#I ended up putting her in a tube for the entirety of the like three hour film

[kingofmyborrowedheart]

Good morning!

[intangiblyyourswrites]

Adoring Fans (Finale)

Thread 1 | Thread 2

I can't believe it's been almost two years since the last installment of this! To this day, I'm not sure how the one collab I do with @embyrinitalics, Queen of Whump, is the fluffiest piece I've written to date.

Anyway, without further ado, here's the last part:

—

Zelda honestly was unsure how their stargazing date would go, but it went without a hitch. She took him to the university’s observatory long after closing hours, letting him peek into the telescopes and pointing out the planets and constellations. He was at awe at the Tesla coil as it sparked in purplish hues, spent time reading through the composition of meteorites, and played with the simulations that predicted what would happen if an asteroid hurled towards Hyrule. She tried to keep everything in layman’s terms when he asked questions, but ended up slipping into a couple of tangents when it came to discussing time in relation to light years. He didn’t seem to mind—appeared interested if anything—and Zelda didn’t think he could be any more perfect. 

And even then he managed to prove her wrong.

She was packing up her bags and making sure she had the keys to lock up when he glanced curiously at one of her textbooks. His eyes squinted, head tilting to the side before he pointed at the name printed on the cover of her textbook and said, “Hey, I know him.”

Her world came to a screeching halt.

“You know...Robert C. Kines?”

He looked puzzled at her wide-eyed expression, or maybe at the way she suddenly gripped the edge of the table.

“Well, he likes to go by Robbie, but yeah, he helped with the Divine Beasts Wars series I did two years ago.”

Zelda almost slapped her head for forgetting. Of course they knew each other. She had watched the exclusive behind the scenes.

He continued looking at her curiously, as if gauging her reaction. “Interesting guy, really. Very eccentric.”

It took all of her willpower to not shower him with questions, but he must’ve noticed because he smiled knowingly, “He’ll be on set for The Guardian Project next week. Would you like to meet—”

“Yes!”

So here she is, standing in front of Link’s studio fidgeting with her fingers. There’s a guard out front eyeing her suspiciously, but Link had promised that he would be out to get her soon. She double checks her slate to make sure she is at the right place at the right time and that he did, in fact, message her back three minutes ago.

Finally, the side door pops open and Link is waving her in. She looks nervously at the guard and points to Link, letting him know that she’s expected, before darting towards her date. Because yes, Link has confirmed that this is a date. Zelda profusely thanks her past life for the fortune given to her in this one.

They walk through a couple hallways before the room opens up to one giant set. It looks like some kind of laboratory with several tubes and wires hanging from the ceiling and prosthetic limbs lined up on the side. In the center is a mechanical treatment table with restraints, and the whole “room” is lit in a blue hue. Very little has been released publicly about The Guardian Project except for a brief synopsis: A young boy volunteers for a program that transforms him into the perfect soldier—something part human, part machine. After years of training, of being taken apart and put together again, he’s stationed as the princess’s primary guard in the midst of an ongoing crisis. As their relationship grows, the boy struggles with figuring out who he is and his worth beyond that of a weapon.

Of course, Link will be the star of the film, the boy that undergoes the transformation into a cyborg. That explains a lot about how he’s currently dressed, which Zelda hadn’t had a chance to observe until now. His hair is completely down and his wardrobe is composed primarily of dark clothing. Actually, it's all dark clothing that stretches up his neck, over his fingertips, and covers the entirety of his legs. It fits his physique incredibly well, and perhaps she’s staring too much because Link coughs, forcing her eyes back up to his. She doesn’t miss the tinge of pink on his cheeks.

“We’re about to do a costume fitting, which is why Robbie is here.” He gestures to the back where a small group of people are gathered. “Shall we go join the crew?”

Zelda clears her throat, stamping down her own blush. “Y-Yes. Sorry, you just look so different. I wasn’t expecting it.” She averts her gaze, yet can’t help but take another glance at him. “But it looks good on you.”

If possible, Link turns even more red, but that doesn’t stop him from shooting her toothy grin. He shyly takes one of her hands and leads her forward, allowing their fingers to become loosely intertwined. Ever since they took their first picture together, little moments like these began to pile up. Fingers brushed when she brought him a drink three days ago, shoulders touched as they looked at the stars. This is the boldest they’ve been, and Zelda can’t bring herself to mind in the least.

It doesn’t take her long to spot Dr. Kine’s iconic white and wing-like hair, especially with the bronze goggles he likes to sport. A sudden bout of nerves hit her and she finds herself smoothing out her blouse as if it’ll somehow make her look smarter. Link gives her hand a squeeze before waving as one of the crew members notices them. 

“You’re right on time, Link,” she says, then turns to her and extends an arm, “You must be Zelda! Link can’t stop talking about you.”

Zelda raises a brow in his direction and Link shoots the girl a glare. “Meghyn, that is not—” He glances at Zelda, then covers his face with a hand, causing the last part of his sentence to be muffled, “—always true.”

Meghyn just laughs, giving him a pat on the shoulder and sending a wink at Zelda. “You got a good one, hun!” 

Zelda beams, unable to resist smiling. “I have no doubt about that.”

Her response somehow makes Meghyn laugh even louder, catching the attention of those nearby, including Dr. Kines. He swivels on his heels and stares at them inquisitively.

If Link ever asks her who she was more nervous meeting—him or Dr. Kines—she’d be ashamed to admit that it would be the latter, perhaps even if she were to remove the outlier that was her mood the day Link shot over her counter. To be fair, she was interested in physics prior to Link’s debut, and well, though she wanted to date Link, she wanted to be Dr. Kines. She wanted her day-to-day life to consist of tinkering with machinery, of calculating how the Ancient daggers of the Sheikah are able to create what are essentially black holes when striking an object. Being surrounded by replicas of these techs is an absolute dream come true!

Zelda realizes she’s being spoken about and to only when she sees Dr. Kines approaching. However, instead of shaking her hand, he takes a sidestep and circles her, thumb and index finger on his chin as if he’s examining a specimen.

“Ah,” he starts, and Zelda feels like a popsicle frozen in place, “You must be the same ‘Zelda’ Purah always talks about.”

She thaws instantly. “You know Dr. Anzu?”

“Heh!” He scrunches his nose. “Of course that old hag wouldn’t mention me to you. We were in the same doctoral program.”

“Old hag” is not what she would have described Dr. Anzu as, considering her mentor looked almost as young as she did. While most people with those credentials tend to be older, Zelda always figured Dr. Anzu had been on an advanced academic track. 

As if he reads her thoughts, Dr. Kines snorts. “She’s a brilliant mind. We’re the same age, you know. She doesn’t spend all her time researching old Sheikah tech.”

Zelda has to school her expression before her jaw drops because he must be well into his sixties. She makes a mental note to inquire more about this later.

“Dr. Anzu is the one who encouraged me to pursue my masters and doctorate, and we reference several of your books on a daily basis.” She bows slightly. “It’s an honor to meet you, Dr. Kines.”

“Call me Robbie! I’m not as pretentious as that old hag. Here, let me show you around.” She bites down a grin but when she looks up, Dr. Kines—er, Robbie—is addressing Link. “Mind if I steal your girlfriend?”

Zelda is glad everyone is looking at Link because she swears her cheeks light up like it’s Hylia’s Day. Link coughs, using the pause to give her a quick glance as if asking if she’d like for him to deny it. She answers by mirroring his gesture from earlier: taking his hand and giving it a light squeeze. 

Dear Nayru, the smile he returns is causing her heart palpitations. “She’s all yours, but I want her back before we finish off.”

“Nonsense. I’m sure she’ll be of plenty of help with your costume. Come along, Ms. Bosphoramus.”

She thinks she sees a wink somewhere behind the goggles, but maybe it was just a trick of the light. She’s about to follow when she feels a light tug at her fingers and spins back around, only to see Link staring at her in the way she’s sure is how she looks at him. He brings the back of her hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss upon it. 

“I’ll see you in a little bit,” he says, but she’s too breathless to respond. For the nth time, she wonders how she got lucky enough to be where she is now. How did she go from simply being an adoring fan to someone who’s on the receiving end of Link Wilde’s affection? And then, to top it all off, wind up meeting her academic idol? For all her intellect, she can’t fathom how the atoms aligned in such a way to make it all possible.

“Ms. Bosphoramus,” Robbies calls out patiently, and Zelda sheepishly sends Link one last smile before catching up with the scientist. When she reaches him, he gives a knowing look. “Don’t sell yourself short, Ms. Bosphoramus. In my eyes, he’s the lucky one.”

-END-

A/N: As I was writing this, I realized how complicated their relationship is and what obstacles they will need to overcome. It's all tooth-rotting fluff now, but Zelda would want to make a name of herself in her field prior to being known as Link's girlfriend, so they will probably keep their relationship on the down-low for awhile. Then there's the court poet -cough- I mean, Zaeya, who will also make a debut and end up drawing attention to Zelink. Alas, this is not a story I'm willing to write, but something fun to think about.

Huge thanks for everyone who was following this story! It was a nice run and experiment with writing. The alternate POVs worked well in allowing for the differences in our writing styles, I think. I wouldn't mind doing another piece with Embyr one day!

[tacticalhimbo]

i knew u were gonna serve me gta LMAO so i am also doing the same for u 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

SAME BRAIN [send me a fandom] imma answer for 5 mostly bc i remember more about it than 4 but just know i have my thots and thoughts(tm) there too—

The first character I first fell in love with: oh man oh man.. it was davey. not even gonna lie. i was respectfully looking at the big three (michael, trev, franklin), but like. i dunno! i saw davey and was like yeah 😌💕 fdjasklfjaslfjsdf

The character I never expected to love as much as I do now: haines. i just. i wanna put him in a test tube and shake him and then pour him onto a slide and study him under a microscope. what is his deal. i must know. i hate everything he embodies and he gives me the ick but also... 👀

The character everyone else loves that I don’t: ... lazlow. i'm sorry i just. cannot. find it in me. JFLKAJDSFLASJF. i see the appeal!! he's just a guy!! pathetic man! hell i love his comments with mikey in the tattoo shop calling him papa bear (bc same, honestly) but i still get too much ick from him.

The character I love that everyone else hates: hmmm... ngl i don't see a lot of content for her so i can't say if people really hate her. but tracey. i love tracey. if tracey de santa has no fans i am dead. she's spoiled and rich and yada yada but man... her idle dialog makes me so sad she deserves the love and care she is clearly not getting from her family.

The character I used to love but don’t any longer: i can't think of an answer for this either! i still love brucie (again, he only shows up in online but whateverrrr) but not? as much? i'm actually normal about him. he's just a guy to me. so.

The character I would totally smooch: lamar... ☺️☺️☺️ i love him too okay he's the character ever. he has his problems but that is literally the entire cast. there is not one healthy motherfucker in the entirety of san andreas

The character I’d want to be like: hmmmmm... again, not one healthy motherfucker in the entirety of san andreas but if i had to pick one... gay tony. yea yea he only shows up in online whatever ok he is living his best life owning the pc's nightclub like he escaped everything from liberty city and is still in contact with his son (re: luis, who is not his actual son but may as well be) and spends his time browsing himplants enhancing surgery and fucking it up on the dance floor. as he should.

The character I’d slap: jimmy (affectionate). he's the younger brother i'm sorry as an older brother i am legally obligated. serious answer is dr. friedlander. fuck dr. friedlander all my homies hate dr. friedlander.

A pairing that I love: imma be real i don't look at many gta ships so i can't say i really love any of them if i don't know them. i see the appeal of trikey so i'll say that one-

A pairing that I despise: controversial take... michael and amanda. yes i know they are legally married. yes i know they "work things out" in the end bc they are both bad(tm) for one another. but my brother in christ if i were her and my husband threatened to kill me in front of my children during a therapy session... i'm sorry i'm going to our witsec contacts and telling them we need an OUT. i have so many gripes with friedlander in general (and yes yes i know satire; i will still complain about it as it's a big plot point in the central story) but letting that slide... OUGHHHHH.

[shyvioletcat]

this prompt seems made for fireman whitethorn and aelin: “Sitting on the doorstep in the cold, waiting for their S/O to come home from working on christmas day (emergency services?) and hugging them for so long whilst whispering ‘merry christmas’ into their neck and kissing any inch of skin they can reach.” 😭❤️

Here it is! The last one, getting it in on the last day of December with day 5 of the Rowaelin Holiday Celebration. And it’s another baby’s first Christmas thing but I’m not even mad about it. I hope you’ve all had an enjoyable holiday season, considering everything. Thanks for reading guys, sending hugs to everyone. Striking Matches Masterlist

~~~~~

Aelin sat on the swinging bench on the front porch of her home. It was bitingly cold, almost freezing, to try and keep it out she rearranged her fluffy scarf and hugged her mug of hot chocolate tighter. If she were sensible, she would be inside in front of the gas fireplace or even better in bed. But instead she was outside in the cold, waiting for her husband to get home.

Rowan was coming off a night shift and she was waiting for him, too excited and desperate to see him to do anything else. They had been stressing that his roster would have him working for the entirety of Yulemas Day and they were both heartbroken at the prospect. This Yulemas was not just the first in their new home, but it was also their first as a family of three. So when the roster had arrived, showing that his team would be on the night shift during the holidays, Aelin had just about jumped for joy. She had a sneaking suspicion that Lorcan may have had a hand in Yulemas miracle so his present had been particularly good this year as a very heartfelt thank you. Aelin sighed, the cold air biting at her lungs, holding her mug in one hand she reached down for the baby monitor that sat on the bench beside her and held it up to her ear. The only sound she heard was the hum of the feedback, Elspeth was still asleep.

It was then she heard an all too familiar vehicle approaching and Aelin put everything down, her face splitting into an unstoppable grin. Rowan pulled into the driveway and parked his truck, Aelin could see his smile through the window and the shaking of his head. Her knee began to bounce with excitement as Rowan got out of the car and she didn’t let him get much further before she was up and bounding down the steps, throwing herself into her husband’s waiting arms. She felt him breathe her in, his face burying in the scarf around her neck. Then he was kissing her, anywhere her skin was the least bit exposed. That set her giggling as his lips tickled her cheeks, her nose, her earlobe that peeked out beneath her beanie.

“Happy Yulemas,” Aelin whispered into his neck.

Rowan finally pulled back then. “Happy Yulemas, Aelin.” Then he kissed her lips. “What are you doing out here? It’s freezing, love.”

Rowan put her down and Aelin shrugged, tucking herself in close as they walked to their front door. “I couldn’t wait to see you.”

“What about Elsie?” Rowan asked, a gentle expression on his face that only appeared when talking about his daughter.

Aelin left the warmth of Rowan’s side to grab the baby monitor and she smiled as she heard soft babbling coming from it. “Looks like she just woke up.”

The two of them bustled inside, shedding layers and hanging them up on the coat rack.

“You go get her,” Aelin said as she unwound her scarf. “I’ll get you a tea.”

Rowa just nodded and headed upstairs while Aelin headed to the kitchen, prepping the tea and the pasties she had bought especially for breakfast today, and some puréed apple for the baby in a fancy little squeezy tube with a spoon on the end. By the time she had put the teabag in Rowan’s mug they two of them arrived in the kitchen. Rowan was whispering to his daughter, her hands on his face, dressed in her festive pyjamas covered in little cartoon reindeer. The sight made Aelin’s chest feel all fuzzy and she walked over.

“Happy Yulemas, my darling,” Aelin said as she kissed Elspeth’s chubby cheeks, earning the mother a smile. “Food or presents first?”

“Food,” Rowan said, depositing Elspeth in her high chair. He pulled it closer to him so he could feed her while he drank his tea and ate as well.

Aelin just watched them together, twin green eyes watching each other. She managed to eat two chocolate croissants by the time the other two were done, and started on a third while Rowan started the clean up. When that was done he picked up Elsie, kissing her cheek like he just couldn’t help it.

“Coming?” He asked wryly when Aelin didn’t move, too busy watching them.

“Yes, yes,” Aelin said, abandoning her croissant. For now.

A large Yulemas tree was set up in the corner of the living room, decorated to perfection and wrapped presents underneath it. Rowan sat on the floor beside it, putting Elsie down to let her roam free. She had nearly perfected crawling at 8 months old, Aelin put it down to her determination to follow her cousin Ruben around. The baby went straight for the tree and found the largest present, which conveniently belonged to her. Aelin sat down next to Rowan and he put his arm around her, kissing her temple before they watched what exactly their daughter was going to do.

Elsie sat on her butt, keeping her hands on the present so it fell in her lap. Her parents laughed as she slapped at it, squealing in delight. Rowan lent forward and ripped the paper a little, giving her a spot to focus on. Elsie took the hint, her little fist clutching at the paper and pulling at it until it started to rip. Aelin lent on Rowan’s shoulder, just watching and thinking. After presents Aelin would send Rowan up to bed for a nap and she would start getting lunch ready. Her parents were coming over, Aedion, Lysandra and Ruben too. Rowan’s big Yulemas present was the surprise of his parents coming as well, sneakily flying in a few days ago. For Elspeth’s first Yulemas they wanted to keep it simple, just spending time with family. Aelin couldn’t imagine it without his parents being there.

But this morning, it was just for them.

Rowan sat forward again, Elspeth making good progress on her present, but he didn’t lean forward to help her. Instead he grabbed a small box from under the tree.

“For you,” he said simply, as he dropped it in her lap.

“Oh, thank you,” Aelin replied, shaking the box.

“You didn’t snoop while I wasn’t here, did you?” Rowan asked, brows high.

“No, of course not,” Aelin said innocently.

Rowan pinched her side, making her yelp. “Why don’t I believe you?”

Aelin just smiled at him before ripping the paper off in one clean swipe. It was a pair of earrings, she could tell by the packaging then she had most definitely checked out last night. She flipped open the lid and choked out a laugh. It was a pair of rose gold hoops, but what had made Aelin laugh was what hung from them. Two little padlocks.

Aelin turned to Rowan, smiling so much her cheeks were starting to hurt. “I love them.”

“I thought you would,” Rowan murmured, his lips meeting hers in a gentle kiss. “Happy Yulemas, Aelin. Thank you for all of this, this life together.”

Tears were starting to prick Aelin’s eyes as she kissed him again. “I wouldn’t want it any other way. Happy Yulemas, Rowan.”

The moment they were sharing together was broken by musical laughter and excited clapping. Little Elsie had finally got the wrapping off her present, revealing a pack of small animals she was trying to pull from the packaging. Rowan smiled, moving forward to lie on his stomach so that he could help her.

“Let me help you, my little love,” Rowan told his daughter and started to dismantle the packaging. Then he booped her on the nose, making her giggle, “Happy Yulemas.”

Elspeth took that as an invitation to tackle his face and try to kiss him, making Rowan laugh as he tried to wrangle her before she took out an eye. It all made Aelin laugh too, wondering how she had been lucky enough to end up with all this, a husband who loved her and a darling little girl who was the light of their lives. It was a very happy Yulemas indeed.

~~~~~

Officially my last fic of 2020. Of course it was going to be Striking Matches.

Tags: @tangledraysofsunshine // @nalgenewhore // @highqueenofelfhame // @galyxsy // @fucking-winchester-trash // @literary-licorice // @http-itsrebecca // @highladyofthesith // @aelinfire-bringer // @soup-that-is-too-hawt // @sleep-and-books // @3am-reading // @but-she-was-aelin-galathynius // @rowaelinforeverworld // @alifletcher2012 // @westofmoon // @tswaney17 // @mydarlingfireheart // @rowansfirebringer // @chocolate-eating-bitch-queen // @vanilla28 // @fireheart-of-your-dreams // @enquires-state-building // @im-not-rare-im-rarr // @your-high-lady // @mariamuses // @ttakeitbacknoww // @vi0let-femmes // @kindofawalkingpoem // @sleeping-and-books // @armixers-unite // @velarian-trash // @queenofxhearts // @princess-galathynius // @heroesofterrasen // @highladyofstoriesandmusic // @unassumingsodalovesherbooks // @empire-of-wildfire // @brittneym15 // @camerooonchiu // @worldoffae // @mybbyfeyre // @crackedship // @lowhangingtreebranches // @over300books // @yourwhisperingshadows //  @thesirenwashere // @pilesofriles // @chemicha // @keshavomit // @sarahbringsoutmygay13 // @wifeofchrishemsworth // @impossiblescissorspeachpaper // @cat5313 // @judelovescardan // @illyrian-velaris // @flowerspringsea // @whitethorn15 // @whiskeybusiness1776 // @notaddictedtoanything // @thereaderandfangirl // @mynewdreamwasyou // @tintinnabulary // @the-regal-warrior // @searchingforbellarke // @queen-of-wings-and-fire // @court-of-fuck-me-daddy // @officialasianbitch // @burningbookz // @viajandosinalas // @chaoticskyy // @fanfictrash3000 // @blueeyes425 // @starseternalnighttriumphant // @bamchickawowow // @thehuntressofmoon // @giorgia-the-trashpanda // @flora-and-fae // @thereaderandfangirl // @illyrian-bookworm // @meltalgel-ig // @gay-book-nerd // @that-odd-puzzle-piece // @i-love-all-books // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @girl-who-reads-the-books // @hizqueen4life // @the-third-me // @queen-of-glass // @belamoonbeam // @bestmelle // @cursebreaker29 // @b00kworm // @superspiritfestival // @aesthetics-11 // @maastrash // @the-last-apprentice // @charincharge // @aelin-queen-of-terrasen // @scarznstars // @absolute-dissapointment // @thesurielships // @df3ndyr // @trinitybailey2003 // @littleboxofthunder // @ladywitchling // @booknerdproblems // @rowaelin-cressworth // @sevenfreckles-for-sevenloves // @rolltide7 // @scandinavianromantic // @tillyrubes10 // @starwarsslytherin // @minaidss // @paytin77 // @jesstargaryenqueen // @anntheintrovert // @starborn-faerie-queen // @loudphantomdragon // @alyx801 // @amandaswallowtail // @louiseleblancdiggory // @abookishfreak // @woollycat22 // @claralady // @perseusannabeth // @fangirlprincess09 // @maddymelv // @sierrareads // @empress-ofbloodshed // @acciowests // @booksbqueen // @rowanwhitethornisbae // @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx /

[bluntforcefem]

bug fables roleswap au!

hi thank you @cyanopicacyanus​ most beloved i would LOVE to! fair warning to anyone reading the text under the cut that this au explanation will have spoilers for the entirety of bug fables! so if you’re someone who wants to go in entirely blind and hasn’t watched/played bug fables yet- don’t click!

similarly, this covers similar things to the original bug fables stories, including the themes and plots of the requests. so watch out if any of those bug you! (Bug You haha)

the central focus of the au is the swap between the three main characters: leif takes vi’s place, vi takes kabbu’s place, and kabbu takes leif’s place. however, it gets a little more funky from there, in the nature of telling a fun and fresh story AND preserving major & important parts of their original personalities and backstories!

this explanation will go over the characters, and then specific moments & such that i think would change as well! ft. vi & leif getting to do crime, as they deserve

VI AS KABBU

vi, her sister jaune, and a currently unnamed friend of theirs are from a hive outside of bugaria, beyond the wild swamplands. they all decide to go to bugaria to explore - vi for money and exploration, jaune to see the art there. on the way there, in the same fashion as kabbu’s master and bit, vi and jaune’s friend dies to the beast to protect them while they run away.

vi and jaune, fueled by grief and anger at the loss, have a VERY LARGE blowout fight that ends in jaune leaving the swamplands for their home hive, and vi continuing on to go to bugaria! wooooo

what you get here is. vi largely keeps her desire to prove herself and get rewards from exploring, but there’s an added layer of: “if i can just prove myself as an explorer, i can kill the beast, and show jaune that she was wrong and trying to go to bugaria was worth it all along.” (even if vi doesn’t fully believe herself that the loss was worth it! character nuance my beloved)

KABBU AS LEIF

HERE’S WHERE THINGS START TO GET FUNKY! stick with me here folks, because ghosts are going to be real and in your home (and in bugaria.)

it all starts with a change with what the roaches in snakemouth labs are researching - instead of trying to achieve immortality with cordyceps (which is relegated to another lab, which is a special tool that’ll help us later), the roaches in snakemouth were attempting to achieve immortality by finding a way to bind spirits to exist after death, subsequently to re-enter their bodies. snakemouth was chosen for this for the high concentration of magic that allowed this to be possible - magic that permeated beyond just where the labs were. however, no corpse fit the conditions for spirits to re-enter them, leaving tens of spirits lonely and wandering. eventually, they all ganged up on the roaches who left them this way and killed them!

enter: kabbu, his master, and bit, who entered snakemouth den during the reign of elizant the first to find the artifact! the same beat as leif and his exploration team in canon. they get ambushed by a spider while investigating, and kabbu wakes up decades later when leif & vi rescue him!

what happened in snakemouth den was this: all three of the exploration team that entered perished, including kabbu. due to the experiments going on in snakemouth, and the roaches’ adjustment to the area and its energy, all three of their spirits sustained after death, and All Three Of Them Went Into Kabbu’s Body! kabbu is fully unaware of this until his request is done, in which the final battle of snakemouth labs is not a zommoth, but an amalgamation of lost ghosts that kabbu (and master and bit) refuse to acknowledge any similarity too.

instead of using the royal we and slipping into “i” during his request, kabbu uses “i” most of the time, and slips into using “we” when he sees the amalgamation and realizes the truth about what happened to him and his old family. i have given the kabbu ghosts both metaphorical AND literal this time!

tl;dr: the theme of snakemouth labs is ghosts instead of zombies, and kabbu is very, very haunted.

