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legobiwan · 4 years

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Whumptober #2

“pick who dies”

Notes: This got out of control. I was going to add an Obi-wan + Anakin section but I had to cut myself off as I do have other things I need to get to today. This is less whump than...a set of pretentious character studies with THE LINEAGE (including Rael) and an excuse to explore the trolley problem within a Star Wars setting. I blame my recent Hannibal obsession for what you see below. First part here, rest under the cut. Note, I am a musician, not a philosophy student, so allow for some creative interpretation here.

General Whumptober tag

Whumptober 2020 #1

~~~~~~~

(excerpt from “The Padawan’s Guide to Philosophy.” Eds. Masters Thrife-Foran & Ugaaalich. 616th e. Coruscant, 940 ARR. Holobook.)

Premise:

You are out for an afternoon walk in the outer regions of Thymilla, a moderately-populated city on the planet Ungar. On your walk, you pass by a set of hovertrain tracks, which branch into two separate arms - one an extension of the main track, the other a smaller offshoot which leads to a cargo loading zone, about fifty clicks south of where you are. (Diagram 3)

As a hovertrain approaches from the north, you hear screaming, the words of the driver becoming clearer as the hovertrain barrels towards the switch. The brakes of the train have failed and there is no chance of repair. If the train continues on its current path, it will kill five workers making repairs on the track. If you pull a switch, the hovertrain will divert to the offshoot, where it will kill one worker at the cargo loading zone.

Because of an anomaly in Ungar’s atmosphere, you cannot access the Force.

Do you pull the switch or do nothing and allow the train to speed forward?

~~~~~~~

“Your thoughts, Padawan.”

Dooku shifted on his meditation pod, the firm material groaning as he uncrossed his legs from the lotus position, gingerly setting both his bare feet to the cool, tiled floor of his Master’s chambers. The young man allowed himself a small wince with the action. Yoda might have been able to keep that damnable position for hours, probably days on end, but Dooku was just a few months shy of his eighteenth life day, and another recent growth spurt seemingly focused all on his legs made sitting for any long amount of time…uncomfortable, to say the least.

Which was likely why Yoda had had him trapped him here for the past three hours, running through one ethical thought experiment after the other, poking his literal and metaphorical gimmer stick precisely at each gnarled and swollen joint in both his body and thoughts.

To act - to pull the switch - would mean to commit premeditated murder, even if it were for the greater good. Hardly a Jedi-like action. But then again, they had been taught - indoctrinated, really - with the idea that is was acceptable to sacrifice one life for the lives of many. A supposedly fair trade-off, although Dooku had seen enough of the Jedi’s relationship to the Senate, had seen enough of the Council’s internal politics, to know that two lives did not necessarily hold equal weight.

But to not act - to let the train barrel through, to leave it up to the will of the Force...Dooku clenched his teeth. That seemed more in line with the Order he was coming to know, was consistent with the Council’s lack of action on Protobranch, when Sifo-Diyas had seen the calamity that was to befall the planet and yet the Council, his Master, had done too little, too late, preferring to allow events to transpire as they would, the Jedi only impassive bystanders.

What was the point of their abilities, their training, their place in the universe, if they weren’t able to change the course of events for the better?

“I suppose,” Dooku began slowly, coming to stand, suddenly not caring if he was maintaining his proper meditation position. The young man padded towards the slightly shuttered windows on the other side of the room.

“I suppose it depends on the relative worth of each life,” he said, turning away from Yoda as to not see the subtle moue of distaste Dooku was certain would cross the old Master’s face.

“Is not all life sacred, Padawan?”

Dooku barely bit back the dark chuckle threatening to escape from his chest. Only in the holos and classrooms and the empty rhetoric of the Council was all life sacred. The Jedi could do so much more, he could do so much more to change the galaxy and yet the Order allowed itself to be chained to politicians, leashed like akk-dogs until receiving command.

No, Dooku thought. There was no balance - not here and not in the Force.

“From the information you’ve provided,” Dooku said, ignoring Yoda’s question. He peered through the slits of the rotor blinds into the watery illumination of Coruscant’s night sky. The dome of the Senate building rose through the rain like an oddly-shaped umbrella, shielding those in power with its wide beadth. “We can assume both parties of victims are of equal social standing, being manual laborers. Because of this, we must find other ways of determining their worth, their ability to enact change in the galaxy.”

Dooku clasped his hands behind his back, daring to turn to face his Master’s displeasure.

“The question becomes whether you want to hold sway over the transit network of a forgettable city, or the imports and exports that may go off-world. Exports which might include valuable resources or even smuggled goods. Items which could affect the governance of our imagined city and therefore, by extension, an even larger part of the populace.”

“Which is why, in this case,” Dooku concluded, his posture straightening, “I would choose to allow the hovertrain to continue its course and save the cargo worker.”

Yoda folded both claws over his gimmer stick, frowning. After a moment, he let out a small grunt, his features now inscrutable.

“And see yourself as the final arbiter of worth, do you, my young apprentice? Stand you above all others holding a golden scale, you do?”

Don’t we, as Jedi, hold these scales every day and yet choose to ignore them? Dooku thought.

“Someone,” the young man replied, “will make the judgment regardless. Is it not better for the Jedi to use our powers to make such decisions?”

This time Yoda did let out a wet sigh, shaking his head.

“Dangerous, these thoughts are, my Padawan,” Yoda grumbled, gesturing at the meditation pod. “Sit, young Dooku. Much we have to discuss.”

~~~~~~~

“Your thoughts, Rael.”

Rael Averross slung an arm over the back of Dooku’s couch, sleeves of his Master’s borrowed robe hanging long near the tips of his fingers. It had been the third time that month Rael had “misplaced” his own robe, his Master’s foisted upon him in the wee hours of the morning, Dooku grunting something about “Jedi propriety” before shoving Rael out the door. (The things were a damned inconvenience, and made him look like something straight out of a space station ghost story, to boot. Was it so surprising he showed up to Dooku’s quarters in a state which his Master referred to as “half-naked?”)

Rael bit his lip, trying to not think of all the times he had actually been half-naked in the Temple. Those were fun times. Unfortunately, Dooku could probably mind read them out of him right now if he weren’t so concentrated on this thought experiment.

“Why not save them both?” Rael drawled amiably, scratching at the beginnings of a beard with his other hand as he hoped to distract his Master from any hint of his past indiscretions. It was about time, too, he thought. Never going to look my age going around all smooth-faced like a transparisteel window surface.

Dooku gave a small smile. “You cannot, Rael. Those are the rules of the scenario.”

“Rules,” Rael scoffed, picking at the hem of Dooku’s overly-fancy robe before suddenly launching to his feet, unable to contain his restlessness. The younger Jedi paced up and down the length of Dooku’s couch, grateful his usually strict Master was allowing him this indulgence. Not that Dooku had any problem sitting still for what felt like forever - stiff as a board, that one - but Rael was too jittery, too full potential energy to keep his thoughts in neat line with his body. “Rules are meant to be broken, Master,” Rael gave a swift chop with his hand in illustration. “You’re the first one to tell me that.”

Rael heard his Master let out a soft snort in response. Only Dooku could make such a noise sound dignified. “I suppose I did,” the older man answered evenly.

“So there you go! Blow up the train and everyone’s fine.”

“And kill the driver?”

Rael spun to face Dooku, the other man’s eyebrows raised not in condemnation, but genuine interest. It was days like this Rael truly appreciated having Dooku as a Master. Sure, he was as pretentious as any big-city Senator, a hard taskmaster in his lessons, and an even tougher dueling trainer - but at the end of the day, Dooku only expected Rael to follow Dooku’s rules, and not the Order’s.

And as much as Rael chaffed under any collar, he’d take Dooku’s version of the Code over the Council’s any day.

“I mean, the driver is the one in control of the train,” Rael shrugged. “Sure, it’s an accident, but the they were going to be dead either way once they hit those other bodies. Probably would go flying through the window and bash their skull in. This way, you save six lives,” Rael gave his best used speeder salesman grin. “Buy five, get one free.”

That little addition did cause his Master to roll his eyes.

“You are…” Dooku pressed his lips together, sitting back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. It was as close as Dooku ever got to a casual posture. “Colorful rhetoric aside, you are essentially advocating for pre-emptive action. Very interesting, Rael.”

“Interesting as in,” Rael pulled a sour face, imitating Dooku’s proper Serennian accent, “‘And now I will assign you five Jedi moral precepts to memorize and write a five-page essay about’ or interesting as in ‘I will now have you learn the complete codified law of the Umbargans, whose entire military strategy revolved around non-preemptive attacks.”

Dooku chuckled - actually chuckled - at Rael’s minor impertinent outburst. “Neither, Rael. Although, I must say you have provided me the perfect means by which I may punish you later on.” Damn, dug my own grave with that one, thought Rael.

“No,” Dooku continued, “I merely find your stance on this matter to be refreshingly…original.”

“You mean the Council wouldn’t approve?”

It took his Master a full minute to answer, his gaze shifting beyond Rael, beyond the confines of their shared quarters, Dooku seeming lost in some memory.

“Hardly,” he finally said. “And that is for the best.”

~~~~~~~

“Your thoughts, Padawan?”

Qui-gon Jinn sat motionless on the small patch of grass, listening to the susurrations of the light breeze in the Room of a Thousand Fountains finger through a nearby thicket of Borto reeds. Across from him, Master Dooku sat in a mirrored pose, long legs crossed over the other in the lotus position, expression unreadable, his presence in the Force - or, his effect on the Force presence on the vegetation around him - one of controlled expectancy, a single blade of grass erect and ready despite the buffeting winds.

“We shouldn’t have to choose, Master,” Qui-gon replied, trying to steady his own uneven thoughts and emotions. Although he had been Dooku’s Padawan for almost five years now, Qui-gon still found himself worrying his responses to thought experiments like these would not pass his Master’s high and stringent intellectual standards.

“In an ideal world, Qui-gon, we wouldn’t. But as you have learned - as I have shown you - the status quo rarely measures up to our ideals.”

The status quo, Qui-gon thought. Code for the Senate, for the Council, for the Republic at large. That much he had figured out, had learned from Rael, whose ability to translate Dooku’s sometimes opaque rhetoric to something more digestible never ceased to amaze Qui-gon.

The status quo. The more years he spent with Dooku - with Rael, when the younger man was around - the more Qui-gon understood. Perhaps he always had a predilection to question, to challenge what was “known,” the dictums etched in stone handed down from the Council to the Council’s Masters to its Padawans. But with Dooku’s guidance, and with his own exploration of the Jedi prophecies, Qui-gon had developed his own sense of right and wrong, of how the galaxy ought to work in consonance with the ideals of the Jedi Code and his own moral compass.

“In that case, I would ask the Force for guidance,” Qui-gon replied, thoughts slipping back to the many hours he had spent in the Archives, poring over ancient holocrons. The Force had provided for the seers of old, why shouldn’t it provide now?

“Perhaps the Force cannot provide all the answers,” Dooku countered, as if reading his mind.

Qui-gon frowned, tilting his head. “Is that not what the Jedi teach, Master? What you teach? To follow the Force?”

“To a degree,” Dooku assented, rare amusement curling the side of his lips. “But the Jedi work in symbiosis with the Force, and even that is within a certain self-imposed definition of what the Force may or may not be capable of.”

Self-imposed definition? Qui-gon ran his hands through the soft grass at his sides, no longer able to keep that perfect stillness now that Dooku had so upset his equilibrium. Had his study of the prophecies not proven that exact point? That the Jedi of now no longer regarded the Force with as open a mind those of millennia ago?

“The Force is more infinite, has more potentialities than the confines of what we could possibly hope to study in a thousand lifetimes,” Qui-gon hedged.

“And so you hope to use prophecy to save these doomed beings?” Dooku retorted with a small wave of his hand. Ah yes, the hovertrain problem, Qui-gon grimaced. He had almost quite forgotten about the whole reason for this conversation.

“I would hope to…” Qui-gon cocked his head, watching a pair of butterflies flutter over a Byrsonima crassifolia, fragile leaves fluttering in their wake. An action - or a lack of action. If he saved one life or saved five. What would the repercussions be? How could he know he was making the right choice? How could the Order know, if not for guidance from the Force, in all its possible iterations?

And yet, the study prophecy of was considered at best, an esoteric hobby - at worst, a dangerous arm of mysticism by much of the Council.

Which is why your Master encourages you to think beyond the dictates of the Council, Qui-gon concluded.

“Yes, then,” Qui-gon stated, suddenly more confident in his answers. “I would hope to ameliorate the situation by using a similar mindset of the prophets. One of openness, wonder, and possibility - to find my way in this situation.”

“And just how far would you be willing to take supposed,” Dooku trained him with an enigmatic expression, “openness?” The word weighed heavy with implication.

Qui-gon started. What exactly is Dooku trying to get at here? Hadn’t it been his Master who had introduced him to the prophecies, to the Force beyond the dictates of the Code? So far, Dooku had not steered him wrong, and yet just as the nearby Byrsonima crassifolia cast a long shadow over the open grass, so did Dooku’s unspoken entreaty.

But before Qui-gon could cobble together an answer, Dooku seemed to break out of his trance, chuckling slightly as he got to his feet. He extended a long arm to Qui-gon, who took it without hesitation, coming to stand at his Master’s side.

