide. Nonetheless, it is still worth celebrating the two Bloodfiends have freed themselves from the cursed blood “that is thicker than water”.

And finally, I focused mostly on Sancho and the Bloodfiends because we know more about them than about Faust at the moment. But that doesn’t mean the little “witch” doesn’t have her own moments:

“Faust: It is fortunate that someone like yourself is aboard the train. Your presence ensured that child's survival. Sasha: Whatcha talkin' about all of a sudden? C'mon, no need to keep up appearances between people in the same line of work.” - Chapter 20(5): MultiCrack Office, Murder on the Warp Express.

However, there’s a difference between Don/Sancho and Faust: the former’s main colors are yellow and red, of the rising sun and blood, while Faust’s are pink and white, which are softer shadows (well, not really, but bear with me) of Don’s colors. What that implies is beyond me, but they are still a far cry from the blue’s spirituality.

Now, regarding My Form Empties... No, surprisingly I don't have anything else to comment beyond one single thing: what the actual fuck is supposed to be Bloody Gadget? Like, it's not a ring, and instead of being in MFE's right hand, it's actually on the background (or something similar to it, at least. I don't know). I tried to search for similar icons, symbols, and objects, but there was no luck. So if you know, please, feel free to comment what it is.

Oh, and I also didn't comment about the Sin affinities in the MD Encounter just because it's easy to understand: Lust and Gluttony are utilized as symbols for desire in general, and thus a gluttonous and/or lustful individual is blind and deaf enough to ignore whatever MFE tries to do. The world seriously doesn't respect it xD

So with all of this said and done, happy holidays!

#limbus company #refraction railway #refraction railway 1 #canto vii spoilers #abnormalities #Headless Ichthys #My Form Empties #technically speaking spoilers up to canto vii

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