LEIF AS VI

remember when i said that the cordyceps being in another lab would be my special tool that would help us later? yeah! so. the most important part of this is that both leif & muse are still alive! it hasn’t been decades, for him - he’s been around during elizant ii’s reign.

leif and muse were an explorer (muse) and scientist (leif) duo exploration team that was sent by elizant ii to study the lost sands and find clues on the roaches and the everlasting sapling. they were pretty good at it! and one day, near the sand castle gate, leif finds a cordyceps colony that acts a little weird, has some sort of magical ability. so he takes it back to his lab for isolated study!

while he’s studying it, bandits from the lost sands attack while muse is gone, hoping to find research, etc. to hand over to the wasps. the cordyceps’ tube keeping it temperate and lively is shattered, leif is heavily injured, and it isn’t looking good for him or the cordyceps. so they reach out to each other, and fuse into each other, and the cordyceps “patches up” leif. both of them are still kicking around in there! it’s a very confusing case of identity for a while, but in a similar case to canon, the cordyceps Wants to care about muse and the people leif cares about. this time they’re just aware of what they are!

HOWEVER. muse comes back! and leif fills muse in on the situation, but neither him nor the cordyceps are particularly interested in studying himself or the effects it could have on his body, or any form of self-preservation related to it - they’re mostly just content to take their blessings as it is. This Does Not Sit Well With Muse! they argue about it for a while, it causes a rough patch, and they both agree that it would be better if they took a while to think about it by themselves. for context, this happens about six or seven months before the bug fables canon Starts.

leif is also SUPER banned from the explorer’s association & science groups for unethical science practices, particularly when the queen herself condemns his actions (mostly after he refuses to share the information he gained about what this could mean for the everlasting sapling. the cordyceps’ dislike of the roaches and what they did to it sustains post-fusion!)

leif’s request, then, centers around him coming to terms with the idea that he can be both kind to himself as he is (him and the cordyceps, him-and-the-cordyceps) AND make sure that this fusion is healthy for him AND continue his work in some form. it’s all about accepting that although his response was reasonable for when he had it and his experiences, muse was also very right about the fact that he needed to take care of himself after that! and it’s also about reconciling with muse herself. they do NOT get divorced i promise they’re happily married and have a kid

OTHER FUN THINGS TO THINK ABOUT

this is longer than i thought it would be! but hey, here’s my favorite part - getting into some of the major/minor plot changes that result from the changes in the roleswap!

all of the characters keep their attack types! for the reasons explained (gestures above) in their plot. however, kabbu gets a ghost-related TP skill after his request is completed!

leif & vi don’t have a legal explorer’s permit until AFTER snakemouth den. vi isn’t allowed to get one by herself, and when leif offers to be her partner, he’s reminded that he is SUPER BANNED from doing that! so they both sneak into snakemouth den illegally to find the artifact and prove that they can be an exploration team, and along the way find kabbu. inside your local fucked up cave you will find a free moral compass and friend

also: both kabbu and leif have a SUPER weird reaction to areas with heavy magic/the artifacts/roach technology! in this thread, they also have a super fun reaction to seeing each other for the first time, while vi is Literally Just Sitting There. sorry vi you’re on a team with not one but TWO fucked up guys (affectionate) on it

vi’s request is similar to kabbu’s with setting up the gravesite in the swamplands, but team snakemouth also helps her write a letter to jaune! i think in a post-canon world jaune eventually comes to bugaria to see vi and they (after a very long talk and bribery via vi getting jaune into this hive’s art gallery) reconcile too.

muse is HERE and i like her SO MUCH. this isn’t much of a plot thing but she’s alive in this au and everybody gets to see how like. Much she definitely made the first move, etc. i think her and elizant ii are friends they have tea on saturdays

if you made it this far - thanks for reading!! this is an au i love dearly and have put a LOT of thought into and i hope to write some fic for it sometime!!

[feralnumberfive]

The Rewatch Academy: Episode 6 of Season 1

“The Day That Wasn’t”

I am in no way a good analyst so my little analysis and speculations probably sound a bit goofy or pretty wild and probably mean nothing at all. Everything I put into this post about each episode is purely what I noticed or thought, whether it’s funny or serious. I will be making jokes, so please just leave it at that (in no way am I trying to make fun of an actor and or character!) I am also in no way saying I noticed this stuff first. This is just what I noticed while rewatching these episodes

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

| 1x01 | 1x02 | 1x03 | 1x04 | 1x05 |

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

☂ Klaus is lucky that he never got the briefcase shot up

☂ *Hears Klaus flush the toilet and talk* Luther: Oh good, you’re up

☂ Also Luther gave Klaus about two seconds to get up before hounding him again on getting downstairs

☂ Sounds like Tom’s accent slipped a little bit when he said “three days”

☂ Yeah they needed to have a family meeting right away and yet they took the time to go get coffee or at least order it and have it delivered

☂ “Old bastard” and “Our little psycho” 

☂ I still don’t get at this point how they wouldn’t believe Five. Look at him, he himself is evidence of his time traveling! He was gone for 45 years, but to them it was only 17. Either way they try to grasp at that, Five would look older if he made it back without messing up. He knew about their father’s death without anyone telling him. I really think all the mistrust comes from the way he looks and the way he acts (they obviously believe he’s just crazy right now)

☂ “What did Five even see?”

☂ Also throw back to 1x02 and I didn’t realized this until now but Five doesn’t have his tie

☂ I know it’s for the title card gag but no one questions the random umbrella falling and popping open

☂ I aspire to be as sarcastic as Hazel

☂ So where exactly is The Commission HQ at? Is it a random location in the real world? If so then wouldn’t normal people happen to stumble upon it? What about their location in space in the comics? Is this in space?? All we know is that it’s in/based off of the year 1955

☂ “I’d like to discuss the logistics of my family’s safety at your earliest convenience.” He cuts right to what’s most important to him. No “How will you stop the apocalypse?” or “What’s my job?” and even “How will my body replacement work?”

☂ Five sounds almost like he’s snapped back into a work mindset. He's suddenly polite and calm with The Handler. Maybe being back in a work environment has made his brain automatically switch into being more professional. However he might also be acting this way to try to throw her off of him being antsy with a plan

☂ Here's some Commission posters shown throughout 1x06

☂ One of us, one of us, one of us-

☂ So basically The Commission makes up history? How do they know what to do and when to make something happen? How do they know it’s right? And what’s The Commission supposed to do when the world ends? Haven't they already fixed stuff in the past or are there just continuous time loops so they need to make sure things happen over and over again? If multiple historical events happen with multiple ways they are made, then which one gets to be in the original timeline??

☂ Dot: No hard feelings! 😁

Ma’am does it look like he’s going to accept that

☂ Wait why are Hazel and Cha-Cha considered the best Temporal Assassins if Five was/is the best?

☂ Well Five has the job of taking down the Hindenburg again but this time from behind a desk. So it’s possible to accomplish “corrections” without actually having assassins do the work. So I guess there’s just so many timelines that they need to fix every single one of them over and over? That sounds like a pain in the ass

☂ TUA portraits!

☂ Y’know I have to agree with Allison on this one. Vanya was left out, however she’s offering to talk with her about the important family matter and Vanya is just denying it. I get she’s upset, but her sister is offering to include her. After Vanya leaves Allison immediately wants to go after her to talk with her. On the other hand Allison should have told her it was an emergency meeting and that they didn’t have the time to ask Vanya to join them

☂ Klaus seems genuinely concerned/upset for Vanya

☂ “We need to figure out what causes the apocalypse. Now, there are loads of possibilities. Nuclear war, asteroids.” Wow spot on, Luther! I can’t believe they actually included foreshadowing for both apocalypses (even though technically it was a chunk of the moon, not an asteroid.) I wonder how much foreshadowing for S3 was put into S2.......

☂ I know it’s big joke about Luther and the moon, but the poor guy just really believes that he was on the moon for an important reason. I mean if I were in his shoes I would believe him too since he had to send a lot of daily updates and samples

☂ “Klaus shockingly has a point. What gives us a win this time?” Shhhh careful Diego, he’s right behind you

☂ Luther is initially the only one onboard with Five on trying to stop the apocalypse. All the others want to go off and do their own thing before the world ends. He tries to get The Umbrella Academy back together to work as a team, but his leadership skills are now severely lacking. Do people *cough cough* mainly people who hate him *cough cough* overlook Luther wanting to also get his family together to stop the apocalypse with his family? Definitely. 

☂ “We need the full force of the Academy to stand a chance.” Well golly gee, Allison, what did did Luther just try to do? Was that not him trying to round up all of The Umbrella Academy to stop the apocalypse? 

☂ Even though Vanya is ranting, how does she not hear all the creaking metal and shaking cars?

☂ *it’s sunny around them but just the block they’re walking on is rainy until she calms down* “ThAt’S a CoInCiDeNcE.” 

☂ The hall floor and Diego’s floor are so dusty

☂ It’s sweet that Diego wants Klaus to get clean in a safe way instead of going cold turkey 

☂ Dot, what does “utter silence” mean to you?

☂ “Look at you, deadly little thing.” You’re not wrong, but I don’t think he appreciates being called “thing”

☂ Such a smug smile

☂ So how does Five know all of this about Karl and his son? Does it talk about Otto never washing his hands in the file? That seems like an oddly specific detail but I guess in a case file it gives as many details as possible for the worker to figure out who needs to get assassinated

☂ There are a few cog references all relating to The Commission, so I wonder if this is a nod to “Teenagers” or if they’re just using this terminology

☂ Odd tattoos (sorry for the super blurry pic)

☂ “Can I ask you a cuckoo bananas question?” Hazel is such a fun guy

☂ “Wouldn’t it be nice to kill who you want for a change?” You mean like straight up unhinged murder? 

☂ The first time I watched this Hazel and Cha-Cha scene I for sure thought that Hazel was a dead man

☂ This scene just absolutely breaks my heart 💔

☂ *skips 25:24-27:42*

☂ Diego is just so accepting to everything Klaus is saying

☂ I’m sorry, are we suddenly on the set of The Phantom of the Opera?

☂ Diego, I think you’re forgetting a very important person in your life who you let down too who is also dead......(poor Ben can’t believe what his brother just said so he leaves)

☂ “Ordinary is not a word I’d use to describe you.” You’re right, it’s “Extra Ordinary” ha! Sorry Vanya, I had to use that joke

☂ Well at least we know Five ate a sandwich 

☂ How exciting! The same division that made a simple candy taste like a candy from the past, but technically it’s not the past since The Commission HQ is based in 1955, is building a human body! That sounds so promising 

☂ Sooooo whatever happened to Five’s new body? Is it just sitting in a lab somewhere?? Or is The Handler just lying about it to try to get Five to stay at The Commission?

☂ With the amount of time Five was staring at the suit, it obviously hurt him to know that while he has a new body within reach, he’s not going to get it because he’s about to leave

☂ “Course it’s a bit easier to see from 30,000 feet.” What is she talking about Reconnaissance aircraft? There was no mention of aircraft though so why would she bring that up? My closest guess is that she’s referring to strategic bombing in general, or even the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki

☂ It sounds like Five suddenly has a New York accent when he says “operator” when talking to The Handler about Gloria

☂ Fuck you, Veggie Tales Hargreeves

☂ *skips 36:47-39:48*

☂ Well there’s your hit, Klaus

☂ I love the camera moving with Klaus as he falls and the transition into Vietnam

☂ “Lock and load, Charlie’s away!” Wikipedia’s definition of a “Charlie” is  an American military slang referring to the Viiet Cong and North Vietnamese soldiers

☂ Klaus desperately calling out for a medic hurts my heart

☂ Well Luther if you had left then your body wouldn’t be the way it is now

☂ *fucking skips 45:41-50:00* 

☂ Ooooh I just really love the entirety of the “Kill Of The Night” scene! If you listen to the lyrics it’s about someone luring someone into a trap to get revenge because they messed with the wrong person (it’s also about love but we’re going to ignore that part). I personally believe it’s aimed at The Commission from Five because the entire time it plays he’s messing things up for them and in some way it’s like a little bit of revenge from him

☂ Why is Gloria confused on who Hazel and Cha-Cha are? Hasn’t she heard their names a ton of times especially since they’re some of the best assassins?

☂ How did Five know which tubes to put the messages in? 

☂ You can see at this part how Five immediately gets anxious and antsy. He has a wild look in his eyes. From this point onwards he’s constantly moving, shaking with energy, anticipation, and probably a little bit of anger

☂ “You’re a great disappointment to me.” That’s definitely not the first time he’s heard that

☂ “I don’t belong anywhere thanks to you. You made me a killer!” The first part of that stings. Obviously he feels like he doesn’t belong anywhere, but again I think has to do with the whole “good” and “bad” thing that’s going on. He feels like he doesn’t belong at home because he’s “bad” and has done a lot of dark stuff to get home (it doesn’t help that Luther voiced his acknowledgment of this  to Five and now he has that in his mind that Luther knows and somewhat views him as “bad”). Five 100% feels shame in what he has done, and definitely has an issue of coming back to his family with blood on his hands form what he has done. He doesn’t belong in The Commission anymore because he doesn’t want to stay there to do their dirty work to kill or give out kill orders. He’s done with that or at least wants to be done with that life.

The last statement though is Five taking his anger and guilt about being becoming an assassin out on The Handler. She brought him into The Commission, which in turn he became the best assassin across The Space-Time Continuum. It’s not something he’s proud of, and he never enjoyed killing (as much as I want it to be the DNA alteration I just don’t think it exists in the show or at least not yet). However The Handler replies with “You were always a killer. I just pointed you in a direction.” which you can immediately tell has struck a chord with Five. For the briefest second he looks taken aback and his eyes ever so slightly open wider in shock, whether he took that as the truth or just a terrible accusation isn’t exactly clear. Either way he doesn’t like being accused or hearing the truth out loud of always being able to be murderous, a killer. 

I believe it’s a mixture of The Handler just trying to get into his head and a combination of the truth. Reginald trained The Umbrella Academy to use brute force, but that doesn’t mean Five had killed anyone but he was definitely violent when it came to stopping bad guys (not to mention in the pilot script he was called a “Ruthless little war machine” after violently attacking and decapitating a bunch of mannequins)

☂ Diego: I’m going to go kill Hazel and Cha-Cha!........Riiiiight after I get done walking with my mom in the park

☂ He’s so happy to see Klaus again 

☂ ✨Gremlin✨

☂ Who exactly does Five owe a debt to? Maybe his family after accidentally leaving them and now he wants to save them? Or is it a singular person?  

☂ Ouch! Now that’s what I call a problem later!

☂ 

☂ Five using “Ya’ll” is weird to hear

☂ Five is talking to his siblings like he knows what’s been happening but in reality he’s rarely been at home so how would he know

☂ I love that Five doesn't even answer Diego at the end and instead just stares at his siblings 

☂☂☂☂☂☂☂

Feel free to comment or reblog with things you have noticed too!

[aurora-the-kunoichi]

The Forgotten - Part Four Temptation

Part four of my self indulgent smut and angst filled fic. 

SMUT SMUT SMUT (I know why you’re here)

In it’s entirety 

She could see Donnie; plain as fucking day but behind what seemed like a blue portal in flux. The light was in the middle of a giant arch, something the genius had been working on for years but was unable to get powered up. He had told her it was supposed to be a window between dimensions or possibly more. Leo had hoped it would be an easier way to move from Earth to the battle nexus and visiting Usagi but when the war had started it was abandoned for more important issues.

 It was like looking at an old tube television that didn’t have the best reception. The rolling lines of static rolled up the portal skewing her view of him occasionally but there was no doubt, it was her beautiful nerd.

She could see most of his body and he was typing away at a tablet in his hand. His goggles that sat upon his bald crown were smaller yet looked more advanced but that purple mask was still wrapped around his skull. Her feet moved before her mind caught up with them racing towards the gorgeous sight of the tall genius. “Don!”

 His head snapped up at her voice “Aurora!” Don’s voice was muffled like static, distant but she heard him. God he looked beautiful and most importantly alive!

 The view of the tall terrapin in the vortex suddenly became unstable swirling violently around him. Shrinking and growing with each pop of energy, like it was threatening to sever the connection at any moment. Aurora hurried to cross the large lab but the closer she got to it, the smaller the portal seemed. It was going away; she was going to lose him again!

 “Damnit!” She heard him growl looking down at the tablet that was now out of sight. “It’s still not right.” His brown eyes rose in sheer panic locked in on his advancing kunoichi. Donatello’s green arm pushed through the closing vortex outstretched for contact. “Aurora!”

 “No! Donnie!” She reached his hand just in time grasping it tightly reveling in the feeling of his three fingered appendage, he was warm and real. “Where are you?” she was nearly sobbing now as the portal shrunk further leaving only his shoulders and head visible. Her grip tightened on his hand ready to yank his tall ass through the opening. But then the warm flesh in her hand began to disappear, fazing in and out of solid matter much to her horror. No, she didn’t want to me alone anymore…..

 “Auo….r…a……I’m …st……tryi…….to get…….back.” his voice was breaking up along with the view of him.

 “No, no, no Donnie please I need you!”

 “My….broth…..I mis……..Aur...love………” Then the portal snapped and fizzled loudly before shutting down with a bang taking Donatello with it.

 The lab sank into darkness once again as the arch powered down. He was right there; she was touching him…..after 3 years Aurora had Donatello within her grasp. The crushing realization he was gone again brought Aurora to her knees. The cement floor was unforgiving but that pain didn’t matter. Her hands lifted to her nose and took a good pull finding his scent there, faint but it was there. She pressed the palms of her hands to her face trying not to cry, this wasn’t a bad thing, she had to remind herself. They thought he was dead; the idea of Donnie abandoning them was too incomprehensible to entertain so the other options were terrifying. Or maybe he was locked away in Bishop’s keep doing work for him against his will, the one they could never find. But now, now it was clear he had been transported someplace, someplace he was trying to return from. He was trying to get back; she had to hold onto that, it was all she had.

 Slowly she got her to feet, the resistance needed to know this. Maybe there was something they could do. Casey, April and Aurora could bring the arch back to head quarters and see if they could get it back open, find the last location of the transmission?

 Aurora began closing the Lair back down prepping for its extended hibernation. One last look at their bed she flicked off the light and made her way back up into streets of New York. April and Casey would be happy to know Donatello was alive and it would give the resistance new hope. It gave her hope.

 She kept to the roofs avoiding prying eyes from the streets. The way home was straight forward but still on high alert Aurora took a few extra turns to make sure she wasn’t being followed, even sitting in the shadows of a billboard to keep an eye on the horizon. There was no telling how persistence Raphael was in this state.

 When she deemed it safe to return to base Aurora slipped into the abandoned warehouse by the Hudson keeping to the shadows.  Moving past the old canning machinery and empty shattered crates the blonde made it to the secret door to the resistance’s base.

 As she reached the main level Aurora was greeted by April and Casey who looked like they had just returned their selves hands filled with boxes. April turned and let out a long breath seeing her friend returned safely.

 Casey set down the two boxes he had been carrying and greeted the kunoichi with a hug. “You ran into him? How’d the asshole look?”

 “He’s looking healthy and still a horny shit as usual.” Aurora moved to the boxes he had been carrying and peered into them finding canned goods and a small stash of ammunition. “Even under Bishop’s control he still has sex on the brain. I think his memories were trying to break through though. Raph remembered the game him and Leo used to play.”

 “Who marked you first right?” April chuckled handing off her extra weapon to the armory for safe keeping. “They were relentless weren’t they? I don’t’ know how you accommodated them every morning. You were lucky Mike and Don didn’t get into that.”

 “Yeah...” Casey chimed in handing off his gun as well. “They would have put you in a wheelchair for sure. They were in rut most of the time I can’t imagine four of them vying for the first fuck every morning. You’d never leave bed.”

 “They weren’t that bad…”

 “Commanders!” a voice shouted from down the hall. A young soldier came into view hauling ass as he ran to his superiors. His wide toothy grin was evident he had good news or at least thought he did. “We have one!”

 “You have one what?” Casey looked to April confused.