“Meditate on the answer, Qui-gon. For now, I believe it is past time for dinner.”

~~~~~~~

“Your thoughts, Padawan.”

Obi-wan Kenobi shifted in the overly-large, overly-plush velvet chair which threatened to swallow him whole. He and Qui-gon had been dispatched to Barstovia, a little-known desert mining planet in the Mid-Rim. A simple mission, really, overseeing a trade deal between Barstovia and Ord Mantell, opening up some shipping lines of the rare fermenium mineral to the Republic. A wholly forgettable mission, if Obi-wan were being honest, except for the fact the diminutive race of Barstovia seemed to prize, of all the unlikely things, oversized, over-upholstered furniture.

While Obi-wan struggled with a crimson throw pillow the size of his torso, his master, Qui-gon Jinn, sat across from him, perfectly serene in his eight-foot tall, royal blue armchair.

“Well, Master,” Obi-wan said, words strained as he punched the pillow to his side with un-Jedi-like ferocity. Of all times for Qui-gon to pull out a thought experiment.

“The prevailing wisdom would say to sacrifice one life to save five - a utilitarian outlook and the most practical, at least on the surface.” Obi-wan pushed down on the seat of his chair, trying in vain to straighten his posture, to lend his answer some form of credence beyond his words. Inevitably, Qui-gon would hold the exact opposite opinion from Obi-wan’s, and while Obi-wan had often kept his feelings to himself under the guise of “picking his battles,” he preferred to express his thoughts while at least looking the part of an almost eighteen-year-old Padawan, and not some child stuck in a chair too large for him. He struck at the recalcitrant cushion one last time. “But as Jedi, we often prioritize a single being or beings if they hold an important role.”

“In the short-term,” Obi-wan grimaced suddenly, pulling an impossible second pillow from under his right thigh, “we would lose four lives over one, granted. But in the long-term, that single life lost might mean the eventual deaths of hundreds, perhaps thousands.”

“But you do not have this information, Padawan,” Qui-gon replied, a crease of annoyance in his brow. Obi-wan noted there was no accompanying crease in the cushion of his Master’s chair. “All you know is the number of beings.”

Obi-wan bit down on a caustic reply. Yes, I know that, Master. I hadn’t gotten to my point yet. But when did Qui-gon actually ever listen to him?

“Yes, Master, this is true,” the younger Jedi answered, Obi-wan impressed with the evenness of his own response despite his increasing irritation. “Which is why I would endeavor to save them all.”

A beat. a raised eyebrow coupled with a subtle sigh. “Quite the feat, Obi-wan,” Qui-gon finally said, his words laced with skepticism. “How would you accomplish such a thing?”

How in the world is he not drowning in that chair? Obi-wan thought, distracted by his Master’s impenetrability, despite the audacious situation. There was Qui-gon, halfway across the room, composed and neat - well, as neat as Qui-gon ever got - against the regal backdrop of the humorously-sized chair while Obi-wan floundered in a sea of crimson, just out of his Master’s reach.

And wasn’t that the perfect metaphor for their troubled partnership?

Obi-wan wiped at his brow. “It’s quite simple, Master. The hovertrain could be diverted, or at least impeded by a third party inserting themselves into the equation.”

Something in Qui-gon’s expression shifted at the statement, earlier annoyance now melting into something closer to concern. The older man leaned forward in his chair, for the first time exhibiting a pang of discomfort as he battled the voluminous material.

“And who might that be?” Qui-gon asked, batting at the tsunami of beige woven blanket at his side.

“Myself, of course.”

Dead silence met Obi-wan’s words.

Wrong answer, Kenobi. Absolutely the wrong answer. Disappointment was written all over Qui-gon’s body language, even emanating from his usually controlled Force signature. Obi-wan fell back into the chair, not bothering to fight the dunes and valleys of velvet threatening to overtake him, averting his gaze to some preposterously-sized side-table and vase. Hopefully, his failure to provide the correct response would be the end of this increasingly uncomfortable conversation. Qui-gon would assign him some reading and meditation, and let the matter rest until they returned to Coruscant.

But Qui-gon only peered at Obi-wan with a piercing stare, apparently not ready to give up on the exchange.

“You would sacrifice yourself to save the others?”

Obi-wan found himself mirroring his master’s movements.

“Isn’t that what it means to be a Jedi?” he asked, genuinely perplexed. “We are servants of the Republic, of the Force - if our actions can save lives so that Republic may continue in peace - “ Obi-wan’s mouth opened and closed, trying to form the words that would express his devotion to the Order, the Code, his own sense of honor - but found himself gaping like an Ithorian cuttlefish.

Once again, Qui-gon fell into contemplation, back arching against tall, bulbous pillows, brushing his mustache with a single finger. A minute, then two went by, the only sound the clicks of a nearby chrono. Over eighteen feet tall, the clicks sounded more like the steps of a lurking gundark than a timepiece, doing nothing for Obi-wan’s nerves.

Finally, Qui-gon broke the uncomfortable semi-silence. “Don’t be so hasty to throw away your own life, Padawan. As you rightly said, the death of a monarch may cause the deaths of many others down the road. But you cannot know how many lives would remain unsaved if you were to treat your own so lightly.”

Obi-wan’s eyebrows rose. That had not been the reaction he was expecting.

“But how am I to know when that sacrifice is necessary?” he asked automatically. Obi-wan would make that sacrifice gladly, although...to be perfectly honest, he would prefer not to die as a seventeen-year-old Padawan.

“The better question is how you can work to reach a more productive option rather than coming to such a dire conclusion.” Qui-gon’s voice softened. “I am serious, Obi-wan. You have much to offer the galaxy. Don’t let your strict adherence to Jedi ideals extinguish your star too early. Not only would the Republic be at a loss, but…” Qui-gon looked away, staring down at some invisible pattern in the corner of the room. “I would, as well.”

Obi-wan’s mouth dropped open. “Master, I - “

“Ah, Master Jedi!” A new voice squeaked from the gargantuan entranceway. “Thank you so much for waiting,” proclaimed the three-foot Minister of Commerce, Parhary Hatch, bedecked in a long, flowery robe whose velvet train stretched back several feet. “Please, if you would,” he gestured towards the tall archway.

“Yes, of course, Minister Hatch,” Qui-gon replied in his diplomatic voice, jumping neatly off the chair, his landing as elegant as a Coruscanti ice skater.

Obi-wan frowned, joining his Master in a slightly less dignified, but no less effective maneuver. They had been on the verge of…something, some kind of understanding, or at least a truce. Whatever words had remained unsaid between would likely stay so, the moment gone, the trip back to Coruscant, and then to a Hutt outpost taking priority over these types of conversations.

Another time, then, Obi-wan sighed to himself, following the slinking violet trail of the Bartovian minister and his Master into the long corridors of the palace.

#whumptober #whumptober 2 #obi wan kenobi #count dooku #yan dooku #rael averross #qui gon jinn #pretentious bullshit #the trolley problem #writing #the eternal struggle #well this happened #i did have fun making up the alien culture for the last bit though #points to anyone who catches the references in the planet name and minister name

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nat-20s · 3 years

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Part 8 of the wonderful! Au: the boys answer some questions! Up to you to decide if they actually clarify anything!

(also on AO3)

~*~

Martin: Hey everyone! I know what some of you are thinking right now: it's not Tuesday, why is this episode in my feed? I know significantly more of you are thinking: I don't consistently keep up with podcast releases, how much free time do you think I have, buddy? To answer your queries: this is a bonus episode! We're answering listener questions to clear the air and/or have fun. Also, I don't know, around 20 to 40 minutes a week, as that is the average amount of time per episode? Maybe during your commute? My husband's omnipotence has been gone for five years, we just have to guess at that sort of thing now.

Jon: For legal reasons, that last statement was a joke. In fact, to cover all of our bases, we do not guarantee that any of our responses are genuine.

Martin: Just because we say we'll answer things doesn't mean we'll answer truthfully. Though, honestly, I think we might make it more enjoyable if we do tell the truth. Like, I don't necessarily have a fun lie prepared for our first question from konspiracyking97: "What's their fuckin deal anyway?"

Jon: Is this referring to the oblique references we've made about being from a parallel reality and only ending up here as a consequence of ending one apocalypse and potentially starting another or the general premise of the show?

Martin: Oh, it's gotta be general premise, yeah?

Jon: In that case, I'm Jon, the other voice you're hearing is Martin, we're married, and we talk about things that are..nice? Good? Usually generally but occasionally rather specifically pleasant.

Martin: That pretty much covers it. It's not a complicated show. Uhh, next question comes from Shane: are either or both of you aliens? Nope!

Jon: Well..

Martin: No. We are 100% human people from Earth, we are under no definition extraterrestrial.

Jon: Eh..

Martin: Okay, first off, I know the tone of that 'eh' and "not fully human" is not synonymous with alien, so even if 100% is being a bit generous, we're still from the same planet as our listeners.

Jon:..

Jon: But. We sort of aren't though. Technically speaking.

Martin: No no no no no. I don't care if it's parallel, Earth is Earth is Earth, regardless of whatever nonsense metaphysics might be occurring.

Jon: So what you're saying is that if you got sucked through a portal and landed on an Earth where dinosaurs were still the predominant species, you wouldn't consider yourself to be an alien?

Martin: Nope!

Jon: I'm certain that they would consider you an alien. All of their mammals are probably shrew sized.

Martin: Sounds like a them problem.

Jon: Sounds like a-?! You know what, no, this will be an off the record debate, for now, I suppose I concede that the two Earths and our physiologies are similar enough that we might, maybe, not count as aliens.

Martin: Thank you. Anyway, our next question is from anonymous, and asks, "Is all of this an ARG?"

Jon: A whomst?

Martin: Alternate reality game. It's a method of storytelling that's interactive with audience, and usually has, I dunno, a certain suspension of disbelief to it where it pretends to be something actually happening in the real world until a dramatic reveal. A lot times it was used as a marketing gimmick, but others have done it just for fun. I can show you some examples after the show?

Jon: So it's in essence a more involved creepypasta?

Martin, delighted: Aw, babe, I'm never going to have a handle on what pop culture you are and aren't aware of, huh?

Jon: We were born within a year of each other, and I've told you that I was a deeply morbid teenager, you should probably be able to intuit some of things, love.

Martin: This coming from a man who has yet to see "It's a Wonderful Life", but has seen every film in the "Banjo Cannibals" franchise, including the Easter special. Jesus doesn't exist in the Banjo Cannibals universe, why does it have an Easter special?

Jon: The movies are rather shoddily translated from Russian, so I'm fairly certain the Easter component of that special was invented wholesale in the English version.

Martin: You say that like it answers more questions than it raises.

Jon: Yes, because it does. Oh, and to answer anonymous's question, no, this isn't an ARG. From my understanding of it, if it were, it'd be a poorly constructed one, as there's no real game element to any of this.

Martin: Hmm. Well, sometimes the game component is just trying to figure out what's going on with the story, or if there's any deeper content, and people are definitely doing that with this show.

Jon: That's not by design though. It's more a side effect of us having poor brain to mouth filters, I'd say.

Martin: Harsh, but fair. Oh, this next one is from Zac, no K, who asks, "Are you two actually even married?"

Jon, flat: We are, but it's under false names because this whole thing is an elaborate insurance scam.

Jon, incredulous: Yes, obviously, we're married. What did you hear in this podcast that would make you wonder otherwise, and how do we rectify it?

Martin: Clearly we need to up our quota for how "disgustingly in love" and "horrifically sappy" we are per episode. Which segues nicely into the next question from Gwen, "What's your favourite wonderful thing you've brought so far?" My answer: my husband. He's kind of my favourite in most things, you know?

Jon: Boooooo

Martin: Why, what's your favourite thing?

[Jon reluctantly sighs]

Jon, indulgent: being married.

Martin: A: serves you right for trying to pretend you're the less horrifically sappy and romantic one even though earlier today someone put a love note in the lunch they packed for me-

Jon:- Lies and slander! I have never, in my life, done that, even once.

Martin: Oh, sure, not even once. And you definitely don't reserve the lilac sticky notes specifically for my lunches because you know I like the colour.

Jon: I..I don't.. you're rather ruining my image here.

[Martin snorts]

Martin: Can't have the audience think that you are, on occasion, an incredibly doting husband-

Jon: -A title I would argue we both share-

Martin: - which is obviously why, even with it being your favourite thing you've brought, being married to me is just a small wonder-

Jon, audibly rolling his eyes: As I already explained-

[A Pause}

Jon: Actually, you're right-

Martin: Wait-

Jon:- I really should have brought it as a larger wonder-

Martin: Wait-

Jon: though I should warn you, I think I'd have far too much material for just one little segment-

Martin: No no no no no-

Jon:- In fact, I think I might have too much material for just one little episode-

Martin: Joo-oon-

Jon: I might have to do a whole series! Where would I even start? I mean I could talk about how every day I get to watch the early morning sun highlight your curls when I get up first, or hear you quietly humming and shuffling around the kitchen when you do, or I could talk about how the lunch notes only started in the first place as retaliation to the notes you would leave on the mirror for me to find, or how every time I get to see you at ease in a way that you aren't with anyone else, it takes my breath away, or I could talk about how cute I find the lines between your eyebrows that you only get when you're thinking something petty, but you know it's petty so you don't want to say anything-

Martin: Okay, okay, Christ, I give !up I surrender, and will cease my teasing on this particular topic.

Jon, probably making the :3 face: You don't have to stop. I mean, I could also discuss how very, very attractive I find your voice when it takes on a teasi-mmph!

[There's a pleased hum, then a pause.]

[The audio quality is slightly changed, as if the recording has been stopped and then started later]

Martin, giddy: Uh, heh, anyway, Eric asked what the least favourite thing we've brought was, and because of Jon's attempt to embarrass me live-

Jon, overlapping: It's definitely not live-

Martin:- on air, I'm gonna say it's my husband.

[Jon scoffs]

Jon : If the past few minutes are any sort of indication, I'm going to go ahead and saying that you are lying.

Martin, sighing contentedly: Maybe a bit, but how was I supposed to resist when your indigance gives you that adorable little nose scrunch? In reality, my least favourite thing was probably, um, mini golf? Which, I still don't think is inherently bad, definitely superior to regular golf, but when it's the only thing a next door two year old wants to do with you, the charm begins to wear off a bit.

Jon: Wow. A rather scathing review of a toddler.

Martin: Not so much a scathing review of a toddler as it's a scathing review of minigolf's inability to keep its appeal after the third time in the same week.

Jon: Mmm, the sound effects rather quickly go from part of the atmosphere to part of the irritation, don't they?

Martin: So what's your least favorite thing we've covered here?

Jon: Oh, love, I'm not going to pretend to have nearly enough memory of what we've covered so far to have a least favorite.

Martin: Really? Nothing that you regret or rescind?

Jon: Well, regret, certainly. It was one of the weeks where you went first, and your second item was mutual aid funds, and what they can do for marginalized communities, and I had to follow it with fucking Slapchop.

Martin, poorly suppressing laughter: In your defence, Slapchop, or whatever offbrand we have, is pretty useful, especially when either your scar or my arthritis is acting up.

Jon: I'm still not convinced you didn't somehow see my notes for the recording and decided you get revenge for the first year that we knew each other.

Martin, no longer suppressing his laughter: Yep, you got me! This marriage wasn't an act of insurance fraud, but it was a near decade long con to humiliate you on a podcast that about twenty people listen to. I'll draft up the divorce papers immediately, and then we can finally go our separate ways.

Jon: I'm glad you've at last admitted it. Such a weight off of my shoulders. Goodbye forever then.

Martin: Right.

Jon: Right.

[A beat.]

[There's a pfft from one of them, before both dissolve into giggles that lasts a good 30 seconds.]

Martin, slightly out of breath: I can't believe we're the kind of people that talk this much about speciality kitchen gadgets.

Jon: Sorry about that.

Martin: God, don't apologize. I'm, like, deliriously happy with our varying degrees of useful cooking ware filled life. If you had told 25 year old me that one day he'd be debating the merits of getting a tortilla press with his husband, he'd have wept, I tell you.

Jon: Funny, if you told 25 year old me the same thing, he would've said "You don't know the future,piss off" and then quietly have a bit of a panic at 3 am that night.

Martin: I bet you were insufferable in your mid-twenties.

Jon: First of all, who isn't, secondly, I was fresh out of Oxford, and third, I was insufferable in my late twenties, as you can attest to, and I'm insufferable now, as you can further attest to, so extrapolation would indicate that, yes, I was insufferable back then.

Martin: Probably a different kind of insufferable, though.

Jon: There are different kinds?

Martin: Of course! You used to be "prick boss" insufferable and now you're "smug in a way that I can't admit I find hot or it will go straight to your head" insufferable.

Jon, in the aforementioned smug tone: Oh, really?

Martin: See, see! Straight to your head.

Jon: Well straight is probably the wrong descriptor-

Martin: Oof, 4 out of 10 joke, babe.

Jon: That would be a far more convincing rating if you weren't grinning right now.

Martin: It's a genuine review, I'm just well known to be a sucker.

Jon: You and me both, darling.

Martin: Okay, if you're pulling out darling, you're clearly in too giddy of a mood to be focused on recording. Last question, from Jess, "You two mentioned meeting at work, but how did you actually end up together?" That's easy, Jon pulled me out of a hell dimension and then we went on the lam together to Scotland.

Jon: If that's not the way to tell a cute boy you like him, I don't know what is.

Martin: All right, that wraps up this bonus episode, and as the old saying goes, hiding from murderers in a cottage is more conducive to romance than suggesting you gouge out your eyes together.

Jon, cut off: Hey-!

#tma #jonmartin #jon sims #martin blackwood #post canon #wonderful! au #my fic

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skinsharpenedteeth · 3 years

Text

RNM After Dark, Day 2!

Today's story is... different. Medical kink, lab sex, milking machines, barebacking, comeplay... it's a real mixed bag. Definitely rated Explicit. 6883 Words.

Here's a link to the story on AO3!

"Compromised by a Foreign Body"

Alex knew the way they were going about it was wrong. No matter how many times his father told him the aliens were nothing more than violent, seditious predators from another world, it never sat right. But, when it was time to do his duty, Alex had stepped into line. He’d even managed to pull his best friend, Liz Ortecho, into working in the biomedical lab for Project Shepherd. Being a Manes meant that even in what should be a strict, military hierarchy, Alex was a prince. So he made his own job, helped out where he wanted, and tried to not think about the things he’d done or seen when he went home at night.

“Alex, can you help me with the specimen extraction this week? I’m really behind on some notations from last week’s experiments. It would be a great help to me,” Liz said one afternoon. He’d been aimless all day, simply walking around the base to look busy but without an actual task. His stomach clenched, however, at the request. Specimen extraction brought him into very close contact with aliens, and there was one whose eyes never seemed to stay on the ground where they belonged. There was one whose eyes followed him, seeming to see through his fatigues and tracing every line of his body underneath.

“The females and males?” Alex asked, clearing his throat to get rid of his nerves. Liz gave him a curious look at the show of anxiety. She knew him well. She could tell this wasn’t something he wanted to do.

“Just the males. I just need a semen specimen. We’re seeing what happens if we crossbreed them with human female eggs and how that effects the DNA and RNA structures of any resulting hybrids. Just grab the three youngest and put them in the collection rooms. One sample from each should be plenty,” Liz went on, already returning to her microscope slides and file notations. Alex made sure to keep his face neutral as she glanced up to studied him while giving her instructions. He nodded shortly and left the lab, already mentally listing the tasks he’d need to perform in order to do a collection.

Alex had been given basic medical training when he’d been taken on at Project Shepherd. It was explained that at any point, one of their captives might have to be taken down with an injection if brute force was inadvisable. He’d also received extensive hand-to-hand combat training. Alex had found it interesting that de-escalation techniques hadn’t been taught as part of his training before coming onto the base. So far he’d only had to use the bare minimum of force to get his job done. He’d turned into something of a Jack-of-all-trades, however, when it came to medical or scientific technical procedures.

First, he stopped by the captive holding area and signaled his brother Flint over from the guard station. Flint gave him an annoyed scowl, but came over to where Alex was waiting.

“What’s up?” Flint asked, always informal to Alex by way of blood. If their father had seen, Flint would’ve been disciplined. Alex, though younger, outranked Flint and therefore should always be treated with the respect of a superior officer. Alex didn’t care as much. Flint was a stooge and would never be more than a glorified prison guard. His pantomimed respect wasn’t needed for Alex to know he was above him. But Alex knew if their father saw Flint being too familiar at work, he’d chastise him with a fist.

“I need male captives Max, Michael, and Noah to specimen collection,” Alex informed Flint formally. Flint gave him a speculative grin, but didn’t say anything. He nodded and went back to the guard desk to inform the other two soldiers on duty. Alex saw them share a glance and chuckle as Alex started towards the pharmacy. His next task was to pick up some Tri-Mix injection and then to make sure a few rooms were set up with the correct equipment for the procedure.

Alex tried to keep his mind on the business at hand. The laughing of the other soldiers needled at him in the back of his mind. He’d done this job a few times, but he didn’t take any pleasure from it. If the other guys could see what was involved in the process, maybe they’d realize that it wasn’t as sexy a scenario as they imagined. Maybe if Alex wasn’t gay, it wouldn’t have been an issue at all. Maybe if the aliens looked more… well… alien and not just like humans, it could’ve just been an abstract curiosity, a shitty work detail. They would’ve just commiserated with him for drawing the short straw. But he was gay, and they didn’t understand what happened behind the closed doors of the extraction rooms and these three aliens in particular were very attractive by human standards. He shuddered to imagine what deprived fantasies they’d built around him and the aliens. This only happened, of course, when he had to work with the males.

He made his way to the long hallway of rooms they used for technical procedures. Alex looked through the monitors over the tech’s shoulder at the monitoring station. Only one room was in use currently, and it looked like an autopsy was taking place. Alex grimaced inwardly to think they’d lost another alien to the ravages of time.

“Anything scheduled in rooms 5, 7, or 9 for the next hour?” Alex asked the monitor tech quietly. The soldier blinked up at him, as if just now aware someone else was in the small room with him. He cleared his throat and picked up the scheduling clipboard from the corner of his desk. Alex’s eyes strayed back to the occupied room, and he watched with sick fascination as things were taken out of the alien’s abdomen and loaded into bowls.

“Uh, looks like they’re free. Need to book ‘em, sir?” the young soldier asked, remembering protocol at the last moment.

“Yeah. Captain Alex Manes. Max, Michael, and Noah are being brought in for specimen extraction,” Alex told the soldier for his notes. He nodded and wrote down the details on his paper copy of the schedule. He’d type it into the online schedule later as well as any observational notes. With a last glance towards the wall of screens, Alex left the room and went to get the equipment cases out of storage.

Each case held a milking machine which included a cylinder with a latex liner, a connector hose, and a suction machine. Alex placed one in each room and plugged in the power supply to the suction machine so it could start warming up. He rifled through the cabinets that lined each room’s walls and found the lubricant, prostate stimulation equipment, and massage wands. He’d never needed to use the extras, but something about their presence made him feel like he was actually there to do a job. The machines would do most of the work. He was really just there to monitor and make sure the samples were collected and labeled correctly for Liz.

As he was just double-checking all his equipment, Dr. Valenti walked into the room he was in. Alex turned and eyed his ex-best friend warily. Kyle had been making strides towards repairing their friendship, but Alex was still skeptical.

“Hey man. Liz said you were doing a collection. I brought you the Tri-Mix injections. Mind if I help out?” Kyle asked, showing him the preloaded injection pens.

“Sure, I guess. There’s not much to do. Just inject them, sleeve them, turn on the milkers, and go get a cup of coffee until the sensors go off,” Alex said flippantly.

“You don’t do any manual or electrical stimulation before you sleeve them?” Kyle asked, sounding a bit shocked. Alex tried to shrug nonchalantly. He didn’t want to admit that manual and electrical stimulation felt like he was crossing a line somehow. He logically knew these were not humans with human feelings or cultural constructs about consent, but in his own mind it was a step too far. The injection made it medical, but if he actually started probing and touching… then it might just be what those soldiers at the containment area thought it was. Kyle must’ve read his thoughts, because he clapped Alex on the shoulder and gave him a patronizing grin.

“You get better samples if you stim them. I can show you on one if you like? Just so you can see it’s not what you think it is,” Kyle offered, squeezing Alex’s shoulder affectionately. Alex absolutely did not want to see… except that he did. He was going to hell for it, but he was curious. In fact, he was fucking fascinated, and he hated himself for it.

“I mean, if you’ve got the time?” Alex said, trying to give Kyle an out.

“Hey, what’s the joke about doctors and always being busy except they’re really golfing? Think of this as my golf break. I’m getting out of the clinic and getting to do something fun for a little while,” Kyle said with a laugh.

As if on cue, the sound of wheels in the hallway alerted them that the captives had arrived. Alex turned to see two men rolling in Max, the largest physically of their aliens, already naked and strapped to a gurney, gag in his mouth (to protect him from biting his tongue while coming off any medications used during the procedure). Alex felt a quick flash of rage that they hadn’t left him clothed or thrown a blanket over him. The guards placed his gurney in the middle of the room, locked the wheels, saluted to Alex and Kyle before they left. Alex watched Kyle’s eyes rove up and down Max’s body covetously. Max had been gagged and given a mild, but quickly dissipating sedative. Alex could tell that he was relatively aware of where he was, but couldn’t fight the bonds. He hardly did, even when the sedative wore off.

“Here, let’s reposition him a little. If we’re going to stim him, I need to have better access to his body. Did the guards flush their systems before they brought them up?” Kyle asked, already unstrapping one of Max’s legs. He reached under the gurney and pulled out a heel stirrup that he gently placed Max’s foot in before re-securing him for safety. He did the same with Max’s other leg, spreading him wide.

“Uh….,” Alex started, completely out of his depth. He looked up at Max who met his eyes and nodded, color infusing his cheeks like a blush. Kyle was finishing with the other foot when Alex finally answered. “Yeah. They did.”

“Good. That means I don’t have to,” Kyle replied with a laugh. He was transforming the gurney from a long bed into practically a chair in front of Alex’s eyes. Alex had no idea the gurneys had so many bells and whistles on them. With his legs spread wide, hips strapped down to the table, and naked, Max looked utterly exposed to them. Kyle was leaning over Max’s upper body, using a pen light to check his responses. “God, the meds they have now are remarkable. He’s already becoming cognizant again!”

“Yeah, they come to pretty quick,” Alex remarked dryly while he watched Kyle do a quick examination, checking reflexes.

"Let's get some gloves on and I'll show you what I mean about the manual stimulation. If he doesn't react, we can always give him the Tri-Mix, but this can sometimes remove the need to even use it," Kyle explained, moving over to the instrument cart and pulling out two pairs of non-latex gloves. He and Alex snapped them on and Kyle rolled the instrument cart over to beside the table. He grabbed a rolling stool that had been left in the corner of the room from another procedure and sat himself down between Max's spread legs. Alex could see Max's confusion as he lifted his head to try and see what Kyle was doing.

"Okay so," Kyle started, drawing Alex's attention back from Max's dark eyes to where he was covering two fingers in a copious amount of lubricant. Alex watched as he used the non-lubricated hand to spread Max's ass cheeks and expose his dusky, puckered hole. Max's leg muscles flexed against their restraints at the feeling. "Just like with human males, these guys have got something like a prostate. You'd stim it the same way you would for a human."

"I usually like my partners to be hard before I go sticking things into their asses," Alex mumbled, trying for a joking tone. Kyle beamed up at him.