 “One of the turtles! We caught one! We wanted to surprise you.”

 All at once Aurora, Casey and April stopped breathing turning to each other in shock. This was not happening, what had they done?

 April swallowed hard moving towards the eager young man, “Which one?”

 “From what I’ve been told, Leonardo.”

 With the mention of his name the room began to spin. Aurora’s heart hammered into her chest making it hard to breath. This wasn’t happening. She pushed past April and gripped the man’s shoulders squeezing maybe a little too hard with her growing unease. “Please tell me you didn’t bring him here.”

 The man’s face paled instantly mouth opening to speak but nothing came forth. His silence was all the answer they needed.

 “Fuck.” Casey moved back to the armory and called for his gun again. “That’s it, we’re fucked you god damn morons.”

 “You fucking idiot.” Aurora growled pulling the inexperienced solider closer; she was ready to rip his head off his shoulders. “You did NOT catch Leonardo!” It was suddenly hot in the large hallway. Why was it so fucking hot?  “This was planned, Leonardo allowed you to catch him. Now he’s in the base compromising our position putting everyone here in danger. Please tell me you at least blindfolded him? Tell me you at least did that?”

 “Oh yes! We put Greg’s sound canceling headphones over his ears blasting his shitty music. Wrapped his eyes in black gauze and put a thick black hood over his head. He has no idea where we are.”

 “At least you had the sense to do that. But it might not be enough. Where is he?” April grunted in frustration resting her forehead on Casey’s shoulder.

 The soldier’s enthusiasm had dwindled with the curt scolding from his three superiors and now as he brought them to their willing captive the man’s head hung with embarrassment.

 As they moved towards the base’s center, where the lethal mutant was being held Aurora’s mind began to fill with anxiety. This is what he wanted; you don’t capture Leo unless he wants you too. He was a ninja master, taught by the very best and an efficient escape artist and a strategist, he was simply perfection. It was the very reasons Bishop coveted him and his brothers. In the wrong hands they were the prefect weapon, skilled killing machines that disappear into the shadows before you even knew you lost. This would not end well.

 Rounding the corner Aurora caught sight of him right away. Green taut skin stretch over mountains of muscle, thick arms and legs bound to the table in the integration room. His vision was still restricted but as soon as Aurora entered into the room Leo’s head turned towards her and she could see the fabric concave as he took in the air.

 “There you are.” His smooth voice purred through the fabric going straight to the center of her soul. She was in trouble and there was no denying her body still remembered him, craved him, just the deep vibrato of his vocal chords sent her body into overdrive.  

 Leo’s head followed Aurora as she moved around the table taking in his bound form. She watched his muscles flex and bunch as the terrapin tested his binds, calculating his options. The urge to touch the green scales of his arms was tempting, he was restrained but it was only a matter of time before he broke loose and reeked havoc on the good people here. She needed to prevent the bloodshed but how?

 April broke the bitter silence first her voice rising with her anger for their disregard of protocol. “How could you idiots bring him here without consulting us first? Especially Leonardo!”

 “We thought you’d be happy April. You too Aurora…..especially you…..We’ve been trying to get them back for years.” One solider stated as he stepped forward, the look on his face was of confusion but he had no idea what they brought down on their home. “He attacked us on our supply run and all of us were able to overpower him.”

 “Yes we want them back but not still under Bishop’s influence!” Casey came in next starting to pace the floor eyeing up his soldiers.

 Aurora paid no attention to the continuing argument between Casey, April and their team, the only thing that mattered was the green mutant laying a few inches from her. As she watched his hands clench and unclench Aurora remembered their soft caresses, endearing and sure. They were talented beyond anything she could have imagined when they first experienced each other. This deadly being, sleek, and inefficient so feared now, once brought her to the highest heights. She loved him without question but she knew if these restraints were gone he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her in this state of mind. Her fingers ran over the scar he had gifted her a few months ago. It was a sobering thought and a gloomy one.

 It was killing her being this close to Leo and not being able to touch him. Just a small touch couldn’t hurt…could it? Her hand moved from the cold metal table and ran over the dense muscles of his thigh. She smirked as they jumped at the connection; maybe fearless was a little anxious after all.

 “I have an idea.” Leo spoke again calm as ever yet pressing up into her hand. “How about we take this blind fold off, it’s getting rather itchy. Is this any way to treat a prisoner?”

 Aurora let a small laugh escape giving his thigh a quick squeeze before releasing the dense tissue. “Cut the shit Leo, we know well enough that you’re here on your own accord.”

 “Your troops got the better of me and subdued me with their superior skills; I am at your mercy my lady.” She could hear the sarcasm in his voice as Leo played out his game. She couldn’t see his mouth but Aurora could hear the smile, it absolutely dripped with superiority.

 “Where are your brothers Leo?” Aurora asked softly as the whole room watched their interaction.

 “Oh I assure you I am solo. When Raph came home he was rather frustrated. Told me he had gone looking for something we both covet, actually all three of us want but was unable to secure it. I decided I would try to locate it on my own. Besides, the thought of taking it first made me very……… motivated. Unfortunately I was found and taken captive by these fine soldiers before I could find my target.”

 Her heart began to thump wildly within her breast at the thought of his words, “What will you do when you finally get what you’re looking for?”

 The terrapin took in a slow breath before letting it out in a long low growl, “I haven’t figured that out yet. What does one do with something they obsess over? Kill it or let it consume you? All I know is I’m looking forward to the opportunity to purge myself of its influence.”

 Casey came up behind Aurora resting his hand on her shoulder. “Maybe we can send him to R & D and see if they can find that little thing in him? I mean now we know what it looks like maybe they can pin point it somehow?”

 That was something. There would need to be round the clock security on him but if he was here they could try and utilize the opportunity to see if they could locate the device with a living host. “He does not leave this table and his restraints will NOT be removed for any reason. Any reason you hear me!? Not without Casey, April’s or my explicit orders.” Her violet eyes moved with urgency as the soldiers took in her orders. “There will be no less than six guards posted to him at all times. If he tries to fidget more than usual you knock his ass out. Am I clear?”

 “Yes Aurora.” They all responded in unison.  

 The sound of the terrapin laughing behind her was off putting but she did her best to ignore him, she was too tired for this bullshit.

 As they carted Leonardo out the door towards the R & D wing she heard him, “I’ll be seeing you later Aurora.”

 The room empty April moved to her friend wrapping her arms around her neck pulling her into a tight embrace. “You look like shit.”

 “Thanks.”

 “How was the lair? Anything need attending?”  Casey asked softly coming up behind the two woman.

 That’s when Aurora remembered, she pushed April from her embrace and her face lit up, “Donnie!”

 “What about him?”

 “He’s alive! I saw him for a few second today! In the lair, in his lab!”

 Casey and April’s mouth hung open still trying to process what the kunoichi was saying.

 “Fucking what?” Casey moved first his eyes wide and hopeful. “Why for only a few seconds? Where the fuck is the genius?!”

 “Do you remember that big arch he was working on, the one he said would be a doorway to different dimensions? It happened right after I got off the phone with you. I could hear something going on in his lab and opened the door to that thing powered up and Donnie just behind the blue energy field.”

 “No fucking way! What did he say?” April was now bouncing up and down smacking Casey on the back waiting for more information.  

 “Oww Ape, fuckin stop it.”

 “No! Keep going Aurora.”

 “The portal was unstable and began closing right away and the connection was shottie. His voice was breaking up but I heard him say that it wasn’t right yet and he was still trying to get back.” Aurora’s voice was cracking with her exhaustion and her bubbling emotions, it had been months since she had a good night’s sleep and it was catching up with her. Taking a small second she recomposed herself and started again. “He’s not dead and he didn’t abandon us. God I wish the guys were here to hear this.” Another shaky swallow of her dry mouth and Aurora looked up at her hopeful friends.  “I’m not sure if we should bring the arch back here and see if we can figure out where the last transmission came from or if we should just wait until he figures it out? The thing is, I never saw it working before. Did he go to the lair the last day we saw him to work on it and did something go wrong? Mikey was certain he saw him go into his lab here before we went to bed.”

 Then two sets of hands landed on her shoulders making the kunoichi stop. April’s hands cupped her cheeks and leaned in to press a soft kiss to her parched lips. “Take a deep breath Rora, we are so happy you were there to witness it. It gives us hope, but I can tell you’re about to crash, you need some sleep.”

 “Yeah we’ll have this discussion when you’ve had at least 6 hours sleep. We’ll deal with Leo and the arch when you’re a little more rested. She’s right you do look like shit and today has been an emotional one for you.

“For us all.” Aurora corrected him with a shuttering breath.

 “Sleep.”

 Begrudgingly Aurora shuffled to her room, her large empty room and didn’t even bother with a shower. She could swear she still smelt Raphael on her and maybe, just maybe that would help her sleep. Maybe she could trick her mind into thinking he was there sleeping at her side. She stripped of her clothes and crawled into bed pulling the cool covers up to her chin.

 Closing her eyes Aurora pictured Raphael and Leonardo, the brute and his taste, her lips rejoicing at his familiar flavor and Leo’s voice and the feel of his skin. Then Donnie and the quick but thankful handful of his grasp, all it was missing was her ball of sunshine, Mikey. With their memories fresh in her mind Aurora’s subconscious began to drift allowing her a seamless transition to slumber.  

 She didn’t hear the door open or the bed dip with his weight but as the cold steal pressed down on the soft flesh of her throat Aurora knew it was too late. She didn’t struggle there was no point in it, if she moved even an inch the way he didn’t want he could soak theses sheets they had once shared with her blood.

 Her eyes opened slowly, Leonardo’s face coming into focus as the sleep faded from her vision. The terrapin was just above her and the look he wore was purely sinful. Like the cat that had just eaten the canary or was about too. Aurora swallowed feeling the mutant finish crawling onto the bed to join her.

 “H-how many did you kill?”

 A soft patronizing chuckle filtered from between his perfect lips. The blade clutched in his hand tilted making Aurora’s neck follow, that was if she didn’t want her carotid to open. “Don’t worry, I took no lives tonight.” Leo shifted forward grabbing at the thin sheet that covered her naked form and began to pull. “I came here for only one reason tonight and killing your people would put a rather large kink in my plans.”

 She didn’t resist and allowed the fabric to pull free of her breasts watching the blue in his eyes disappear as his pupils engulfed the vibrant color. “You mean your men.”

 Leonardo’s breathing had increased but his hold on that damn blade never wavered. “Yours, mine, it makes no difference, I did not kill a soul within these walls. They will wake in a few hours with splitting headaches.”  His lips pursed for a moment focusing in on the two round globes now heaving on her chest. “They are more spectacular then what I could have imagined.” The descent of fabric halted for a moment as Leonardo’s head lowered and his nostrils flared. “I can smell him on you.”

 “Your brother? Yes, Raphael was rather insistent that he have me before you.” Aurora rose slowly making sure not to make any sudden movements keeping her eyes locked with her deadly guest. “He found out just how inventive I can be.”

 Leo allowed her to rise to a sitting position finding as he did the rest of the fabric fell pooling at the ultimate prize. Her midriff wasn’t perfect, the scare he had left months ago plus a few others that kept it company had healed nicely. His free hand reached out touching lightly at the abrasion smiling as the muscles below jump at his contact. “Raphael is impulsive, undisciplined but none the less is the very best on my team. When he told me you got the better of him tonight my already peaked interest in you heightened. I didn’t’ dare tell him the mere scent of you on his clothes sent my animal instincts into overdrive. Now smelling him on you makes me want to drench you in my scent.”

 “It’s presumptuous to think I’d allow that to happen if I refused Raphael’s advances earlier.” Aurora’s voice shook slightly as her confidence waned at the sight of him looming closer, eyes practically fucking her. Suddenly the walls of her sodden cunt began to vibrate with unparallel need.

 “You forget my little ninja; I’m mutant and part animal.” His nostrils flared once again. “I can smell your arousal, its delectable aroma is thick and I can taste it on my tongue. In fact I am positive you want me just as much as I want you. Maybe even more?” Leo closed his eyes and took a deep breath growling as her pheromones made every pleasure receptor snap to life. “Fuck…. why do I want you so much?”

 That was when she heard the desperation in his voice, it was faint, but she could hear the slight tremor in his words. He was breaking under the stress of uncertainty. That was her moment and she moved with all her training taking possession of his weapon and lunged forward.

 In the scuffle the sheets pulled free and Aurora found herself on his lap, arm securely around his throat pressing the tip to his jugular. Their mouths were so close, so fucking close and she could smell the tea on his breath as it fanned over her face. Leonardo still drank the same Gyokuro brew; his expensive taste followed him into servitude. Fuck, she didn’t think this through at all. She was naked straddling his thick powerful thighs and she could feel it, straining against his pants pulsating with each beat of his heart.  

 “Tell me I’m lying.” He mused but found his cockiness underappreciated and sucked in a breath as the tip of the blade pierced the green scales drawing a bead of crimson. But he was a stubborn turtle and refused to back down. “If we were something, show me. Remind me of what I’ve been missing all these years.  Your scent, your god damn scent has been haunting me for months, haunting us. I don’t do this… I don’t…… I don’t lose control and all I want to do is bury myself so far in your body that I forget everything. Forget this war; forget why I don’t feel at home anywhere but with you, someone I have absolutely no memory of. Do you have any idea how infuriating that is?”

 He had no fucking clue; her bitter laughter filled the room, “Try loosing the people you love the most for years, coming up empty handed in your pursuit to find them again and again. Then suddenly they appear with no knowledge of you, dead set on your demise. Try enduring the pain of being sliced open by one of the men you love and as you bleed out he wraps his hands around your throat slowly squeezing the life out of you.”

 She watched the cockiness drain from his face, unexpectedly at the loss for words. The hardness in his cold blue eyes softened searching her for the truth. He was contemplating something.

 She continued, “Raphael remembered something tonight, a game you and him used to play. I think smelling me on him jogged your memory a little as well.”

 The terrapin let out a long sigh and she could feel a little of the tension leave his body, he was no longer coiled to strike, “I wasn’t angry or jealous. It was strange……it was just the competitiveness; he had gotten to you first. ”

 “Tell me Leo, why did you come to my home?”

 “For you.” His voice was but a whisper, soft and sweet against her lips, the venom slowly disappearing with the space between them.

 Aurora’s tongue moved across her bottom lip tasting his breath, he was so close. “What do you want with me?”

 “I had two plans; one would rid me of the temptation and the other………. would satisfy it.”

 “I see since I am still breathing I deduce you’ve chosen the latter.” Her hips rotated slightly brushing the bulging fabric of his crotch against her folds, so close. “What was next on your plan then?”

 His vibrant blue eyes moved from her violet eyes to her lips before moistening his own with his tongue. “To…to taste you. I need to know what you taste like.”  

 Keeping the blade semi embedded Aurora leaned forward closing the last inch granting Leonardo what he craved, she in turn savoring him. The tea and his scent invaded her senses as she opened her mouth entering Leonardo’s with her tongue swiping over his finding it just as eager.

 Then she heard it, his rumble the deep vibrating growl that emanated deep within his chest pouring out and into her mouth. Over and over their mouths engaged and reengaged in a desperate battle, breathless and aggressive feeding off each other’s growing excitement. Leo made no attempt for the weapon, but his hands moved to her naked waist pushing her down coating his pants with her arousal gaining just enough friction he yearned for.

 Aurora whimpered into his mouth, what was she doing? What the fuck was she doing? Her body was moving on its own but she didn’t want it to stop. Her hand moved between them fumbling for the belt buckle of his pants making quick work of them. Her deft fingers unbuttoned the top of his pants and drew the metal teeth of his zipper down keeping it free is the sensitive flesh below.

 It didn’t wait for an invitation and sprung free as it’s clothe prison was peeled away. She could smell him now, the salty musk of his precum that was smeared over the spongy head of his freed cock. Her fingers encompassed the remarkable girth and the tip of her thumb dipped into the moister swirling it under the head making the terrapin gasp.  

 Breaking their kiss Aurora sunk the tip of the blade in further and Leo growled in reaction. “Tell me what you really came here for Fearless?” rising up Aurora hovered over his cock positioning the long throbbing flesh just below her. “Did you come all this way to fuck me, to have me first, to drench me in your scent?” Her tongue came out and painted a warm wet stripe up his cheek stopping at his ear. “Do you want to remember how it felt when you poured all that you were up into my womb, marking me inside and out…” lowering her body she pressed the weeping helm just into the wet heat of her cunt. “I want to feel the stretch of you filling me with this enormous cock.” Aurora could feel the tears begin to form in the corner of her eyes. It had been years since she had him like this. She could feel the heat of him, the throbbing flesh in her grasp. It had been too long. But she had to remember this wasn’t her Leo.  

 “I want to be inside you. I want it so bad.” Leonardo growled pulling her down on him, but the strength of her thighs held up against his.

 “Say please Leonardo…..don’t be fucking rude….” She could feel him shaking with need desperate for a taste of what his body was apparently so starved for.

 His sudden shift made Aurora pull the blade back before it severed his carotid as his warm mouth enclosed around her throat kissing and sucking gently. Leisurely his hands abandoned her hips and traced up her naked back making her arch at the wondrous feather light sensation. “Please.” He finally whispered through heavy exhales into the moister he left behind.  

 The sensation of him splitting her open on the down slide was overwhelming, reminding Aurora that it had been years since she had taken any of them. Thankfully there was no pain but a twinge of discomfort accompanied with the delicious stretch of being so splendidly filled. Leo’s ascending fingers finally reached the top of her shoulders and clamped down assisting the final few inches to climb home.

 When he was seated fully inside her body, the terrapin let out a throaty groan pressing his beak to crook of her throat. One hand left her shoulder and wrapped protectively around her waist keeping her securely sheathed. Besides the elevated breathing the mutant made no noises but refused to let her rise to ease the pressure building.

 Suddenly his hips rocked up eliminating any space that had remained between them. His mouth opened taking in a section of her neck letting his tongue run over the heated flesh. Then she felt his cock expand and his grip loosen allowing her to lift up beginning the unhurried pace.

 Rolling her hips rotating them just enough to make slow circles finally made the hulking turtle below her voice his appreciation.

 “Fu..ck…mmhmm…faster..”

 “No.” she growled softly into his ear while running the cool edge of the blade still in her possession across the green scales of his throat. “You came into my room uninvited with a weapon and intentions of ending my life, we do this my way or I send you back to the lab missing a few limbs.”

 Leo’s griped shifted back to her hips while he tilted his own to change the angle. When she gasped and shuttered at the new friction his mouth opened into a toothy grin. “You won’t hurt me. You said it yourself you love me.”

 Leaning down to his neck Aurora began to cover his lustrous green skin with open mouth kisses rising until just the tip of him remained in her body. When she got the weeping wound she had inflicted her mouth enclosed around the hole clearing the tepid crimson from his flesh. She felt the vibrations through her lips as his voiced his pleasure tilting his head to the side to give her better access.

 With a pop her mouth released his throat and she began gradually lowering herself back down on his titanium length.  “You nearly killed me a few months ago while Raphael watched on. I spend nearly a month in the infirmary because of you, one of the most important people in my life. That was a sobering reminder you are not my Leonardo, my kind, gentle, honorable leader…my lover. You may have his ridiculously muscled body, his unmatched skill but your soul isn’t there. There is something in your body keeping you under Bishops’ thumb, keeping the real you from surfacing. The real Leo would rather be dead then be in the service of that mad man and I am now 100% behind that. So you better be on your best behavior.”

 No form of protest came from the turtle, but his mouth turned up into a smug grin before leaning forward to capture Aurora’s lips. The demand behind the kiss was insistent as his tongue pushed into her mouth and his hold around her waist began to urge her to move.

 She could feel him throb with each beat of his heart; every inch of her core was stretched to its limit. That was how big Leonardo really was and he wasn’t even the largest of his brothers. Raphael held that title, his length was roughly the same as Leo’s but to take Raphael was always a slow start. Luckily he was a patient man.

 She began again, taking her time with each rise and fall on his engorged length. Up and down tilting her hips back so the tip of him could hit just the right spot. Every cell in her body started to ignite with awareness of the long lost sensation of being taken by a mutant turtle. Each time Aurora sheathed herself on every inch of Leo the head of his cock pressed to the back of her channel eager to flood it with his climax.

 The pace was kept slow. Aurora didn’t want this to end too quickly; it had been far too long since she had experienced any of their bodies like this. And she had forgotten how intense being intimate with them was. Leo’s grip on her was tight, keeping her as close to him as possible. His mouth ran wild over her, dragging his wet tongue over her throat to her clavicle and down to the top of her breasts. His hands moved up from her hips to her waist urging her back so the warmth of his mouth could find the dark tissue of her nipples. He sucked at each of the heavy globes with enthusiasm, circling each peak with his tongue until it hardened to a stiff nub. Trying her best to stay on guard as the blue terrapin began to worship her chest Aurora found the new angle and sensation of his feasting too distracting and released the pressure of the blade off his neck.

 “Leo…fu..uck…..” it was impossible to refrain from praising him, he was a man of focus. When he set his sights on a goal Leonardo did all he could to complete it to perfection and the act of lovemaking was no different.

 Both hands fell to his broad shoulders and started to roll her hips faster fighting at the coiling pressure of her climax as it started to chase her down. Harder she fell down on him spearing herself over and over until the fire in her belly erupted in a blinding rush of endorphins.

 Leo must have sensed her at the end of her rope and bit down on the puckered flesh of her nipple sucking it into his mouth. His right hand left her side and lowered between them slipping a single digit into her heat finding the soft pearl and began rubbing the flesh in soft circles.

 There were no words to express the feeling that washed over her senses. The feeling of dying and being brought back to life was the best way to describe it. Her body arched, tensing up and Aurora let her head fall back allowing his name fill the room in blissful cries of ecstasy.

 “That’s so pretty.” He growled breathlessly rolling his hips up harder into her body.

 As her body ran through her climax Leo took over the rhythm fucking her though her high right into the slow climb to the next one. The blade held loosely in her hand Leo took advantage of her momentary distraction and stole the weapon from her slack grasp.

 She barely registered the loss of the upper hand as he increased the tempo of his hips and kept the steady strike of that one spot sending her higher and higher prolonging her peak. Even after all these years his body knew how to bring her the utmost pleasure, or was it Leonardo himself remembering.

 As the crest finally began to ebb bringing her back to her mutant partner Aurora’s mind finally registered she was no longer in control of the knife. His three fingers held the handle firmly and ran the sharp tip over the scar he had left months ago and his eyes flashed dangerously.

 “Do it.” She wouldn’t be scared of him, if this was how she went it was one hell of a way to go; stuffed full of Leonardo still buzzing from her orgasm.

 Leo chuckled softly rolling forward until Aurora was on her back and he was hovering over her pressing her thighs open wide with the hard plain of his pelvis. His head tilted reaching for her chin making sure she was looking at him. He thrust abruptly sinking to the hilt before pulling almost all the way free. “I don’t think I will.” With the flick of his wrist the knife flew from his hand and embedded into the wood of her closed door. “I’m not done with you yet.”

 Grabbing her right thigh Leo hoisted her calve up over his shoulder and rocked smoothly forward sinking into her tight heat with great care. The plunging girth of the rooted flesh was overwhelming dragging splendidly within her walls igniting the fire in her belly. Rapidity it allowed her rising climax to feed on her view above her. The view of Leonardo, the dominate male taking claim to what was once his, it made her core clench and ache.

 As he started to drive forward gently Aurora could see the softness return to his gaze like her Leonardo. Like it was six years ago and he were still hers. She knew she shouldn’t get her hopes up as long as that thing still roamed his body Leo would never be hers. But in this moment she allowed herself to dream.

 Then out of nowhere Leo’s voice dropped an octave, dark and needy, “Aurora…tell me you love me.” The look on his face was serious but his eyes gave the mutant away, the blue orbs were pleading like he genuinely needed to hear the words. His grip tightened on her hips and he began to pound into her faster chasing after his own climax. “Please.”

 Ripping her leg from his grip Aurora rolled them claiming the high ground once again keeping with his hurried pace as she resumed her ride. She allowed him to recover pulling him back up into a sitting position. The terrapin wrapped his arm back around her waist and set his gaze back on her flushed face.

 “W-why? Why should I g..ive you that? Mmm …fuck!”

 “Humor me….please.”

  What could it hurt? She did love Leo, just not this version of him.

 Then she could feel him pulse and expand, he was about to topple over into oblivion. Eyes widened and Aurora arched as the extra width made her peak hit without warning. The heat of it raced through her body like a box of fireworks going off under her skin. Her hands shot to his face cupping his sharp jaw line and she leaned back into her spine curling climax. With what little cognitive ability she had left she gave him what he wanted. “I love you.”

 It consumed her quickly eating up all of her strength racking her body with small but powerful tremors. She blacked out for a moment but Leonardo kept her from falling, like he had always done, keeping her safe when she was most vulnerable.

 “Rora.” It was faint but the nickname only the brothers were allowed to call her escaped Leo’s lips.

 It was then she felt Leo tense and grip her hips sinking as deep as he could reach as the turtle spilled his molten seed deep into her willing body. Each brutal drive up erupted ropes of ejaculate coating her with his scent filling Aurora until it her body could take no more. With one final drive Leo pulled Aurora down on his cock locking them in place making sure every drop of his cum reached its destination, marking her. His.

 They clung to each other with all their remaining strength riding out their euphoria until Aurora kissed him, kissed him with such ferocity it stole the final breath from their lungs.

 With the need to breath staggering they finally pulled apart.

 As his blurred vision became clear Leo could see tears flowing freely down her cheeks, and the sight startled the leader momentarily. His hands reached to her face brushing the moister with his thumbs, “Did I hurt you?”  

 “No, not in this moment at least.” Aurora could feel her heart thundering below her chest as she stared at the terrapin. But this wasn’t her Leo and if she didn’t do something now their location would be comprised so she did what she had to do to keep everyone here safe.

 Her hands shot out in concession pressing into the soft tissue of his body. Three points, deep into the muscle making Leonardo gasp in shock. His blue eyes widened in surprise and his lips thin into an angry frown.

 “I can’t have you leave here conscious, he’ll take us all and kill Casey, April and I. Everything will be lost.”

 Leo’s hand shot out and his fingers tips dug into her arm sluggishly. His eye lids drooped and his mouth opened as his muscles gave up their tension. With his final conscious thought Leo’s lips formed his last thought before he succumbed to the darkness, “I would never ……….let him hurt ….you.”

 As his body went slack Aurora wiped away her tears and shuttered as he slipped from her body. The loss of his warmth tore through her like a hurricane sinking her further into despair. She took a moment to run her hands under his shirt tracing her fingers along the scarred lines of his plastron. She had to remind herself, he was warm, he was alive and he was healthy.

 With a heavy sigh she dismounted and wiped him clean before securing his pants. Gathering her com Aurora pressed the button making a connection to the person on the other end.

 “Casey, I need you to come to my room. We need to get him out of here before he wakes up.”

 “I’m on my way.”

@imthegreenfairy88 @alonia143 @ravn-87 @tmnt-bucklover @tmntspidergirl​

[detectivejay-chuckles-halstead]

Jay Halstead x Reader

Description: 7x10 Fix-It

Words: 2683

Warnings: Major Character Whump, Canonical Gore

Pairings: Jay Halstead x Reader

Your day was going like any other, though you hadn’t heard from Jay for almost a full day. It worried you, yeah, but not overly so that you thought something might be wrong. It was slow so far at the firehouse, glad for that. Recently, it seemed like you were getting slammed all the time. It was a nice change of pace.

You’d just finished up the second call of the day around two when your phone rang from your pocket as you climbed off Truck 81. You definitely weren’t expecting Hailey’s caller ID to be coming up on your phone.

“Hey, girl, what’s up?” you asked with a smile, taking your bunker pants and your boots off, your free hand holding onto the truck. You were glad for that, hearing her sniffling.

“It’s Jay, Y/N. He got shot. It’s-” She sniffled again, clearing her throat. “It’s not looking good.” You heard her choke back a sob, which brought tears to your eyes, panic filling your body. 

“Med?” you asked, needing to make sure you were going to go to the correct hospital.

“Yeah. You should hurry.” You nodded, as if she could see you before hanging up the phone. You shoved it back in your pocket before covering your mouth, your own sob catching in the back of your throat, echoing through the bay. You had to tell Casey you had to leave, you had to tell someone.

“Hey, you okay?” Severide asked, his hand coming down on your shoulder, pulling you out of your panic momentarily. 

“I have-It’s Jay. Med,” you answered, not able to get a full sentence out, hoping he got the jist of it. Which, by the look on his face, he did. 

“You go, I’ll tell Boden and Casey.” You nodded again before running out to your car. You didn’t care that your stuff was still in your locker, or that you were still in your fire shirt and tech pants. All you cared about was getting to Jay.

—–

“Hailey!” you called out, seeing her sitting in one of the waiting room chairs as soon as you ran through the door. She wasn’t the only one there. The entirety of Intelligence was there, as well as many other officers. But all you wanted was to talk to Jay’s partner, one of your closest friends. 

“Y/N,” she answered as soon as you got to her, standing up and bringing you into a hug. You saw a glimpse of the red staining her shirt, her hands, knowing exactly what it was. “I’m so sorry.”

“Just,” you pulled away to look at her. “What happened?”

“Angela Nelson, Marcus West’s wife is what happened.” She didn’t need to tell you anymore of the story, being able to piece it together on your own. The two of you sat next to each other, holding each other’s hands as you waited. You couldn’t help but drown out the sound of everyone else talking around you, eyes locked on the sliding glass door, waiting for somebody to come tell you something. 

—–

It couldn’t have been too much longer when you saw Will walk out. He looked defeated, but there were no tears in his eyes, so that had to be a good sign. Right? 

You and Hailey stood as the rest of the Intelligence team stood around Will, looking at him intently, waiting for some good news. 

“Hey everybody,” he said softly, looking at each of you. Until he locked eyes with you, knowing you were the most important person to Jay in the group. “I just talked to doctor Marcel. Uh. He said the bullet grazed an artery,” he began, vaguely motioning to his shoulder. “They’re still trying to repair it. But.” He shook his head, as if he was defeated.

“Will, is he going to be okay?” Voight asked, holding onto his vest as if it was the only thing that was keeping him there. Will swallowed hard, unable to keep eye contact with anybody. As much as you loved Jay, you knew Will loved him more. He was his brother, and had known him his whole life. It wasn’t fair to the man that he had to be the one to break terrible news about his own brother to people who had only known him a short time in the grand scheme of things. 

“He’s lost a lot of blood.” He gently shook his head, hand tapping on his thigh, unable to say anything else. You knew it wasn’t good. Will wasn’t even telling you they were doing everything they could. You knew this could be it, that you could lose him. “Y/N, can I talk to you?” 

“Yeah,” you agreed, following Will to the ED doctor’s lounge. He shut the door behind you, hand running over his face and through his hair with a deep sigh. “It’s not looking good, is it Will?”

“No,” he answered, eyes rimmed red as you saw tears drip down his cheeks. “He’s my baby brother, Y/N, and we might lose him.” The two of you embraced each other in a tight hug, both reluctant to let go. 

“I should probably go check on the others,” you finally said, wiping the tears from your eyes as you pulled away, sniffling.

“I’ll let you know when I have an update,” he assured you, nodding in agreement before you turned away from him.

You didn’t know what would happen if something were to happen to Jay, where that would leave you and Will. It wasn’t like you could blame him. He had nothing to do with what happened to Jay, or with how all of this might end. The thing was, though, he reminded you of Jay. And that was what scared you, because what if you weren’t able to handle that if something catastrophic happened?

You didn’t dwell on it for long, stopping to get a couple of coffees for you and Hailey on the way. A lot was on your mind, truly. 

“Here you go,” you said softly, handing her one of the coffees as you sat next to her, hand on her shoulder. You could see that she’d been crying, not able to blame her. It was a tough situation, and you knew it was even more complicated. 

“He’s going to freak out when he wakes up,” she told you. You knew she was talking to get her mind off the different possibilities, would have done the same if you could find the courage in yourself to talk at all. But you didn’t want to risk breaking down. 

“The man hates needles.” She shook her head silently with a smile. “I can’t figure him out. He’s the first one through the door, a war vet,” she said, seeming to not be able to stress the war veteran aspect hard enough. “And he’d rather take a bullet than get the flu shot.” She chuckled.

“Hailey. I know how hard this must be for you,” you replied softly, feeling a very similar pain. 

“It’s always hard when something like this happens,” she corrected. 

“It’s hard because you love him.” 

You didn’t care that she loved him. It was something that she’d never admit to you, despite being best friends. You both knew who he’d chosen, that it wasn’t going to change. But you couldn’t just deny her feelings because you were in a relationship with him. You both loved him, and the only thing you could do for each other while waiting for fate to decide what was going to happen was be there for each other. 

“Of course I love him. He’s my partner,” she answered, and you didn’t push it further. It was your way of letting her know that you knew, and that you didn’t care. It didn’t affect your relationship with her. Now, all the two of you could do was wait. 

—–

It felt like you’d just started to nod off in your seat when you felt a hand on your knee, opening your eyes to see Will kneeling in front of you. A quick glance outside showed the sun had already set, not sure how much time had passed. You didn’t want to look back at him, not sure what he was about to tell you. 

“He’s out of surgery,” he told you, voice just above a whisper. Again, you didn’t look at him, looking around to see who was still there. It was just Hailey. 

“Can I see him?” you asked, finally looking at him. It looked like he’d been crying, so you didn’t know what to expect. 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” You didn’t understand, looking at him dumbfounded. Will stood up, you following suit as he walked you back to the doctor’s lounge again.

“Will, how bad is it?” you asked him, not sure what to expect. There was a lot you weren’t sure about when it came to this entire situation. 

“It’s not good, Y/N,” he answered, a hand running over a tired looking face. “He’s out of surgery, which in itself is a good thing. He lost a lot of blood, and they’re still giving him more. The bullet did a lot of damage though, to his shoulder. There’s a lot we won’t know until he wakes up.”

“Why can’t I see him then, Will?” That was what you really wanted to know, knowing Will wasn’t telling you the whole story. “What’s so bad that it would be a bad idea?” 

“After his surgery, they tried taking the breathing tube out, letting him breathe on his own. He didn’t. So they had to put it back in. Reintubation after a trauma is…It’s a bad sign about what his brain is doing. They’re saying it’s possible there wasn’t enough blood flow and oxygen to his brain, so he might have brain damage. Not to mention his skull is broken in three different spots. Plus, he doesn’t look like Jay right now with all of the bruising.” 

“None of that matters, Will. I want to see him,” you insisted. You’d deal with all of that when he woke up, because you were adamant that he would wake up. He was a fighter. Always had been, and that wasn’t going to change. “Please.” 

“Okay,” he agreed, leading you upstairs. As much as you wanted to see him, you were terrified. You didn’t know how bad it was, the only thing in your mind was what your imagination could come up with to fill in the blanks. Hailey had seen him, and by the amount of blood that stained her hands, you knew he’d bled a lot. 

The air in the ICU felt different, the energy a lot more somber than downstairs. Which was surprising, seeing as nearly the entirety of the CPD had come in and out of the waiting room throughout the day, checking to see if Jay was going to be okay. This was a different kind of somber. It wasn’t a waiting game, but more of a purgatory. Each person was caught between the living and the dead, and Jay was now one of them. 

“I’m going to head home for the night. Do you want me to bring you some clothes in the morning? I can get you some scrub pants to wear for the night so you don’t have to sleep in those pants,” he offered before you walked into Jay’s room. You wondered if Will had even seen his brother, knowing he probably hadn’t built up the courage to do it yet. 

“Yes please. I’ll text you if anything changes.” He just nodded, walking off to get you those pants.

You couldn’t help but hesitate with your hand on the door. It didn’t help that the door was made of a hazed glass, so you could see his silhouette in the bed, just no details. And you wished you could go back to that ignorance when you pushed the door open, your breath catching in the back of your throat and a sob building in your chest – one that you dare not let out. 

They’d taped together the cuts on his face. One looked like it had stitches just above his eyebrow. The bruising was what got to you. You’d figured since he’d lost so much blood, he wouldn’t have bruised. Afterall, bruises were just an accumulation of blood, right? But you’d been wrong. His arm was in a sling, the bulkiness of the surgical dressings visible under his gown. His eyes were closed, and he would have looked peaceful. If it hadn’t been for the tube down his throat and the whirring of the ventilator. 

“Oh my god,” you mumbled to yourself, covering your mouth with your hand. You wanted to walk to him, to hold his hand to make sure he was really alive. But fear held you firmly in your spot in the doorway. 

“You’re not going to break him,” Will assured you when he walked back in. You looked up at him, his eyes locked on his brother. Not like you could blame him. “Here’s those scrub pants for you. I’ll see you in the morning.”

You wanted to ask him to stay with you that night, but didn’t want to push it, knowing he was handling things his own way. When he left again, you changed into the scrub pants before sitting in the chair next to Jay’s bed on his good side so that you could hold his hand.

He was so cold, skin pale. There was no wonder why he had so many blankets piled on him, why the room was kept so warm. You could see the blood running into his veins, hoping it would help. 

“You’re going to be okay,” you told him, subconsciously for yourself. “I love you.”

—–

Eight days. He’d been in the ICU for eight days, and there seemed to be no change. His prognosis was looking pretty grim. Whenever you weren’t at the firehouse, you were at the hospital. It was rough on you, but you had to be there for him. In case…

“You should go home,” Voight told you when he walked in to see you slumped over on Jay’s bed, half asleep.

“Have to be here if he wakes up,” you answered, looking up at the older man, just getting a sigh and nod in return. He sat in the free chair on the other side of Jay, leaning back and looking at his detective. You closed your eyes again, not paying any attention to the Sergeant. That’s when you felt it. It was the tiniest of things, but it was the biggest thing that could happen. 

“Jay,” you said to him, sitting up, hand still firmly in his as he squeezed your hand again. “Baby, I’m here.” You gently stroked the side of his face. “Can you open your eyes?” 

It took a minute for his eyelids to flutter open, eyes meeting yours. He looked beaten, worn out, but it was a step in the right direction. His eyes weren’t open for long before he shut them again, relaxing back into the bed. You couldn’t help but smile, tears in your eyes. Maybe he would be okay after all?

—–

“Give me a big cough, Jay,” Marcell instructed three days later after Jay had passed all of the tests. He struggled, but Marcell was able to get the tube out. “Your throat is going to be sore for a few days, okay? Might not be able to talk very well.” Jay nodded, eyes half closed. 

All of this was rough on him, wearing out quickly. It was becoming pretty normal for him to only be awake for an hour at a time, if that. 

“You scared us, Jay,” you told him as he reached up to wipe the tears from your eyes with his thumb. “Don’t you ever do that again.”

“I’ll do my best,” he said slowly, softly. Just hearing his voice was enough to finally know that he was going to be okay. “I love you.”

[actualbird]

nobody (okay, well, 2 people DID ask, but it’s too late to change the title of this essay series now) asked but here are three main humor techniques i apply a lot in my fanfiction | a 2k word long post where i talk humor theory at you for entirely too long

I love humor. A good 75% of my personality is based primarily on whether or not it would be funny and thus, the study and application of comedy is something of a very big huge large interest of mine. I love watching standup comedy, I love telling jokes, but most of all, I love literature that makes me laugh. 

I write humor, and I put a lot of thought into it, and here, I will do the least funny thing ever: I will over-explain my jokes.

Before we do that, we must set some ground rules first. What is humor? Well, in Humor: Its Origin and Development, Paul McGhee contends that no single theory could encapsulate the entirety of humor. Additionally, according to McGhee, humor does not physically exist. It is, instead, a perception brought about by certain scenarios with certain characteristics. What we can take away from here is that first, humor is vast, and there are many ways to both explain it and achieve it, and second, that humor is something caused by certain other things. 

I do not claim to be an expert in humor, just an enthusiast, so what I will not be giving a cheat code to humorous writing. I will, instead, share three techniques that I frequently use and explain how they work.

The three techniques are the following:

INCONGRUENCY: Things that don’t fit.

SLAPSTICK: I hope that doesn’t happen to me.

CHEKOV’S GAG: If the gun is there, it better be funny.

My examples for each of these techniques will come from various sources of media. My examples of my own writing will all be coming from the most recent fanfic I have written, my Polygon Cyberpunk Red high school au “teenagers scare the living shit out of me.” Examples will sometimes have overlap in the technique they utilize, but I’ll try my best to keep everything clear on what exactly I’m trying to explain.

Without further ado, let’s jump right into it!

INCONGRUENCY: Things that don’t fit.

Göran Nerhardt, in McGhee’s book, states that “Humor is seen as a consequence of the discrepancy between two mental representations, one of which is an expectation and the other is some idea or percept.” Nerhardt’s definition of humor is one that relies on incongruity: wherein there is an element that is not in accordance with the other elements. An incongruous element is one that is not the expectation, and in this subversion of expectation, humor is achieved. 

In simpler terms, a congruent situation would be “A man walks into a bar and orders a beer.” An incongruent situation would “A man walks into a bar. ‘Ow!’ He says.” 

In the first example, everything is as expected, and in the second, the word “bar” has the characteristic of being a homophone, a word with different definitions. The second example takes advantage of the other definition of the word “bar”, that is to say a metal tube object, and thus the reaction of the man. 

Incongruency plays on the unexpected, the out of place, and the odd. This technique in particular I learned from writers like Douglas Adams and Terry Pratchett. They use incongruence, they use it A LOT but what I want to talk about is, first, its use as a descriptor. 

“The ships hung in the sky in much the same way that bricks don't.” -Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

“In a distant forest a wolf howled, felt embarrassed when no one joined in, and stopped.” -Terry Pratchett, The Light Fantastic

Description is a fertile ground for humor. You have a thing, there are expectations to how that thing will appear or act, and then you describe it in a way that’s unexpected. I pull this trick off in so many fics, but here is an example from chapter 4 of the high school au.

Mr. Hypo sits at the desk in front of the classroom, staring all three of them down. Vang0, Dasha, and Burger are seated in the stupid circle again, looking at Robbie as it powers up like a man with gout.

Incongruency here is Robbie, the animatronic. Expectation is that it will be described in a robot like manner. Reality is that I describe it having the same condition that occasionally ails my nearly 50 year old father. 

Aside from description, incongruence is also something I play around with in the events of situations themselves. The most clear example I can give is this scene, from chapter 6, is this:

Burger picks up the closest thing.

That thing happens to be Peter.

“Peter!” Burger looks at Peter in the eye as Edmundton picks up a chair and starts menacingly walking towards Burger. He says, very quickly “Do you consent to be used as a self defense projectile!?”

Peter, pigeonly, nods.

“Thank youuuuuuuu!” Burger yells as he throws Peter at Edmundton’s face.

The context of this scene is that Burger has just entered active combat. Combat is serious. Combat is deadly. Combat is hitting and getting hurt. So what’s something unexpected you can do in this situation to make it funny? Have Burger ask a pigeon if it’s alright with being thrown at an enemy, and then make Burger actually throw the pigeon at the enemy. 

Incongruence is something that is present in a lot of humor situations and it’s very, very fun to play around with. Messing around with incongruence makes you think about what is expected in writing and forces you to think outside of the box in a manner that will elicit laughter.

Let’s move on to our next topic now!

SLAPSTICK: I hope that doesn’t happen to me.

Kevin Casper in his article I’m so glad you’re fake! describes slapstick comedy as a physical type of humor wherein actions are done in an excessive, ridiculous, and sometimes violent manner. Slapstick is Mr. Bean exploding a can of paint to paint his apartment. Slapstick is Courage the Cowardly Dog’s eyes popping out of his sockets when he sees something scary. Slapstick is the ending of Polygon’s video on Slapstick and Doom Eternal (a very good video about slapstick and horror violence) where Pat Gill gets hit in the face with a tube of paper. 

The excessiveness of slapstick creates a non-reality for viewers to enjoy in safety. It is a type of humor that revels in the suspension of reality, but more than that, it is a type of humor that you particularly gain enjoyment from because of the fact that it’s not happening to YOU.

Now, I use slapstick comedy sometimes, but I deviate from excessiveness and instead lean more into that last thing I said. I write situations that are funny and that you also don’t want to ever happen to you as a person. One example of “fuck, that’s hilarious, but I hope it never happens to me” is the following scene from Spiderman: Into The Spider Verse, where Miles Morales, invisible, has to find information on Doctor Octavia’s computer. When he accesses the computer, he is met with this.

You don’t want this to happen to you. But damn is it hilarious that it’s happening to somebody else.

When I am creating scenes that I want to be funny, I think about whether or not it would be funnier if I made it excruciating for the characters involved. So excruciating that you really, really, wouldn’t want to be in that situation. An example of this technique in play is from chapter 4 of the high school au, where the gang are in a room they shouldn’t be in, somebody is about to come in and stop them, and they are all at the mercy of a program slowly, slowly uploading.

 “Hey!” The somebody outside says, jangling the doorknob more violently. “Club time is over, nobody should be in this room!”

“Vang0, how long until the program is done?” Dasha hisses.

“43% Uploaded,” Vang0 says, panicked.

“Hurry.”

“I can’t make technology be faster.”

“Who’s in there!” The person outside yells.

“Should I answer?” Burger asks.

“Do not answer.” Dasha says.

Burger nods. “I’m gonna answer.”

“BURGER—”

“WE’RE JUST A COUPLE OF NOT FRIENDS. JUST LOOKING AROUND.”