"That would be preferable. But if that's the problem, you can stimulate the prostate first and the penis should start getting erect after. Have you worked with these captives before? Do you know if this one is able to get hard without the injection?" Kyle asked. He still held Max's cheeks open, exposing him as he carried on his conversation with Alex. Alex risked a glance up to see that Max was staring resolutely at the ceiling, flushed but stoic to his treatment. Alex wished they were allowed to speak with the captives and that they didn't have to stay gagged when out of confinement. He'd just ask Max if getting hard was an issue, or if it was just the degradation of being used as a lab rat that kept him flaccid.

"I don't know. Like I said, I've never tried to stim them before suctioning. Max has never come in already hard, but his body responds well to the Tri-Fix," Alex replied, trying to ignore the fine tremors he could see in Max's stomach muscles. Kyle was rubbing a thumb in contemplative circles over Max’s hole, spreading the lube from his fingers and almost seeming unaware of what he was doing as he and Alex talked.

"I bet he can! He's a hell of a specimen. Before we try the prostate, let's see if he responds to some other stimulation," Kyle said with an excited clap. He stood up abruptly and walked to the side of the table. Alex stood on the other side, promising himself he would be polite and watch but wouldn't participate. Kyle took his time looking over Max's physique. In a familiar gesture, he set his hands high on Max's chest.

"Hey handsome," Kyle crooned. He slowly rubbed his hands up and down Max's chest, trailing his fingers lightly over the skin. Max darted his eyes to Alex in obvious confusion and alarm. Kyle followed his gaze. "Ignore him. I'm going to take care of you today."

Alex let his eyes slip away and back down to Kyle's hands. They smoothed over Max's skin, down over his ribs and stomach, then back up so his thumbs could tease lightly over Max's dark pink nipples. Max shifted under Kyle's attention.

"You've got to convince the blood to come up to the surface of the skin," Kyle murmured to Alex while he kept eye contact with Max. Kyle started to rub over Max's nipples more firmly, stroking over the tightening nubs. Pleased with their erectness, he hummed thoughtfully before trailing his hands down to rest on Max’s hipbones. Alex noticed the uptick in Kyle’s breathing and dilation in his eyes as he moved one hand to cup Max’s cock. He rocked the heel of his hand gently before circling his thumb and first finger around the shaft and stroking. Max’s body started to respond to the attention, his cock plumping up in Kyle’s grip as he kept stroking over him smoothly.

“That’s it,” Kyle cooed encouragingly. Max shifted under him as much as he could, head pressed back against the gurney and staring resolutely towards the ceiling. His face was flushed and the red stain seemed to be moving down towards his chest the harder he got. Alex jumped when a hand came into his view suddenly. “Put some more lube on my fingers.”

Alex obeyed Kyle’s order and watched him push one slick finger into Max’s hole, making the alien jump in surprise. Expertly, Kyle crooked his finger and within a few searching thrusts was able to locate Max’s prostate. Alex glanced up to check Max’s cock and was surprised to find him almost painfully engorged. Kyle followed his line of sight and smiled, turning to look at Alex triumphantly.

“Told you man, nothing to it. Hand me the suction canister and we’ll get him hooked up and pumping.” Alex shuddered at the excitement in Kyle’s voice, the eagerness, but he did was he was asked. As soon as the canister was lowered over Max’s cock, cool plastic resting against his belly, Kyle flipped a switch to began low suction. Max’s cock jerked in response to the tight pressure build and release of the machine, and Alex heard a low groan escape from behind his gag. Kyle had managed to work two fingers into his hole while Alex had watched the machine begin its work and was thrusting them in time with the machine. A glance further down and Alex could see the solid outline of Kyle’s own cock straining against his scrub pants.

“Uh, I’m going to go get started on one of the other captives,” Alex spoke up, feeling awkward at continuing to stand by the scene in front of him. Kyle gave him a friendly smile, fingers and wrist still working away.

“Sure, go do Michael. Noah, from what I understand, is a tougher case and I’d like to commit my full attention to him. After this, we can go do lunch if you want?” Kyle offered easily. Alex nodded and made a non-committal sound before turning and quickly exiting the room. He wasn’t fast enough to not hear Kyle murmuring softly to Max before he left. “You’re doing so good, Max. Look at these balls, man. You’re going to give up a big load for us today, huh?”

Alex wished he could bleach his brain.

He quickly closed the door behind him and moved towards the room he knew Michael to be in. He’d seen Michael around the compound. He was hard to miss with his curls, sharp smile, and sad eyes. Alex had tried to ignore him, but he found himself more and more aware of him each time they crossed paths. When he entered the exam room to find him naked and conscious, strapped and gagged the same as Max on the gurney, he flushed hot with a mix of embarrassment and want. He shut the door quietly behind him.

“Hey Michael,” Alex greeted him quietly. Michael’s eyes roved up and down his body, undressing him, challenging him despite his position. Feeling exposed, Alex moved towards the gurney slowly. The closer he got, the more of Michael’s body he could see. His cock was nestled serenely against his balls, a short, dark thatch of hair surrounding his groin and leading up his stomach and over his chest. Alex wanted to run his fingers through the hair, tangle himself in it, bury his face against it… but he knew that was inappropriate. No matter how attractive he found him, the alien was not in any position to consent to anything, and Alex knew it. He was still tempted, however.

To try to hide the awkwardness he was feeling, Alex busied himself with positioning the cart next to the gurney. He gloved up and reached for the lube, immediately dropping it when Michael cleared his throat next to him. The bottle clattered loudly on the metal cart, knocking the milking canister onto the ground. Alex fumbled to try to catch it before it rolled too far away. A knock sounded at the door and one of the guard’s voices came through.

“You okay, sir?”

“I’m fine!” Alex called back, face flaming in embarrassment. He looked at Michael who gave him a smug and superior grin around the obstruction in his mouth. Alex set the canister back on the table and bent over Michael to hiss at him. “Don’t be a dick!”

Michael gave him a raised eyebrow in response as if to say ‘who, me?’

“Yes, you,” Alex snapped. He moved back over to the table and picked up the lube again. Again, Michael pointedly cleared his throat. Alex abruptly turned to look at him, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What?!”

Michael just looked at him for a moment, waiting for him to catch up. With a huff, Alex moved to block the view of the camera and loosened the gag enough to slide it out of Michael’s mouth. He watched Michael moved his jaw around and swallow convulsively a few times, resisting the urge to get him some water, while he waited for Michael to speak.

“What do you want, Michael?” Alex asked, trying to put steel into his voice to cow Michael’s nonchalant, almost playful attitude.

“I was going to say, you could at least buy me dinner before you start sticking probes into me,” Michael replied, his voice rough but steady. Alex stared at him incredulously.

“Are you trying to flirt with me?” he asked, unable to stop himself. Shock was an adequate description for how he was feeling about this turn of events.

“No. I am flirting with you, private,” Michael replied, giving Alex another once over before continuing. “How am I doing?”

“This is the least sexy situation I could possibly imagine being flirted with in,” Alex answered flatly.

“Well, you refuse to come visit me in my cell, so this is what I’ve got to work with. Besides, you’re about to have to get me hard enough to spurt for science. Maybe you should work on your bedside manner.” Alex stared down at Michael on the table. His eyes moved down to his exposed cock, still flaccid, and then over to the milking machine on the table. His ears felt warm and he was sure he was blushing.

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem. After all, I could always just inject you with Tri-Fix if you don’t want to get hard naturally,” Alex countered, trying not to let how flustered he was feeling show through in his voice. Michael gave him a frankly filthy grin in response.

“With the right stimulation, I’ve never had a problem getting hard naturally. Besides, have you ever had one of those tubes on your dick before?” Michael whistled low in apparent appreciation. “Science is wonderful. I’m all for science.”

“No, I’ve never--” Alex started, affronted at the mere idea that he would use government property for his own pleasure that way.

“Maybe you should climb up here and give it a try….” Michael suggested in a conspiratorial tone.

“There’s no way. There are cameras in here,” Alex protested, wondering why he wasn’t shoving the gag back in Michael’s mouth and getting on with the sample collection.

“I can fix that, ya know. These drugs they have us on dull my powers quite a bit, but I’m still pretty good at shorting out electronics when I need to,” Michael countered. He rushed on as Alex opened his mouth to respond. “You can keep me tied down. You can, uh… manually… collect your sample for the lab from me and take a spin on the suck tube at the same time.”

“I could never…” Alex protested weakly. He hated that he was even considering it. He didn’t know what Michael’s plan was, but he was pretty sure getting his dick sucked by a robot was not acceptable protocol under any circumstances.

“You can gag me again if you want to keep me quiet,” Michael said, voice almost a purr. Alex contemplated the idea, eyes straying from Michael to the milking canister and then surreptitiously up towards where the cameras were. Curiosity was getting the best of him. Curiosity and hormones. This close he could smell the petrichor and salt scent of Michael’s skin and make out the green flecks hidden amongst the amber of his eyes.

“If you can take out the cameras…” Alex started, but before he could finish he heard a faint cry of dismay from the observation room. Panicking, Alex shoved the gag back into Michael’s mouth and hoped to God it hadn’t been visibly out on the video. A second later, one of the monitor techs came into the room looking thunderous.

“Everything okay?” Alex asked the tech who had grabbed a chair and angrily shoved it into a corner. He started to climb up onto the seat, his eyes trained on the small dome on the ceiling that held the camera.

“This fucking piece of shit. Always shorts out on me. Goddamnit,” he cursed, removing the protective dome to look at the wiring beneath. He cursed again and hopped down, coming over to stand in front of Alex. “I’m going to have to replace the whole thing. Something major burned up. Do you want to postpone this procedure or--”

“No!” Alex cut in, his voice sharply cutting off the tech. The tech gave him a wide-eyed look. “I just… I’m not going to have time later. Look, he’s secured down. There are guards outside the door. I’ll be fine. He’s not going to cause me any trouble, will you?”

Alex directed the last question at Guerin who looked between him and the tech and lolled his head as if he were still slightly dopey. The tech squinted at him, but seemed to take the act at face value.

“Fine. Just give me a heads-up when you’re done so I can get in here. And don’t fucking undo any of those straps, got it? They’re there for your protection!” Alex gave him a grave nod and the tech turned and strode out of the room. As soon as the door snicked shut behind him, Alex turned and stared wide-eyed at an obviously unrepentant Michael. Alex removed his gag again, bending close to his ear before speaking.

"If you tell anyone about this, I will have you thrown into solitary for a week," Alex threatened in a low voice. It felt empty because he knew if Michael told anyone, his father would find him and put him in a hole in the ground. There was something about Michael's offer though… a feeling between them that made Alex sure the risk would pay out.

"I won't tell," Michael replied quietly. There was a sadness in his voice that pierced Alex's heart and he moved to be able to see Michael's eyes. They stared at each other for a long moment, each searching for something needed but fragile and better left silent between them. Alex ended their silent back and forth by bending down and pressing their lips together. It was sweet and chaste, a seal for their understanding, and when he pulled back he felt like their bargain was solidly struck. Quietly, Alex moved the extra chair from the corner under the broken camera and wedged it under the doorknob. When he turned back to face Michael, he immediately began to unbutton his shirt enough to pull it and his undershirt off over his head. He leaned against the table to tackle his boots, pants, and prosthesis. With an embarrassing lack of grace, Alex proceeded to climb onto the gurney and straddle Michael's thighs.

Michael's eyes were wide and darkened with lust as they scanned over Alex’s naked body. He looked hungry in a way Alex was all too familiar with. Alex noted to his smug relief that Michael’s cock had gotten half hard at his striptease and was growing firmer beneath him. Without a word, Alex reached over and grabbed the lube bottle, squeezing some into his palm before slicking Michael's cock with it. The friction made Michael groan quietly, his eyes fluttering shut as Alex stroked him with a firm hand and brought him to full hardness. Alex’s own cock was beginning to throb and ache with neglect, but he didn't want to touch himself too soon. The risk of the situation was turning him on almost as much as Michael beneath him, his hips flexing into Alex’s grip in aborted thrusts.

Alex let go of Michael and lifted onto his knees. Keeping eye contact with Michael, he took his still slick hand and reached behind himself to push two fingers into his hole. It was almost too much too soon, but Alex liked the burn and needed this part to go quick. He didn’t realize his eyes had slipped shut, unable to concentrate on anything but the stretch and pressure of his digits as he rocked his hips back and twisted his fingers to make the stretch go faster.

"Oh shit," Michael breathes out beneath him. Alex opened his eyes and pinned Michael with a hard stare before swooping down to kiss him again. This kiss wasn't sweet. It wasn't chaste or simple. Alex licked at the seam of Michael's mouth once and barely gaves the other man time to accept him before he was pushing his way in. If Michael was hungry, Alex was fucking starving. Not that he’d gotten a taste, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop.

Michael moaned into their kisses, his body shifting restlessly, claiming as much movement as he could against the restraints.

"Shhhh," Alex warned, breaking their kiss. He shuffled forward enough to be able to reach behind himself and grasp Michael's cock. Goosebumps broke out over his skin as he pressed the blunt tip to his wet hole. Biting his lip, Alex forced his body to relax and accept Michael's generous girth. It was almost too much and after a few slow drags where he only managed to shove a few inches at a time into himself, Alex pulled off and added more lube. The next time he pushed down, it was like his body just accepted Michael and made room accordingly. Both he and Michael let out harsh, gutted breathes when Alex managed to fully sheath Michael inside him.

"Fucking christ," Alex groaned, trying to stay quiet but already feeling his body scream for him to start fucking himself stupid on the perfect cock stuffed in him. Beneath him, eyes squeezed shut, Michael nodded and Alex watched as his hands and fingers flexed in an echo of Alex's own need to move. Slowly, Alex began to rock his hips and get his first exquisite taste of the pull and push of Michael's cock lighting up his insides. Wrapping a hand around his cock, Alex noted how wet and messy his shaft was from the leaking precum drooling out of the tip. He used that wetness to ease the way as he stroked himself lightly in time with the undulations of his hips.

"Please," Michael gasped out beneath him. "Oh fuck, please."

Alex knew what he wanted, wanted it himself, but also knew they made a plan. Carefully, he reached over to the instrument table and picked up the plastic cylinder end of the milking machine. Inside it was a PVC sleeve that molded itself around the recipient's penis once the suction was started. Then, according to the dials on the machine, the sleeve would go taut and relax with a rhythmic click and hiss, effectually sucking off the wearer until he blew his load and the sample collection sensor went off. The load would then be scraped from the inside of the sleeve and collected into a tube to be given to the lab. Alex knew all of that, had the technical knowledge down pat in his brain, but was unprepared for the foreign feeling of sliding his own cock into the smooth, cool fabric of the milker cylinder. With a barely trembling hand, he pressed the ‘on’ switch and waited for the first pull.

He didn't know what he’d been led to expect, but it wasn't the vice-like, fluid pressure that made his hips hitch forward instinctively to get more of that tight clutching feeling. Alex felt a moan get dragged past his lips, echoed by Michael as he began to fuck forward against the milker and then back onto Michael's cock.

"Oh god," Alex moaned brokenly, curling forward over the cylinder in helpless abandon. The angle pressed Michael's cock hard against his prostate, and Alex indulged himself in a few shallow thrusts that brushed the head of Michael's cock against that spot over and over. His body felt like it was getting expertly rung out, and he now understood why there wasn't more of a revolt against the collection process by the alien captives. They were getting an expert blow job by a robot on the government's dime.

When Alex could drag his eyes open, he looked down and saw his own helpless pleasure echoed on Michael's face. His lips were parted in an "oh" of surprise, eyebrows drawn together like he wasn't sure if he was in pain or in ecstasy, and sweat beaded his hairline and neck. He looked like a ravaged Greek demigod laid bare at Alex's whim. The sight made Alex’s body shudder with a wave of lust for the alien beneath him. He didn’t know if it was because he was alien or because Alex was in the midst of intense pleasure, but he wanted to never leave in that instant.

"Fuck, look at you," Alex couldn't help saying. He pushed back, arching and reaching until he could brace his hands on Michael's legs to grind back down in his prick. The cylinder jut from his groin obscenely between them, position change not effecting its mechanical precision. Michael opened his eyes and stared up at Alex, a look if wonder on his face.

"I wanna touch you," he said, voice quiet enough to almost get lost under the hum of the machine. Alex smirked down at him, feeling fuck drunk and bold at his naked worship.

"Where do you wanna touch me? Tell me," Alex demanded, voice breathy.

"I want to touch your neck. I want to twist my hands in your hair and put you where I want you," Michael said, voice serious like he was in a confessional booth telling his sins. Alex hummed in response, sitting up straight and moving his hands up his chest to his neck and then into his hair.

"Like this?" Alex asked, smiling at the covetous, feral look on Michael's face as Alex acted out his words. He let his eyes slip shut so he could imagine that instead of restrained, Michael was simply dictating his desires to him.

"Yeah. Like that," he agreed. His eyes trailed lower and he began talking again. "I want to rake my nails down your chest. I want to pinch and suck your nipples, abuse your tits until you're begging for me to stop."

Alex let his hands fall from his hair down to his chest. He raked his fingers down the front of his pecs and stomach, not stopping until he was almost at his pubes. He slid his fingers back up to his nipples and plucked at them with savage, twisting, pinching fingers. The zings of pain shot down to his groin, where his balls were drawing up tight to his body, the finish line in sight for him. The rhythm of the machine picked up and Alex opened his eyes in time to see Michael looking intently at the knots that controlled speed and intensity.

"Where else?" Alex gasped, the increased setting of the machine making him tip forward to brace himself with his hands on Michael’s chest, so he could fuck himself harder onto Michael's cock in time. He could see in Michael's face he was getting close too, trying to hold out until Alex busted.

"After I come in your ass, I want you to sit on my face and let me eat you out. I want to taste you and me on my tongue. I wanna watch you squirm, oversensitive and mewling as I tongue fuck you into a second orgasm," Michael managed to say through a gasping, pained groan. His hips were flexing minutely under Alex, trying impotently to reciprocate the harsh pounding he was getting as Alex rode him.

"Fuck!" Alex almost yelled, his body starting to seize at the thought, thrusts going erratic as he rode through his orgasm on with his body on automatic pilot. A beeping sensor on the machine went off and the machine automatically shut itself off. Gingerly, he broke the suction around the base of his cock and slid the cylinder from his body. Feeling wrecked and still impossible full of cock, Alex looked down at Michael who was breathing hard and looking pained at the full stop of their activities. Alex gave him an evil smile when their eyes met.

"Your turn, cowboy," he said. Michael looked at him in momentarily confusion until Alex pulled off his cock with groan. He felt so empty without Michael inside him. He felt like his ass was gaping where his legs were still spread on either side of Michael’s hips. He twisted around and slid the used cylinder over Michael's hard-as-nails prick. Machine in place, Alex reached over and flipped on the machine again, overriding the collection sensor and making sure to turn up the speed to bring Michael off swiftly. He turned back to Michael's face, watching him go from shock to stricken within seconds. Alex bent low, resting some of his body weight on top of Michael’s chest, and mouthing at his jaw and neck. He felt the vibrations of whimpers and quiet moans against his cheek as he nibbled at Michael's ear.

"Once you cum in the cylinder, I'm going to make sure you get a taste of us before I dump the sample due to compromise by a foreign body. That means we'll have to do this again tomorrow. And tomorrow? I'm going to fuck your throat while the machine gets a clean sample from you," Alex whispered into his ear. Michael made an unmistakable noise of release, a tight, gasping sob as his cock was milked dry. The selection alarm chimed again and Alex turned off the machine with an easy flick of his wrist.

Good to his word, Alex twisted and broke the suction of the cylinder. Because of the double load, when he moved it off Michael's cock, he could see their combined spunk coating Michael's length in a pearlescent sheen. Inspired, Alex bent down and dragged his tongue down the length of Michael's softening cock. He turned back to Michael, dumping the cylinder haphazardly onto the instrument cart before sealing his lips over Michael's. Michael opened his mouth hungrily, tongue tangling against Alex's and greedily stealing all traces of their combined flavor for himself. When they broke apart, Alex smiled down at Michael for a moment, giving him one last kiss, before moving off of him and the gurney.

He once again leaned against the side of the gurney and put himself back together. By the time he was completely re-outfitted in his fatigues, his mind was once again on business. He turned and pushed the gag back into Michael's mouth before he could say anything. Michael stared at him in confusion until Alex grabbed a hand towel and laid it over Michael's lap to cover his nudity. He gave Michael a sad smile before he went and removed the chair from in front of the door and stuck his head out into the corridor.

"Captive is ready for transport back to the pen," he called to the guards on duty. He backed away when they came back in the room and unlocked the wheels of Michael's gurney. Michael stared at him in something like betrayal as he was wheeled away. After he was gone, Alex washed out the cylinders sleeve and wrote a note on Michael's chart to schedule him for a second collection the following day.

Alex wasn't sure how he felt about what had just happened. Now, in the quiet of the empty collection room, he wondered if it had been an elaborate dream. He wondered if he'd wake up soon in his own bed, tired and disoriented and dreading another day of work at Caulfield. He also couldn't deny that what had just happened definitely wasn't a dream if the ache in his muscles and the slick feeling between his ass cheeks were to be trusted. He felt guilty for judging Kyle’s lasciviousness when he couldn’t stop himself from riding his captive like a rodeo bull. Was he as bad as the other guards thought, or was it just Michael? Alex couldn’t imagine doing anything that had just happened to another captive or man that he knew.

One thing was for certain, he was already in too deep to want to stop. He hadn’t come that hard since he’d learned where his prostate was. He just didn’t know how he was going to schedule in more time for him and Michael to see each other after tomorrow. With a sigh, he left the room and went back to his office to think through his actions. A flask of bourbon waited in his desk drawer to help him find the answers.

#rnmafterdark2021 #rnmafterdark #malex fic #malex #michael guerin #alex manes #blink and you miss it valevans #medical kink

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lightrises · 3 years

Text

"Only in allowing her to pass..." — Hornet, The Radiance, and the means by which Hallownest turned its victims against each other

A quick note: I read Hollow Knight as an anti-colonialist text. As such I'll be touching on topics related to colonialism as it's depicted in the world of the game, and said analysis will reflect both a sympathetic take on The Radiance and a critique of The Pale King that won't pull its punches. If this sounds up your alley, hello and thank you for the read! Let us be sad about these bugs together.

———

So!! A while back I realized something about pre-canon that felt rather... "curious" is one way to put it, I think. To wit: for all the effort and scheming and determination The Pale King poured into trying to get rid of The Radiance, neither of his plans involved directly killing her.

Was that his long game? Well, sure, that seems clear enough. His tack changed from luring the moths away from their god and creator to a more literal form of incarceration once the infection became a factor, but at its core the end goal never really changed—The Pale King very sincerely wished to destroy Radiance via obsolescence. The Seer lends us foreshadowing to confirm as much:

[Image descriptions: Two screenshots from Hollow Knight, showing the Seer and Ghost in the Seer's alcove at the Resting Grounds. Across both screenshots, the Seer tells Ghost the following: "None of us can live forever, and so we ask those who survive to remember us. Hold something in your mind and it lives on with you, but forget it and you seal it away forever. That is the only death that matters." End description.]

(Which, by the way and given the context, talk about an extremely unsubtle allusion to cultural genocide huh!!! Whew.)

In any case, we're left with a whole bunch of machinations which build up to... well, two very roundabout attempts at committing deicide. That's kind of weird, all things considered! Why not just do the deed in one fell swoop and get it over with?

This could be for any number of reasons. Maybe the king was devoid of the means to instantly kill another higher being. Maybe his personal sense of scruples stopped him short of signing off on MURDER murder (although, y'know, the aforementioned genocide + eternal imprisonment = still cool and copasectic apparently!). Maybe the long drawn-out cruelty was the point. Maybe the idea of playing fuckign 4D chess with the circumstances was too delicious for him to pass up—that man did love to tinker and stick his claws where they sure as hell didn't belong—or maybe it was a little bit of All The Things. Who knows!!

But interrogating The Pale King's methodology on this count isn't what I'm here for, at least not really. The main reason I raise this question at all is that in her own way, Hornet did too.

"I'd urge you to take that harder path... "

See, going by The Pale King's actions and what The White Lady explicitly says, they both foresaw two outcomes wrt the infection: it can be allowed to spread, or it can be contained. At Teacher's Archives, Quirrel acknowledges the fact that Ghost is expected to do... something about this, but he doesn't elaborate on what HE thinks that's supposed to be apart from the obvious "Gotta bust into Black Egg Temple first". Hornet is the one person who presents to us—to Ghost—what's framed as a third option: confront and destroy the infection at its source.

And she doesn't bring it up like it's just another tactic for Ghost to consider, prim and indifferent to what they would do. She nudges them towards it, actively, up to the point where she throws herself into the fray against Hollow at a juncture that's uniquely dangerous to her and her alone just to make that option feasible.

Even when she's couching it in disclaimers that this is still Ghost's decision to make (and let's be fair, she's extremely not wrong about that lol), no one can pretend Hornet is unbiased. It's obvious in that buttoned-down Hornet kind of way that she is way the hell done with the increasingly tenuous stalemate that's kept Hallownest's desiccated corpse from collapsing in on itself. Personally it's hard for me not to read some Toriel Undertale-esque "My father was too entrenched in his own foolishness to pursue any course of action that would have DEFINITIVELY ended this" shade into her stance here, regardless of whether that's strictly true in canon.

And that bit—Hornet's hopes for an end to Hallownest's stasis, moreover her grim calculation of what needs to be done to get there—that's the bit I find super interesting but likewise tragic and depressing as shit, on multiple levels. In no small part because a) canon itself gestures towards Hornet feeling conflicted about the very plan she's pushing, and moreover b) she has at least two (2) damn good reasons to feel that way.

So, what do I mean by that? Let's look here first:

[Image description: A screenshot from Hollow Knight, of Hornet and Ghost inside the Temple of the Black Egg, standing in front of the unsealed egg itself. Hornet has been struck by the Dream Nail and her dialogue is displayed as follows: "... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?" End description.]

As the curtain is about to drop on things one way or another, Hornet thinks,

... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?

Now, looking at that last bit it's easy to go "Oh no, Hornet's worried that Ghost won't survive killing The Radiance!" And I do think that's part of it: Hornet is, categorically, not her father. By endgame it's clear she's not content to view her Void-borne siblings as tools to be used then disposed of. She's also well aware that as a healthy autonomous Vessel amongst the countless dead, Ghost is the only person left alive who has a fighting chance against The Radiance. Knowing someone is the only qualified candidate for the job doesn't make encouraging them to embrace a probable death sentence any less of a bitter pill to swallow, though. And odds are on that this sentiment extends to Hollow too, who IS going to die no matter what happens here. To put it bluntly, it's more than reasonable to conclude that Hornet hates the absolute fuck out of this.