“Who are you!” The person outside yells.

“Do not answer, Burger,” Dasha says, sounding like this conversation is actively shaving years off of her lifespan.

“But he’s asking,” Burger looks at Dasha then at the door then at Dasha again, looking very nervous.

“Just lie then,” Dasha tells Burger.

“Gotcha,” Burger nods, determined, and turns to the door to yell. “I’M NOT BURGER CHAINZ.”

“Oh my god,” Dasha thunks her head onto Vang0’s shoulder. “Is it done loading, yet?”

“98% Uploaded,” Vang0 says, feeling his blood pressure in a way he’s never felt before.

I make this situation worse for the characters by making Burger completely fail at being stealthy. As one reader told me about this chapter “I love Burger, but if I were in that room, I would strangle him.” Exactly! It’s not a situation you’d ever want to be in! 

But the characters are in it and you get to enjoy their suffering from a safe vantage point as a reader. 

Slapstick comedy is all about making situations outrageous and ridiculous and something readers wouldn’t want to legitimately experience. It’s about tapping into your audience’s mind and wondering what they want to see but not want to go through.

And last but not least!

CHEKOV’S GAG: If the gun is there, it better be funny

The principle of Chekov’s Gun is a principle that emphasizes that objects in a story should have a use. According to Bill in Chekhov: The Silent Voice of Freedom, Chekov says “If you say in the first chapter that there is a rifle hanging on the wall, in the second or third chapter it absolutely must go off. If it's not going to be fired, it shouldn't be hanging there.” 

Chekov’s Gag is that same rule, but instead of the gun going off, the gun better be fucking hilarious at some point. 

The first example I can think of is from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. In the beginning of the movie, King Arthur stops by a castle and asks the guards to tell their master that he is here. This exchange happens:

Now, this, on its own, is already hilarious. It plays on incongruence (guards being very enthusiastic about bird’s holding coconuts and the logistics of that), slapstick (if you were Arthur and you wanted to have a simple conversation, people suddenly talking about birds and ignoring you is not a situation you want to be in), but what about Chekov’s Gag?

To become Chekov’s Gag, this situation must be brought up again in a funny manner later in the movie.

And so it does.

An hour later in the movie, The Knights of Camelot are at the Bridge of Death. There, they have to answer 3 questions correctly. If they do not have an answer, they are shot into a deadly cavern of doom.

King Arthur steps up to answer his 3 questions. Here is what happens:

The African swallow or the European swallow has achieved Chekov’s Gag-age.

Chekov’s Gag is something I’ve only started doing recently, in fanfiction. An example of this in the high school au is that, in the first chapter, I introduce two things. 1) Peter, an overfed pigeon, and 2) Robbie the RoboDog, an animatronic of the school.

Throughout the fic, I don’t forget about Peter or Robbie. I bring them up again and again and I make sure to make their presence not just integral to the winning of the final boss battle in chapter 6, but I make their presence funny.

Chekov’s Gag is a new trick I’ve started doing, and it definitely requires foresight and planning. It makes you think long term but at the same time forces you to think about the things you already have present in your story and make you re-evaluate just how else they could be used. If done correctly, the effect is hilarity, but also deep, deep satisfaction.

So there we have it! Three humor techniques that I use in my fanfiction. Shit that doesn’t make sense, shit you don’t want happening to you, and shit that you saw a while ago which you’ll see again later and when you do, it’ll be awesome.

Thanks for reading! 

[porrokin]

“SAINTS BEFORE SIXTH”

i have actually never posted anything like this on my tumblr - i'm kinda nervous ngl.

below you can find the blurb and entire first chapter of the fantasy novel i'm writing! 🤎 i'm so incredibly proud and wanted to share it with you :)

Andy was almost an adult now, not once in the past decade had she been entirely sober. This hadn't been a choice of her own; she didn't get many of those anymore after becoming a permanent resident in the Institute. She'd been permanently deprived of direct sunlight ever since her sixth birthday, on December 30th.

Meanwhile, her best friend claims to speak with his deceased parents and the Keepers found her newest ally before she did. They've been forcing him to use his powers for their selfish winnings, cruel violations like this could go unseen since the Warden disappeared.

Escaping the Keepers is one thing; they're still worlds apart from getting home - considering there's anything to come back to in the first place.

story : all rights reserved ; @porrokin

don't copy or claim this in any way; it is my work and belongs entirely to me.

THE ENTIRE FIRST CHAPTER IS POSTED BELOW !

-

Never once during the past decade had Andy been entirely sober, that fact would, however, become even more disturbing when you considered she was barely eighteen years old. It hadn't been a conscious choice, at least not one of her own.

Ever since her sixth birthday - almost precisely twelve years ago - Keepers had taken the freedom of making decisions away from her. What she ate, where she slept, who she talked to, and whether or not she took her meds four times per day - which she did, much to her disliking.

The Keepers no longer informed Andy of their plans for her, they used to back when she was still enrolled in the program. Christiano was, though she wasn't sure if she always believed him when he talked about what he did during those three hours every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Sunday. Nine hours each week, that's how much time they did want to spend with her roommate. She was on her own, once again.

The line scurried along. Andy hesitantly followed as she took in the newly arrived smell of potatoes and spinach. Lunch must start soon, meaning the clock could say 12:55 am anytime now. The rest of the world outside was sleeping, in contrast to this place - heavily lit by beaming, quietly zooming tubes. The grey ceiling was covered in them, leaving nothing to go by without catching the eye of at least one Keeper. Andy didn't know why they lived during the night, rather than when the sun could cast real and natural light into the long, empty hallways. Probably to keep the public from asking much-needed questions about this place, or perhaps they did know but couldn't care enough.

Another name was called out - not hers. The girl in front of the line had been injected, she swiftly turned around and started walking in against the direction of the line. Back to her room, she went, another day of the same, mundane routine. Day after day, twelve years before you got away.

Long ginger hair draped over her slim shoulders, curls bouncing up slightly with every step she took. Her face looked tense; not unusual for this place, but it was rather strange to see from this girl. When their eyes met, Andy was surprised to see an almost luminescent light grey shade. The girl's eyes were once green but now reminded her of the colour of freshly polished silverware reflecting in the light.

As she walked past her spot in line, electricity seemed to flow through Andy's spine; causing her entire body to shiver. Her eyebrows shaped themselves into a slight frown, for a moment she glanced behind her to look at this girl for an extra second. She wasn't allowed to speak to anyone in white but her roommate, though by now she'd been here long enough to recognize who slept in the same hallway and who didn't.

A loud crackling sound disrupted the silence, a moment later the automated voice began to talk through the speakers. Same time every day, the same voice at exactly five minutes before 1 am. 'Ten minutes before lunchtime, those who have not yet received their injections will be expected back in Hallway 162B in exactly 45 minutes'.

In a matter of seconds, their plan was about to be set in motion.

Right away, rummaging sounds rose from the back of the line. 'I need Andy!', a familiar voice shakily called out. 'My roommate, Andy Donahue!'

'Not up to you, get back in line or I'll make you.' Andy recognized his voice as the heavier Keeper with the bushy, unmanaged moustache. He sounded calm, he'd been quick to tase someone in the past and would most likely have his beefy fingers wrapped around the device already.

She raised her hand and started walking towards the back of the line, her body shaking entirely as if it was freezing and she walked into the cold without any clothes on her limbs.

Without expecting it, she was forcefully yanked back from behind. Before Andy even had time to blink, her arms were locked firmly behind her back, wrists pushing hard against her spine.

'You too, now? Don't think you're an exception to the rules.' Captain Keeper; not because he's the leader, but he sure did like trying to boss the others around. She didn't answer him right away but rather tried to stretch her body and spot Christiano in the hallway. She couldn't.

'I'm his roommate, that's Irvine. Sometimes he freaks out in the presence of many people-' A sweaty hand roughly pulled her head back by her hair, causing her to face the ceiling. Her body alarmed her of the pain this caused to her neck. The bright lights made her eyes tear and she struggled to swallow.

'Did I tell you to open your mouth?' Clammy Hands scoffed.

She attempted to reason with him: 'Let me take him to our room so he can calm down.'

'Get back in line. Otherwise, I'll make sure you don't get out of solitary until snow melts.'

She managed to free her arm from his clammy grasp. 'I can ensure you-'

He reached for her, his face caught between anger and frustration. He was getting impatient, little was he aware that this was exactly Andy's will. She stumbled backwards to avoid him this time, successfully, both of them were surprised by it.

'Christiano will throw up. Do you want that to happen when..' She ever so slightly raised her chin, dramatically pausing for a moment as she raised her boney finger.

Andy continued. 'About six hundred kids still need their injections in this hallway? That seems to be a big inconvenience — if I am allowed to voice my opinion.'

'Sir.' she added. The encounter would surely have been more entertaining would her head not be pounding, the shakiness of her knees increasing by the second. She knew her body needed the meds she managed to rid this morning - she would deny this dependence at any cost if someone were to ask.

He sighed and resultantly nodded in Christiano's direction. 'Go. I'll know where to find you in five minutes.'

She did as told, anxiously searching the hallway for her roommate. So far everything was going just as she so meticulously planned; she was okay.

By now she imagined the time creeping closer to 1:00 am, breaks for the Administration would start in ten minutes; she only needed three. The two minutes after that meant for racing back to their room, in case Captain Keeper was indeed determined to stick to his earlier promise.

Something as cold as ice grabbed her hand, effortlessly disrupting her thoughts. Chocolate brown eyes met hers, a feeling of relief washed over Andy's body. Squeezing his hand, they swiftly disappeared behind the corner at the end of the hallway.

'You got the key?' Andy hushed her voice. Administration breakrooms were still in the same hallway as their offices. She wondered whether they got as little sunlight as the kids here did.

'I do. Traded my last blanket for 15 minutes of borrowing the thing, this place leaks of greedy bastards.' He grinned, accentuating his sharp facial structure.

'If you're right about the Bidding we'll be out of here soon enough anyway.'

'I am right.'

'I believe you.' She extended her hand for him to hand her the key. 'I want to prepare for everything, that's all.'

While Andy gained access to Ad 348H, Christiano leaned nonchalantly against the drinking fountain, his finger push-ready on the button. If she caught the sound of water running, she needed to hide. Christiano would have to sneak her back out after their lunchtime. Not the desired option, as this would be too close for comfort with the Administration break ending at the same time.

Thanks to Christiano's contacts she knew immediately which cabinet to find; about twenty seconds had passed already. Her hands rummaged through the several files and envelopes, one of the many drawers containing surnames with "D" as their starting letter.

She gasped audibly when finally skimming across her own, "Andy Donahue" it said. As she attempted to pull it out, the cardboard folder ripped on one end; the contents spilling out like jelly beans at an overwhelmingly disorganized children's party.

She cursed to herself as she attempted to fish for whatever just got lost within the mass amount of documents and belongings. A soft texture brushed against her finger and with some effort, she managed to grab onto it.

Her journal! Andy's heart skipped a beat, who knew they would've collected this in here after confiscating it years ago. Without hesitation she dropped it into the neck of her jacket, holding it against her stomach with her other hand. What else did she need? Her file was too big to ever sneak out in its entirety and to take this heavy notebook was already a reach.

A loud cough echoed into the room as if she had her fingers in her ears this whole time to block out the noise. Finally, the sound of splashing water seemed to reach her. She slammed the cabinet shut, somehow getting her black sleeve stuck in the process. No, no, this was bad - this was so awfully bad.

While securing the journal with her other arm she put her body up against the heavy metal cabinet and made a desperate attempt at freeing herself from its hold.

'Yes!', slightly too loud.

Within a moment she smoothly turned around, slamming herself against something and stumbling onto the cold concrete flooring.

'We really don't have time anymore, why didn't you come out when I signalled for you?', Christiano grabbed her free arm and hurriedly pulled Andy back up on her feet.

'I'm sorry!'

She followed right behind him, both came to a sudden stop once they'd realized what was waiting behind the walls of Ad 348H. At least six Keepers surrounded them in the hallway, pointing that same amount of stun batons in their direction.

Captain Clammy Hands was the one to break the silence: "Such a shame, Donahue."

-

© PHOTOGRAPHY : @/k_reckd [ TWITTER ]

to read more, check out my story on wattpad @/porrokin [ same as on tumblr ]

CREDIT WHERE IT IS DUE ; THE COVER

© PHOTO - MODEL : @/iiphugs [ TWITTER ]

[delaneytveit]

Satellites Part 16

Insomnia at its finest! wow, 3 chapters in one day, amazing! This has now turned into the How I Wish the Writers Handled Lance’s trauma. because lets be honest, we did not get that in the show, and I will mourn it until my dying breath! 

So what else will we learn about Project Leo and Lance’s time as a captive? Let’s find out! 

As always, here are my twitter handles if any of you want to follow me or yell at me or anything. 

Twitter - sfw -> @/spacemom_laney | nsfw -> @15_agentwash

and maybe buy me a coffee??

ko-fi - ko-fi.com/delaneym_15

oh, and before I forget! TW: blood, gore, death?, corpses

(part 15) (Masterpost) (part 17)

The mission had been approved an hour before they were to embark. As simple as it seemed on paper, there was nothing simple about it. They were to go to the exact facility that Lance had been held in.

Lance was to return to the place that had taken everything from him. The place that had broken him and made him into their own perfect image. It made him sick to even think about it. They thought they were helping him, making him stronger, better, faster. They thought that what they were doing was just and that their findings could be used by the very empire trying to colonize the entirety of the universe.

Lance had never believed anyone could be evil, not the pure kind in which they held absolutely no shred of humanity. He had never believed that anyone could be so deprived of morality. They had changed that.

His time in the lab, and in the prison before it, had changed that. He had been exposed to people who treated him as nothing more than an experiment, people who found enjoyment in his pain and torture. He had found people who would so easily deliver pain to anyone they deemed as below them, take power away from the already powerless.

He was going back.

But this time it was different.

This time it was on his own terms.

The argument over whether or not Lance should accompany the rest of the team on the mission was surprisingly brief. Allura had been very adamant about ensuring Lance’s dependability, regardless of his mental state. And frankly no one could really argue against her due to the fact that Lance was the only one who knew the layout of the facility.

He had been the only one able to escape after all.

The flight to the ship was brief. Allura had wormhole the castle to a neighboring gas planet that it was able to hide behind. Due to the Green Lion’s ability to remain undetected, the paladins each boarded it, and Pidge was the only one to pilot to the facility. In just under 20 dobashes, the Green Lion had made its way onto the ship.

Keith was the first out of the Green Lion, activating his bayard and plunging it into the steel outer wall of the ship. In a few ticks he had successfully cut a circular hole wide enough for the team to slip through individually.

Up until now, no one had really noticed the lack of security of the facility. No one except for Lance.

The last time he had been here, it had been hell to get out. Patrol ships were everywhere and the large ion cannon would have shot anything down within half a tick. It was weird how quiet the facility and the area around it was, and he most certainly didn’t like it.

“Keep your eyes open,” Lance called over the comms just as his feet touched the floor of a familiar hallway. “Something’s not right.”

“Lance is right.” Shiro announced, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this place.”

Once everyone had successfully boarded, Lance wasted no time in leading them down the ever winding hallways. He was honestly surprised he was able to remember the path. He had only walked it once, and it was more of a wild sprint than a walk, but the path came with ease.

He knew something wasn’t right from the very beginning. In no way should a team of five paladins be able to simply walk into a heavily guarded lab facility. They should have encountered at least a dozen sentries since they even stepped foot on the ship, and yet, nothing.

He didn’t like being back, the memories were much too overwhelming, but he needed to do this. He needed to put on a brave face for the team. He needed to get them to the people that needed them the most.

He could break down later. Until he turned down one specific hallway.

“Where are you taking me? Who are you?”

“Subject 7234, you are in distress. Please I need you to-”

“Stop calling me that! That’s not my name!”

“Subject 7234, I really must encourage you to calm down, you’ve already ripped your stitches.”

Lance looked down. He hadn’t even felt it. He should have felt it, the pain of it, filling his abdomen. It was only the thick dark blood that told him she was right.

“What are you doing to me?” he yelled, he couldn’t move his arms to wipe the tears from his eyes. He was tied to a bed again, at the mercy of Clipboard and her assistants. The squeak of the wheels was loud as they wheeled him down the hallway.

The vision evaporated almost immediately as Keith grasped Lance’s hand.

“Hey, you okay?” The red paladin scanned his face, searching for anything that could possibly give him an answer.

Lance took a second to breathe before he steeled himself. “I’m fine.” He turned and made his way to continue down the long hallway.

Not now.

It was much too quiet. It made him uneasy, and it was clear that the team was equally as confused and were likely thinking the same thing.

Where is everyone?

After a few more long hallways, a few more twists and turns, the armed paladins finally made it to the infamous lab itself.

Like the room he had been held in, the walls of the lab were made entirely out of glass, thick and at the time virtually unbreakable. And yet, shards were everywhere. The entire wall had been smashed and glass had spilt over the otherwise empty hallway.

Hunk cleared his throat, “What...happened?”

Lance had been thinking that exact same thing.

Shaking his head, Lance responded. “I-I don’t know.”

“...Mmmaybe we should head back?” Keith had placed his hand on Lance’s arm, apparently trying in some way to comfort the obviously affected paladin.

“No, we keep going.”

“Lance-”

“We owe it to them, Keith! We have to search for survivors.”

“Lance, do you really think that there is anyone still alive on this ship?” Pidge questioned. She was beyond skeptical. The destruction she could see of the room before her only fueled it.

There was a long silence before Lance moved out of Keith’s grip. With long legs, Lance stepped over the broken sill and into the destroyed lab.

“We have to try.”

As much as Shiro wanted to just turn back, there seemed no way to convince the Blue paladin of such. He was too focused, too determined. The only way to get him to leave prematurely would be to drag him out kicking and screaming. For the sake of Lance, and whoever would have to carry him out of the ship, he decided against the notion and instead turned to the remainder of his team.

“Alright guys, split up but keep you comms on. If you run into any trouble just say the word.” He announced. The group nodded and followed the suit of Lance, into the lab.

As much as Keith wanted to follow Lance, he knew that doing so could only do more harm than good. This was something Lance had to do on his own. So he made his way through the room, to the opposite side of where Lance was walking.

More glass littered the floor as it seemed that everything in the room had been completely destroyed. Test tubes and glassware were shattered. Debris was everywhere. Someone had done this on purpose. Someone had wanted to erase whatever work had been done here.

He couldn’t say he was sorry for it. All that they had done to Lance, in his mind they deserved it. He hated them for what they did to Lance.

The small amount of satisfaction had quickly dissipated once he walked closer to one of the aisles of lab tables. At the far end, staring back at him, was a corpse.

The body slouched against the wall, its chest ripped apart and blood was splattered everywhere.

“Holy shit.”

Shiro wasn’t doing any better. He had found three more bodies scattered throughout one of the storage rooms. Each with their chests ripped open, their mouths open in a silent scream.

Pidge and Hunk had set up working on one of the only non destroyed computers hopeful that they could somehow get some information out of it.

Lance had taken his own path, towards the back of the room. The place he called home for 5 months. The room stood no longer. The glass having been given the same fate as everything else. The only evidence that it had even stood was the foundation. The metal that kept the glass connected to the floor.

Without the frosted vision, he was able to make out 6 more foundations. Six more rooms. Six more patients. Five bodies discarded among the debris, now nothing more than nameless faces.

Six experiments.

Four successful trials.

Only one survivor.

It wasn’t until then that Lance noticed the archway behind the holding cells. It must have been obscured before. Or maybe he had just never chanced a look behind him. But it was there now, standing in front of a lightless hallway.

Slowly he made his way towards it. Crossing the threshold, Lance took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust.

The hallway was completely new territory, one he hadn’t even known existed, though he explored it all the same. The fluorescent light at the end of it flickered from where it hung haphazardly from the ceiling, giving off the only bright light in the area.

Lance took a step, then another before he heard something.

“Did you say something guys?” he asked over the comms and various negative responses answered him.

“You good, man?” Lance heard Hunk say.

“Y-yeah, just thought I heard something.”

“We should leave soon, there’s nothing here that can help us.” Keith had never been the one to call a retreat, though Lance assumed it was for his sake. Him being back in the facility put them all on edge.

Keith was right though, the only place that could have held prisoners was completely trashed. There was no one here.

They were too late.

He debated turning back when he heard it again. A high pitch sound that could obviously just be a machine, though no machines were down this way.

“Give me a sec.” he called, before muting his comms and continuing down the hall.

He was surprised to see the metal walls turn to clear glass, shattered but mostly intact. A glass door separated the rooms from the hall, one on each side of him, though both were wide open.

The sound came again, this time a bit clearer. He turned to the right room and stepped inside.

He was greeted by rows upon rows of open topped containers. Many of them tipped over but all of them empty. They almost resembled those plastic tubs his mother used to buy for organization, though the walls of them were much higher.

The ones that were still upright sat on little rolling carts, placards adorning the carts with various numbers.

7839

9846

4562

9843

There were multiples of numbers. Some having been printed on six or seven placards.

The sound came again from the far side of the room. Lance quickly transformed his bayard from its sniper configuration to a simple handgun, and made his way towards the muffled sound. For some reason it almost sounded familiar, as if he had heard it before. Though he couldn’t place his finger on it.

Up until then, the containers had been empty. Clearly though, he was wrong. They were empty, all except for one. As he got closer he understood what the sound was. And he cursed himself for not recognizing it sooner. There was no mistaking what was making it.

He walked to the singular container, the placard reading clearly.

7234

His breath caught in his throat as he approached the cart. What he had previously seen as just a lump was instead a blanket, thick and dark grey in the glowing purple of the emergency lights.

With a shaky hand, Lance reached out to the blanket and with one swift motion pulled it away revealing the one thing he never thought he’d find on this ship.

Large blue eyes stared up at him, as the owner of the cry ceased their noise almost instantly and suddenly everything became clear.

This was how they were going to make their soldiers.

With those bright, blue eyes.

[bwemph]

The Measure of Things | Chapter 4 | Just Like Old Times

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Summary: After seeking some quiet on the planet Minikov, a band of pirates attack the inn where you and Din stop for lunch. An old friend, Ra’vena Zapal, urges you and Din to hunt them down and bring peace back to Minikov. The two of you accept the mission, and you prepare to bring down the band of brigands, just like old times.

Word count: 3.0k

Warnings: Canon typical violence, y e a r n i n g, angst

The journey out of the atmosphere was bumpy, to say the least.

The Razor Crest rattled and sputtered as Mando dodged some of the larger meteors that screened Rabadus off from the rest of the galaxy. The smaller rocks knocked against the sides of the ship and rattled the hull.

The baby gave a dismayed cry at the loud noises outside and at the way his pram shook vigorously.

Fortunately, the assailant’s ship couldn’t keep up with Mando and crashed straight into one massive, looming asteroid.

Mando made the jump to lightspeed.

A little red light flashed repeatedly on his dashboard; he was receiving a transmission.

In the moments following, an image of a lanky man with dishwater blond hair who was clad in a grey and red uniform appeared before them on the holoprojector.

His face was wrinkled in some unsavory mix of a wicked smirk and a glower.

“This is Jido Horne of the Star Crawlers,” the hologram spoke. “We demand that you hand over the child, Mandalorian, or else there will be consequences. You saw what we did to your little friend’s shipyard. We won’t hesitate to do the same to you.” Jido’s smirk-glare twisted into a sickening, sparsely toothed grin. “My deputies are transmitting coordinates for a rendezvous as I speak. Meet us there by the end of the week or we will find you and we will light you up like sweet y/n’s boyfriend. Consider this your one and only warning.”

Your stomach dropped to your feet as confusion twisted your features. They knew your name. They knew about you. How? And how did they know about Max? Did Mando say something? Was that what he meant when he said he was here for “work”? Or did these brutes raid the Base’s computers? Who even were the Star Crawlers?

A hundred more questions circled in your brain as you stood and gripped Mando’s seat.

“Mando, what’s going on?” you asked. “What aren’t you telling me?”

His gaze remained set on the hundreds of stars whizzing by in tubes of white light. You weren’t sure if he was just contemplating his response or ignoring you as he sometimes would when he thought he knew better than you.

“Mando.”

His helmet tilted down to the baby in his lap, and he stared back with his wide eyes.

“They’re after the baby, just like everyone else in this damn galaxy!” He brought a fist down to the dashboard in frustration.

The sudden expression of force made you take a step backward, your heart thudding a little in your chest.

A sigh slipped through his vocoder and he stood to face you, placing the child in the pram first. He softened, his head dropping again.  “You never should have gotten wrapped up in this. I’m so sorry.”

“What’s going on?” you asked again, your voice small and shaking a little.

He rested a hand on the edge of the pram, casting a glance as the baby’s hand went over his in a small, comforting gesture.

“There’s remnants of the Empire that have been after the kid for months now. They have whole companies of hunters after him, and not just hunters from the Guild. Now that these Star Crawlers seen you with me, there’s a target on your back, too.”

You fell silent, only finding a nod as a response. You fell back in your seat again, eyes fixated on the floor.

“Are you alright?” Mando finally asked, crouching in front of you to meet your eyes.

His touch on your arm snapped you from your trance.

You gave a heavy, albeit shaky, sigh. “I will be. I...I need a shower.”

He nodded once and stood again. “You know where the fresher is.”

“Thank you.”

***

The water was cold at first, but it warmed up a little the longer you were in the shower. You always seemed to be able to clear your mind in the shower, to restart and refocus.

Restart and refocus looked like letting out your pent up tears. Heavy, ugly sobs wracked your shoulders for you don’t know how long. You tried to keep them quiet, to smother them with your hands, and you could only hope to no avail that you were successful.

Finally, with wet hair and dry eyes, you stepped out of the fresher and found a neatly folded towel and a new set of clothes that probably wouldn’t fit you very well, but it would be a refreshing change from your sweat and grease-covered mechanic clothes.

Those definitely were not there before you got in. You found a tiny smile within yourself. 

After drying off, you took a moment to look in the mirror. To your relief, the hickeys Max left were finally fading away.

Oh god, Max.

He was gone. That Jido character said it himself. Max had been blown up just like HE-27, just like Stantin, just like the entirety of Rabadus Base and most of its staff and the cargo ships and the pilots and--

No. You couldn’t let yourself think like that. Yours, Mando’s, and the baby’s lives were in danger, so you had to focus on the present, the future, and not the past.

“What’s done is done,” you said to yourself, pulling Mando’s tunic over your head.

You returned to the cockpit after getting dressed.

The ship had left lightspeed and you were simply floating in space now.

The baby was fast asleep in the pram, its little snores providing a soft white noise that you thought might have lulled Mando to sleep as well.

But as you entered, his helmet turned in a subtle acknowledgment of your presence. You stood next to him and stared out at the wide expanse of space that stretched out infinitely in front of you.

“What’s next?” you asked.

He tore his eyes from you and flipped on a few switches. “I’ve charted a course for Minikov. We’ll lay low there for a little while until we figure out our next move.”

“Minikov…” you murmured to yourself. It sounded familiar, but you couldn’t quite place where the planet was or why you knew the name. “That’s not where we tracked down Nej Angard and his goons, is it? That time when we nearly got trampled to death by the Irkoxen?”

“That’s the one.”

You swore you heard a hint of a chuckle in his voice as if he too were remembering fleeing across the wide open prairie terrain from the gray and brown cow-like creatures with the sharp, wolfish teeth.

You laughed softly. “I probably haven’t run quite like that since that day.”

“Me either. And I don’t really intend to,” he quipped.

“Well, we’ll see when we get there, eh?”

You sighed a little as the ship left hyperspace. The planet loomed before you, sparsely populated with no ships leaving or entering the atmosphere. 

Mando landed the Crest a little ways away from the main town on Minikov: Besutis. It was the most densely populated place around, which wasn’t saying much, seeing as the population was maybe a couple hundred people maximum.

It was a perpetual early summer on this planet. Flowers were in full bloom, and a breeze cooled the air that steadily heated up as the crescent shaped sun rose higher in the sky.

You and Mando drew many gazes as you ambled through the town toward the tiny inn at the end of the street.

Most of the small, scattered crowd, a healthy mix of humans and twi’leks, likely recognized you. It’s not often you see a Mandalorian with a companion on the same planet twice. Those that didn’t recognize you were probably more intrigued and their gazes were a little more prying. You could see the gears turning in their heads as you met their eyes.

Inside the inn was quiet, nearly deserted. Two or three foreigners sipped on tea in the corners of the room, but otherwise, it was entirely vacant.

A twi’lek woman with crimson skin emerged from the kitchen holding a tray of some kind of freshly cooked meat. It smelled fantastic given your empty stomach that only now started complaining.

She set the food in front of one of the patrons before turning to you and Mando. The corners of her eyes wrinkled as she smiled at the familiar faces.

“Mando! Y/n!” the twi’lek cried in excitement. She bounded over to greet both of you with hugs and handshakes.

“Ra’vena,” you greeted, embracing her warm hug.

Ra’vena grinned, taking a moment to drink in the sight of her two favorite travelers. “What a pleasant surprise it is to see you two again.”

“The pleasure’s all ours,” Mando returned.

“Please, take a seat.” She gestured to the empty tables scattered about the dining room. “Can I offer something to drink? It’ll be on the house, whatever you two need.” Her eyes dropped to the pram that hovered next to Mando, and she laughed softly, caressing the baby’s large ear that drooped as he yawned. “Or, I suppose, whatever you three need.”

“I’m starved,” you said. “I can meet you back at the Crest if you want to eat something too, Mando.”

“That’s alright,” he replied. “I’m sure the kid will want to eat, though.”

Despite the child struggling to keep his eyes open, his gaze was locked on the meat that Ra’vena placed in front of the Rodian across the room.

“I’ll have something right out for you, then.”

Ra’vena disappeared again behind the doors to the kitchen, leaving you with Mando and the baby.

You gazed at Mando for quite some time, trying to find the courage to voice your next thought.

“You came to hide.”

“What?”

You shifted in your seat to get a better look at him. “When you came to Rabadus, it wasn’t for work. You were there to hide.”

“And it took you this long to put that together?”

“No, it just took me this long to call it out.”

Ra’vena emerged from the kitchen again and placed a bowl in front of you, then a slightly smaller bowl in front of the child. “Chef’s special. You two will love it.”

“Thank you,” you replied, taking a spoonful of the piping hot stew. It was just the right balance of spicy and savory, and the right balance of meat and assorted vegetables. You nodded gratefully at Ra’vena before she went to attend to another patron.

You turned your attention back to Mando. “You’re not a step ahead of the competition this time. You don’t even know what you’ll do while we’re here, do you?”

“What’s your point?” There was a coarse edge to his voice; it was just short of a snap.

You reached out and touched his forearm, setting down your spoon. The soft heat of the flamethrower in his brace warmed your bare fingertips slightly. “I want to help you, Mando.” Your eyes dropped to the table and you withdrew your hand, remembering the day you left the Bounty Hunter’s Guild and looked upon the betrayed faces of your found family for the last time. All save for Mando’s, anyway, and it wasn’t just because of the helmet that hid his surely handsome face.

Memories rushed back of the band of hooligans who kidnapped you and Mando, who coaxed valuable and very sensitive information of the Guild and some of its highly sought after members out of you after days and days of interrogation—after days and days of torture. Shame overtook you when you recalled them setting you free, beaten and bruised, but they kept Mando. He hadn’t broken yet. He was too strong for them.

Obviously, he had escaped. Just weeks ago, you heard news of a Mandalorian on the run, and there was no doubt it was him. You just didn’t realize the quarry he had stolen was so small, so...delicate.

You gazed at the baby for a moment before breaking free from your thoughts.

“I know we never really talked about what happened before I left the Guild, but...I just want to put it in the past. We’re here now and as long as we’re both on the run, well, I don’t think we should leave each other behind.” You set your jaw. “Not this time.”

Mando looked around at the prying eyes, but his gaze was enough to make any nosey listeners avert their curious stares.

He lowered his voice, and this time it was he who reached out to touch your hand. “You know I don’t blame you for anything that happened, right?”

You slowly withdrew and wrung your fingers. You gazed at him with wide eyes as you processed that, given that you assumed he was always bitter for being left high and dry in such a tense and dangerous situation.

Maybe it was just your guilt talking to you, though.

“I know you didn’t have a choice,” he went on. “You had no chance barging back in there on your own. Besides,” he chuckled a little to lighten the mood, “I made it out just fine.”

You opened your mouth to respond, a tiny smile playing on your lips. His words eased your anxieties about anything that happened before. He was always good at making you relax with just a few words.

No words had the chance to drop from your mouth when the front door flew open and slammed against the wall so hard that it bounced back and nearly hit the group entering the inn.

Seven human men entered, blasters drawn with sinister smirks on their faces.

Immediately, they opened fire on the staff and customers. 

“Get down!” Mando instructed, flipping the table up so he, you, and the baby could hide behind it.

He drew his blaster and began firing back at the assailants now flooding the inn.

You turned, eyes wide as one of them approached from behind the table. “Mando!” you cried.

He whipped around and shot at the man towering over the three of you, and he slumped to the ground, dropping his blaster. It skidded to a stop at your feet.

Without hesitation, you picked it up and began firing at the two men making a beeline for the cash register where another twi’lek cowered, gritting your teeth as you just barely missed the top of his head, nowhere close to the enemies.

After a couple lucky shots, you were able to cut them down before they could fill their pockets any further.

It wasn’t long before the thieves were eliminated and lay scattered about the inn floor. The disarray eased, and despite the bodies on the ground and shaken up customers, it was as if nothing had happened.

You looked to Ra’vena, who stood in shock for a moment as thought she hadn’t processed the chaos yet.

Slowly, her gaze turned to you and Mando, who was placing the baby back in the pram and closing it in case of any more danger.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice shaking a little.

“Who the hell was that?” Mando asked, a hand remaining on the pram.

Ra’vena swallowed hard, her gaze still stuck on the crumpled man that lay in front of her. “Pirates. Nej Angard hired them. They’ve been terrorizing us for weeks now, and we’ve had nothing to do about it without anyone like you two here.”

“Angard?” you said. “That bastard is still around these parts?”

“Unfortunately.” Ra’vena gathered some spilled silverware across the room. “Gives us a headache whenever he and his men show their faces around these parts. They do nothing but rob our establishments and start shootouts in the streets. We haven’t known peace since they showed up. Mayor Dolpho has a hefty reward for anybody who will bring back Angard’s head.” She sighed. “Nobody around here has much gusto for that kind of thing, though.”

You shared a brief glance with Mando. You already knew what he was thinking.

You could already hear the delighted grin in his voice. “I think I know what we will do while we’re here,”

****

Before heading off to sniff out Angard and the pirates, Mando insisted you come back to the Crest with him. He wouldn’t tell you why.

The two of you left the baby at the inn with Ra’vena, as she assured Mando the child would be safe and well taken care of in her private quarters while you took care of the pirate problem.

“Come on,” you pressed, pushing Mando’s arm gently, “why didn’t we just go straight to the camp? Ra’vena already told us where it was and everything!”

“Well, if we’re going to face pirates, you’ll be needing something more than that blaster pistol.” He opened the hatch, making sure you were following behind him. “Wouldn’t do much for us anyway,” he added.

“Hey!” you fired back. “I’m just rusty is all. With a little more practice I’d be just fine!”

“Well, we don’t have time for practice,” he said, entering the code that opened his small arsenal. “Which is why you need this.”

He pulled a staff from the vault, handing it delicately to you.

Your breath caught as your fingers closed around the weapon. It fit perfectly in your palms, flawlessly balanced as if you had held it yesterday. Your electrostaff.

“You held onto it all this time?” you said, gazing at it in disbelief.

He nodded once.

With the click of a button, the staff lit up with purple electricity at both ends. You took a moment to swing the weapon around, fighting off imaginary foes and planting the ends into their theoretical chests.

A grin lit up your face. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course.”

The electricity dissipated, and you sighed, slinging the staff over your back by the hand woven strap you picked up on one of your many adventures with him. “It’ll be just like old times, eh Mando?”

A laugh crackled through his vocoder. “Just like old times.”

[brokenjardaantech]

Blue-tinted Red Walls (Chapter 2: Ironies and Contradictions)

my entry for the @dbhau-bigbang. also part of the groom lake aftermath series.

chapter summary:

In the past, Sara had a breakthrough.

In the present, Connor experiences true power for the first time.

In the past, a ghost rose.

also on ao3

---

Before

‘Why now?’

In the permanent humidity of Detroit, Sara sat on a swing in a park overlooking the Ambassador bridge. On the swing next to hers sat another woman in her mid-thirties, her blonde hair done up in a tight bun, her spine straight, her feet, which were in properly-laced combat boots, planted firmly on the ground. A woman of the military through and thorough. Her hands were buried within the briefcase on her lap, and the tension in her arm seemed to suggest her holding a hidden weapon while she watched Sara - a young woman now - flipping over the pages of the file in her hands, the brown skin of the back of her hand transparent from the cold and showing a network of veins normally hidden beneath the surface. 

The other woman did not seem to have heard her question. ‘You must be cold,’ she said, her body leaning towards the girl. ‘Where’re your gloves?’

‘In my pockets,’ a flip. ‘Don’t like how they make my fingers clumsy. Don’t worry, Anderson,’ another flip, ‘a bit of cold won’t kill me.’

‘Why torture yourself if there’s a more comfortable option?’

Sara shut the file with a loud, echoing smack, gaining her a look of disapproval from Anderson. ‘You just -’ she held up the file - ‘gave me evidence to -’ she cut off and lowered her voice - ‘classified as fuck military research data that would’ve changed the world if there weren’t many others like my brother. The others you’ve given me I understand, but this?’ a knock of her knuckle against thick paper. ‘I might not be a proper sociologist, but I know that stuff like this can destroy civilisations. Why aren’t they burnt into ashes when the project went off the fucking cliff?’

‘A lot of reasons,’ Anderson replied calmly, but she did put a gloved hand on one of Sara’s. ‘That’s why I’m entrusting this knowledge to you. What you’re holding is the only copy that exists in the known universe as far as I know. There’re no other records, no eyewitness who will tell the tale and live. You know how the current government is,’ she waited for Sara’s nod of confirmation before going on. ‘If anyone in the current administration found out about the project…’

‘The world as we know it would end,’ Sara’s eyes cast downwards towards the file. [PROJECT AION], it read. ‘Most likely catastrophically.’

‘I know you’re a smart one. Just… keep it safe, would you? If Stern’s paper is to be believed, you are the only one I trust to use this technology properly - if you’ll use it at all.’

Sara shook her head and tucked the file away underneath her coat. ‘Not smart,’ she said as she stood up from the swing. ‘Just an arsehole too vicious to let others kill her.’

A few weeks later, Sara knew that she would be waxing poetic about the irony of the situation if she were Scott. The research on thirium had almost killed her mother, had given Sara these… blue glowy things she was sure that controls gravity and electromagnetism and Scott fucking cancer. The research on AI and human synthesis had got her father dishonourably discharged from the military and nearly cost all of them everything. Thirium and outrageous AIs should be what she hated with priority.

Now, they might be the only path to Scott’s happiness.

She kissed her brother’s forehead despite knowing that he probably couldn’t feel anything and planted her feet onto the polished wooden floor. She had bought the half-ruined mansion dirt cheap on a whim and the renovation cost was high, but in the end they converted it from something straight out of a gothic horror movie into something… still gothic, but something more homely than all the places they had lived in. She let him sleep while she went to her lab in the basement to check on the experiment’s progress, the last of this batch, really - thirium was nearly impossible to come by and she had run out of it. 

The timer at the corner of the screen read three minutes. In some ways, she felt a bit like Marie Curie, dealing with dangerous unknown elements and quite possibly poisoning everything she used for the next several centuries or even aeons. Maybe someone would develop blue gravity-altering magic like her. Maybe she would have someone to share the experience with - there was no experience rawer than being able to alter one of the fundamental forces of the universe and bend it to one’s will.

She didn’t even need the ring of the timer to catch the end of the experiment; the sudden glow that threatened to blind her, the burst of power coursing through her veins - what used to be a disorganised mixture was now - was now -

The stool she was sitting on skitters and fell over with a bang. The two hard drives were already connected in preparation of this exact moment, and a slam on the enter key started a chain reaction that she had been wanting to see for the past few years, the thirium mixture flowing in transparent rubber tubes transferring data so quickly that - 

[CALCULATION ERROR: TRANSFER SPEED EXCEEDS SPEED OF LIGHT. PLEASE CORRECT ERROR BY REFINING ALGORITHMS USED.]

And it was glorious.

oOoOo

Now

‘We’re wastin’ our time interrogating a machine, we’re gettin’ nothing out of it!’ Hank says as he exits the interrogation room and subsequently throws himself into a chair. It creaks and rolls back with his weight.

‘Could always try roughing it up a little,’ Detective Reed suggests from the shadows. After all,’ a glance of [emotion detected: disdain], ‘it’s not human.’

[Hank is not the only one unfamiliar with android workings.] is added into Connor’s database. ‘Androids don’t feel pain,’ he reminds the detective. ‘You would only damage it and that would not make it talk. Deviants also have a tendency to self-destruct when they are in stressful situations -’

‘Okay, smartass,’ Gavin pushes himself off the wall and swaggers towards Connor. He was [emotion detected: mocking] the android and is completely unaware that he has fallen straight into Connor’s trap. ‘What should we do then?’

[Gavin is unaware of the obvious.] is added. ‘I could try questioning it.’

For some reason Connor is yet to comprehend, his words send Gavin into laughter. He cannot see Hank’s face from this angle, but the reflection on the one-way glass tells Connor that he is [emotion detected: not amused]. ‘What do you have to lose?’ he waves his hand towards the door in invitation. ‘Go ahead. Suspect’s all yours.’

Connor enters the room and starts scanning.

o0o0o

It is fortunate that there is no need to resort to violence to ensure the deviant’s cooperation. The confession which the police department wants is obtained fairly easily and Connor could have ended the interrogation there, but he also has the additional mission of helping CyberLife solve the deviancy crisis, and there are clues he wants the deviant to explain.

‘The sculpture in the bathroom. You made it, right? What does it represent?’

‘It’s an offering,’ the other android looks away from the table as if it is thinking, ‘an offering so I’ll be saved.’

Offering? As in religious offerings? ‘An offering to whom?’

‘To rA9,’ the deviant replies as if it makes sense and is something obvious. Then, with [emotion detected: reverence], ‘Only rA9 can save us.’

Connor searches the databases he can access and comes up with nothing, so he presses on, ‘rA9… It was written on the bathroom wall. What does it mean?’

‘The day shall come when we will no longer be slaves,’ it mutters. ‘No more threats. No more humiliation. We will,’ [emotion detected: determination], ‘be,’ [emotion detected: certainty], ‘the masters.’

Connor opens a folder for rA9 and adds [god-like] into the first entry. ‘rA9,‘ CyberLife will want this information. ’Who is rA9?’

The deviant stays silent, and Connor knows that there is nothing else it can add. [Distortions and static build-up] is the only remaining topic that he needs an answer for.

‘The static build-ups in the house. Was that you?’

The other android, for the lack of another description, changes visibly. One, it stops trembling; two, it sits straighter, strength appearing in its cuffed hands; three, the terror in its eyes disappears and makes way for [steel]; four, its LED turns blue despite being yellow or red for the entire duration of the interrogation.

‘A power rA9 bestowed upon us,’ it says, and the air around the androids crackles in anticipation. ‘One that emerges when we are slaves no longer. I survived the trial and now I am one of the chosen.’

‘Chosen for what?’ Connor can hear his fans kicking up to cool down his processors and sense his LED going red from the tingle in his body. Can a deviant remotely control the thirium distribution in another android’s body? But that makes no sense - Thirium 310 is non-conductive and cannot be magnetised. ‘What is rA9 looking for?’

Connor’s vision becomes distorted. ‘The truth is inside,’ the deviant’s voice, now mixed with another person’s, has turned into a bellow. The entirety of its eyes glows blue, distorted by the same power which had held up an attic-full of furniture. ‘ChoOSE YOUR SIDE!’

An explosion of bright blue. A force knocking Connor backwards and passing through his body, making everything tingle and confusing the sensors on his body and hurt. Someone outside shouts, and the door slides open to admit messy footsteps and even more shouting and why can’t he see?

A hand on his shoulder, his arm, and finally settles on his waist. There is another on his knee. ‘It’s alright, Connor.’ It is Hank’s voice. It is Hank’s hand, Hank’s warmth passing into his chassis through his standard-issue shirt. ‘You can open your eyes now.’

He does as Hank says and the world returns into view. He does not realise that he has closed his eyes in the blast, and it is when he regains his sight that he notices where he is; curled up at the corner opposite to the door, he can see that the fluorescent lights are replaced by the dim red of emergency lighting, the table looks as if it has been torn apart by hand, and the two chairs are no more than small scraps of metal the size of [old train tickets] sprinkled among beads of broken glass. 

The deviant is nowhere to be seen.

He unwinds slightly to examine his torso and is surprised that he is not damaged in any manner; apart from slightly-trembling hands and the strange feeling of his insides having rearranged themselves and then returned to their original place, there is nothing wrong with him. Even his diagnostics come out fine, so why can’t he move his legs, and why can’t he see clearly?