But I don't think that's all there is to it either. Remember what I said earlier about The Pale King's bids for genocide? Well, it's not like the man deigned to limit his efforts to just the moth tribe.

"We do not choose our mothers... "

On top of everything else—an infected Hallownest being all she's ever known, the fact that she only exists because of the infection, the list goes on—Hornet has spent her life wedged into a position that's been uncomfortable and terminally unglamorous at best: she is both a daughter of her father's kingdom and of Deepnest.

Deepnest, which like the moths and many others was here long before the wyrm and his lady wife swanned onto the scene and the God Become Bug laid claim to everything the Light touched plus a considerable amount of change. THAT Deepnest, which has fought claw and thread to retain its sovereignty against same-said settler king, and for which Herrah not only surrendered her life but also agreed to bed her worst enemy, all in hopes of securing a viable future for her people (put a pin in that last part by the way, I'll come back to it soon).

Two Worlds, One Family (Ft. An Indigenous Woman Trying Her Damndest To Work With What She's Got Versus An Imperialist Who Only Signed Up For This Because He Needed The Political Favor THAT Badly, So It's The Height Of Dysfunctional Actually). Fun times!!!!

The baggage this entails for Hornet is gnarly enough without implications made by The White Lady and the pre-canon timeline of events and even Team Cherry's dev notes that the king may well have looked at baby Hornet, gone "YOINK", then ensured she spent the lion's share of her childhood reared within the pearly auspices of his Pale Court*. That would be rather advantageous for Him Specifically after all, the potential to mold a born foe into a future ally and even have her trained in combat under the same tutelage as her doomed sibling. And far be it from him to stop a grown Hornet—his own flesh and blood too!—from making Deepnest her forever home if she so pleased. He totally wouldn't be reneging on his "fair bargain made" by doing this one simple thing until Hornet came of age, not t e c h nic c a l l y.

If that is indeed the case, there's a non-zero chance Hornet's formative years were a hot mess of cultural alienation and being a good deal more privy than most to just how much of a bastard her father could be. There's an equally non-zero chance that at some point she stood or sat within earshot as The Pale King finally, finally dropped all pretense and euphemism to name the Light for precisely what (for who) it was.

See, in conjunction with the question that started this whole dang train of thought I've been asking this one too: Does Hornet know? When she speaks of confronting "the heart of [the] infection" does she know she's talking about not just a literal person but someone very specific? The Radiance, who god though she may be shares skin in the game alongside Hornet as a native woman screwed over by the same settler king, likewise deprived of her kin and saddled with a life gone horrendously pear-shaped?

I'll assume for the sake of exploring the possibility and because I think it's a likely one anyway that yes, Hornet does know. She knows, and despite everything can't help empathizing. She might even look at Radiance and see bits and pieces both reflected and slightly inversed in her own mother: Radiance was forced to the sidelines while her people—her children, the brood she was meant to lead and care for—died out under The Pale King's rule, and it's no stretch to assume she's at least as upset about that as she has been about everything else; Herrah too took drastic measures for her people's sake, trying to head off annihilation by relegating herself to the sidelines in an act that was as much calculated risk as an attempt to find wiggle room and leverage in the face of a nasty proposition.

A calculated risk that, if things continue as they are, might well amount to nothing as the rest of Deepnest gets eaten alive by the infection. It survived The Pale King's advances for so so long, only to fall here. Herrah's sacrifice would be for naught; the other tribes—themselves the king's victims—would keep succumbing to the infection too.

And this is where things fall apart.

"... or the circumstance into which we are born."

Let's be clear: I think Hornet is wise enough to know what's what here, that all the carnage and suffering falls on her father's head for starting this slow-motion trainwreck in the first place. Hallownest wasn't always Hallownest. This domain was Radiance's home first, along with many others. It was the worm-turned-king who rolled up on the scene unsolicited and decided this was a ""'problem""" that had to be """solved""".

But the fact of the matter is that he's gone and The Radiance is here, raging, seemingly inconsolable. Above and beyond being Deepnest's rightful heir, Hornet isn't in a position to countenance more splash damage even if the grief and fury fueling it makes perfect sense. She can understand without ever bringing herself to love Radiance, and she can bend her knee to practicality even if she hates the everloving shit out of it because the fact that it "has" to end this way isn't fair.

This lends itself to one last awful conclusion: that Hornet has probably considered and (rightly or wrongly) discarded the possibility that Radiance can be saved, at least not without dragging more collateral along for the ride. If even her mother and every other enemy to the king seemed to dismiss talking Radiance down as an option way back when... well. Why should Hornet hope for any better after things have escalated so far?

Again, it's practical. A practical net good is what Hornet strives for. And again, it fucking sucks.

For extra tragedy points, this makes Hornet's extended crypticness around Ghost followed by her last minute casting about for a reason to tell them "Wait, don't; not just yet" that she never voices even more of a gut punch. She can't bring herself to burden Ghost with the context that haunts her so, least of all when it might weaken their resolve to go through with what (she thinks) needs doing.

It's the "same song, different verse" which led to the mantis tribe and Deepnest being pitted against each other: Hallownest rigged the game so that two women who could have been powerful allies—who have a mutual vested interest in driving out settler rule—wound up poised as enemies instead. And how awful is that? The king for all his being extremely fucking dead still gets the last laugh, because outside of a miracle the game never manifests Hornet can salvage what her mother started and look forward to a future where Deepnest pulls itself back from the brink if and only if The Radiance dies.

Resolution comes at the price of a completed genocide. Add two more dead siblings to the unconscionable pile thereof, while we're at it. That's what it boils down to whether or not Hornet can bear to articulate it as such, and there's no grace or even a properly bittersweet ending to wring from this clusterfuck. And that is rough.

———

* This has been better explained elsewhere, but a quick rundown: The White Lady tells Ghost that Hornet and Herrah "were permitted little time together." On its surface this can be taken to mean that Hornet was still very young when Herrah was shipped off to Eternal Dreamland—except this doesn't jive with the fact that we meet Hornet as an adult. If the stasis kicked in once the Dreamers went to their rest, which in turn halted the aging process for every living bug in Hallownest, AND before all this Hornet experienced little by the way of quality time with her birth mother... I think you can see where I'm going with this.

To top it off we've got Team Cherry weighing in ominously from their dev notes on Herrah: "As part of the agreement for her alliance and her role as a dreamer, King gave her a child (Hornet). Was she allowed to keep this child or was she taken away?" This isn't confirmation by itself of course, but given additional canon details (see above): Can I get a "yikes" in the chat fellas.

#hollow knight #hornet (hollow knight)#hornet hollow knight #hk hornet #the radiance #hk radiance #herrah #hk herrah #hollow knight meta #sup folks it's been a minute since i dropped a whole dang essay but Here We Go!!!!!!

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beyondconfessor · 3 years

Text

Unsaid Desire

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Missy/Reader

Summary: You've been asked to babysit Missy into being good while the Doctor runs off a quick mission, but she has other ideas once she realises what's pressing through your pants.

Note Before: Crossposted onto AO3

The Doctor had a knack for bad timing. You were on your way downtown for a hot, dirty hook-up with an ex––the kind of hot, dirty hook-ups where she texted “Do you still have that toy? You should wear it when you come and see me.”. So you did because you wanted that kind of filthy sex where you fuck some hot girl in an alley while she digs her nails into your shoulders.

But it was just as you were leaving your house in your best casual date clothes, with a strap packed comfortably in your pants, that the Doctor appeared and began advising you that there was urgent business, yes absolutely, no problem, he’ll get you to this exact moment, if a few minutes later, but you are URGENTLY needed. Right. Now.

Did he mention it was urgent? Because it was URGENT.

An urgent mission…to babysit, so it seemed.

It involved you staying in the TARDIS while the Doctor, Nardole and Bill went out and explored the cool alien town. Because you were to stay here and look after Missy and ensure she Did Not Get Up To Anything (though you knew that if Missy wanted to get up to anything, you wouldn’t be able to actually stop her. You wouldn’t even tattle on her because, honestly, you liked your insides to remain in the insides of your body more than you feared the Doctor).

So, there you were. In the TARDIS console room, packing for a hot date, watching as Missy bent over the console to adjust the TARDIS monitor that the Doctor had set up for her to watch as he, Bill and Nardole did Good Things.

Unfortunately, the camera the Doctor had on the lapel of his jacket was jerky and prone to cutting out, however, which meant Missy was often fiddling with the TARDIS to fix it, because, as she had told you, that was far more interesting than you were.

You shifted in your seat, arms crossed, sinking in on yourself.

Usually, you were up for whatever the Doctor said, but you had had a hot date and were now being told you couldn’t step out to the new planet, so your mood was a burning mix of frustration and arousal.

“Grumpy today,” Missy said.

You looked up at her, and then glanced away, ignoring the way her skirts shifted around her ankles as she fiddled with the console. “I had somewhere else to be.”

To that, she paused. “And what’s more fascinating than being in an alien craft? Don’t you humans get all gooey being in something so far beyond your capabilities to understand? I mean, it’s bigger on the inside! How can it be?” She mocked, eyes going wide as she posed, waiting for your response.

You ignored her, choosing to stare at the wall instead.

Missy’s heels clicked, edging closer. It made you want to pull back. There was something about the way her perfume washed over you that made you want to bury your nose in her throat and inhale deeply.

“Something the matter, poppet?”

“No,” you responded flatly.

You had an awful feeling that she knew where your thoughts were when you looked at her. There were times when you thought the filthiest things (just briefly!) and watched as her head tilted to you, a slow smile pooling over her lips before she turned away.

It could be a coincidence. You wanted it to be a coincidence. But you suspected otherwise.

“It’s just us girls, here,” she said. “You can tell me anything.”

You looked at her, and for a moment wondered what she would do if you said what was actually on your mind. Given her disgust about humans need to “constantly breed” you doubted it’d be anything nice (not that that bothered you. Her snarking commentary was nearly as good as how you imagined she sounded when you pressed her to a surface and sucked on her neck).

You exhaled, pushing the thoughts away. “There’s nothing to say. Shouldn’t you be watching the Doctor?”

She scoffed. “Because he’s going to quiz me later?” You paused, holding your tongue and her eyes narrowed. “How original of him. Well, I’m sure that watching him negotiate with a bunch of plants will certainly be the missing thing for this rehabilitation he’s going on about.”

“I think he’s trying to play to your fear of failing.”

“I don’t have a fear of failing,” Missy said, and there she gave a strange look. “If you’re afraid to fail, then you make mistakes. Sometimes the most frightening thing can be succeeding.” She turned, looking back to the video. It seemed to only be Bill and Nardol talking at the markets––even you felt your mind haze in disinterest, despite the alien culture.

You turned away, thinking about the hot date, about the way your pants pressed between your thighs. About how you kept wanting to ask the doctor about the future of sex toys but always seemed to shy away from it at the last moment because it felt like asking your dad.

By some point in the future, on some planet, they must have developed a strap the wearer could feel, right?

Missy was leaning over the console again and all you could think about was pulling those skirts up over her waist.

Un-fucking-fair for the Doctor to pull you away from a hot date. It’d been months since you’d had your tongue in another woman. You were nearly climbing the walls and half prepared to shag the first girl you could get your hands on and had you not cared for your friendship with Bill more than your own needs, you might have tried something there.

But you cared for Bill’s feelings. Or, you were pretty certain she wasn’t interested in you anyway and it was easier to simplify it that way.

“Come here,” Missy said. You looked at her and watched as she made an exacerbated look at you. “Well, I’m not going to bite you.”

Pity.

“Unless you ask first, of course.”

You swallowed, squeezing your jaw to prevent yourself from saying anything stupid as you walked over and stood beside her.

“What do you want?”

“I need you to move that,” she said, pointing to a nozzle out of her reach. “And then hold that while I do something marvellous but utterly incomprehensible to your tiny mind.”

“Why?”

“Because the picture’s fuzzy and in case you haven’t noticed, we can’t hear,” she snapped the last bit and you stepped forward, moving to where she asked you to stand. “Turn that twice, and hold that red button while I…do this,” she said. And you watched as she flicked through a few buttons, flicking switches, turning other things, and then she did something you didn’t expect.

She pressed between you and the console, reaching to touch something to your far right, as her arse wiggled against your front to squeeze between, you watched as she tensed and then suddenly pressed firmer to you.

The room felt hot and muggy all at once.

“Last I knew, human biology being changed in your decade requires quite an extensive surgery, and you don’t have the smell of someone who's had surgery.”

You swallowed, pulling back, but still holding the dial. “I didn’t plan to be here tonight. I was meant to be somewhere else,” you explained, before biting down on your dark. Your face was hot and you just wanted this to be over as fast as possible.

Missy turned to look over her shoulder, her smile going wide as she moved back, pushing against you. “And you were all prepped for your…paramour was it?”

The flush burned across your cheeks. “We don’t need to discuss it.”

“Oh, but I think we should. Is it an earthen one, or have you made your way to Sirius Sixty-Nine yet?”

“Sirius…sixty-nine?”

“It’s…think of it like an extensive alien sex shop that takes up the size of a planetoid. Named by humans, of course. But we can go there if you’re curious. The Doctor won’t even notice,” she was purring her words by the end of it and you could feel her slight wiggle as she pressed firmer against you. “I bet that human biological need to breed has you desperate to feel what it’s like to penetrate someone.”

“I can penetrate plenty with my hands,” you said as if you hadn’t just been thinking about what it felt like to have a cock.

Missy turned on her heel so her back was to the TARDIS console and her front pressed against you. All at once she’d propped herself up on the console and wrapped her legs around your waist, tugging you close. There was a heartbeat pause at that, as you felt your jeans press to her, knowing where it was pressing. “It’s different,” she said. “When you penetrate someone with a cock, when you feel that person squeeze around you. It’s different to your hands. Especially if your hands are…” and there she paused, grabbing yours and tugging them down, to wrap around her sides, below her breasts. “Occupied,” she finished with a sharp look, daring you to move them.

You swallowed, thumb tracing over the material of her blouse, feeling the corset bones underneath your hands. “Missy.”

“Don’t you want to feel me?”

“Don’t tease me. This isn’t fair.”

“Who said anything about teasing?” She asked, holding your gaze steady. “You don’t know what I want.”

“You don’t want this. You’re always making fun of…” you wanted to tug away, but her legs were firm around your waist, her hands deceptively strong around your wrists. “I didn’t think…you’d like that sort of thing.”

“What? That I don’t care for the simplest bodily pleasure? I’m not immune to desire. Now tell me, shall I go and find some other way to busy myself while the Doctor is off doing good? Or can I count on you to follow through with those nasty thoughts you’ve been having of me?”

“You…” and you trailed off, because the correct response, from the Doctor, would be to ensure she paid attention to what he was doing.

But Missy’s eyes were so blue, and her mouth was parted, her chin lifted up to look at you, causing the curve of her neck to become more apparent. You wanted to trail your mouth down that curve, to kiss her skin and tug the clothes from her body. You wanted to taste her and feel her, and––

You should have been worried that she confirmed your very fear of telepathy, but you could feel the corset moving with every breath of hers, watching her breath grow slow and heavy, her face tilted, waiting, watching you with curiosity.

“What do you want?” You asked her sincerely.

She scoffed, tugging your hands away. “If you can’t figure that out––“

There you stopped her, grabbing her and pressed her back to the TARDIS console just as she attempted to wriggle out from between you. “I said…” you repeated, slow, firmly to her as you held her still. “What do you want?”

She paused then, and a slow smile pulled over her lips. “How direct,” she teased, rolling her ‘r’s. “I want you on your knees.”

You sunk to your knees and it was all the permission you needed as your hands lifted up her skirts. Your heart thudded in your chest, waiting for the moment she’d laugh, or scoff or just pull a weapon from thin air and shoot you dead.

But she didn’t. Her eyes remained steady on you, watching as you kissed above her ankle where her heeled boot ended, trailing over her calves, her knees and thighs as the skirt was pushed up high, around her waist.

“Do time ladies often go without their knickers?” You asked.

“Skirts like this make them seem redundant,” she said, but there was a knowing look in her eyes, and you felt as if she was reading your thoughts.

No, you knew she was.

Her grin widened. “Perhaps I planned this,” she responded, echoing your own thoughts. “Manipulated the Doctor to get you alone in here with me.”

You paused, holding her gaze steady, watching for any changes to her expression as you kissed across her thigh, your mouth pressing against the crease where her thigh met her hip. Her expression softened, and there you were familiar with the look of desire.

“Are you lonely?” You asked her, “Or only looking for relief.” It was a sincere inquiry. You wanted to know what she wanted.

Her expression sharpened. “You’re a smart girl,” she teased. “Get started and I’m sure you can extrapolate from there.”

You obeyed.

It was easy to feel your mind soften, your thoughts quieten as you kissed over the pelvic bone, across the dark curls. Your hands drew up her thighs and there, with your hands on her hips, you felt her stomach tighten, intaking a breath as your mouth pressed over the slick folds, tongue sliding against the labia to taste the arousal.

Time Ladies, you found, tasted similar to the women you’d been with. There was a softer taste, muted sweetness, but it was still familiar. You stroked the flat over her vulva, before your tongue curled over her clit, testing what she liked––going from firm to soft, fast to slow, tracing different movements as you listened to her breath hitch, her thighs clench and relax around you.

Missy seemed to let you indulge in tasting her, of feeling her breath intake and muscles squeeze, before her hand curled in your hair and tugged you back.

“That’s enough of that, now.”

“Is it?” For a moment you hesitated over if you hadn’t done the right thing, and then her head tilted, her expression softening.

“We’ve limited time, and I’d rather this move to the next step,” she said, so matter of factly you wondered if you were a masturbatory tool to her. And then you wondered if that mattered at all.

You rose to your feet and tugged her thighs apart just as she pulled you close, undoing the zip of your pants, reaching out to pull out the dildo from the depths of your pants. And God, what’d you give to feel that hand curl around you, to feel her stroke it.

“You’re going to be fast about this,” she told you, “and if you’re a very good girl and do this right, I might just break out of my cell and find you again should I ever get the itch.”

“Because I’m going to be at your beck and call?”

“You will,” she said and then she pulled you closer, sliding the toy inside of her so sharply you found yourself gasping.

Well, you’d wanted something quick and dirty. Hand under her thighs, you pulled back and thrust inside of her, watching as her eyes fluttered, her back arching. Each thrust had her melting away, to wherever she wanted to be in her thoughts, mouth parted, a soft sigh on her lips as she rocked against you.

For a moment you were uncertain as to what you should be doing if you should move softly for her––as you usually would for the first time.

But this was Missy. If she wanted soft, she would have made some sardonic comment to the effect. Instead, she was drifting off to whatever bliss she wanted. You knew she was squeezing around the shaft as you thrust inside of her, muscles clenching, and for a moment you could…almost…imagine…

“Your thoughts are awfully busy,” Missy said. “Lamenting over the fact you can’t feel what it’s like inside of me?”

You didn’t respond, glaring at her.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” she said, arching, breath itching. “I can give you taste.”

And before you could agree, her hand had snatched at yours, pulling it to her mouth where she placed two fingers over her tongue. Your pace slowed for a moment as you felt her tongue wrap over your fingers, curling as she sucked, drawing your fingers down her tongue and then back.

Her lips pressed over the length of them and oh, God, you felt like you could come from this alone.

And then your fingers were out of her mouth with a soft pop as you dropped them wetly against the console, breathing hard.

“Get back to doing your job,” she said to you, like a teacher giving a sharp warning to put your head down back on your own work.

You swallowed, curling back in your confidence, trying to remember to thrust in her in an even speed––but her hand curled in your hair, tugging so your attention was brought to the brilliant, blue eyes and snarl on her lips. “If you’re not going to do this right, what good are you?”

You glared at her, shoving her back against the console as your hands gripped at her thighs, thrusting back in her. How dare she turn you on like that, and have the audacity to act like––like––

She moaned softly, and then her hand had grabbed yours, leading you to grasp at her hair. You blinked at her before fisting it tight, pulling her head back so her neck was elongated and exposed. Your breath came out in a pant as you leant forward against the flesh of her neck, your teeth dragging over her pulse.

“Yes,” she hissed. “All those years of evolution, and you’re still no better than a dog in heat.”

You bit down, sucking and felt her rock hard against you, a sound reverberating through the air and you didn’t know if it was your enjoyment or hers.

You could feel her thighs tensing, her hips shuddering as nails dug deep into your shoulders, pulling you tight.

And there, in a hot breath against your ear, you heard her exhale in relief before she shoved you backwards from her, sending you with a swift kick to hit the side of the TARDIS.

You panted, pants slipping down your thighs as Missy dropped off the console, onto the mesh ground as she adjusted her skirts and wiped at her neck and mouth, cleaning the evidence of you from her. Her eyes turned to you, and then a sharp smirk formed, before it faded, as her nose wrinkled, looking you up and down. “You can leave.”

“Leave?”

She turned away, adjusting the monitor to look back at the Doctor’s screen, fixing it so at last sound came out before she waved you off. “Off you pop. Go and light a cigarette, or whatever you humans do.”

You bared your teeth, shoving the toy back in your pants and doing it up. The slickness of the toy didn’t escape you, and a longing pulse throbbed in your clit. But your job was done. Well, fuck her then. Thank fuck that was over.

Or so you thought.

As it was, you cleaned up, you sat back in your spot and it was barely another hour passing before the Doctor returned and dropped you back home (a day late, thank’s doc.)

After receiving the half-dozen texts from your ex going from confused to angry, burning a bridge that probably should have remained burnt in the first place, you laid in bed at night, thinking about the exchange, wondering what you would do if Missy turned up.

Tell her to fuck off, maybe.

Unlikely.

You’d bring her inside, undress her off that skirt and pull her onto your face because since those many hours ago, you couldn’t help but think about her grinding on your face.

#missy #reader #missy x reader #doctor who fanfic #morgans fic #morgan writes

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immaturityofthomasastruc · 3 years

Note

As you said your considering watching "Star Twinkle Pretty Cure" loke with Heartcatch plan too do reviews??

I just finished Episode 16 a few days ago, so I’m about a third of the way into the series. I’ll give my thoughts on it so far.

While I still prefer Tsubomi for her character development, I think Hikaru/Cure Star is a very likable lead with all of the energy she brings to the table. I like how she’s a shameless sci-fi nerd with her love for all things space, mainly constellations and aliens as shown in the first episode. She’s just so full of optimism and eagerness, she fills the role of leader well with how she can easily rally the other Cures. A good example of this was in one episode where Hikaru drew up a redesign for the team’s damaged rocket ship (which I’ll get to later) that the other Cures like so much, they manage to get the repairs done much quicker despite spending some time adding on accessories because of how motivated they are. This is a kind of character trait I really like seeing for leaders, being able to motivate the others to do things outside of the battlefield. Hikaru is just a really fun character so far, and is currently my favorite this season.

Lala/Cure Milky is also a really interesting character so far. Being an alien, most of her episodes deal with her getting to know the human race and its cultures, mainly through her friendship with Hikaru. She starts off more apprehensive to her situation on Earth, but does become more open to learning more. At the same time, this does lead to a flaw where she tends to blindly focus on pure logic and hates failure, much like a certain other alien primarily dressed in blue. There’s an episode where Lala transfers to Hikaru’s middle school and has a pretty bad first day with how little she understands the social protocol, and the next day, she relies on her AI to help her blend in more and understand to the point where she forces herself to stop using her verbal tic “-lun” at the end of her sentences. It shows how much she hates failure, and it says a lot about her character. She still manages to grow past this flaw a little, and I’m looking forward to seeing how else she develops in the series.

Elena/Cure Soleil is basically the big sister of the team kind of like Yuri from Heartcatch, though without the added baggage the latter had for most of her series. She’s referred to as “The Sun of Mihoshi Middle School” by the other characters. Really subtle there, writers. Granted, it’s referring to her friendly attitude towards her fellow students mixed with her athletic skills, which naturally draws a lot of students to admire and look up to her, even Hikaru. Unlike Itsuki, she’s much more relaxed around others and even asks Hikaru to stop referring to her as her sempai, especially since Hikaru has seniority over Elena as a Precure. She’s generally the more level-headed one of the team, and tends to rely on diplomacy more often, like when she diffuses an argument between Hikaru and Lala early on, and later helps to convince some aliens to hand over one of the MacGuffins/toy tie-ins, the Princess Star Color Pens peacefully after helping to defend their planet. From what I’ve heard, Elena and the fourth Cure were added to the show last-minute thanks to executives, but I think Elena fits in with the cast pretty well so far.

Likewise, Madoka/Cure Selene is referred to as “The Moon of Mihoshi Middle School” because she’s... high-class? Fancy? Rich? She’s basically meant to be a foil to Elena in some regards. While Elena is more lax and friendly, Madoka is more stoic and a bit of a perfectionist. While Elena has a happy relationship with her family, Madoka has a much more tense relationship with her father who hates aliens for no reason, and will take any chance he gets to remind the audience how much of an asshole he is. I think he’s running for the Worst Father in Animation Award after hearing Gabriel Agreste won it three years in a row. Madoka generally has the hardest time as a Precure because of how she has to keep it a secret from her xenophobic father, and seems to be struggling with her loyalty. This is mainly because I’m so sick of family drama from Miraculous, but Madoka’s character arc revolving around her relationship with her dad is honestly why she’s my least favorite out of the four.

Fuwa is nothing more than a plot device/cute thing to look at. I mean, at least the fairies in Heartcatch could actually speak in complete sentences, and not say their names like a Pokemon. Prunce is honestly a much more memorable character with his dialogue and plays the role as comic relief well.

I really like the villains so far. They’re all aliens based off Yokai and have their own approaches to the monster of the week formula. Kappard (a Kappa), is a vain warrior who tends to use the imaginations of others to create new weapons to use against the team. Tenjo (a Tengu), views her troops as pawns and uses the the imaginations of others to turn them into giant versions of the show’s grunts, the Nottorei. Aiwarn (a Hitotsume-kozo), is a trickster who uses corrupted Princess Star Color Pens to create the true monsters of the week, the Nottoriga, using the imagination of others. There’s also an Oni-themed alien who’s their boss, but he hasn’t really done much yet. Overall, these villains have some really creative motifs that I really want to see more of. It kind of reminds me of the movie Treasure Planet which did something similar by combining fantasy with sci-fi.