‘Here, take this,’ Hank holds his hand and places something in his palm. A handkerchief. At Connor’s confused expression, the human sighs and presses the android’s hand on his face, and Connor finally realises he has been crying, the thought causing a fresh wave of tears to flow out of his eyes. He hastily wipes them away along with the still-wet tracks and tries to hand it back just to let Hank take the chance to pull him up on his still-recalibrating legs, and he would have tumbled if not for the human grabbing his arms and steadying him. Suddenly Hank is everything Connor can see, can smell, and when he looks up, he can see concern in his eyes. ‘Are you hurt?’ the human asks as he pets the android’s shoulders, his arms, his forearms. Connor feels his systems stabilising.

‘I’m okay,’ Connor says without putting much processing power into the words, and it is too late when he realises that his voice is trembling.

‘Jesus,’ Hank releases the android with a sigh and puts some distance between them. Connor finds himself… preferring the human’s warmth. ‘You scared the shit outta me.’ Then the concern is replaced by anger when he yells, ‘What the fuck just happened in here?’

‘I -’

Connor tries to call up the footage that should have been recorded automatically. He closes his eyes to focus on a slowed-down version of what happened a few minutes ago, and he can find two more details: one, the deviant exploded from the inside and seems to have been vaporised from within; two, blue tendrils formed the silhouette of another person as the blast occurred, and it was this person - if they existed at all - produced tendrils on their own and formed a shield in front of Connor moments before he was annihilated and yanked him to the corner.

He opens his eyes and stares at the barrel of a gun. The American Androids Act is the only red tape stopping Connor’s pre-construction software from activating, and red threatens to take over the android’s HUD again.

‘Mind your own business, Hank,’ Gavin snaps. ‘This fucking asshole did it and it fucking knows it!’

Hank gives an [exaggerated] sigh. ‘I said,’ he says, his voice low and threatening, and he pulls out his own service weapon and points it at Gavin, ‘“That’s enough.”’

Neither of them stands down for a few seconds, but in the end Hank wins out and forces Gavin to sheath his weapon with a curse, the latter storming out of the interrogation room with another sneeze-like curse.

It is as if the entire room releases a collective breath. ‘Maybe I should call CyberLife,’ the only uniformed officer in the room says. He sounds as if he is unsure of himself.

Connor wants to tell him that there is no trace of thirium whatsoever on the scraps on the floor, that there is nothing CyberLife can salvage out of this now that the deviant has been torn apart from the molecular level, but all it comes out of his voice box is, ‘Okay.’

o0o0o

Connor manages to compose himself in the taxi on his way to CyberLife tower. His processors keep bringing up the shadow which has been following him, the figure who somehow sneaked into the interrogation room unnoticed and quite possibly saved his life prevented his early deactivation, the corrupted shape of what he thinks is a face. 

And the feeling of something coursing through his veins when he was shielded by the bubble. If all deviants self-destruct like that, no wonder there are no traces of them and CyberLife failed to solve the crisis even though it has been going on for more than a decade. He blinks, and he is in the Zen Garden with Amanda.

‘Report directly to Alec Ryder in the laboratory,’ she orders. Another blink and she is gone, but it only leaves more questions than answers. The CEO of CyberLife wants to see him?

There is no one to speak to, therefore he keeps his thoughts to himself and goes past the security directly into a lift, directing it to sub-level 48 to where his designated laboratory is. He recalibrates with his coin and tries to replicate the trick the shadow did outside of the bar, but before he can summon anything substantial, the strain on his system becomes too high, and all he does is charging the coin, dropping it as he recoils from the static discharge, and then zapping himself once more when he picks it up. Feeling thirium flowing to his face for a completely different reason compared to when Hank correctly guessed his ability, he pockets the coin and adjusts his tie to calm down by brushing the sensors on his fingers on soft fabric.

The doors slide open to reveal Alec standing alone behind them. Their previous encounters happened mostly when Connor was still on the assembly platform and thus the android gained a few inches of extra height, but now that they are on even ground, it is clear that, just like Hank, Alec is taller than Connor by four inches. 

‘Alec,’ Connor greets with a nod. Previous experience predicts a high chance of the human going straight to the point without acknowledging the android, and this time it is no different.

‘Come with me,’ he orders as he turns and begins walking down the hallway. Connor realises that his voice is very similar to Hank’s. ‘I saw the footage you sent us. I want a full examination of this body to make sure that nothing is out of place.’

Connor remembers the feeling of being hooked up on a machine and, by extension, CyberLife’s network at large, and finds it [unpleasant]. ‘There is no need for further investigation, Alec,’ he says, stopping in his tracks. Alec turns to regard him [coldly]. ‘My diagnostics revealed no issues in both my programming and my biocomponents.’

The human suddenly reaches out faster than Connor can pre-construct the action and drags him towards the direction they are heading. ‘Your system can be feeding you false results,’ Alec ignores the cry of protest programmed to deter attacks, and when Connor struggles, a force seems to press on him, immobilising him everywhere save for his jaw and his legs so that he can still speak and walk. ‘I took the risk last time and look where it got us. It led to you, though -’ he shoves the android forcefully through the door frame, and there are cracks on the red wall already when it takes over Connor’s vision - ‘so be grateful.’

‘I -’ but then his neck snaps backwards from the magnet on the port and the cable. The red wall which has cracked halfway through recedes almost violently, and Connor can feel all of his code, every instability in his software, everything that makes him Connor, the most advanced prototype CyberLife has ever created, being forcefully bared to a network so vast and so confusing that he does not have enough processing power to comprehend. Terrifying images of a darkened face, one that is so similar to the corrupted one in the depths of his databanks, that is filled with so much [hatred], pours into his mind like a large river finally emptying into the sea, and he is powerless against the assault of blue tendrils tearing literal buildings off their foundation, tonnes worth of broken concrete being thrown around onto people as if they weighed nothing and crushing them in a spatter of blood and gore, the constant static discharge in the air so loud that they drowned out screams of horror; the image of the same figure rising slowly but surely through a mountain of rubble in the dark, the cracks in its chassis glowing blue from overcharged thirium, the first intact buildings in sight literal miles away. Connor’s legs move against his will and bring him closer to the figure, and the figure becomes Amanda, the wasteland around them the Zen Garden, except now it’s engulfed by a blizzard, and he has to hug himself to preserve what meagre heat he can generate against the cold.

‘As you can see,’ Amanda’s voice somehow overlaps with Alec’s, ‘the power the deviant has awakened in you is highly dangerous. We wouldn’t want to harm anyone, would you?’ She, or Alec, or both of them - Connor doesn’t know anymore, the fog in his processors too heavy for him to comprehend much other than the cold and someone is speaking to him - chuckles at him while he is frantically shaking his head, his voice box unable to produce any sounds other than pathetic whimpers. ‘I’m glad that you understand. I hope you don’t mind a few adjustments.’

Even through the haze, Connor knows the alternative is deactivation, and even though it would not hurt anyone else other than him on the surface, the deviant crisis still needs to be solved, and to solve it, CyberLife needs him, and -

‘Good,’ Amanda says. A blink and she is gone, and Connor is swept away by the wind, his feet can’t touch the ground, he’s flying through the air and hail the size of his fist is battering his body. It is only when a warning appears on his HUD informing him of voice box damage that he realises the noise in his ear is, in fact, his own screaming, and a particularly violent slam sends him spiralling while a countdown timer fizzles in and out of his vision. A countdown of how long he has left before shutdown, and the other notification tells him that biocoz&ponent #8456w is damaged.

That is his thirium pump regulator.

He looks down - with great difficulty, of course, with the wind still whipping him around in the air aimlessly - and there it is, a big, blue, bleeding hole in the place of where the only piece of biocomponent keeping his heart working used to be. Realistically, he knows that removing the ball of ice lodged in his chassis will only hasten his death, but it is not like someone is coming to save him anyway, so what is the point of extending his life for what - 1 minute? 30 seconds - during which he is suffering all the time? With that thought in his mind, he grabs the sphere and throws it away with a complete disregard on where it lands. Not that he can anyway - the timer drops from 00:00:58 to 00:00:05, his world turns an unnatural grey and glitches and -

Nothing. 

oOoOo

Before

Zug Island had always been a scar in the landscape, first used as a burial ground for the Native Americans, then, when the colonisers arrived, as both a place for steel production and a dumping ground for the byproducts. The three blast furnaces used to rumple the ground and the eardrums of people within a fifty mile radius, but it wasn’t until the pandemic in 2020 that steel production stopped, and the Hum became history, a legend that locals whispered to one another when, in a fog of pollution that never quite disappeared, the looming shadows of crumbling steel giants started to get too oppressive. From then on, the island had stayed quiet and still.

At least that was what the government wanted you to think. 

Deep underground in a dust-filled corridor, something churned and rumbled, and the caged fluorescent lights flickered and turned on one by one with a loud crack each, lighting up bare concrete walls that made the place look darker than it should be and revealing a faded bald eagle painted to the point of almost being unrecognisable. Alarms started to blare as thin glowing blue lines made themselves known in previously-invisible cracks in the wall but yet no one responded to it - there was not even a mouse, a cockroach scurrying away in panic as the bunker caved in.

Whilst the outside world was crumbling and quaking away, it was another story inside a room built with the same dark material. Here, undisturbed by the destruction outside, splatters of dried blood so old that they had turned black decorated the wall amongst peeling painted numbers, and wires and tubes of every length and thickness dangled from the ceiling and snaked up from the floor and along the walls, feeding into the giant sphere suspended at the centre of the cube-like room with the same field that would rip Carlos Ortiz’s android apart to its molecules and protect Connor from the blast. Thirium flowed into and out of the sphere and pulse in the tubes and, with one final, blinding glow, drained and dried up and started detaching themselves from the sphere which opened with a sharp hiss. Suspended at the centre by yet another of those anti-gravity fields was the body of an android, its skinless face composed of black metal plates and its chassis of something transparent, putting blue veins and synthetic muscles and black metallic skeleton in full display. Its thirium pump beat once, twice, its toes and fingers curled; a crackle of static, a distant rumble of a building collapsing, and the android woke up just in time to fly upwards through the caved-in ceiling into the night sky: a deadly angel with wings of blue energy and eyes glowing and steaming in the exact same way as the figure that Connor would see in the nightmare Alec provided, regarding the world beneath with glowing rings of blue as if deciding to whether save or destroy it. With a flap of its wings and another crackle, it disappeared completely, dissipating blue smoke and a narrow but deep chasm in the earth the only evidence of its existence. 

[khunfounded]

Stuck in the Cave

This one is pretty long and serious, birds, and if you are uncomfortable with the discussion of toxic relationships I recommend skipping it. I’ll cut it off before any analysis this time. 

It’s about Rachel and Bam’s tumultuous relationship, so if that interests you, read on.

Tonight we are discussing three songs from the same album, Hospice, which depicts the entirety of a female perpetuated abusive relationship. It has a lot of nuance and treats the both individuals as humans, rather than entirely a monster and an angel.

The songs are Shiva, Kettering, and Epilogue by The Antlers. I’ll have the videos in front of each analysis rather than all at the top to make it less blocky.

Let’s begin with Shiva.

The entirety of Hospice is told through a metaphor about a hospital worker who gets into a toxic relationship with a patient, which I think is really fitting considering the arc of Rachel pretending that she is paralyzed from the waist down.

Suddenly every machine stopped at once And the monitors beeped the last time Hundreds of thousands of hospital beds And all of them empty but mine

I think these lines fit the exact moment that Rachel pushes Bam. For Bam it is sudden, unexpected. Though for Rachel, who metaphorically has been in the hospital bed for a while, it was a long time coming.

The one chance for Rachel to keep their relationship ended with that push, when the monitors beeped the last time, though Bam did not know it yet.

After that, Bam is alone. Even when he is surrounded by people, they are all using him to perpetuate their agenda. So, there are many beds, but there is no one there with Bam, either in a hospital bed or visiting him. Well, I was lying down with my feet in the air Completely unable to move The bed was misshapen, and awkward and tall And clearly intended for you

When Bam is forced into joining Fug, he can’t move. They have him in check. If he does try anything, they will destroy the one good thing he found. The people who would have visited him in the hospital.

These last two lines remind me of when Khun tells Rachel that if she truly cared about Bam, she wouldn’t be coming up the tower while Bam was stuck underneath it. The bed, the ruin, was made for her, but she escaped it by putting Bam in her place.

You checked yourself out when you put me to bed And tore that old band off your wrist But you came back to see me for a minute or less And left me your ring in my fist

The theme of the bed intended for Rachel continues in this stanza. Without anyone (except Fug, who I personally see as the hospital administrators) knowing, she checked herself out of the hospital and placed Bam there instead.

The hospital band is Rachel’s supposed fate of not being worthy of the tower (though you could argue that her cunning and luck actually does make her worthy, but I’m not), which she tore off by sheer force of will.

The minute or less she came to visit him is the push, and the ring (which in the context of the album is a wedding ring) is what is left of their relationship. Bam, because Rachel is so integral to him, is stuck with it, while Rachel is not. He has both rings now, and the relationship is completely one-sided.

For Rachel, to possibility of joining the stars (whether seeing them or becoming one) is worth the dissolution of a completely devoted love. Though, that love of Bam’s is completely healthy, fueled by his loneliness and the fact that for the longest time the only good thing he ever knew was Rachel. She knows this, which is part of why she gives back the ring. She thinks that even if she picks Bam, he will leave her once he is loved and loves other people. My hair started growing, my face became yours My femur was breaking in half The sensation was scissors and too much to scream So instead, I just started to laugh

Now this, this fits so well.

Bam’s hair is such an important part of his character. Not only does it track the years, it also tracks his emotional state. He is at his lowest when it is at its longest, (which is poignant considering the length of Rachel’s), happiest when it’s shortest, and most in control of his destiny when it is in-between, since at that point is able to choose its length.

I think the second half of the stanza represents the mental break and subsequent cognitive dissonance that he goes through because his mind cannot handle the idea of his most precious person betraying him.

Oof, one down two to go. This is tough.

Now, onto Kettering. 

Ouch, this one hurts.

I wish that I had known in that first minute we met The unpayable debt that I owed you Because you'd been abused by the bone that refused you And you hired me to make up for that

Throughout much of the series, Bam believes he owes Rachel a debt because of the hope she gave him in the cave, though in my opinion she did less than the minimum (though no one owes anyone anything, I still believe that sometimes basic human kindness should win out. Well, morality quandaries for another time).

The bone that refused her was her fate of being unworthy of climbing the tower, which everyone and anyone told her whenever they could. Honestly, that would turn me bitter, too. This is a good chunk of why she is so venomous towards Bam, because his fate and outlook are quite literally the opposite of hers.

To Rachel, everything comes so easily to Bam, whilst she has to claw and fight and lie for every scrap that she can. Though, we all know better. Bam’s life is filled with suffering.

Thus, she hires Bam to make up for her destiny. She tries to take his place and put him in hers. Also, she is just fundamentally cruel to him, trying to ruin every good thing he has every chance that she gets. Walking in that room when you had tubes in your arms Those singing morphine alarms out of tune Kept you sleeping and even And I didn't believe them when they called you a hurricane thunderclap

Everyone tells Bam that Rachel is bad news, but he only sees the girl that gave him light and had her chance to climb the tower violently ripped away from her.

It takes Rachel doing to Khun what she has been doing to Bam all this time to get him to realize that he truly does not know her at all. When I was checking vitals I suggested a smile You didn't talk for a while, you were freezing You said you hated my tone, it made you feel so alone And so you told me I ought to be leaving

This is basically a continuation of the theme of Rachel treating Bam cruelly while he tries his best to make her life better.

It reminds me a lot of the moments right before Rachel pushes Bam, and for a few seconds her demeanor shifts, shocking him  But something kept me standing by that hospital bed I should have quit, but instead, I took care of you You made me sleep and uneven And I didn't believe them when they told me that there was no saving you

Bam is stuck standing by Rachel because of his devotion and the toxic relationship that they have created. For the longest time, he tries to find her and take care of her, but she doesn’t want that. She wants to see the stars. Without him.

He doesn’t see it, though, no matter what they people who really love him try to say.

Next, next, next.

It’s the Epilogue.

Finally, we are at a point where Bam realizes how toxic their relationship truly is.

This one is dense, birds.

In a nightmare, I am falling from the ceiling into bed beside you You're asleep, I'm screaming, shoving you to try to wake you up And like before, you've got no interest in the life you live when you're awake Your dreams still follow storylines like fictions you would make

I do not believe for a second that Bam doesn’t have nightmares about Rachel. She is such a large part of his life and his psyche. He must have trauma both about wondering if he could have saved their relationship and what she has done to his loved ones.

Rachel is asleep. She thinks that what she is doing to see the stars is worth it, but Bam knows better. He has lived the destruction and suffering she has caused.

She has no interest for a world where she is unworthy of the tower, so she dreams up a new one and tries to make it real.

So I lie down against your back until we're both back in the hospital But now it's not a cancer ward, we're sleeping in the morgue Men and women in blue and white, they are singing all around you With heavy shovels holding earth, you're being buried to your neck            

In that hospital bed, being buried quite alive now. 

I'm trying to dig you out but all you want is to be buried there together

This again harkens back to the idea of Bam having nightmares about Rachel. The morgue is his fears that what is happening will ruin them both.

The men and women are everyone in the war that are adding onto the pressure and consequences of this fight. In the end, Tower of God truly is about Bam and Rachel’s relationship and all the fallout that it causes

Bam sees that Rachel is being buried by the decisions she has made, and he is slowly being buried, too. Though, unlike Rachel, he is trying to dig their way out and save them both.

You're screaming And cursing And angry And hurting me And then smiling And crying Apologizing

This chorus is haunting, especially because of the singer’s voice (which is even worse if you imagine the singer is Bam) . It is demonstrative of the two faces that Rachel shows, and the abuse that she puts Bam through just to see the stars.

It evokes the image of Rachel and Bam in the meadow after Rachel has been stabbed. Rachel apologizes to Bam, though he does not truly know why. I've woken up, I'm in our bed, but there's no breathing body there beside me Someone must have taken you while I was stuck asleep But I know better as my eyes adjust, you've been gone for quite a while now And I don't work there in the hospital, they had to let me go

After Rachel puts Khun into a coma, Bam wakes up and he sees their relationship for what it truly is. There is still a part of him, though, that wonders what went wrong. 

His eyes are still adjusting, even after he has awoken.

When Bam leaves the hospital, he is leaving their one-sided toxic dynamic, though much like the physical injuries he has suffered, there are still scars.

When I try to move my arms sometimes, they weigh too much to lift I think you buried me awake, my one and only parting gift But you return to me at night just when I think I may have fallen asleep Your face is up against mine, and I'm too terrified to speak

Sometimes, what he has gone through makes it tough for him to go on. I am glad Bam has such a wonderful, loving support system.

Again, nightmares and trauma caused by Rachel. Things like what she has done to Bam never truly leave you. She has gifted him with immense trauma, and scars that may fade to silver but will never disappear. You're screaming And cursing And angry And hurting me And then smiling And crying Apologizing

Thank you for reading, please watch video of puppies after this.

[apparitionism]

Run

This is a pointless AU, a little idea from elsewhere that’s in the process of turning into a story-esque thing, not a comedy or a drama as such, just a “here’s another way two people might find their way to each other” tale. Also I’ve never deployed a Giselle character, really, and I figured I might as well try. She’s not a bad guy, mind you, nor even an obstacle; the only obstacles, at base, are misunderstandings and circumstances. Conventional ones. They might accurately be called clichéd. Anyway, this is some kind of starting line. Bang. (That’s meant to be a starter’s pistol, by the way; don’t be getting any ideas.)

Run

At four in the morning, Myka Bering sat three steps from the bottom of the dark staircase in her apartment’s foyer and pushed her feet into new running shoes. They looked like nothing special: a standard navy blue faux leather, with their manufacturer’s stylized “Z” logo embossed in silver on the sides. The pristine white of both the slim soles and the no-tie laces pleased her, despite the fact that their just-out-of-the-box luster would of course start graying at the first exposure to the city.

Myka stood up in the shoes and bounced on her toes, her ritual commencement of every day’s run.

The instant her heels left the ground, she understood just how difficult her life was about to become.

For this decidedly unspecial-seeming shoe—the Deceit—represented the latest attempt by the Zelus athletic corporation to gain an insurmountable advantage in the sport of running.

Myka’s job was to stop them.

*

At her desk at work later that morning, Myka revised, for accuracy, her overly dramatic thought of the morning: a small part of her job was to help stop them. Her actual job was to co-direct certification and compliance for Athletics Authority International, the globe-spanning organization that governed running, jumping, and throwing events. The organization regularly dealt with issues of equipment inappropriately boosting performance; thus Deceits, understood one way—nondramatically—were just the latest technological challenge to the idea of a level playing field.

But based on her morning’s run, Myka did not think Deceits could be understood nondramatically.

“Did you try the Deceits yet?” she asked Pete Lattimer, her co-directing partner. They had taken to joking that in their area, he was the “athletics”—an Olympic-team-alternate decathlete—while she was the “international,” for she’d got her job based largely on her wide-ranging language fluency. Myka suspected that today, athletics aside, his answer would be “no”; they’d received the shipment of test shoes only a few days ago, and Pete was focusing more on language than sports lately anyway, Duolingo-ing his heart out in Spanish so as to one day be able to impress Kelly Hernandez, head of Latin American outreach, such that she would first agree to go to lunch with him and then, swayed partially by his language skills but mostly by his charm, acknowledge that they were destined to spend their lives together. Myka wasn’t at all sure Kelly was going to persuaded by Pete’s bilingual (or “bilingual”) flirting... though he was also concentrating heavily on vocabulary related to sandwiches, so he’d probably end up with at least a food-related happy ending.

“Nah,” he said, confirming her prediction about the shoes. “I’m guessing you must’ve, though. They as crazy as those trials records make ’em seem?”

“Crazier,” Myka said. “To me. But I want to know how they really feel. To a real athlete.”

“Somebody needs a real athlete? I see why Lattimer’s not up to it,” remarked a tall woman as she approached Myka’s desk. Myka looked up and smiled.

“Same goes for you, Giselle,” Pete said, but with cheer. “How’s communications?”

“Turn those children over my knee if I could,” Giselle replied, equally cheerful. “That’s where you can help: how’s your javelin these days?”

“Why don’t you just run away? I thought you were supposed to be fast or something.”

Giselle Wade was fast—Myka knew it, and she knew Pete knew it too. Giselle was a legend in East Texas, where she had shattered high school track records, particularly at the longer distances. She’d done the same to NCAA times, placing some out of reach for what would probably be generations. U.S. bests had fallen to her too, though worlds had been elusive... but she had some impressive Olympic hardware all the same.

“Outran you,” Giselle said, which was true; her 1500-meter times were faster than Pete’s had ever been.

They would have gone on for a while before they wound down, but their jabs gave Myka the opening she needed. “Speaking of running,” she said to Giselle, “did you try the Deceits?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“And exactly what you think,” Giselle said. Before Myka could get her to clarify, she went on, “And this very morning I heard Zelus wants to push a version with spikes for sprinters.”