Another thing I really like about this show is how it generally plays with certain sci-fi tropes. The very first time the team goes out into space to search for one of the Princess Star Color Pens, they get into trouble with the locals, who see it as a sacred artifact, and even before that, look down on the Cures for not having fur like they do. It’s a pretty realistic depiction of making first contact with an alien race like that. Another interesting episode is in the aforementioned episode where Lala goes to school for the first time. You’d think that since her kind work are automatically educated by artificial intelligence, she’d be really smart, right? Actually, because of how much she’s relied on an AI to help her do everything, she’s so inept that she can’t even calculate double digits in class like 15+10, and generally struggles on her first day of school.

Generally, I’m really enjoying the show so far, and I’m looking forward to continuing it.

#immaturity of thomas astruc #iota #not miraculous ladybug #precure #pretty cure #star twinkle precure #star twinkle pretty cure

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years

Text

Breathe ~ Doctor (part 1)

A/n: So I had a FANTASTIC idea and had to write it. The first part is all of the experience with 9 in one part. I so hope you enjoy this introduction, and allow it to take you on a journey with me that I have been having far too much fun exploring.

Word Count: 11,000+

MASTERLIST

Rose Tyler had three people in her life that were a constant.

Her mother, first of all. The woman might be a little annoying from time to time, gossiping and being pushy and demanding and wasting money on parties and dramatics. She was a good woman though, with a large heart. She had, after all, raised Rose by herself and the girl had come out brilliantly.

Then there was Mickey. Mickey was Rose's boyfriend. He was... cool, I guess. There was definitely more to him than others cared to dig for. Even he himself didn't know his full potential, and it put a stopper on him quite a bit. He was fine enough, and obviously cared for Rose, but he tended to be a bit... distracted, and oblivious. Desperate, maybe.

Y/n sure didn't approve of him, but as Rose's best friend he had long since learned to accept the man. Y/n was very good at filling in the spaces where Mickey lacked. He was attentive and listened to Rose talk for hours. That was perhaps the biggest reason he didn't like Mickey too much. Rose complained a lot. Y/n fancied himself an artist. He and Rose had met when he'd tried to do street art to get some attention, but it was more hussle than it was worth. The best thing that came out of it was his friendship with Rose.

There was something odd about Y/n, Rose was sure. The man was usually very open and honest - unless it came to any and all talk about relationships. Rose had long since stopped asking, but others hadn't. Every time his love life was brought up, he clammed shut and got very bitey. No one was sure why, but it happened every time without fail. His reaction didn't get any more or less violent, either. No one could wear him out or get him to snap. He just got tense and irritable until you stopped talking, and then the mood was usually ruined the rest of the day.

It was a silver lining, though. Otherwise Y/n was extremely pleasant and had no problems talking about other peoples' relationships or love lives. Y/n never encouraged Rose to be single or to dump Mickey - as long as everyone was happy, you could talk about anything in your life without any back lash. Rose got along and they didn't talk about it and that was that.

Then the Doctor happened.

Rose and Y/n didn't lie to each other. They'd formed a friendship on if you didn't want something known, you didn't mention it until you were ready to talk about it with a level head. No matter what, they didn't lie. They just kept their mouths shut. So when the Doctor entered Rose Tyler's life and her mom took up the phones like usual and Mickey ran off to the bar to watch the game, Rose pulled Y/n into her room and told him everything.

"No," Y/n mumbled. It wasn't that he didn't believe her. Rose Tyler wasn't insane, and they didn't lie to each other. He knew that, logically, if she said it, it was true. That didn't stop the fact that his mind rejected what she was telling him.

"Yes!" Rose gushed, nodding eagerly. "He's got this weird screw driver, except it's got no head, just a little light at the end. And mannequins - they moved. He's the one that blew up my job."

Y/n allowed him a second to process that before responding. Rose stayed silent as well, waiting for him to speak again before she said more. "And he said his name was what?"

"The Doctor. Sounds like a mad man, huh?"

A sort of amused snort came from Y/n then. "No shit." He shook his head. "Hold on, I need air." They began to walk out when the doggy door suddenly blew in. Y/n and Rose both jumped, before Rose yelled something at her mom about not nailing the flap shut like she said she would. But when Y/n kneeled down, he picked up nails off of the ground, holding them up for Rose to see. "I think she actually did, Rosey."

The two locked eyes and then both gazes shot to the flap as it suddenly moved again. Rose went to stick her head down there but Y/n wasn't having any of that. He nudged her with his foot, grabbing the bat by the door he had insisted the Tyler's kept at the ready. Two women living alone needed some way to protect themselves. Not necessarily a man - no woman NEEDED a man, even Y/n knew that - but something. Now it came in handy as he hefted, swinging the door open as Rose scrambled to her feet behind him.

A man stood there. He wore a leather jacket and had an odd expression on his face. "Hello," Y/n greeted, unsure.

"Hello," the man responded back. He lifted a long, odd object and pressed a button, running the object down Y/n's body as if... scanning him.

It clicked in Y/n's brain far too quickly. The thing glowed at the end that was pointed at Y/n, and it made a buzzing noise. The man was weird and smiled too wide. Even the leather jacket was there. "You're the Doctor."

The Doctor's smile grew. "Normally I have to introduce myself. It's usually a bad sign when someone knows my name, but you're not made of plastic so I can't imagine what I'd have to be worried about. Are you made of plastic by chance?"

"No," Y/n answered calmly. He was processing Rose's story at hyper speed now. It only made sense that a man like this would be attached to a world where plastic came alive and tried to kill you. The night seemed bright around him. There was something odd about his presence, like seeing cartoon and live action mixing between characters and background. The Doctor didn't belong here, and it was obvious in every move he made.

The Doctor nodded. "Suppose I'll be on my way then."

"You will not," Rose spoke up, grabbing the man's arm around Y/n and pulling all of them. "I have questions and this time you WILL answer them."

That simple action changed the lives of Rose Tyler, the Doctor, and everyone they cared about so much that none of them would ever be able to go back. Honestly though, none of them would have it any other way. Except maybe Jackie.

"Doctor?" Y/n turned to the other man, who hummed without looking over. The Doctor's eyes were trained on the end of the world. As were Rose's. Y/n couldn't keep looking. Something had stuck in his head. Something that made him even more sick than the sight of an empty planet being consumed in a universe that had long since been done with it. "The woman before. She said something about your planet. Something about you being impossible."

The Doctor got a very dark look on his face then. "I suppose I am rather impossible." He shrugged, obviously trying to keep it light.

Unfortunately, Y/n's curiosity was insatiable. It was something the Doctor had come to appreciate about him. Until now, maybe. "Well, I'm the last of my kind." He paused but when Y/n's expression grew only more earnest, he shared more. There was something about Y/n that pulled at the Time Lord. Made him want to talk. Talk about things other than just science and time and language and culture and history and such. Something that made the Doctor want to talk about himself. "A very long time ago, there was a war. A war between my people, and those knows as the Daleks." He paused, getting rather somber. "We won...” he swallowed. There was an unspoken, at a cost.

Y/n found himself with more questions, but felt none of them appropriate to ask. "I'm so sorry." Rose turned then to see Y/n take the Doctor's hand. Y/n had always been affectionate, but only with people he was rather attached to. With strangers, Y/n was usually quiet and reserved. Until he was sure someone could handle his prying questions and blunt honesty that so often got him in trouble if he didn't check himself around the right people.

Perhaps it was the fact that the Doctor was a lot like that as well that Y/n had taken to him so quickly. Whether it was that or something else, Rose was glad the two men were getting along. She was also glad there was someone smarter than Y/n in the room. The boy had asked so many questions and gotten so many answers that he had quite a bit of knowledge more than normal people. He was no genius like the Doctor, nor was he hyper intelligent or anything. But he could outmatch Rose and Mickey, and they often went to him when they needed something spelled or math done that they couldn't mentally do quick enough.

Rose suddenly saw something else though. Past the similarity and the comfort and the peace the men found in each other. The Doctor looked back to Earth, and Y/n continued to look at the Doctor. It was subtle, and it wouldn't have been noticed if Rose wasn't already looking. But she had. Y/n finally looked away fully, but there was a look in his eyes that Rose had never seen before.

What was that about?

"What was that?" Rose demanded when the left the room, parting from the Doctor.

Y/n seemed taken aback. "What was what?"

Rose wasn't sure how to describe it. An odd look? A weird new air about him? There was something different when Y/n looked at the Doctor and Rose couldn't understand it. "With you and the Doctor?" She tried to clarify.

That only seemed to confuse Y/n more. "What are you talking about? Holding hands? I do that with you and Mickey all the time, and I'm not even Mickey's biggest fan."

Rose rolled her eyes so hard that Y/n almost laughed. "You looked... different."

Y/n was quiet a long time. Rose almost thought he wasn't going to say anything. That she had found something he wasn't ready to share. But then he did speak, even if it was soft. "He's different, the Doctor. Not just because he's alien, though... perhaps that is it." He sighed. "He's lonely. He's so lonely, Rose. Can't you see it? In the way he empathizes with loss and grief. The way he looks when you mention his name or his planet or the TARDIS or your family. When he was watching you watching Earth die, like he could see... something else. He told me something. Something that makes me think... he might have watched his own world be destroyed, like we did today. But it wasn't empty, and his species hadn't spread out and integrated and evolved. They just died, and left him all alone."

For a second, it was quiet. "You see it, don't you?"

A nod was all Y/n gave at first. He didn't need to say anything, but he did anyway. "He looked the way I did when I got the news back then. When I found out. He gets that exact look."

Suddenly Rose looked very sad indeed. "Well. Now you both have someone, eh?"

A small smile tugged at Y/n's lips. "Yeah, here's to that at least."

"Y/N!"

The man turned at his name, only to be tackled by the shorter blonde that had become known as his best friend. "Rose," Y/n whispered, clinging to her. "God I thought you were dead for sure. I - what happened? I lost you guys and then..." He looked sick. "There was so much light and-"

"We're all okay," the Doctor reassured. "That's what matters."

Y/n turned on the older man. "Now you listen here. That's NOT all that matters. Because she damn well could have not been and I wasn't there to protect her. Or you! What would I have done if either of you had died and I was up here sitting on my thumbs like an idiot?"

The Doctor was taken aback by Y/n's outburst. When the man turned and stormed off, Rose was the one to step up and explain. "I'm sorry, Doctor. He's rather protective of those he cares about." She bit her lip, giving the Doctor the impression there was more she wanted to say. He waited for her to speak, and after a while she did. "When he was young, Y/n saw something terrible. His childhood wasn't normal. I mean, you think life is pretty rough on most of us, but Y/n's had it worst than most."

"What happened?" The Doctor asked quietly.

Rose sighed. "His parents had always been pretty distant, but they were mostly good. They did what they needed to do and let him free when he wanted to be. But, well, they were.. angry. The fought a lot, and it didn't help that his dad was a fan of alcohol. His mum... well she was a fan of lots of things other than that, none of them good for you. One day, she came home high. She wanted something... I can't remember what. His parents fought over it until... his mum pulled a little too hard. His dad slipped and knocked his head really hard on the floor. He died. His mom panicked and..." Rose swallowed. And no further words had to be said about it. "Y/n was on the couch the entire time watching. He ran. Was on the streets for a long time doing lots of things. Working as best he could while keeping his head down until he turned eighteen and was free of the system. Found us right after that. He watched his parents destroy themselves and spent a long time alone after that because he couldn't stop the fighting." She scoffed. "His words of course. Not his fault people fight. He was only twelve."

The Doctor seemed to be thinking about something. Something that didn't seem to be sitting right with him. "Does he have any other family?"

"Loads. He used to have a very big family. No brothers or sisters, but lots of aunts and uncles and cousins and the such."

"What happened to them?" The Doctor looked at Rose, as if searching her mind for something he desperately needed.

Rose stalled a few seconds. "A lot of the same, really. Not so much murder, but... well, his parents got their habits from their families, and between that and regular life? Not as many are as strong or as resourceful as Y/n. They ran off or got addicted to something or..." She shrugged. "He lost all of them at some point."

The Doctor nodded. "I see. Well, this is settled. Let's go somewhere more fun." His tone changed but the mood didn't. Rose let it drop though. Y/n didn't mind Rose answering questions like this for people he was comfortable with. He actually preferred it, so that wasn't her worry. The Doctor had drawn a silent line though. She didn't know what it was blocking her from, but she decided to let the whole topic drop just in case.

Perhaps it was what Y/n had said about him and the Doctor being the same.

She hoped they weren't too similar. It was bad enough knowing Y/n's story, she couldn't bare another like it.

Y/n had been staring at the building that had just gone up in flames for a very long time now. Rose and the Doctor had been celebrating, but Y/n sat there quietly, on the pavement, staring at the building like he was waiting for it to undo the carnage that had been caused moments ago.

"So what's on your mind?" The Doctor had plopped down next to Y/n, smile small. He'd gotten used to Y/n's mellow mood. The boy wasn't hyper like the Doctor. He didn't get off on exploration. What drove Y/n, it seemed, was saving people. And a life like this took its tole on people who wanted to save everyone. People like Y/n. So, the Doctor had learned to check in every once in a while. Every time he did, he was never disappointed. Even when Y/n seemed to be hurting, he was never negative about it. He could accept a success. The things he did think though put the Doctor on a path that had him mulling for days. In a good way. He and Y/n got into a lot of very stimulating debates this exact way.

Today wasn't about debates for Y/n.

"I know they were going to destroy the world and stuff. I'm not sad they're dead. We won and they've been stopped and all of humanity and Earth has been saved. That's great. The way we did it was rather impressive too." He chuckled, but there was obviously more he was thinking.

"But?" The Doctor prompted.

Y/n shrugged. "Wiping out an entire family. I mean, their species isn't normally like that, are they?"

"No," The Doctor answered slowly.

A bitter sweet smile rested on Y/n's lips then. "Do you think they were raised to be like that, or is blood thirst genetic?" It was a sarcastic question, so the Doctor didn't answer. There was a moment of quiet before Y/n shook his head and sighed. "Doctor, would you prefer I didn't travel with you?"

That was not the thing the Doctor had been expecting Y/n to say next. "Why would you ever think I didn't want you along with us?"

Another moment where Y/n struggled with how to form his thoughts and feelings into words passed before the boy finally figured it out. "I like this life. I really do. I like being around you and Rose and watching you guys have your fun. But sometimes I feel like... a bit of a downer."

The Doctor chuckled. "Honestly Y/n, you're the first person in a very long who sees the truth to things. As much as we cling to our victories, you're real about them. You handle everything with complete understanding, even with your limited knowledge. You have empathy even for beings who would have killed you without even remembering your face. You have pity for monsters and you feel for species the rest of your kind would rather kill than have a civil conversation with. Rose is fun and she matches my energy and I appreciate that. But you ask the questions I've been waiting for someone to ask for centuries. Your kindness is quite refreshing. You get it."

Y/n smiled. "So you want me along?"

"I will always want you along, Y/n. As long as I can have you along," The Doctor answered without hesitation. "You're no downer, I promise."

It was that moment that something changed for Y/n. Rose saw this too, but not in the moment the two men shared now, but after. Y/n and the Doctor had unlocked something in each other in that conversation. A kind of connection where even as everyone cheered, all the pair had to do was look at each other to know that in all the sweetness around them, the other understood the slight bitterness they felt as well. As much as they wanted to end evil, they also both felt the loss of any soul they couldn't save. Taking a moment to mourn with each other seemed a relief for both of them.

It was something Rose couldn't feel. She saw things pretty straight forward. Bad people needed to have an end to them. And she wasn't wrong, but the compassion that had come to Y/n and Doctor after having their families and lives taken from them and living far too long by themselves, they had a unique ability to give a moment of silence even for enemies who were twisted by things out of their control. Who couldn't be shown the light.

They bonded over it so much that Rose felt herself being left behind.

Y/n and Rose still told each other lots and cuddled when either needed comfort. The Doctor and Rose still had lots of fun and laughed at each others jokes and had that same sense of humor that came only from adjusting to and enjoying the life they both lead. They were all friends. But Y/n and the Doctor had something else. Just a little something more. Just enough that Rose saw the change and began to think that there might be something major she didn't know about the man who called himself her best friend.

"Something's off."

Rose and the Doctor looked over at Y/n, whose eyes were slowly and carefully scanning their surroundings with narrowed eyes, as if searching for proof that his hunch was solid. "What is it?" Rose asked gently, moving closer so they didn't have to talk around the people in the crowd they had been moving through before Y/n had stopped dead.

The dynamic between the trio had very early on become clear. The Doctor was the brain, coming up with the plans. Rose was the second in command. She was stuck to the Doctor's side and they worked in tandem, being unbroken and often sliding along the same wave length. Y/n was the heart. When Rose and the Doctor got stuck on a mind path, or got distracted, or veered a little too right of what was right, Y/n was the one to shake things up to give them a new perspective, or to help either of them if they needed it. Y/n was a comfort and a friend. He was also very intuitive. Where the Doctor sought things out, and Rose seemed to stumble on information she found, information seemed to find Y/n. He just had a good gut guiding him.

So when he said something was up, at this point, he was never questioned by his companions.

"Earlier one of the girls said that people are chosen to go up to the higher floors. That there's a prize. They go up and something happens and then they never come back."

The Doctor nodded. "I was thinking about that too."

Y/n shook his head. "Did you notice that it's incredibly hot in here? I mean, why? It's obviously not ideal - it makes the people here uncomfortable. It's slight discomfort, but still. Why keep a bunch of people in a super heated room? What's on level 500, air conditioning?"

It was made to be a joke, but the comment seemed to spark something in the Doctor. "You know what, that's an excellent point." He stood straighter. "Fun's over. Where's that friend of yours, Rose?"

The blonde looked around. "He was... just behind us."

"Grand," Y/n grumbled sarcastically.

The Doctor chuckled a few times. "Took the words right out of my mouth." As he said it he looked over at Y/n, his eyes flickering to Y/n's lips. He looked away quickly and Y/n missed the moment altogether. The two continued cracking jokes toward Rose about the man both of them had been increasingly annoyed with, but Rose wasn't responding.

Because she had seen where the Doctor's eyes had landed, and her mind was working a million miles an hour to put this together. It's not that the concept of men liking men was foreign to her, just rare. One that wasn't her first thought for sure. But as Y/n and the Doctor got closer and closer on a very emotionally intimate level, Rose was noticing the building tiny moments that wouldn't mean anything alone but meant everything put together.

She smiled to herself. Rose Tyler had a plan, and not just about Satellite Five.

"You wanna talk?" Y/n offered quietly.

"Do you?" Rose shot back.

Y/n wasn't sure what to do with that. "I always want to talk with you, Rose."

The blonde jerked her body to turn and face Y/n, a determined look on her face. "You know Y/n, how about this. An exchange of honesties. For every truth you tell me, I will tell you one in return. And your truth has to equal mine, so if you want something meaningful then you have to give something like that first."

Y/n paused and then nodded. "Sounds good. Do you want me to start?”

"No, actually," Rose decided. Y/n motioned for her to go ahead, so she did. "Watching my dad die was not great, but I'm glad he wasn't alone after all. It was kind of... a relief, actually. Some closure. I got to say goodbye. I got to hold his hand." She offered a weak smile. "Now your turn."

Unsure of what Rose was aiming for, Y/n thought for a second for something he hadn't told her recently that could be as profound and unexpected as that. "This whole life of ours gives me purpose. I feel like I matter, which is something I haven't really felt until now. I know I had people who cared about me and worried about me and expected me home every night, but I always craved to make a difference and finally having that has been like a dream come true. Even though I get a little melancholic... all the time, it's just because I get stuck in my own head a lot and think too much. I actually really like what we do."

Rose nodded. Even though it had been a tad mild compared to hers, it was less what he had said and more the fact that he'd said it. Y/n struggled to communicate positive emotions, often overthinking the negative ones and voicing those because he needed second opinions and insight. Acknowledging positive things didn’t require a second opinion or input, just a congratulations, and since when did he get that just for traveling with the Doctor and finding purpose without looking like some sort of arrogant dick? It might not have been as profound as Rose's truth, but it was equally meaningful.

"I love Mickey and my mum of course, but I don't think I'll be ever to leave this life and be okay with it. I think that I might end up breaking up with Mickey because he deserves better and that thought terrifies me."

Y/n pursed his lips. "Can I just-"

"No comforting or additional thought. We can discuss later. Right now, truth. State it."

"Okay," Y/n sighed. "Uh, relationships in general terrify me." It sort of slipped out and both of them hesitated. Y/n never talked about this sort of stuff. It was the only thing he never talked about, even with Rose. She expected him to clam up but after a second, he just kept going. "I'm scared of falling in love and having my heart broken. I know some things are worth it, and people glorify love so much and I crave it, I really do, but... I've lost so much. I don't think I'd be able to handle it if I really fell for someone and then had to lose them. I'd rather make friends and family than that nonsense. It would hurt to lose them, but in a different way, and there would still be the thought that you would always be that person's friend or family if you get separated or part ways or whatever. Like we'll always be each other's friend, I think. Even if we got to a point where we couldn't be friends anymore. If I left this life behind, or one of us died or-" He sighed. "But when you break up with someone, they move on. They date other people, and do intimate things with them. They love and connect in just as intimate ways as you used to, and eventually they forget you and replace you. I couldn't handle that. I won't."

Rose let out the breath she'd been holding. She'd been too scared to breath, in case it shattered the moment she'd been waiting to happen for years now. "I understand." She took his hand. "Have you... ever been in love before?"

Y/n shook his head. "Not yet." He paused and Rose felt the weight of those words. Not yet. She could imagine Y/n clinging to his heart as the Doctor got closer and closer, his smile ever wide and his charm ever sparkling.

Rose's shoulders sagged a bit. "What will you do if it ever happens?"

"Ignore it." The words were too quick and solid. They came across as desperate. Insistent. In that moment one thing was clearer than anything else in the world. If Y/n wasn't in love with the Doctor already, he would be soon. He was falling hard, and he was falling fast, and when he landed it was going to hurt. They were suddenly both terrified about it.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" The words were hysterical. Y/n's hands shook and his eyes were wide and his skin shone with sweat. His hair was messier than usual and his clothes were disheveled, like he'd rolled down a long hill or gotten in a fight or something.

The horror of what was happening in that moment settled over Rose and the Doctor in a truly terrible way. It was in the ringing in their ears and the horrible, bitter taste that was suddenly in their mouths. "Y/n-" the Doctor began.

"No," the man answered in a very final tone. One that let them know there was no room for question or doubt. He had been touched by the child. He had been infected, and he refused to infect any of the others.

A new friend, Jack Harkness, jogged over at the commotion. "What's happening over here?"

"Doesn't matter," Y/n answered solidly. "We need to move on."

Rose let out a sound that neared a choked sob, except she wasn't crying. She just looked to be in pain. "You- you can't! Y/n-"

Y/n took a few deep breaths. He had made the mistake. In his idiocy, he had gotten between the kid and Rose, and now he was here. The child was far back and they'd had time to get away, but Y/n had touched him and that meant only one thing. "Rose, we don't have time for this." He was near breaking down, and he begged her to see that. He couldn't spend the time before he died losing it. He had to help as much as he could. He had to make a difference. He had to-

"You know, you don't have to do anything, Y/n." Y/n and the Doctor looked at each other. His lips were parted and his eyes were desperate. He wanted to help but... he didn't know how. "You can stop. We would understand. You - you probably don't have much time left." His face crumbled, like he finally understood the meaning behind what he was saying. "You don't have to come. Spend it doing something else. Get yourself some food maybe. There's bound to be something in the TARDIS. Pick a bed, and stay there. We'll keep you comfortable after... after this."

A soft chuckle came from Y/n then. "You know, I'm going to die." The group got deathly quiet. "Maybe that's not true. I'll be alive. I'll be something worse than dead. I'll be brain dead. Forever." He shook his head, his breathing becoming shallow. "But right now, I'm still me. And I want to do something before I stop being me, Doctor. I want to do all I can. I want to do everything, but all we have time for is making sure whatever is happening to me never happens to anyone else ever again, okay? Can I spend my last moment with you?" He was looking right at the Doctor. Not at Rose, which would have made sense as they were practically siblings with the way they acted toward each other. Not even Jack, who had been having fun flirting with everyone - especially because Y/n wasn't anywhere near as hard to get as Rose or the Doctor. Y/n looked at the Doctor, and begged to die by his side, and Jack and Rose looked at each other because the need that Y/n had to steal all the time he had left to spend with the Doctor of all people... it said something Y/n was not ready to find the actual words for.

"Of course you can," the Doctor whispered.

And he did. Y/n was there as they reached the not-bomb that was actually some sort of alien ambulance. He was there when they saved Nancy and gathered the troops. And when it came time, he left too.

"Nancy, take Rose to where you cut the gate. And take this!" He tossed his sonic screwdriver at Rose and she caught it.

"I ought to go as well," Y/n spoke up.

The Doctor looked confused by that. "No I need you here. I promised you'd-"

"Doctor," Y/n interrupted. He took a shaky breath. "I can feel it coming. Soon I'm going to be one of them. Mindless, and coming after you, and you won't be able to stop me. I will kill all of you. Make you just like them." His face darkened. "Like us." He shook his head and Rose and the Doctor looked at each other, trying to find the answer in each other that neither of them had. Y/n steeled himself. "So this is goodbye."

The Doctor stood there for a few seconds. Too many seconds. He was trying to say something, but didn't seem to be able to. "Y/n?" The man answered to his name, and the men locked eyes. "Do you remember the first time we ever set out, and you told me... you told me that Rose was the most important person to you? You joked that no one would ever be that important to you, except someone who would be... special." He let air out of his nose. "You were special to me. More special than most people."

Y/n smiled, fighting tears. "You are special to me too, Doctor." He looked away. "I'm sorry our journey ended so early. I think... I think it could have been special, too."

Then there was nothing else to say, so he left with Rose and Nancy, the three of them booking it to the fence. Y/n stepped through and watched as Nancy and Rose fixed the metal so he wouldn't be able to get back in.

"Did you mean it?" Rose asked, looking at her best friend for what could very well be the last time. "That I was important to you? And that the Doctor was special enough to be just as important?"

The silence stretched for too long. Rose wasn't sure if it was painful to talk with that thing pushing its way up Y/n's throat, or if it was his human fear that kept his lips sealed, but Y/n didn't say anything for a very long time. The fence was sealed and the women stood before he finally spoke. "Do you think differently of me?" He rushed to add, "I know it's obvious. I saw the way you look between us like you expect us to lose our minds and make out right there. I see the way you and Jack looked at each other before too. Like you were watching a romance movie that had a sad ending. One you didn't expect, or think fair. I'm not as subtle as I like to think I am."

Rose scoffed. "You think I think differently of you because you're in love with the Doctor? Why? Because he's an alien?" She narrowed her eyes. "Or because he's a man?" Y/n looked away. "Y/n, you're my best friend. After all we've been through with the Doctor, you're practically my brother. I have been waiting ages now for you to admit your feelings for him. I didn't know until we started traveling, but it doesn't change the fact that you're there for me more than anyone else. You protect me and care about me. Your heart is bigger than all of the universes put together, and you bleed gold - I swear to god. You and the Doctor... you give him something I don't think anyone ever could. You understand something I can't wrap my head around. The way you mourn even the worst of us, because you see potential. The way you can do that, but still stop evil and remove yourself from harm because as much as you pity people who destroy themselves and others, you also won't tolerate their destruction. You're one of the most amazing men I've ever met, and don't think I'm just saying that because you were my first boyfriend.” It was a reference to When they’d first met; Y/n had pretended to be Rise’s boyfriend to get a creep to go away.

Both of them laughed at that, tears falling down their faces. "I remember that." Y/n slipped his hands in his pockets and the mood dropped again. "In another world, Rose, I wouldn't have ever left your side. I really do love you. And even if I am feeling... things, for the Doctor." His eyebrows came together. "You were always my first priority. I just know that he cares about you, too. He has your back, but someone needs to have his. Someone who really understands. And... you get distracted sometimes. But that's okay, because you always have my back, so we watch each other like that." His voice broke as he continued, "Had." Y/n and Rose locked eyes. "You watch him for me, alright? You two..." He laughed again. "I know you two are like me and him. I know he'll never admit it in a million years, but you two. It's subtle and quiet and innocent, but I can see it. I see it in the way he says your name, and the way you trust him. If you don't end up happy because of me I'll come back from the dead just to kick your asses."

Tears fell harder down Rose's face as she laughed again. "You're an idiot."

"Your idiot," Y/n replied without missing a beat.

Rose's expression fell. "How am I supposed to go on these journeys without you? Go back home and face my mum, who needs you around because you're the only one who'll listen to her gossip without giving her an ear load in return? Who will tell Mickey off now that I'm so different and we-" She choked on her words. "You can't go, Y/n."

"I don't want to..." His vision blurred and the pain that had been rising steadily came in full force now. Y/n leaned against the fence, bending at the middle a little bit as his other hand rose so his fingers could wrap around his throat. "I'm sorry, Rose. I- I-" He began sobbing, but stopped as it made the pain worse. "I'm- m-" He shook his head. He didn't want to hear himself say it... Then the thought occurred to him that the people might be trapped in their heads. Conscious and aware, but out of control. Would he see the face of every person he condemned to live like him? Would he sit there and see them and have to touch them anyway? Every single person until... until what? They didn't die. He wouldn't die. He would turn person after person until they were all brain dead and trapped just like him. "Rose."

"I'm here," she whispered, her voice haunted. "I'm right here, Y/n."

Y/n closed his eyes. "Run. Please - PLEASE don't see me like this. Don't see me- m- mummy-" The word forced itself out of his mouth and he whimpered, flinching upon hearing it. Rose made a sound that was half groan and half whine. This was hurting her. "Rose, Ru-" And then he looked up and locked eyes with the girl who had become his sister, and he thought of her and the Doctor before everything went black.

When he woke up again, he was somewhere new. He expected to see himself marching toward his friends, condemning them to death. He expected to see someone else about to be wrapped in his deadly clutches perhaps. But all he saw, instead, was a lot of lights and people and a blue beam with something large and cylinder in it. He saw his hands next. He reached them up to touch his face and they answered him. His face was skin. It was smooth and a little warm. There was no leather or metal. He wasn't wearing a gas mask.

"Y/N!" He turned in time to be rammed into by a smaller blonde. Her hair went into his face and he felt both panic and relief.

"You- you can't touch me. Rose what have you done?" He demanded rather harshly.

She shook her head, her body shaking as she sobbed. "You're cured, Y/n. You're all better. The Doctor - he figured it out. A brilliant man, he is. Truly brilliant."

Allowing himself a moment to process that, Y/n stayed quiet and just hugged Rose for a second. Once it did settle, though, he needed to know something. "Is the Doctor okay?"

"I'm perfectly fine." Rose and Y/n parted, turning their gazes to land on the Doctor himself. The man was grinning, his eyes light up with joy.

Y/n grinned back. "Guess you're not getting rid of me that easily, Doctor."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," the Doctor replied. He slipped his screwdriver in his pocket. "On we go, then. There's one more thing we have to do before we can celebrate." And just like that, Y/n was okay and not dead and they were all together. Things had been said that they were ignoring for now, because none of them could acknowledge them. Not yet. Right now, they had more important things.

At least that's how they reasoned it. Easier that way. Much, much easier.

"I'm sorry, we'd be sending you to your death?" Y/n demanded.

"Yes," the Slitheen responded.

The Doctor turned to face the man who looked about ready to blow a circuit. "Y/n, I know how you feel. Trust me, I do. We all do. But-"

"No buts!" Y/n argued. "She just wants to be free! Her whole family was killed and she had to run away or die with them. Can you imagine what it would be like to have to run, knowing everyone you care about would be gone? Being helpless to save them, because you messed with the wrong planet? Because you do what you always did. What you were TAUGHT to do?"

That seemed to hit a chord with the Doctor. "It doesn't matter, Y/n. It doesn't!" The Doctor shot again when Y/n went to argue. "She would have killed everyone here without a second thought. What are we supposed to do? She almost destroyed this entire planet for a bit of money, and then AGAIN just to get off of it and go somewhere else. Every single life on Earth, GONE, because she wanted a lift somewhere else."

Y/n looked away. "I can't do this one with you, then. I- I know it's necessary. I know you have to do it. I can't sit by and let you though, so I'm going to leave." He turned on Margaret then. "If you hurt him, I will destroy you, do you understand me? These people are MY family, and if you hurt them I will hunt you down and I tie you up and stick a needle in you and I will pump your body full of vinegar - do I make myself clear?"

Margaret looked scared... and a little impressed. "Yes sir." She looked to the Doctor as Y/n walked away. "You found your soulmate, eh?"

The Doctor didn't answer as far as Y/n knew. It was a relief to know that even if the Doctor had responded, Y/n hadn't been there to hear it.

He did manage to stay away a very long time. He only came back when the Earth under his feet began to crack and the lights went crazy and the sky began to glow and everything began to shake. He couldn't stay at home when things were going to wrong. When Rose and the Doctor and Jack could be dying. So Y/n raced back to the TARDIS, reaching it just as everything began to calm down. He pushed open those doors, praying that it wasn't the calm before the storm and the world was about to end.

When he opened the doors, he saw something he wasn't expecting. Te Doctor stood, Rose and Jack on either side of him, an egg in his hand. "What's that?"

Grinning, the Doctor hefted the thing as Y/n entered the TARDIS, closing the doors behind him. "This is Margaret." When Y/n was rightfully confused, the Doctor explained. He recounted the nights' adventures up until Margaret had looked into the heart of the TARDIS and had reverted to what she was now. "She told me..." The Doctor looked at Y/n with a soft look in his eyes. "She told me to tell you thank you. Before she died."

Y/n smiled to himself. "Well, she's welcome." Then he turned away. "Now, let's get her home shall we?"

"You want us to face those things with guns? There are six of us."

"Actually," The Doctor piped up. "Rose, Y/n, can you help me strip these wires? The faster we do it the sooner I can get this done."

"Uh, sure," Rose agreed, heading over to where the Doctor was crouched.

"Four of us," the woman corrected herself. Y/n hadn't caught her name yet. He made a mental note to do so when they gunned down the Daleks together later. Because he had seen something in the Doctor when he asked for help. Something that made Y/n suspicious.

"Five actually." Everyone looked at Y/n in surprise. "If we're arguing our need for time, Rose can help here and I can help keep those things from getting here for as long as possible. Maybe-" He stopped himself. "Maybe I can take down enough to make them not a threat at all." It was a joke that fell short, but one that made everyone offer at least a small smile. The Doctor went to argue, and that's when Y/n got serious. "I can't stay up here and strip wires when people are dying, Doctor. I won't."

The Doctor seemed to have pain in his eyes. "I can't stop you, can I?" He was begging Y/n. Desperately pleading for him to stay there. To do as the Doctor wanted him to.

This time, Y/n wasn't going to though. His arm was still bleeding and his other leg had a limp from his game. Y/n had looked death in the face twice now and avoided it. He figured he was on borrowed time anyway. Even if that wasn't true, Jack had saved Y/n's life. He had been the one to find Y/n and pull him out of that game right before he died. If they were all going to die anyway - or, at least, most of them - he would be by Jack's side to repay that debt. "You can't."

Once again, the Doctor and Y/n exchanged a look they both believed would be the last they shared. Ever since Y/n had been turned into one of the empty people when they met Jack, the Doctor had been significantly more protective of Y/n. Y/n was a man though and had been staying firm when he made his mind up, no matter how much the Doctor tried.

"Not at all?" The Doctor tried again.

Y/n smiled. "You know, Doctor. I've been pretty obedient until recently. I didn't stray too far or wander off, because I chose to stay behind and let you know where Rose had gone and that she was okay. Or that she wasn't. I did what you wanted me to. And then I died, and I realized that there is more important thing to life than sitting back and letting you take control just because you know more than I do. This is my choice, and I'm making it."

After a second, the Doctor nodded and Y/n took off with Jack and the others, headed to face the Daleks with a bunch of guns.

Y/n did help some. He watched each and every person on the Station die, and he ended up pressed against a wall with Jack at his side and Daleks charging the pair without hesitation. He had lost. But he had helped, even if it wasn't nearly enough to make a difference.

"Go ahead and warn the Doctor they're coming," Jack ordered. He spoke again before Y/n could argue. "I'll hold them off. I know you don't want to, but the Doctor needs warning, and I... I don't want see you die. Not again."

Pain flared in Y/n's chest then. "You're a good man, Jack."

"Thanks, but we don't have time for one of your goodbye speeches." Jack scoffed at himself. "You know, I did always want one though."

Y/n laughed, tears in his eyes. Why did he always end up here? "How about I give you a kiss on the cheek and you can return it later? I can give you that goodbye speech another day, when we have time."

Jack paused, and then nodded. "I'd like that." So Y/n kissed him on the cheek and then ran when the Daleks turned the corner, feeling his heart drop when the tell tale sign of death hit Y/n's ears in the form of Jack's scream. They'd both known this was what was going to happen. Y/n would never get that kiss, and Jack would never get that speech, but it had been nice that they'd parted holding onto that impossibility. Y/n hoped it had been what Jack was thinking when he died.

Unfortunately, Y/n didn't have much time to lament about it. "Doctor!" He ran into the room, stopping in the doorway. Y/n knew about the delta wave, and he knew what was about to happen. He knew why the Doctor had wanted Y/n and Rose to stay. Y/n had gone though, and now he was going to die with the rest of them. He wouldn't have it any other way. First, he needed to say something though. "Doctor, last time I faced death, I said something that we never talked about again. But we've had even more time together now and after all the regret I had last time, I- I can't die again without telling you-"

"I know," the Doctor said, interrupting. "I hate death confessions. I always have. It's not fair, you know. Telling me something like that and then running off and dying before I can do anything about it."

Even now, the Doctor was making jokes. Dear lord. "I came back, though. And you didn't do anything about it." Y/n huffed in amusement. "You never would have, huh?"

The Doctor swallowed. "This would always been the end, Y/n. At the best, you would have gotten older. You would have moved on. I can't... I can't."

Y/n nodded. "I know. I understand. I really do, Doctor. And with Rose too - I can't imagine that ever getting settled. But I need you to know-" But Y/n didn't get to finish his sentence, because there was that horrible sound and Y/n's scream and then everything went black. Except this time, he wasn't unconscious.

He was dead. Y/n was dead. As dead as it gets.

Death and Y/n didn't see to get along though, because only a few minutes later Y/n was gasping back to life, scrambling on the floor. He was disoriented and confused, but he saw a bright light and heard distant but familiar voices. He crawled around to get a better view without the large silver things he couldn't quite focus his vision on just yet. What he saw was Rose Tyler and the Doctor and the TARDIS. The Doctor kissed Rose and a light, far brighter than Y/n had seen anything be, traveled between the two of them and Rose fell.

"Doctor?" Y/n croaked.

The Doctor turned in surprise to see Y/n on the floor. "You were dead."

Y/n shrugged, his head spinning. "I feel... sick now. Just sick." His eyes fell to Rose. "I- Is she dead?"

"No," the Doctor reassured. "We need to go though. Come along, will you? We have lots to talk about." Y/n nodded, wobbling to his feet and then into the TARDIS as the Doctor scooped Rose up and set her on the floor of the TARDIS. He began to pilot the ship and as it set a course for what Y/n assumed was London, the Doctor turned on Y/n. He looked a little shaken. The glowing seemed to be moving under his skin, shimmering. But now it didn't seem beautiful, as it had before. It seemed wrong. Definitely dangerous. "Explain yourself."

"I... don't know."

The Doctor looked at Rose. "Ah." He looked back. "It seems I'm the one who has explaining to do." Again he glowed and the Doctor teetered, wincing in pain. "A... lot of explaining, it seems."

Y/n, worried and very confused and a little terrified, nodded. "Get on with it then. We don't have all day."

"Well... I don't," The Doctor agreed. "But I will. Or... you will, with someone else."

Y/n's breathing got heavier. "Doctor-"

"Y/n," the Doctor interrupted, moving close and taking Y/n's face between his hands. "Beautiful, empathetic, caring, protective Y/n. You've gotten your goodbye speeches, let me have mine."

And then the Doctor kissed Y/n, just like he had Rose. Except there was no light or glow, just a kiss. When they parted, it was because the Doctor groaned in pain. A pain that seemed to be growing. "Doctor?" Y/n rushed, scrambling to help the man stand.

The Doctor didn't ever get to say he loved Y/n back, but that kiss had said enough. It didn't really matter though, because it was then that Rose woke up. Then that everything would change forever. Not too much, but plenty enough. The Doctor changed. Changed into someone more controlled and reserved. Someone who couldn't express emotions as well as he could before. Y/n had changed too, though he didn't know that yet. He had changed into someone the Doctor couldn't accept.

To say, things were about to get really fucking complicated.

"He says that the yellow girl and her companion have the blue box, so they are the only ones able to speak for this planet."

"You can't," Harriet Jones, now Prime Minister, insisted.

"Someone has to be the Doctor," Rose began.

Whatever she was going to say was cut off by Y/n stepping forward though. No one questioned it. This entire time, Y/n had been the one who had seemed to have any idea on what to do. He didn't have much more a grip than Rose did, but what he did have was just enough that everyone seemed to naturally be stepping back to give him the reigns in the Doctor's place. Y/n stepped up and faced an alien race he had no idea how to defeat with no fear on his face. Maybe it was that the man had died twice now, or that his friends were in danger and nothing made Y/n more hostile than facing down people who threatened his friends. Y/n was different than the boy that had agreed to come along on a journey of a life time to make sure Rose was safe. Not so different that he didn't have mercy, but different enough that he not only didn't tolerate people who were willing to harm others, but he was willing to destroy them for the greater good. To protect those who could not protect themselves. That didn't stop him from pitying wasted life, but it did stop him from hesitating.

"Why do you want to kill humans?" Y/n demanded. The Sycorax leader faced Y/n down, but Y/n didn't step back even a little bit. He said something to Y/n, and the agents by Harriet translated.

"He says humans are simple and meaningless. They need to be conquered. They-"

"Now you stop right there," Y/n interrupted. Everyone behind Y/n and everyone in the crowd seemed to react to that. The people in fear, and the crowd in anger. It seemed no one liked that Y/n had interrupted the alien leader that was perfectly capable of killing. But Y/n didn't care about that. He needed to think, and he needed time to do that, and he was absolutely not about to let this monster conquer his planet without fighting back. He didn't know much or think as fast as the Doctor, but he could figure it out. He could figure SOMETHING out. Because he had to. "This planet isn't filled with a bunch of idiots. We may have a few bad eggs. We may make choices that are so incredibly daft, but we're incredible as well. We learn and grow and continue without being stopped. We defy death, even. We defy logic and reason. We're harder to wipe out than a hoard of roaches. We stick around and fight back. You can try your hardest to pin us under your thumb, or kill us off when we refuse, but it'll never be over and even if you do win this battle. Even if you do take this planet now. We will come back in such force that you will wish you had never made the mistake of messing with us. And it may not be now. It may not be in a decade, or several, or even a century. But it will happen, as it always does. And when it does happen, you will fear us."

"You want to be big? Then I will show you how small you are." Too late they all realized the Sycorax had spoken in English. Too late, because he flicked his staff and like a whip, a coil of electricity shot out and attached to Y/n's chest. He screamed and fell to a knee and his friends screamed behind him, but when the electricity left, Y/n was... fine.

Chaos erupted from the crowd. Y/n stood slowly, even his friends behind him whispering in chatter that sounded... fearful. What had just happened?

"SILENCE!" The Sycorax screamed. The crowd begrudgingly went hush, but a small voice from behind Y/n spoke up still.

"You should be dead. I watched him kill them with that- that- staff. You should be dead."

"And I'm not," Y/n brought up rather pointlessly. He sounded far more calm than he meant to though, so there was that.

The Sycorax leader stumbled back in obvious fear. Y/n stood taller. "That's impossible."

"It should be," A voice that was growing familiar spoke up. The small crowd behind Y/n parted and there stood the new man who was the Doctor but also wasn't. That man strutted forward, an expression on his face that was sort of bitter sweet, but leaning more bitter. "It doesn't sit well with me either, if I'm honest."

"Took you long enough," Y/n mumbled under his breath.

"Better late than never," the man shot back. And that was when Y/n saw the Doctor. If a bit more rude and quicker to respond... still the Doctor.

Long story short, the Doctor handled things as he always did. After Y/n's show of immunity to the Sycorax's one hit kill staff, there wasn't much work to do. There was calling the bluff of what turned out to be blood control, which couldn't go as far as the Sycorax said it could. And then there was the sword fight that was brought about by some law or another, but also threatened to happen because if the Sycorax leader didn't agree, the Doctor would "release" Y/n on him. It ended with the Doctor victorious, and Sycorax ship sailing off as the humans left all returned to the ground with the TARDIS.

Then, as they were running away, Harriet Jones shot them down with a beam from a group she called Torchwood, and killed them while their backs were turned.

"HOW COULD YOU DO THAT?" Y/n roared, rushing to the smaller woman. Harriet was suddenly shaking, faced with a man who seemed to be repelling death like it was a light cold and he had work to get to. "They were running away!"

"They could come back," she insisted rather quietly.

"They couldn't," The Doctor argued, standing just behind Y/n, at his side. "The fight - it was agreed. I won, Earth is free from them."

Harriet scoffed. "He attacked you the second you turned your back, and his people will surely do the same." Y/n flared but Harriet seemed to find her courage then. "You weren't there, Doctor. And you will not always be there. Y/n did a very good job of taking your place, but he won't always be here either. One day we will be faced with an enemy we cannot take down with a simple sword fight, and you may not be there to help."

"I should have told them to run from the monster," The Doctor sneered. "I should have told them to run as far and as fast as they could, because the real monster was sitting there, waiting for the moment to strike."

Harriet solidified herself. "I was there when that staff killed two good men. Right in front of me, and I could do nothing to stop it. I won't be helpless ever again. I have people to protect."

There was quiet for a moment, and then the Doctor stepped in front of Y/n, who had been stunned by such stupidity and selfishness that he was struck dumb. "You know, humans are so simple. I can end you entire career without lifting a single finger. I could do it without much trouble. Without even lifting one finger, all your hard work. Gone."

"Stop it," Harriet demanded, that fear from before returning.

"Six words," the Doctor stated calmly.

"Stop," Harriet hissed, coming undone by his terrifying calm.

"Just six words." And then he moved... but not to Harriet. He moved to the last man left that seemed to work with Harriet, and he leaned close and whispered something in the man's ear. Then he leaned away and turned around and walked away, hands in his pockets and face empty of regret or emotion in general. Harriet panicked behind them, begging the Doctor and the man the Doctor had spoken to tell her something. Anything. But she never got her answer.

Not in the way she wanted.

When they were away from her, Y/n rounded on the Doctor. "I'm still alive, and she said I shouldn't be."

The Doctor sighed. "When Rose looked into the heart of the TARDIS, she... brought you back. Honestly, I knew, and I saw, but I was in shock and in pain because I was dying and I was too scared to leave you behind. Far, far more scared of losing you than I was of what you had become."

Y/n looked as if he'd been slapped. "What do you mean, what I've become? You don't want me anymore?"

"That's the thing isn't it?" The Doctor sighed. "Rose doesn't even know. She forgot everything. And you weren't alive to see it. To get back to me, to us, she looked into the heart of the TARDIS. Like when Margaret became an egg. She looked and she gained immeasurable power. Power over time and space, completely. Over life, even. All she had to do was set your existence through out all time and space, and you're alive. But she didn't know how to hone it, so now you'll... probably always be alive. You can't die, I'd reckon."

"At all?" Y/n squeaked.

The Doctor shrugged. "There's no knowing for sure unless we test it, but if back there means anything, I'd say that no, you can't die. I'd even bet you can't age."

Y/n let out a breath. "So I'll be this age, alive, forever?"

"I'd say so," the Doctor confirmed. There was a moment of silence. "I feel guilty."

"Why?" Y/n asked, looking up from where his eyes had dropped.

A soft sigh escaped the Doctor then. "I'm glad of it." Y/n rose a questioning eyebrow, and the Doctor continued. "I've never been able to be really with someone before. I knew they'd go eventually. They die or move on or grow too old for this life, or get torn up by the life style or they're stolen from me. You... you're different, though. Humans age and get old, but I regenerate. I mean, a relationship like that would be one sided. Eventually I'd be alone again. But you don't age, or die, and I'm sitting here in a predicament where I just so happen to be in love with you." He released a breath, as if the words had been weighing him down. "It's so much easier to say that knowing I may actually not lose you."

Slowly, a smile rose to Y/n's face. "Well, if you don't already know I love you too I might have to kick your ass right here and now."

The Doctor released a shaky sort of laugh. After a second, he looked away, his smile fading. "Y/n, there's something you need to know about me."

Y/n sucked in a breath and released it again sharply, his hands fidgeting. "What about?"

"I've had a lot of companions, and I have lost every single one. Rose and you aren't the first, even though you two are... different." He shook his head. "But I had something real before this life. I had a family. I was a father. A husband. I had a life. And it was all taken from me."

For a second, Y/n didn't seem to know what to say. But then he found it, and whispered very gently, "Doctor, I'm weird. I don't... I don't fall in love, really. It's unusual for me to do so. I've only ever fancied one person other than you. I've never taken much to romance and it's never seemed important to me. Like you, the first person I felt like this for... they understood this feeling too. Their father died in a war and mother in childbirth and they spent their whole life being passed from person to person and never having a family or a home. This isn't my first time, though I will say that it is my second. I do know one thing though. If you need time to work this out. If you need something I can't fill... What I mean to say is, I'm happy when you're happy. I'm not asking you to marry me, or start a family with me or whatever. I'm not asking for an immediate serious relationship. Just because we feel the way we do about each other doesn't mean we have to limit ourselves to those feelings. I know you've felt love like this many times, and I know that... you may feel it again in the future, or even now." He shrugged it away. "I know this is going to take time. But I want you to know that I'm not going anywhere. Ever, it seems. That you can count on. Everything else... As long as you come back to me at the end of the day, I don't care about everything else."

And then the Doctor did something splendid. He kissed Y/n. And Y/n did something even greater. He kissed back.

It was a great kiss. One of many. Because this journey? It had only just begun!

Male readers: @sheepfather

#dr who #ninth doctor #tenth doctor #dr who imagine #dr who x reader #dr who x male reader #ninth doctor imagine #ninth doctor x male reader #ninth doctor x reader #tenth doctor imagine #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x male reader #male reader #dr who fanfic #dr who angst

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my-writings-and-musings · 3 years

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hey! so idk if you write platonic relationships but if you do, could you write something about whirl asking someone to be his amica endura? i just. i need more whirl love in my life and GODDAMN i love the way you write him sm gshdjf,,, thank you!! <33

I miiiiggghhht have gone a little overboard on this one and made it more of a short story than an answer... But I hope you like it! Thank you so much for the compliment, I do try my best to write Whirley well!

Whirl doesn't like to let fear boss him around. Ordinarily that's easy enough to accomplish, he's a big bot and threatening his life is a great way to end yours, and any threat he can't kill (for moral or legal reasons) can usually be ignored out of existence. As a result he's had very little to be afraid of these past few millennia, and he's even perfected his reflexes to the point he can quickly judge what reaction is warranted whenever that creeping feeling returns, meaning it never lasts more than a few minutes tops. It's a solid strategy, and the proof is that he's outlived everyone who's ever doubted it. Most of them, anyway. He's been getting sloppy since this whole quest thing.

Or more specifically, since he met you on this quest thing. The quest thing that's becoming less about the quest and more about the real treasure you've all gained along the way, which for once isn't the (many) guns he's found or the (countless) bad guy corpses he's left in the rearview mirrors.

Nope. It's you. The squishiest little air breather his optic has ever beheld, and darn the saps on this crew for rubbing off on him, because he wants to go out of his way to let you know that. Their silly insistence on honesty has made him feel like you need to know what you mean to him, and isn't that just ridiculous?

But if it's so ridiculous why was he scared? Because you could say no, damn it! You'd be silly not to! It was one thing for you to hang out with the ship's resident screw up and part time nutjob, maybe even have a drink with him, and sure you'd actually called him your friend and the two of you had looked death in the eye to insult its cataracts on more than one occasion together... But to officially declare to the crew and the universe you were Amica Endura and that you actually liked him?

You'd be mortified he even thought it was okay to ask, obviously. Then you'd wisely cut all ties and pretend you didn't know him, and he'd be left with... well, not nothing, but not much above nothing either. Worse actually now that he considered it, he'd probably be left with pain. The kind of pain you only got when you lost something, a particular experience he'd spent a very long time trying to ensure he'd never have to endure again, and he'd been doing pretty well until you showed up. But he wasn't mad at you, he was mad at himself, both for having the audacity to grow feelings and then getting soft enough to actually acknowledge them like a sap.