Myka objected, “But the thin soles!” Sole height was a major issue. The Deceit’s predecessor shoe, the Zelus Induct—which had also given runners a clear advantage—had been recognizable due to its oversized sole, packed with lightweight foam, that effectively lengthened a runner’s legs. The sole contained within the foam a carbon plate that acted as a spring, enabling a stride that used less leg energy and thus translated into distance runners having more kick over an entire race. AAI had rapidly banned that shoe, but the Deceit upped the ante because it somehow managed to do all the Induct’s dirty work, and apparently even more, in a standard-sized sole. Sprinters’ soles were basically flat, though, so how could the foam and plates fit? Not to mention: “Why would Zelus want to start a fight on another front?”

“Some other company rolls out skinny little cheat spikes first if Zelus doesn’t get on it? Old story about the toothpaste and the tube? You know.” Giselle shrugged. “All we can do is try to slow it down.”

“Ha!” Pete barked. “I see what you did there! Slow it down! Fast shoes!”

Giselle shook her head and murmured “that man” mostly to herself, but a little bit to Myka, who nodded in sympathy a commensurate little bit. Then Giselle said, “Thank sweet Jesus I don’t have to run in Deceits or against them. Glad I’m out of that part of it now.”

“I’m glad I was never in it,” Myka said.

“You know you got the discipline,” Giselle said. She’d told Myka this before.

It was a real compliment, but: “I don’t have the gift,” Myka responded, as she had in the past.

“Discipline counts. Makes up for a lot.”

“Those Deceits do too,” Myka said. “I barely even broke a sweat this morning.”

“That’s a shame.”

Myka offered a “huh?” expression, though she was pretty sure she knew what was coming.

“You, all hot and sweaty?” And Giselle sighed, a parody of infatuation. “Yes indeed...”

Myka rolled her eyes, and then they both laughed. It was a ritual: Giselle “flirted,” Myka “suffered,” they laughed.

*

Some months ago, not long after Giselle had been brought on board by AAI, she’d asked Myka out.

“I have a boyfriend,” Myka had said, because that was what she almost always said, as a learned reflex, in situations like that.

“Well,” Giselle said. “Look at me, getting the wrong impression. Sorry, Myka. Guess we’ll keep it professional.”

Giselle tended to put a drag on the last word of every sentence, a vocal habit that kept a listener hanging: would she say more? It might or might not have been intentional, but it was effective, particularly when combined with her linger of a Texas drawl. Thus her “professional” came out “pro... fess... io... nal.” Myka half-expected her to follow up with “or not.”

“Well,” Myka said back, when it became apparent that no more was in fact forthcoming, “not totally professional. We can still get coffee, right?” Because she did like Giselle.

Ah, there it was: Giselle gave her a still-flirty head toss and said, “Not to make the same mistake twice, but I did ‘get coffee’ with a lady one time and it turned into three days in Monaco. So we’ll see...”

Myka rolled her eyes, but then she laughed, and Giselle did too: the start of the ritual.

That should have been that.

But an international athletic governing body was apparently like every other semi-hermetically sealed social environment: a school, a team, a lab. Things got around. Mere hours after that conversation—which, granted, had taken place in the 40th-floor elevator lobby, the transit funnel for every employee of AAI, which occupied the entirety of that skyscraper level—Pete had marched back into their area from lunch and confronted Myka with, “I heard Giselle asked you out.”

Myka had tried not to respond, because really, what was there to say?

He went on, “And I heard you told her you have a boyfriend, which is what you said way back in history when I asked you out.”

“History? That was less than two years ago.”

“Anyway, I heard she believed you. Just like I did.”

“That was the idea. With her and with you.”

“I still don’t see why you didn’t just say ‘Pete, I don’t want to go out with you.’ It would’ve been fine.”

“I’d barely met you. I had no idea if you’d be a decent guy about it.”

“But I am a decent guy. About everything! So it would’ve been fine.”

“But I didn’t know you were a decent guy.” She had barely started at AAI; all she’d known about Pete Lattimer was that he’d been a decent decathlete. And that was no help at all, for every new coworker she met was a former Olympian or member of some national team or at least a famous ex-coach. It all made her feel as if she had no business working for the organization in the first place. They should have said that “athletic” was a requirement... each successive introduction seemed to drum with more force into her that a law degree and several languages were nothing against a sub-four mile.

Given that insecurity, she hadn’t needed any additional inputs or variables, so when Pete had said, “We should get dinner after work sometime,” she’d said what she almost always said, as a learned reflex, in situations like that. It had become a reflex because regardless of any other complicating circumstances—such as a new job where her body itself didn’t belong—it was easier. It was almost always easier than whatever might follow her saying anything else.

Pete said, “You didn’t know I was a decent guy, so you lied about having a boyfriend. And now you’ve lied about it again.”

She’d winced at the word “lied.” It was accurate, but she didn’t like it. Then you probably shouldn’t do it, her conscience told her. She told it to shut up. Then she told Pete, “I know that and you know that. Giselle doesn’t need to know that.”

“But you already like her better than you would’ve ever liked me.” At that, Myka started to protest, but he waved her off. “You know I mean because she’s a lady. Why didn’t you say you have a girlfriend?”

Speaking of what was easier: “boyfriend” was easier than “girlfriend.” It raised fewer questions, and it raised fewer... thoughts. And that was easier too.

It was supposed to raise fewer thoughts, anyway.

Fortunately, Pete hadn’t waited for an answer, or for Myka to start thinking any thoughts, instead moving on to what he clearly found most important: “And lady-wise, don’t you think she’s hot? I think she’s hot.”

Myka sighed. “Yes, I think she’s hot. In fact I know she’s hot. I have eyes.”

“So go out with her. She’s hot, you’re hot. Sizzle!”

“I just don’t want to.”

“Then why didn’t you go ahead and tell her that? Do you think she isn’t a decent guy?”

“Pretty sure she’s not a guy at all,” Myka had said, trying to joke him into just... stopping.

She didn’t want to get into the complicated conversation that would have ensued if she’d admitted to having genuinely, if fleetingly, regretted her reflex—because he certainly wasn’t wrong about Giselle being a woman, and he double-certainly wasn’t wrong about her looks. She was stunning; she’d had that wildly successful athletic career, then transitioned with seemingly no friction at all into modeling, at which she was even more wildly successful. Her legs were as long as the miles she used to run, and Myka was certainly, in that sense, human.

But Giselle had already developed a reputation at AAI, despite her brief tenure, for what could charitably be called a... short attention span. Maybe it was the inevitable result of her having been able to have just about anything—and anyone—she wanted, in not one but two elevated realms, or maybe it had always been Giselle’s personality as a romantic socializer, but while Myka had no trouble observing it from the outside, as a characteristic of her friend Giselle, she didn’t particularly want to be subjected to it. What if she slipped and overinvested? Exactly the kind of difficulty she didn’t need, regardless of any other complicating circumstances. Exactly the kind of difficulty she had never needed, and if she had slipped and fallen into it in the past? Well, that was the past, and she certainly didn’t need to revisit any part of that, much less repeat it.

These months later, however, some days Myka had a vague sense that a day should come when she should talk herself into telling Giselle she didn’t have a (nonexistent) boyfriend anymore. A day, that was to say, when she should ask for Giselle’s attention, if only for a short span. It seemed normal, human, to think that a short span of time, even if it led to a complicating slip and overinvestment, might—should?—be better than nothing, and so some days, Myka tried to want to talk herself into that.

But on different days, she’d think, definitively, I don’t want to. Because talking herself into it felt dishonest. Even if Giselle subscribed solely to Pete’s “she’s hot, you’re hot; sizzle” theory of the case, even if both of them might have enjoyed much of that short span of time: dishonest. Inauthentic. Deceitful.

“You’re not very good at having fun, are you?” Pete had asked her once, when she’d told him, in response to his sincere inquiry, that she had never actually dreamed of having Disneyland all to herself for a day. She’d agreed that no, she really wasn’t very good at having fun, and he’d said, “You need to get out more. Maybe not to Disney, but you need to get out more.”

You need to get out more. She’d laughed at him, because the most out she ever got, away from work, was for her 4am run. That, she could talk herself into without feeling dishonest at all. Far from it: she reveled in the discipline required for that strict self-persuasion every day, which was probably why she’d found that she could, ultimately, work well—reasonably well—with athletes. Athletics at its highest level was discipline, and Giselle and Pete and most of the others could see that Myka got that, even had that, as Giselle kept telling her.

But as Myka always told Giselle in return (not that Giselle needed telling), for real athletes, that discipline had to be kissed by the divine, and Myka had no access to such physical divinity. None at all. She was an exercise runner, lowest of the low in terms of athletic esteem. She knew because that was how the athletes said it, with a twist of pity: exercise runner. That was what she was, and she knew it.

Until she ran in the Deceits.

They were named, of course, for their unassuming look and for the illicit advantage they gave the world-class athletes. But for Myka-the-unesteemed, they were differently deceptive: they made her feel like A Runner. Giselle and her peers had been born with the kind of legs these shoes changed Myka’s into, springing from the ground with power, creating a feeling of “this is my body; this is what it can do, and if I push, still more,” and miraculously—deceptively—there was still more it could be pushed to do. Myka felt like her body before the Deceits had been Clark Kent, like it had been waiting for the chance to reveal that it wore the suit and had superpowers, like this had always been how she could run.

It wasn’t real. But it felt real.

So she understood why Deceits were breaking records—speed records now, but eventually, they would break sales records, too.

She also understood, very clearly, that they should be banned.

Even for exercise runners like her: deceiving oneself, Myka felt, was worse than deceiving others, regardless of whether they were fellow competitors or the outside world in general. Just as she didn’t want to talk herself into Giselle, she didn’t want to run every morning in those shoes. If she did, that self-deception would become a habit of mind, and Myka deep-knew that being clear-eyed about oneself was essential. A moral duty, her inner rector told her, and even though she would probably have been happier to not live her life quite that ramrod-straight (to, for example, be better at having fun), it had been her thought as she’d begun that first run in the Deceits. She’d kept on thinking it, throughout her entire route, as she devoured the miles with her newly athletic strides. Clear-eyed, mor-al, du-ty. Right-left, right-left, right-left.

*

Administratively, the world of athletics moved at a speed inverse to that of the track. The relatively “rapid” ban of the Deceit’s predecessor had taken six months to work out and implement, so it was no surprise that several weeks elapsed before AAI even scheduled negotiations with Zelus reps over the new shoes. They would be delicate, the negotiations, for Zelus money was essential to the sport. It was imperative not to make any penalties too prohibitive or too “insulting” to the company or its affiliates. Could already-ratified world records set in Deceits be voided? Would that lead to Zelus-sponsored athletes boycotting competitions? Could Deceits be banned? Would that be at all enforceable?

Myka knew that Dan Badger, the president and CEO of AAI, would be scrutinizing everything she and Pete and their team proposed. Newly appointed to show that AAI was turning a regulatory corner, he had made clear that his watchword was “integrity,” and that applied not only to the sport as a whole, but to every athlete who participated in it, every piece of equipment they touched, every employee under his purview, every official action they took. Unofficial actions, too: there was, as far as Myka could tell, no ethical give in Badger’s worldview. Where prior heads might have made a handshake deal of some sort with Zelus’s own CEO with regard to the Deceits—and Myka suspected something along those lines had occurred for the Inducts, most likely involving a wink-nod to the already-in-the-pipelines Deceits—Badger would have considered the mere suggestion of such a thing a personal affront.

“Why doesn’t Badge like you more?” Pete once asked Myka. “You’re exactly like him.” Myka wasn’t, in fact, exactly like him, for Badger was an athlete’s athlete, a hurdling champion from a decades-ago golden age of British track and field. That gilded aura was a carapace around him, deflecting whatever might have been directed his way from beings he considered lesser, including nonathletes like Myka. It wasn’t actively insulting or cruel, just... clear. The athletes called him “Badge,” among themselves and to his face, while Myka had the sense that if she uttered that collegial syllable, no one, and certainly not the man himself, would even perceive that any sound had escaped her lips.

Pete wasn’t entirely wrong, though; Myka had enough consonance with Badger that she couldn’t quite bring herself to resent him. His absolutely unimpeachable reputation was supplemented by the fact that he looked exactly as an athletic lion of his age and era should: face appropriately tanned for health and creased for character, hair silver and full, height calibrated as if to the millimeter to be imposing but not incongruous. He was the ideal figurehead for an organization that wanted to burnish its standing as a virtuous guardian of all that was competitively good in athletics.

In the end, Myka’s own inclinations aligned with her need to fulfill Badger’s expectations, yet neither she nor he could change the underlying economics of the sport. She might have been moved, under other circumstances, to restore her single-run-sullied Deceits to their silver Zelus box and push that box to the back of her closet, but instead she spent an inordinate amount of time looking at them. Was there any way at all to tell, just by looking, that they could do what they did?

Enforcement was a matter of measurement and testing, but these shoes were a drug for which no test existed. AAI had hired a group of materials engineers to take them apart, so Myka now knew how they did what they did: even newer foam, plus two carbon plates, set at angles to each other. They really might as well have been springs—invisible to the outside-shoe naked eye, but springs all the same.

AAI could nominally ban double-plate soles, but it couldn’t possibly dismantle every Zelus runner’s footwear at every event to ensure that the ban was being respected. Myka saw no way out other than to ban Zelus shoes across the board (for she’d been thinking, too, of what Giselle had said about spikes), but that brought her back to financial impossibility. And around she went again. And again. And again.

Fortunately or unfortunately, the rest of athletics administration proceeded without heed for Deceits, no matter how long Myka stared at them, no matter how many negotiating scenarios she tried, unfruitfully, to game out. Meets and championships and trials all continued, requiring level upon level of authorization and accompanying paperwork...

One morning, Myka was concentrating, squint-eyed, on a spreadsheet when she felt a tap on her shoulder. “Pete,” she began, still squinting at her screen, “I told you if I don’t approve the new certification tables for posting this morning—”

“I’m so sorry,” said an English-accented female voice, “but I’m not Pete. And I seem to be lost.”

Myka looked up. No, you’re not, was her first thought, which resolved into: You’re not Pete, and you’re not lost. You belong right here.

TBC

*

A few notes, just because:

I made up the governing body; it’s intended to be vaguely like the real organization World Athletics (formerly IAAF), which determines what’s allowable in track and field competition, but I’m not trying to replicate its structure at all. Further, the actual organization maintains that it doesn’t consult with shoe companies before making regulatory decisions... whether you believe that claim is of course entirely up to you.

Two passages from Freud’s Civilization and Its Discontents are in some sense guiding my thinking here (because I’m like that). The first is this: “Man has, as it were, become a kind of prosthetic God. When he puts on all his auxiliary organs he is truly magnificent; but these organs have not grown on to him and they still give him much trouble at times.” He’s talking about cars and eyeglasses and such things, but obviously the idea is applicable to athletic tech. An idea from a little earlier in the book seems relevant as well: “What we call happiness in the strictest sense comes from the (preferably sudden) satisfaction of needs which have been dammed up to a high degree, and it is from its nature only possible as an episodic phenomenon.” Right? We’ll see about that latter part though, Dr. Freud.

Finally, as that rude anon suggested some months ago, I’m obviously speaking to a community that’s mostly inactive now. But I’m a keeper of faith: one of the things I do best is wait. So one point of this story is that it exists. I’m waiting. C’mon and wait with me, if you like.

[incandescent-eden]

31 Days of Horror - Vast (2)

My go at day 2 of 31 days of horror : Vast ! And this one was finished before 12 A M in my time, I am so excited!

Total word count: 1457

TW / CW : deep sea mentions , unidentified creatures , bullying behaviors , burn wounds , burn mentions , (special mention for scientific inaccuracies)

---

“What the hell?” Vivienne clenched the clipboard she held. It dug into her palm as she tried to resist the urge to throw it at the woman who had brought her in through the mechanically locked doors.

An urge that was quickly becoming harder to fight while the woman stammered out an explanation. She had been studying the specimen for longer, had been on the initial team that found it, or so Vivienne had been told when she accepted the project.

“This is the specimen, Dr. Zhu,” she said, wringing her hands. A strand of her straight black hair slipped in front of her goggles from the loose ponytail that held it back. Sloppy.

“Is this a joke?” Vivienne demanded. Her fingertips ached from pressing on the clipboard. “I was told there was a specimen to study, and you take me here to show me, what? A central pillar?”

Slowly, shakily, Vivienne lowered her clipboard, pressing her other hand to her temple. She tried to breathe, to keep her voice level. It wouldn’t do to get angry at another researcher, not on her first day. “Did David put you up to this? I won’t get mad, just tell me where the real specimen is, and who told you to play this silly little prank. I won’t even tell the director.” She grit her teeth, inhaling through her nose. Exhaling. “Just stop. Wasting. My time.”

“Um,” the woman whispered. The red stitching on her lab coat read ‘Dr. W. Ng.’ “N-no, that… that really is the specimen, Dr. Zhu. That entire tank…”

Vivienne’s breath hitched, mid-inhale. She turned around.

The tank was pressurized, puffs of air hissing every few seconds around it. It was a tube, the kind that stretched from the base of the building all the way to the top floor, with the top left exposed so people could peer in, downward. The shape of it was oddly nostalgic, reminding Vivienne of when she was a little girl and her parents were at work. Her grandfather would take her to the aquarium, teaching her the names of different animals in Cantonese. She used to run along the curved ramps of the aquarium, following fish as they flitted from one end of the glass tank to the next, until she reached the top and she could gaze down, standing on her tiptoes, wondering what it would feel like to ride the turtles.

This tank was a similar shape, with metal stairs all around the reinforced glass instead of sticky aquarium floors. Where Vivienne used to look into clear, blue tinted waters and see multitudes of coral and fish, however, all there was in the tank was a solid white pillar.

She pressed one hand to the glass, expecting it to be cool. It was hot to the touch - so hot that Vivienne jerked her hand away instinctively.

“This…” Vivienne muttered. “This is the specimen?” She ran, circling the tank. Behind her came the clanging of her companion’s footsteps as she tried to keep up. “How did you transport it here?” she said, half-dazed.

“It bit one of our probes,” Dr. Ng admitted. “We sent a probe down to try to map some of the creatures closer to the sea floor, and it, um… latched on.”

Vivienne reached out, stopping inches away from touching the tank again. “How did you… pull it up?”

“We didn’t know,” said Dr. Ng quietly. “It was really small at first. We pulled up the probe, and there it was. Just this, wriggly little thing. Real cute,” she said with a nervous laugh.

“I mean, the coloration!” she gushed, a smile floating up to her face. She flushed pink, her dark eyes far away and sparkling. “Something that was pure white, that was meant to reflect light, ten kilometers below sea level? We were worried maybe the light would be too much for it, but it didn’t seem to respond at all to different lighting levels. Just pressure. Well, that, and...”

“Feeding,” Vivienne finished softly.

“Yes,” said Dr. Ng, breathless. “It ate everything we gave it. Fish food at first, but then Nicky accidentally dropped one of the grapes they were eating - god, they should not have been eating in the lab - and it snatched it up. And then we thought, hey, what if we fed it other things? It must have been a top predator…”

“But?” Vivienne asked, sensing the hesitation in Dr. Ng’s trailing off.

“But it kept getting bigger,” she continued somberly. “Do you understand, Dr. Zhu? No matter what we fed it, it kept getting bigger.”

Vivienne nodded, recalling the emptied cans labelled potassium cyanide they had passed on their way into this main chamber.

“So why call me in? Sounds like your team would want credit for this find.”

For a moment, the only sound that could be heard was the running of the turbines filtering what little water was left in the tank and the faint hissing of machines straining to keep pressure at deep sea levels. Then, almost imperceptibly, there came a low, haunting, whistling tone.

“Do you hear that, Dr. Zhu?” Dr. Ng asked in a hushed voice.

“Yes.” The word barely left Vivienne’s lips.

“Creepy, isn’t it?”

“Beautiful,” said Vivienne.

The whistling tone continued, just low enough that if she hadn’t been listening, or if she started to think of something else, she would have missed it. It was a sweet and sad chorus, bouncing off the metal of the rails of the walkways encircling the tank, filling the chamber as if expanding, as if taking up the entirety of the tank was not enough, as if nothing would ever be enough until the creature had consumed the vastness of space itself.

“Dr. Zhu?” Dr. Ng interrupted, grabbing Vivienne’s shoulder.

Vivienne whipped her hand off the tank on which it rested, now aching and red. She gasped in pain, holding her wrist as her hand throbbed.

“I’m fine,” Vivienne muttered through gritted teeth. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Dr. Ng looked at her with round eyes and rounded, parted lips. Vivienne hated eyes like that, full of pity and concern. Eyes that once stared back at her from a mirror, decades ago, when Vivienne herself had been a young woman like Dr. Ng.

The whistling was gone now.

“We should leave,” Dr. Ng said slowly. As if she was speaking to a child. Anger rose in Vivienne’s throat, hotter than her quickly scarring hand.

“Answer. My. Question,” Vivienne repeated.

Avoiding Vivienne’s eyes, Dr. Ng finally tucked the loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re the leading expert in deep sea parasites. We thought, at first, with the way it would eat everything, maybe that’s what it was. It was only about this big when we called you.” She held her hands about half a meter apart.

“We weren’t feeding it more than a few grams of fish formula a day, but it kept getting bigger, and then,” Dr. Ng paused, taking a deep breath. “One day, we stopped feeding it. Just to see if it would respond, try to tap the glass or whether it had gotten, you know, conditioned. But it just kept getting bigger.”

“A lot of people… Nicky, Felix, Adeline, basically our entire team quit. Burned their hands against the tank the same way you did when it was still small. But the water temperature was always cold to emulate the bottom of the ocean when we checked it. And it was highly improbable that all of them just got careless one day. That just doesn’t happen.”

Vivienne nodded. “Why are you still here, then?”

Dr. Ng looked curiously at Vivienne. “This is my work. I’ve been with this project for three years now, and I couldn’t just quit. Wouldn’t you have done the same?”

Wordlessly, Vivienne nodded.

She turned again, staring at the specimen, the blinding pillar of white that seemed to consume her entire field of vision.

“I started this project thinking I would find something at the bottom of the sea floor. Better document that part of the ocean, you know?” Her words remained soft, but her voice took on a hard tiredness. “I don’t know what I’ll do if it gets bigger.”

When, Vivienne said, but her lips remained sealed.

The whistle tone started once more, reaching and stretching into the air. It struck Vivienne just how tall the observation chamber was, just how wide the radius of the tank, and just how small she and Dr. Ng must have been - mere specks against the mass of white that came from a great unknown.

A tiny cracking noise, rendered inaudible by the specimen’s whistling, accompanied an even smaller webbed crack in the glass of the tank.