But facing fear was far better than the alternative. If he kept on pretending you were just another chum, that you didn't deserve the title of Amica for what you meant to him, then he'd have guilt. More guilt, to be specific, and he was already fully stocked on that. So... fear it was then. Fear and the inevitable pain that would follow when you did the only sane thing you could.

But hey, what was another mistake in the pile, right?

You'd been in your room by yourself, just relaxing an perusing the wonders of interstellar Wi-Fi, when he'd decided there literally couldn't be a better time. Some bots insisted that a proper ceremony required witnesses, but those bots couldn't judge him if there were no witnesses, now could they? Checkmate, seeing as how the two of you would definitely never speak to each other again after this... His claws had knocked on the door with as little force as he could muster, some part of him hoping you wouldn't hear and he'd have a reason to retreat, but as usual he also had to open his mouth and ruin that plan.

"Hey, Y/N, you uh... you alive in there?"

Approximating a facepalm as best he could without either half of the required components, his spark dropped when you replied with a good natured laugh, probably thinking he was just being his usual self and not making much sense. Which was true, just not in the usual way...

You'd happily opened the door with a command on your data pad, inviting him to come in and relax because you weren't up to anything anyway. Claws clacking together nervously, he'd entered with an unconvincing veneer of calm, far too worried to really pretend otherwise. Long legs carry him with slow steps, and he can't help but survey your room; he's certain this is the last time he'll ever see it. Your tiny belongings looking so ridiculously small in the Cybertronian sized living space, the ladders that have been welded to everything, gosh, is it foggy in here or is that just some emotional turmoil in his optic?

"Whirl? Are you okay?"

Of course not, but thanks for asking is what he wants to say, but a more accurate reply would involve him mentioning how things were actually really okay for a while... Until he'd started messing it all up, a process he'd be finishing up now so you could both move on with your lives.

"Oh... that's a matter of debate." He finally brings himself to say, claws firmly pinched to prevent him from any further tapping. You look more concerned than baffled, which is nice. Somehow you'd always managed to look past what he said to understand what he means. That's something he'll miss, once he finally manages to get this over with. Of course his voicebox is pitching a fit and refusing to cooperate, but it's going to be a simple series of steps once he gets it going. He'll ask you to be Amica, you'll refuse, and then he leaves. It's such a simple plan that even he can't find something to blow up in the process. Not for lack of trying, mind you...

"Is there something you need? You've been a little off lately." You said, putting aside your data pad to move to the edge of the berth. It hadn't escaped your notice that the usually loud mech had been growing quiet around you as of late, his one optic looking almost forlornly in your direction when he thought you were focused elsewhere, and so you sat and let your legs dangle off the berth to let him know you were listening. His antenna twitched backwards like a startled ear on a mammal.

"Me? Well, I'd be inclined to say..." Some half attempt at a joke died before it even could be set up, and he quickly decided the stalling had gone on long enough. If he had to endure one more second of gnawing apprehension he was going to have to destroy something exceptionally expensive to shake off the nerves, and he had just gotten his room the way he liked it. Better to go down with some dignity if he could. "You're spot on, actually. I've been off because I've got something I've gotta get off my chassis, but it's not gonna be fun for either of us. Still needs to be done though, ain't that a shame?"

Any other person on the ship would have been terrified if he'd said that to them. They'd have expected some kind of terrible bodily injury, no doubt, but you knew him better than that. You knew that if he wanted to hurt anyone it would happen as soon as he entered a room, and with something way more intimidating to kick off the fun. Instead your expression was just thoughtful, concerned, and only a little confused. "I... if it upsets you then yeah, but why do you have to do it?"

"Do you know what an Amica is?" He blurted out, the words almost hurting as they came into being. It felt like he had just struck another match, surrounded himself with fuel, and this time there'd be no interruptions.

"Amica?"

"There an echo in here?" He said dryly, unable to help jumping on the chance for an old classic. Apologetically lowering his optics, he released a quick bit of air from his vents in imitation of a cough. "Yeah, that, know what it is?"

"Sure, it's like... best friends, only way deeper, bound for life." You said, recalling it amongst the many Cybertronian terms you'd been learning these past few months. It had obviously had cultural implications and connections you just didn't have the experience to understand, but the importance of the practice had been abundantly clear from the moment you first heard of it. Chief among the things you'd been able to determine was that it carried no less weight than being a Conjunx, it was just a different kind of love.

He clicked his claws together in an imitation of an affirming snap. "That's the one. It's tough to explain to aliens, but that's the basic rundown, and there's a whole ceremony to it and everything. Did you know that?" He appreciated that you only shook your head and looked back to him for an explanation, it made it quite clear you were intent on listening as much as possible. "A bot has to ask the one who's less likely to ask, and they get to say yes or no during the ceremony. I'd imagine by now you've figured out I came here to ask you to be my Amica, start the ceremony and everything, only thing stopping me is I... just don't want to."

It was the first time he'd surprised you in a long time. There had been... well, you'd been fairly certain he was leading up to something else there, and had just been nervous. You had to repeat back what he'd said in a question for clarification. "You don't want to ask me?"

"What? No! Don't put words in the mouth I don't have!" He replied vigorously, taking a step closer to your berth and throwing up his arms in total consternation. Upon seeing your comforting near smile of reasurance, he drops his claws and holds them near his face, a gesture he typically only performs when anxious. Thoughts are beginning to run wild in his head, so he knows he'll have to wrap this up before they sidetrack him, or he'll never get it done. Bless your little fleshy fuel pump for wanting to comfort him, but there just isn't time for that. "What I'm trying to get across here, or say or whatever, is that I want to but I shouldn't..."

"Ah... why shouldn't you? Does me being a human make it... illegal?" You ask, finally getting an inkling as to what's going on. As usual, his burying of the lede means you're far less shocked than you should be now that he's actually getting to the point, but you want to use that to stay calm. Whirl has been a dear friend to you, as protective as could be from the moment he decided he liked you. The least you can do is be what he needs by letting him talk things out in a way that works for him, even if it feels so much easier to cut to the chase; you'd love to be his Amica no matter the hurdles.

"You and I both know that would only make it better. Illegal friendship? Sounds more like an endorsement than a deterrent to me." It's hard for him not to laugh at the very idea. If this was actually against some law? Oh, how very different things would be... Somehow he'd feel okay then, perhaps because this would just be another of his crazy ideas, and not something sentimental and completely irreconcilable with who he was. Previously upright antenna drooped low at the disappointment. "But... no, no such luck. It's not illegal for me to ask you, just stupid, because you're going to say no."

Suddenly so many things made sense, but in the shock of sadness that followed you couldn't help but speak, your own disappointment showing through. "I am?"

"Well of course you are! That little pink glob between your ears is smart enough to know better! If you were most saps, sure, you'd probably say yes because oooh friendship, but the fact that you're sensible enough to say no is exactly why I want to ask!" He replied, sounding emphatic instead of angry. Despite being a master at appearing mad for the sake of self defense, he can't bring himself to appear anything but... sad. Every part of him is wilting from the sadness that's clocking in early. Because you have to say no, that's just how this works, and his resignation to that fact is clear no matter how badly he wishes it wasn't true. "Believe me, I know what smart looks like. I know what sensible looks like. Most people have a terrible deficit of the two, but not... not you. That's what makes you worth asking, and also worth saying no. Weird, huh?"

Your heart is breaking, somewhat for you, but mostly for him. Did he really think he was unworthy of friendship? Of any kind of love? Clearly you were his best friend, but in the fog of self loathing clouding his vision, he's convinced himself that it has to end now that he truly feels he isn't alone. "Whirl..."

Venting in sharply, like a human sucking in a breath to hold off tears, he perks up and gestures a claw back over his shoulder. "Look, I'm just going to save us both some drama and skip to the part where you kick me out. Since I'm nice, I'll even pretend you're big enough to actually do it. I'll throw myself into the hallway and everything, really seal-"

"Whirl." You say softly, knowing that yelling won't help but desperate to keep him from leaving. It works, but he pretends to be interested in the floor, crouching like he's preemptively flinching away from a hit. It's not the first time you've seen him do this. Coming to understand the big bot had been more natural for you than most, but had still taken effort, and in all the trial and error you'd learned he just needed things phrased a little differently. Thus, you decided to give what you'd learned a final trial.

"Can I at least... actually get a chance to say no?"

It was just indirect enough to immediately catch his attention, but his wounded look remained unchanged, like he didn't dare hope.

"Any particular reason why?" He asked, tilting his helm as if you've piqued his interest with a daring and devilish scheme. There's a lot going on behind his optic, but you're unflinching as he levies it back on you, smiling to emphasize you have nothing to hide.

"It's... well, it's not really fair for you to decide something for me, is it? Even if you know what the answer will be, shouldn't I get the chance to make that choice myself in the moment?"

He clacks his claws together to imitate snapping fingers. "Damn it all, you're a clever little fleshy, I'll give you that. Appealing to my peerless sense of justice for self determination to get your way." The mask of neutrality is razor thin, and beneath it he's anything but calm. None of this is going the way he planned. Far from casting him out, you're encouraging him to go through with this, but why? You can't actually plan to say yes, so why all this fuss? It's not in you to set him up, but he can't bring himself to hope he has a chance at the impossible... So he just plays along like it's all a game, albeit a very sad one, and one he intends to play carelessly. "If you... I'll give you the way to say no and the way to say yes, okay? That way you'll... really mean it when you say no."

"I promise I'll mean it." You say, wishing so badly he'd believe you wanted his friendship. It'd be so much easier than coordinating with him to give you a chance to accept his Amica proposal. Yet you know his manner of processing can't be argued with, so instead you just keep going, praying he'll let you have a chance to show how much you care. "But I need to know how it all works."

"Well, I'll say some fancy words, show my spark, all that mushy stuff most folks love." He waves his claws about, as if to brush away the silliness of the ceremony right there. The idea of baring a spark surprises you, but you keep quiet, focused only on getting through to the part he's convinced himself won't happen. Even as he continues his pessimistic prediction is obvious in his tone. "Then, when I've said my piece and pause, you just say "I refuse" and it's all over, we don't have to talk again, I'll leave and..."

If you were close enough you'd have laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but thankfully your silent look of encouragement does the job, and he overlaps his wrists whilst looking away.

"But if you were going to say yes, hypothetically, then after my pause you just go quiet and... put your little digits on mine... Then repeat after me when I say "today, tomorrow and always" to wrap it up. But since that isn't happening, let's just get this over with, eh?"

It's the flattest one of his jokes has ever fallen. For all his skill keeping his feelings reigned in, even he can't prevent a little bit of intimidation slipping through. It's impossible not to be afraid, because he wants so badly to hope, but he knows what happens when he does... Still, he wants to at least get it over with, and he gathers himself just as you give your final encouragement with a smile.

"Lets."

Clearing his vents, it occurs to him that he's never been more self conscious than he is right now, which is an unfortunate feeling to prelude him baring his spark.

The soft glow fills the room as he shifts back his chest plating, revealing the orb of his "soul" as you'd once called it, and he internally admits that your quiet expression of awe gives him the boost he needs to start. "I bid you stand in the glow of my spark... so um, that you may feel the heat of my words and k-know them to be true."

It's arguably one of the only times he's ever stuttered, and while you don't react, he's never felt more foolish. Was it not enough for him to make a spectacle out of himself just by doing this? Did he really have to butcher the whole process too? Feeling dizzy, he forces his voicebox to try and start making words again. He's painfully aware of how ridiculous he looks; one eyed, mangled screw up trying to be sentimental... But darn it all, he made a commitment. Putting his claws beside his spark, he kept going into what he knew would be a bitter end.

"I invite you to receive my light and in doing so become my Amica Endura—from now until forever."

He doesn't realize he's at the end until he runs out of words. The fear and helplessness that follow are akin to the level he'd experience falling off a cliff with no flight to save him, and for an eternity he's left floundering in anticipation of the impact. This is supposed to be it, the moment you turn him away and rightfully go forward in life, better off for having left him. But you're quiet. Your words of dismissal aren't forthcoming, and your soft and somewhat sad little smile doesn't indicate that he should expect them. But why not?! Why won't you say them?! What could you possibly hope to gain by accepting?

You hardly dare to breathe as you wait for him to begin the next phase. The glow of his spark illuminates everything, allowing you to see the fear in every inch of his being, particularly his lone expressive optic. He doesn't want to believe you're saying yes, as much as he treasures you, he just can't believe you'd ever feel the same about him. But you do, and you try to communicate that with every fiber of your being. You want to be friends with him through anything that may come, and you pray that he can see the depth of your conviction in your eyes.

Something like a hiccup shakes his shoulders. You haven't refused him. It's been almost a minute, the light of his spark fluttering as the sheer power of his emotions coursed through it, namely his disbelief that any of this could be real. Something like relief but a million times stronger makes his vents hitch. He's still processing the turn of events when he remembers he has more to say.

"Ah... Y/N... for you... um... for your acceptance..." He croaks, trying to keep an accursed tear from leaving his optic by briefly tilting back his helm. You're similiarly affected, but you let yourself sniffle and shed a few tears as he approaches with his claws out to you. They're big enough that even a semblance of holding hands isn't really possible, but you grab the tip of each and squeeze regardless, knowing the sentiment is still quite clear. You're his friend, and you always will be, through thick and thin. Now he's finally starting to see that too.

He doesn't fully have a grasp on the fact that this is real, but he doesn't care about that as much as he should. You were his Amica Endura, his dearest friend, and you somehow liked him enough that all the baggage was worth it. With one of your tiny hands on each of his clawtips, he finished the ceremony. Each word felt light as a feather when he spoke it. "As you are to me, may I be to you—today, tomorrow, and always."

"Today, tomorrow, and always." You echo, meaning it with everything you are. There's no grand finale, but the emotion in his optic and quivering antenna is more impressive than any supernova. He doesn't seem to want to pull his claws away as he shifts his chest plating back into position, and you're happy to oblige, keeping a solid hold on his claws as if your tiny body is his lifeline.

"You didn't say no." He says as the glow of his spark disappears. It's a tone for a statement but he obviously wants it to be a question, and he only keeps it from being one because he's still too overwhelmed to ask that many yet.

You can't help but sniffle as you try to sound confident. "Of course I didn't."

"We're still friends." He says softly, closing his claws together so incredibly gently around your hands, letting the two of you be a little more connected as he marvels at his luck. Of all the squishies in the galaxy, this trip had led him to you, the one who made him happier than anything. Despite all sense you loved him, and he loves you back, and the two of you would get to keep on adventuring after this. You smile as you repeat your vow to make your dedication clear.

"Today, tomorrow, and always."

Those words strike a tender chord in his still sensitive spark, for you to believe them so confidently you'll repeat them with ease, and he's promoted to react on a whim.

"Can we hug?"

"Hug?"

"Is there an ech-" The rapid fire reflex of a joke fades out in the face of his genuine and unheard of desire for a bit of tender contact. Releasing your hands, he opens his arms to make his point clear, and is delighted when you start nodding even before he's done asking. "Yes, if you don't mind... okay? Okay."

It's more of a hug for you than him, your arms wrapping around his neck as you nuzzle against his helm to show affection, feeling him wrap as much of his gangly frame around you as possible without risking any kind of damage. While this may not be the first time he's initiated something like this, it's one of very few rare occasions, and thus you know this is special. You can feel how badly he wants the comfort through the ease he shows at your touch.

"You want to stay like this for a bit?" You ask gingerly, getting settled so you can stay comfortable for a few minutes cuddled up to him.

"Mhmm." He says softly, admitting to himself that hugs might actually be worth the fuss after all. Tiny hands reassuringly pat his shoulder, encouraging him to stay in place while he basks in this single perfect moment. He hadn't dared to hope you'd still be friends after this, but here you were, your little body holding and comforting him as if he wasn't several times your size. Funny thing, that fate, eh?

"Take your time."

"Y/N?" He whispers softly into the quiet, wanting to say one final thing before taking a few minutes to enjoy your company.

"Hm?"

There's a tiny pause before he holds you close with one final statement.

"Thanks."

#transformers #idw #maccadam #more than meets the eye #mtmte #lost light #tf #my writing #my asks #anon #requests #whirl #human reader #self insert #platonic #amica endura

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buckybarnesbabydoll · 3 years

Text

Lost and Found: Chapter 2

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader

Warning(s): none <3

Word count: 2,000+

Summary: You teach the Mandalorian how to ride a blurrg, and you have a strange dream after he's gone...

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 3

Note(s): i hope you guys enjoy this next part! i'm new to writing fanfics so pls go easy on me <3 I might try to make this a little bit of a slow burn fic too, also this part is now posted on my ao3!

The following day, you stood behind the ropes of the circle where you tame blurrgs. The Mandalorian has been trying to ride the same blurrg that attacked him the day before. He’s been trying since early morning and judging by the placement of the sun, as well as his groans in frustration, he hasn’t made a lot of progress. Kuiil was watching from inside the tent for a little bit, before leaving the rest to you so he could work on another one of his projects. You had your hood pulled over your head to keep the sun from beating down on you, leaning on one of the poles while you watched this hopeless lesson.

One arm resting on the wooden cylinder, while the other absentmindedly fiddled with the necklace you had on. It was a simple leather rope that was wrapped around a crystal. You found it interesting how that crystal became your favorite color, or perhaps your favorite color was because of the crystal. The only thing you knew about it was that you’ve had it since you were a baby, never being away from it. Even taking it off for a second made you feel vulnerable. At this point it was a part of you, the only thing binding you to your past, which was still muddled in smoke and mirrors.

Hearing the blurrg squawk and growl brought you back to the mess in front of you. You tried teaching the Mandalorian the same way Kuiil showed you how to ride, but now you’re learning that maybe everyone learns a little differently… It wasn’t that he wasn’t able to mount the creature, it’s that it wouldn’t let him stay on. Throwing him off at any attempt or scurrying away to different parts of the circle, it’s been a bit of a goose chase to watch. You couldn’t blame it though, he did try to burn it alive, or so that’s what Kuiil told you when he found the Mandalorian. But you had to admit, seeing a Mandalorian, who were revered for their strength in battle, get thrown around like a ragdoll was a little funny.

After getting bucked off into the dirt for the umpteenth time that day, the armored man exclaimed a ‘Dank Farrik!’ and stood up. Almost stomping towards you in a fed-up cadence with his arms swinging from irritation. You could almost perfectly imagine his expression underneath that helmet.

“Alright, this isn’t working. Do you have a speeder bike or anything else I can use to get there? I’ll pay you,” the modulation didn’t hide any of his feelings either, you bit your lip to keep from chuckling at his suffering.

“Sorry, we don’t have anything like that,” you swore he rolled his eyes under that helmet, unable to believe there wasn’t any other form of transportation besides those oversized land piranhas. “Perhaps try approaching it more… gently.” The silver helmet looked at you again, a brief silence before repeating you.

“Gently?” There was a slightly incredulous tone to the question. He’s been trying almost every method all morning, sowhywasn’tanythingworking.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “your methods are too blunt for it. It’s scared,” you gestured to the blurrg that was pacing on the other side of the circle.

“Scared of what? It attacked me,” you shrugged in response, looking at the distorted reflection of yourself on the beskar.

“At least try and approach more passively.” He sighed, deciding it wouldn’t hurt to try it your way. It was something different after trying forever. The Mandalorian moved closer to the blurrg, holding up his hands with his palms facing towards the creature. The blurrg started to act anxious again, watching his movements. But he gently shushed the creature, displaying his body language as less threatening as he scooted closer.

As the blurrg seemed to further relax, he quickly grabbed the reins and got up on its back again. You held your breath as you watched him climb up, and as the moments passed the creature seemed to start walking around like normal again. You cheered a little bit, since this was the first time you’ve taught someone how to ride a blurrg, you weren’t exactly sure how it was going to turn out. Fortunately, your first (and hopefully, last) attempt at teaching was a success. Thankfully, he didn’t die!

“Alright! Now let’s get you to your bounty!”

After the success of the Mandalorian learning how to ride a blurrg, you promptly hopped on yours to guide the way, where his bounty was waiting for him. You rode through the desert planet, hopping over fissures in the ground and riding across large swaths of cracked mud. You found it sort of fascinating how the cracks sometimes appeared hexagonal, how something so monotonous could be interesting to you, you’d never know. Again, it was hard to find a lot interesting on this desert planet. Your mind drifted off to different places on your ride there since the bounty hunter you were guiding was a man of few words. Well, at least when he wasn’t frustrated. You didn’t know a whole lot about Mandalorians, but you were sure you’d probably never know since he’s most likely going to die trying to get his bounty. They always did.

You rode up to the location of the Mandalorian’s bounty, the spot used to be a small town where you would visit and play in the fountain in the middle. Once a month there used to be different festivals for the various alien cultures that lived there filled with music and life. You’d walk around to the colorful vendors full of tasty food and pretty trinkets, always asking Kuiil for something from them. You didn’t have a whole lot, so those days he would always spoil you sick with anything you wanted. The resurfaced memory is fuzzy and warm, but things have changed now since it was taken over by raiders and pirates. It was never the same and it hurt to see something that special be ruined so quickly.

“This is it, whatever you’re looking for, it’s in there,” you tilted your head in the direction of the town. Or at least what was left of it. The Mandalorian took out his fob, holding it in the direction of the abandoned town. The quiet beeping increased over the ride to the spot, showing you had taken him to the right place.

“Thank you,” he said, nodding to you. You glanced over and noticed he was handing out a small pouch to you, but you shook your head in rejection. “Please, you’ve helped me a lot.” He reinforced the statement by urging the pouch your way again. The offer was nice, you’ve never encountered a bounty hunter quite like this one.

“That’s kind of you, but the only payment I need is seeing this area cleaned out of them,” you looked back at the territory a little solemnly. “Things… haven’t been the same since they arrived, but no one has managed to get rid of them yet.”

“...Then why help me?” He folded one hand over his wrist, holding the reins in the lower hand. It made sense why you were so patient to help him out, perhaps this place meant more to you than he knew. You paused to consider your answer.

“I’ve never met a Mandalorian, I’ve only lived here my entire life so all I know is the stories my father told me,” you mused, “if they’re correct, then this shouldn’t be too hard for you.” You start turning the blurrg before pausing, a hint of amusement on your face, “Not to mention, it was fun seeing you get bullied by that blurrg. Good luck!” You giggled to yourself, riding away as he shook his head. His face was definitely burning just a little bit from the memory of that display.

You took your time riding back, the Mandalorian still on your mind. Even though you got a ways away, the sound of blasters being shot reached you. Taking a minute to listen, it took a little bit before it went quiet again. That’s how it usually was, you’d bring them to the quarry, they would go off and get in a shootout, and you’d never see them again. You sighed, shaking your head. You wanted to have hope for the Mandalorian, but hopefulness won’t keep him from getting killed by a blaster shot.

“Well, at least now I know I can teach the next one how to ride a blurrg,” you shrugged to yourself, riding off back home. As you rode away into the desert, in the dust of an ended firefight the Mandalorian stood, gazing down at a small, green child in a floating pram. A child that would change both of your lives.

You arrived back home a little before nightfall, leading your blurrg back into her area before closing it off again. You pulled your hood off and sighed as the cool air drifted through your hair, the cool breeze felt nice on your scalp. Kuiil walked over to the entrance of the tent, holding two containers of water in his hand.

“Do you think this is the one?” You glanced over at your adoptive father, taking a drink he offers to you.

“I am not sure, we will find out in a few days,” he tilted his head to the side in uncertainty. “Do you think this is the one?” You shrugged at the question, taking a swig from the container. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him to make it, but with no one else making it back it was kind of hard to think anything else except that. “I’d like to think so. It would be cool to say I know a Mandalorian that didn’t immediately die after meeting him,” the Ugnaught snorted at your reasoning. “And… I don’t know, he just seems.. different. I don’t know if I can explain it.” Perhaps it was the slowly increasing need for change in your life, but you knew what you felt.

At least that’s what you thought.

The rest of the evening passed by without anything else eventful happening, but before you went to sleep you found yourself still wondering what happened to the Mandalorian. Perhaps he was dead, but oh well. You’d get your answer in a few days. Accepting the fate of your brief acquaintance, you let your eyes close and peacefully drifted off to sleep. You dreamt of the desert, the imagery moving over the sand to the location of the small town you used to frequent as a child. However, it wasn’t the nostalgic memory you were used to, it simply showed the current state of the town. But the movement didn’t stop there, you were slowly guided through the town, the echoes of laughter and cheer, of your childhood, bounced around until you entered the main building.

It was dark inside, the only source of light was the sun pouring in from the windows and entrances. Your heart wanted to wander around, to relive those fond memories. Relive moments when you weren’t worried about bounty hunters or mercenaries coming through your home and making you feel a little more on edge. But something drew you away from those thoughts. There was the slight tugging in the back of your mind, almost like a small string pulling you in a different direction until you saw what could be the source. You apprehensively approach a white, spherical floating object. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought it was a baby pram. Until it popped open, showing two green ears poking out from underneath.

You tilted your head in wonder, seeing something small start to peek out from underneath the blanket it was in. But you couldn’t get a good look at it, the face was blurred for some reason. It all felt… foggy. Despite the low visibility, you felt your hand lift a little to hold your finger out towards the small thing, wiggling it a little bit. It reached out a three-clawed hand at you, right as its hand wrapped around your finger, you woke up.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #mando #mandalorian #pedro pascal #the child #baby yoda #grogu #star wars #mando x reader #the force #fanfiction #fanfic #slow burn #the mandalorian x jedi! reader

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tyrantisterror · 3 years

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I did a four part series of trivia posts when ATOM Volume 1: Tyrantis Walks Among Us! came out, and that was pretty fun! You can see that set of trivia posts here if you’d like. I thought it’d be fun to do another now that ATOM Volume 2: Tyrantis Roams the Earth! is out - just one this time, because a lot of the trivia I talked about with Volume 1 still applies.

I’m gonna divide this into two sections: non-spoiler trivia, for things that really don’t give a lot of plot points away, and spoiler trivia, for things that DO give away major plot points. I recommend not reading the spoiler trivia until after you’ve read Tyrantis Roams the Earth!, for obvious reasons, and will put the spoiler trivia under a cut.

Ok, let’s go!

- So if you read ATOM Volume 1, you probably noticed that the book is split not only into chapters, but “episodes,” which consist of four chapters a piece. It’s kind of a nod to how the series owes a great deal of its DNA to various monster of the week shows, with Godzilla: the Series and The Godzilla Power Hour being obvious influences. It also allowed me to pepper in some illustrations and cheesy b-movie style titles into each volume.

- The first “episode” of Volume 2, Tyrantis in Tokyo, pays explicit homage to the giant monster movies of Japan, perhaps even moreso than the chapters that came before it. Given how much Japanese media influenced ATOM - from tokusatsu like the Godzilla, Gamera, and Ultraman franchises to anime like Digimon and Evangelion (hell, the title of this episode itself is a tip of the hat to Tenchi Muyo by way of one of its spinoffs) - it kind of felt obligatory that Tyrantis visit Japan and pay his respects.

- Tyrantis in Tokyo also fits in a tribute to another staple of Atomic Age pop culture: Rock and Roll.

- Kutulusca, the giant cephalopod that appears in Tyrantis in Tokyo, is one of the oldest kaiju in this series, dating back to the first iteration of Tyrantis’s story that I put to paper back in 2001 or so. It’s changed a lot since then, but its fight with Tyrantis goes more or less the way it originally did.

- Old Meg, the giant placoderm/shark, and Nastadyne, the bipedal beetle, both owe their existence directly to Deviantart’s Godzilla fandom. Old Meg originated as a dunkleosteus monster I submitted to a “create a Godzilla kaiju” contest held by Matt Frank, while Nastadyne is based on a Megalon redesign I made during the “redesign all the Godzilla kaiju” phase of DA’s kaiju fandom.

- The second episode, Tyrantis vs. the Red Menace, gets dark as we visit the USSR, which had enough REAL horror with atomic power in its history to make creature features seem a bit defanged by comparison. It’s probably the episode with the strongest horror elements - ATOM’s always been influenced by Resident Evil, and this is probably where that influence shows the most strongly.

- It also features the first fully robotic mecha in the series, the mighty Herakoschei! Its name is a combination of “Heracles” and “Koschei the Deathless,” with the former part being added by its Russian creators to make it seem a bit more international as they offer it to the U.N. in hopes of gaining aid for a very extreme kaiju problem they’ve developed.

- Most of Tyrantis vs. the Red Menace takes place in the Siberian Monster Zone. Its name is a reference to the Lawless Monster Zone in Ultraman, which is such a cool fucking name I wish that I wish I could go back in time and steal it.

- The next episode, Tyrantis’s Revenge, is... full of spoilers, so we’ll move on for now.

- The penultimate episode, Tyrantis vs. the Martian Monsters, is a love letter to MANY different sci-fi stories that involve life on Mars, though the most prominent of them is of course The War of The Worlds (one of my top 3 favorite books) and its various adaptations. From its tentacles sapient martians, the tripodal leader of the titular monsters whose name includes the word “ulla” which is uttered by said sapient martians, the plant monster made of red vines, the cylinder-shaped spacecraft the Martian monsters are sent to earth on, the copper-skinned stingray-esque flying martian who shoots lasers from its tail, and the fact that every chapter title in this episode is a quote from the book, the H.G. Wells influence is STRONG.

- The final episode, Invasion from Beyond!, is shamelessly inspired by Destroy All Monsters, although there’s a dash of “To Serve Men,” Godzilla vs. Monster Zero, and The Day the Earth Stood Still mixed in as well. It’s also sort of a tribute to my first “published” bit of a kaiju fiction - a rewrite of Destroy All Monsters that included EVERY Godzilla monster that had appeared at the time, which my middle school self wrote back in 2002 or so for Kaiju Headquarters, a kaiju fansite I’m not sure exists anymore. Invasion from Beyond! is just as ambitious (but hopefully better executed) as my DAM Remake, with dozens upon dozens of different kaiju duking it out, earthlings vs. aliens.

- There were three different documents I made to outline the final battle of Invasion from Beyond! It’s the largest episode of the series so far and more than half of it is that fucking fight. My inner child is pleased, though, so hopefully you will be too.

Ok, that’s all I can share without spoilers. READER BEWARE WHAT FOLLOWS BELOW THE CUT!

JUST MAKING SURE you know that SPOILERS will follow from here on out. Read at your own peril! YOU WERE WARNED!

(I’m gonna start with lighter ones just in case you scrolled too far and want to turn back)

- There’s a number of explicit Spielberg homages in ATOM Volume 2, from a “we need a bigger boat” joke during a chase with a giant shark to the fact that Invasion from Beyond! opens with a group of people flying to an island of monsters to review whether or not it should get more funding.

- When Tyrantis appears in the first chapter, I snuck in modified lyrics of The Godzilla Power Hour’s theme song. “Up from the depths”... “several stories high”... “breathing fire”... “its head in the sky”... Tyrantis! Tyrantis! Tyrantis!

- The two rock bands in Tyrantis in Tokyo have real life inspirations ala Gwen Valentine, albeit a bit more muddled than hers. The Cashews are inspired by The Peanuts (see what I did there), while The Thunder Lizards are a mix of The Rolling Stones, the Beatles, Buddy Holly, and the Big Bopper. I wanted The Thunder Lizards to be more akin to the myth of a famous rock and roll band than the reality - less the real Beatles and more the Yellow Submarine cartoon version of them.

- The song The Thunder Lizards write for Tyrantis was written to fit the tune of “The Godzilla March” from Godzilla vs. Gigan, though ideally if someone made an actual song of it it would be its own song. I got the idea from Over the Garden Wall, which used the Christmas song “O Holy Night” as a a starting point for “Come Wayward Souls.”

- Perry Martin, UNNO reporter and peer of Henry Robertson, is a nod to Raymond Burr, with his name being a combination of two of Burr’s most famous roles: Perry Mason, and Steve Martin from Godzilla King of the Monsters (1956).

- Dr. Rinko Tsuburaya is a few homages in one. Her name comes from Rinko Kikuchi (who played Mako Mori in Pacific Rim), while her last name is obviously in homage of Eiji Tsuburaya. Her being the daughter of an esteemed scientist is inspired by Emiko Yamane from the original Gojira.

- Nastadyne’s Burning Justice mode is named after a similar super mode from various Transformers cartoons, though it’s more directly inspired by the Shining/Burning Finger super move from G Gundam.

- Martians sending kaiju to different planets via shooting them out of cannons (with or without cylinder spaceships around them) is another War of the Worlds shoutout. So is martians living on Venus after their homeworld was made uninhabitable, actually.

- Kurokame’s vocalizations are described as wails in explicit homage to Gamera. His name can be translated as either “black tortoise” (a reference to the mythical guardian beast Genbu, which can also be construed as a Gamera reference thanks to Gamera: Advent of Irys implying Gamera and Genbu are one and the same) or a portmanteau of the Japanese words for crocodile and turtle - “crocturtle.”

- Burodon’s name is just a mangling of “burrow down.” It also sounds vaguely like Baragon, who Burodon is loosely inspired by. AND, since Burodon is sort of a knockoff/modified Baragon, that kinda makes him a reference to various monsters in Ultraman!

- The final battle of Tyrantis in Tokyo is sort of a hybrid of the finales of Ghidorah the 3 Headed Monster and Destroy All Monsters.

- The Japanese kaiju teaching Tyrantis the art of throwing rocks at your enemies is both a joke on the prominence of rock throwing in Japanese kaiju fights AND the tired trope of an American hero learning secret martial arts from a Japanese mentor ala Batman, Iron Fist, etc. In this case, the secret martial art is throwing rocks at people.

- When introduced to Herakoschei and its pilot, we are told that the strain of piloting this early mecha is so intense that many pilots have died in the process, with the current one passing out on more than few occasions. This is of course a Pacific Rim homage - sadly, no one invents drifting.

- Herakoschei’s design is a loose homage to Robby the Robot and Cherno Alpha, because big boxy robots are cool.

- The Writhing Flesh and ESPECIALLY Pathogen are both hugely influenced by Resident Evil and The Thing. Giant body horror piles of raw flesh, tendrils, mismatched mouths and limbs may be a bit outside the main era of monster design ATOM homages, but they fit the themes and bring a nice contrast.

- I came up with Pathogen long before Corona but MAN it definitely feels different in 2021 to have a giant monster whose name is a synonym for disease driving other creatures crazy in a quarantine zone than it did when I plotted out the story in 2016.

- The chapter title “Hello, Old Foes” is a riff on “Goodbye, Old Friend”

- Minerva, the kaiju-fied clone of Dr. Lerna, is meant to be an homage to Attack of the 50 Foot Woman, which is a genuinely good giant monster flick. I am sure many of you will also believe I included her because I’m a pervert whose into tall women, but you’d be wrong! I included the seven foot tall Russian mecha pilot Ludmilla Portnova because I’m a pervert whose into tall women. Minerva’s inclusion was just coincidental, I swear!

- Since Promythigor is a play on the archetypal ape kaiju to contrast Tyrantis as a play on the archetypal fire-breathing reptile kaiju, their fight has a lot of nods to King Kong movies. Promythigor attempts the famous jaw-snap maneuver of Kong (with less success), J.C. Clark paraphrases the “brute force vs. a thinking animal” line from the King Kong vs. Godzilla American cut, and Tyrantis slides down a mountain to knock Promythigor off his feet in a reversal of Kong doing the same in King Kong vs. Godzilla.

- Tyrantis sliding down a mountain on his tail doubles as a Godzilla vs. Megalon homage.

- Though Promythigor is the archetypal Ape and Tyrantis the archetypal Fire-Breathing Reptile, I think it’s fun to note that in some ways, Promythigor is the Godzilla equivalent in their matchup, and Tyrantis the Kong. Promythigor has a slight size advantage, was scarred by humans performing unethical weapons technology, and is associated with violent explosions. Tyrantis is a good-at-heart prehistoric beast who humanized in part by his unlikely friendship with a human woman.

- Of course, in the context of the famous quote from the American cut of King Kong vs. Godzilla, they remain in their archetypal lanes. Promythigor is the more intelligent of the two (though not necessarily wiser), and Tyrantis is in many ways a brute reptile. Their battle is a rebuttal of sorts to the assertion that Kong is the “better” animal because he is closer to human. Promythigor’s near human creativity and emotions don’t make him the kinder/more benevolent monster, but instead fuel a very self-centered and destructive attitude that makes him the far more dangerous threat. On the other hand, Tyrantis, who is less intelligent, limited in communication with others by his reptilian mindset and instincts, and simple in his thoughts and desires, is nonetheless a sweet creature that is easily dealt with when others consider his animal needs and mindset. There’s a quote from Hellboy I love that probably sums up all of my writing thus far: “To be other than human does not mean the same as being less,” and that’s what the matchup between these two in particular tries to illustrate: the “less” human Tyrantis is nonetheless more benign than the “more” human Promythigor.

- Kraydi the psychic lizard began life as a soft sculpture I made of the Canyon Krayt Dragon from The Wildlife of Star Wars. The sculpture didn’t look much like the illustration, but I liked how it came out, and so I made it an original monster named Kraydi (see what I did there). Figuring out an explanation for that name in ATOM’s world was possibly the most difficult kaiju naming task in the series, but it worked out in the end.

- Kraydi and Promythigor having psychic powers is a result of my time on Godzilla fan forums in my middle school years. Most of the forums had OC kaiju battle tournaments, and SO many of those kaiju had a wide array of beam weapons and psychic powers just to win the tournaments by beam-spamming and mind controlling their foes into oblivion. There’s a special kind of rage you get when your original creation is beaten by “Fire Godzilla” because he has a genius level intellect and the power of unstoppable telekinesis. Kraydi began as (and still is I suppose) my attempt to do a psychic kaiju well, while Promythigor’s villainy being tied to psychic powers being forced on him is sort of my passive aggressive commentary on people foisting powers on a monster without any real thematic reason for them.

- Henry Robertson and Dr. Praetorius chewing out the laziness of people giving kaiju completely unaltered names of mythic beasts will probably be seen as a jab at the Monsterverse and/or the numerous writers in the kaiju OC scene who do the same, but it’s ACTUALLY a jab at my past self, who had DOZENS of kaiju whose names were just Greek mythological figures verbatim. There are dozens of kaiju named Hydra, Scylla, Charybdis, Chimera, etc., past me, try to make the names stand out! Oh wait you did. I mean, don’t pat yourself on the back too much, you still went with “Mothmanud” as a canon name and never came up with something better, but, like, good on ya for trying I guess.

- Dr. Praetorius takes his name from the evil mad scientis in Bride of Frankenstein, who basically has all the wicked traits that Universal’s Frankenstein downplayed in their take on Dr. Frankenstein. Ironically, ATOM’s Dr. Praetorius is a bit less evil than his fellow mad scientists in ATOM. I really like how his character turned out, he surprised me.

- Isaac Rossum, the pilot of the USA mecha Atomoton, is named for Isaac Aasimov, whose robot stories are to robot fiction what Lord of the Rings is to high fantasy. His last name is a reference to Rossum’s Universal Robots, which is where the word “robot” came from.

- The unfortunate pilots of MechaTyrantis in ATOM Volumes 1 and 2 are all nods to Jurassic Park. John Ludlow = John Hammond and Peter Ludlow, Ian Grant = Ian Malcolm and Alan Grant, Dennis Dodgson = Dennis Nedry and Lewis Dodgson.

- A good way to pitch Invasion from Beyond! would be “what if the staff and monsters were able to fight back when the Kilaaks tried to take over Monsterland?”

- Ok, here’s a fun joke that no one will get but me because it requires a very specific chain of logic based on some obscure and loosely connected nerd bullshit. There’s a rocker in ATOM’s universe named Sebastian Haff, right? One of his songs, “Darling Let’s Shimmy,” is referenced right before a mothmanud larva emerges from the ground in both ATOM Vol. 1 and 2. Ok, so, in the Bubba Hotep, an aging Elvis impersonator named Sebastian Haff claims he is actually the real Elvis Presley, having changed places with the real Sebastian Haff as a sort of Prince and the Pauper deal that went wrong. Got that? Ok, so, in UFO folklore, a common joke is the theory that Elvis didn’t die, but was rather abducted by aliens (or he actually WAS an alien the whole time - the whole “Elvis didn’t die, he just went home” joke in Men in Black is a good example of this). Ok? Ok. So, in ATOM’s universe, we can surmise that their equivalent of Elvis, whose name is Sebastian Haff, WAS abducted by aliens, and that his song “Darling Let’s Shimmy” is subconsciously influenced by his repressed memories from his time aboard the Beyonder spaceships, which is why it accidentally awoke a Mothmanud larva in Volume 1. There’s a lot of bullshit jokes I put into ATOM, but this is perhaps the bullshittiest of them all.

- One of the most common bits of feedback on ATOM Volume 1 I got was “I kept waiting for something to eat Brick Rockwell, he’s such an asshole.” And I had to smile and go, “Oh, yeah, guess he never got his, huh?” the whole time without letting on that he was going to die here all along!

- Dr. Lerna and Brick Rockwell’s nature as foils to each other is probably most apparent in Invasion from Beyond!, where both are given fairly similar situations - a nonhuman approaches them with a solution to a global crisis - and react to it very differently. I worry that some people may think they both made the same choice and got different results, and that that’s hypocrisy on my part, but I hope I wrote it so you can see how their choices and situations actually differ in key ways, and why their decisions, while similar on the surface, are ultimately very different, and thus result in almost opposite outcomes.

- So, when I planned out this book in 2016, I swear I didn’t know about the Orca from 2019′s Godzilla King of the Monsters. Having the plot hang around Dr. Lerna deciding whether or not to use a sonic device to rouse all the kaiju to save the earth was not INTENDED to be a Monsterverse reference - it came about from me looking at Pathfinder’s take on kaiju, who are all explicitly influenceable by music, and thinking, “Oh, wow, music and songs DO have a major connection with kaiju in a lot of media, I should do something with that.” Whem KOTM came out a few days after Volume 1 came out I realized I was kinda fucked here, because the comparison was definitely going to be made, but I’d also set this all up already and you can’t just change suddenly to avoid looking like a copy cat and make a good story, so... I dunno, I leaned into it a bit, but it is what it is.

- While most people will probably think they’re a reference to the Reptoids of UFO folklore, the Reptodites are more inspired by the Dinosapien of speculative evolution fame and, even morso, by the Reptites from Chrono Trigger. Me wanting to avoid the “lizard people control the government” conspiracy theory trope is one of the main reasons why Reptodites have this non-interference clause with humanity.

- Lieutenant Gray is a bunch of different humanoid aliens rolled into one - a little Hopskinville goblin, a little classic gray, a little this one weird alien with five-fingered zygodactyl hands, etc.

- There’s some Beyonder Mecha in this volume that are basically kaiju-fied versions of the Flatwoods Monster. The species that built them ALSO engineered the Mothmanuds, because connecting Mothman and the Flatwoods Monster is fun!

- Pleprah is, obviously, a one-eyed one-horned flying purple people eater.

- Tyrantis’s brush with death, in addition to being so very anime, was inspired by my dad outlining how mythic heroes often have to travel to the underworld/land of the dead before they can finish their journey. It’s one of the plot points that I’ve had planned for this series since middle school.

- I’m sure some will view it as hackneyed and corny, but as a person who’s battled with depression for decades, having Tyrantis’s choice to live be the big heroic turn of the finale was very important to me. Tyrantis incorporates elements of a lot of imaginary friends I made as a kid, and in many ways he’s kind of the face of my more positive side in my head. He’s been telling me to choose to live for a while, and while maybe to an outsider it may seem hackneyed, it’s just... very Tyrantis. He chooses life and kindness in the face of pain and struggle. That’s Tyrantis.

- Tyrantis’s powered up form is called “Hyper Mode,” which is another Gundam reference. Originally it was a lot gaudier and involved him turning gold like a fuckin’ Super Saiyan. I opted for something a little more toned down here.

- Also, speaking of KOTM references, I decided to make Hyper Mode Tyrantis’s final duel with Pathogen be a sort of foil to Burning Godzilla’s final bout with Ghidorah in KOTM. Instead of ravaging the city, Hyper Tyrantis’s pulse of energy rejuvenates his fallen allies, and as a result he is “crowned” not out of fear for his supremacy in the wake of killing a powerful enemy, but in gratitude for his kindness. See? Leaning into it!

- And now I can finally reveal that Yamaneon is ATOM’s equivalent of The Monolith Monsters - that is, a kaiju that is also a mineral. I took the “strange continuously growing rock” thing in a very different direction, though, as unlike The Monolith Monsters, Yamaneon is actually alive.

- At various points in the pre-writing process, either Promythigor, MechaTyrantis, or both were going to die fighting Pathogen. I ultimately decided to let them both live, with MechaTyrantis even getting his flesh and blood body back, because I think it’s more interesting and thematically consistent that way. They get a chance to heal their wounds by changing their ways.

- The Great Beyonder and Dorazor both almost didn’t make the cut, as I felt they didn’t have the same pull as villains that Pathogen, Promythigor, and MechaTyrantis did. But then I thought that could actually be the gag - build them up as the final boss, only to have Pathogen take their crown. I want to explore post-face turn Dorazor a bit more, though. We’ll have to see about that in a later volume.

- Volumes 1 and 2 make up what I call “The Ballad of Tyrantis Arc” for ATOM. I call it that because Tyrantis’s storyline in these two volumes was patterend after Chivalric ballads like Yvain the Knight of the Lion. Tyrantis, a heroic warrior who is kind but dumb of ass, learns of strange goings on outside his home and investigates. During his journey into the unknown he falls in love with a powerful woman, whose favor he tries to win. Through happenstance he is separated from his love and, distraught, wanders around fighting various foes to prove his worth, before finally returning to his love a better hero. Invasion from Beyond! could even be seen as a sort of Morte d’Artur, with Tyrantis and a bunch of other kaiju heroes (including Nastadyne and Kemlasulla, who are built up as Hero Kaiju of Another Story) take part in a huge battle that threatens their idealic kingdom (of monsters).

- Volume 2 isn’t the end of ATOM, but it’s designed to work as an ending if you want to tap out here. As a reader I feel a definitive ending is important, but as a writer I’m always tempted to revisit my beloved characters, so I feel giving closure while leaving a few doors open for possible future adventures is a good compromise between these positions. There will be more ATOM stories, some (but not all!) following Tyrantis and Dr. Lerna, but if you want to know that Tyrantis and Dr. Lerna get an ending and the resolution to their arcs such a thing promises, here you go. An ending, if not THE END.

#The Atomic Time of Monsters #A.T.O.M. Trivia

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Emp-ire “The Angel On My Side.”

Hope everyone is having a good day. And I hope you all like seeing Ramirez a little more because he is going to be present a lot in these next stories. I hope you find this fun because I had fun writing it :)

“Relax would you, you look like…. Well you look like you're sitting in the dentist's office waiting for a root canal.”

Adam looked up from his hands as the shuttle rocked from side to side, “Sory, I just generally prefer to drive. This guy keeps dipping too shallow and it's making me nervous.”

Ramirez rolled his eyes and kicked back to take a look at the pamphlet he was reading, “Listen to this. I picked this up back on the station and it's pretty interesting read.” He cleared his throat, “Within the last eighteen months GA xeno planetary analysts have green lit twenty potential colony planets for human habitation. According to xeno-scientific experts, these planets are all perfectly habitable, and unlikely to ever produce sentient life of its own. Each of these planets has a suitable climate for a large population though xeno experts will be strictly limiting colonization in an effort to not destabilize the planetary ecosystem. Each colony will be heavily monitored by members of the xeno colonization taskforce. Efforts will be made to keep the natural landscapes of the planet as intact as possible. For these reasons the use of technology, and natural gasses are being strictly limited by the Interplanetary Energy Association. Some experts postulated that these limits on technological use might have a hand in deterring colonists, however this theory has proven to be false as slots for planetary habitation fill up quickly. Furthermore xeno cultural experts have been stunned at the sudden and rapid development of micro cultures within the colonies. The term they are using is called Rapid Microcultural Evolution, often these cultures are very specific and very niche to each planet often based on dead or outdated human cultures from history largely influenced by popular media.”

He set down the pamphlet, “Isn’t that cool, I was reading in here at it seems like there are “themed” Colonies now. Like the one we are going to is like wild west, but there is also a sort of greek/roman style one that popped up in the milky way, and even a victorian one out somewhere in andromeda.” Adam tilted his head, “Guess you and I are going to have to start a colony.”

“Alright, what theme are we gonna pick, can’t be sci fi because we live in that.”

Adam leaned back in his seat, “You ever stop to think that we only consider it sci fi because I watched too many space movies from the 2000s. Technically it's not sci fi its sci fact. I have a house on the moon, and fly a spaceship.”

“Good point.” He walked to sit over next to Adam, “So what time period do you think is cool.”

Adam tapped his foot on the ground, “how about…. Renaissance?”

“I was thinking vikings or WAIT Aztec.”

“Mmmm some of my ancestors were viking.

“And twenty bucks says some of my relatives were Aztec.”

Adam shrugged, “Just mix them together and make Aztec vikings and ‘bam’ you have the craziest space culture ever. Big ass viking men who drag you back to the ziggurat to pull your beating heart out of your chest for a good Maze harvist.”

The two of them laughed for a second until the shuttle dropped into upper atmosphere, and then the two of them went relatively silent as they prayed to make a safe landing as the shuttle rocked and bumped through the upper atmosphere. The sky on the planet was a very vibrant blue, almost more so than earth, and as they descended towards the barren open desert, they thought they might have seen a oup of horses riding north over the barren, rocky landscape.

When they landed, Ramirez stumbled from the shuttle and out into sunlight throwing a hand up to protect hi face.

It was hot, and the croaking of strange alien insects rose up around them. The site they were at was arid and mostly deserted with a single wooden building before them and a shiny new set of train tracks.

The two of them stared, “Awesome.”

Looking around, they could see miles and miles of open plane, mostly desert, but some tufts of strange looking scrub brush and more than a few rocky plateaus rising into the sky.

Then they looked around at the people.

They were not disappointed.

Men and women alike in jeans and suspenders, with wide brim hats and gun belts. Some of the women had on long skirts and decorative hats or even bonnets on a few occasions. There were a few horses tethered to the side of what they assumed to be the train station.

“I think we are a bit overdressed.” Ramirez said, leaning over to whisper to Adam.

He nodded, lets go change and then buy some train tickets to the capital. We have to find somewhere to get horses if we want to make this any sort of experience.”

Ramirez frowned as they made their way towards the train station, kicking up dirt in his wake, “Wait, horses, hold on I thought we were just going to kick up around town, go to the saloon, get drunk and maybe hit on a couple of bar maids or something.”

Adam snorted, “Please we can’t go to the cowboy planet and not put our equipment to use.’

They shoulder their way through the double doors, their feet clattering on the wooden flooring. A few faces looked up at them from the waiting benches, but mostly they ignored the two strangers.

Adam motioned ramirez towards the bathrooms and the two of them made their way over, Glad that this was at least one modern convenience that they got to keep. Ramirez took a little while to get his gear on, and when he stepped out of the bathroom Adam was already waiting for him.

Waiting for him leaned up against the wall, the brim of his hat low over his eyes. Ramirez was a bit surprised at how well the other man fit into the role. He was wearing a light blue button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up at the elbows, and a black vest over that, his hat was black and he had blue jeans tucked into black boots. A brown leather gunbelt hung at a canted angle on his hips.

When he looked up Ramirez grinned And adam shook his head, “You dumbass, do you even know how to put that on.”

Ramirez looked down, “What!”

Adam walked over, “I thought you lived in texas.”

He grabbed Ramirez by the shoulders and began adjusting his clothes, “Come on, If you are making me spend time with you, the best you could do is not look like a dumbass.”

Ramirez held up his hands Grinning as Adam grabbed the pistol from his holster and adjusted the belt.

“Hey Adam, is that your gun belt or are you just happy to see me.”

Adam looked up at him with a withering gaze, “I hate you you know that.”

Ramirez grinned, “I know.”

Adam flipped the gun around, “Holster Like this if you want to be authentic, now quit being a dumbass or we are going to find out what it feels like to get a bootheel to the balls.”

“Kinky.”

He didn’t see the short side handed slap that came for the side of his head but still felt it was worth it as he tugged on his hat.

His poison of choice was a white shirt and no vest with brown boots and the light tan hat from earlier. He thought he looked sexy as hell. In fact he would go so far as to say the both of them looked pretty hot. Two eligible bachelors out on the town…. Well one eligible bachelor and a slightly less eligible bachelor with huge baggage issues still hung up on his one and only love, but that was more of a mouthful.

Adam left Ramirez standing by the door and walked over to buy some tickets, which were also being purchased using credits as anywhere else. When he walked, his boots clomped over the floor and jangled lightly. No one bothered to look up as he went past making it clear just how common that occurrence was around here.

He came back later with two train tickets and sat on the bench next to ramirez leaning his head back against the wall.

Adam crossed his arms over his chest and pretended to be asleep, while some alien insects buzzed around the room rather annoyingly.

It was hot and Ramirez tugged at the collar of his shirt.

They were there for probably thirty or forty minutes before a distant train whistle jolted the two of them back into wakefulness.

Adam stood and so did Ramirez, the two of them jogging noisily outside onto the wooden platform in order to watch the train.

Though the train had wheels and ran on tracks, big, black and impressive, it clearly wasn’t run on coal or natural gas. However, whoever had designed the thing had clearly put great emphasis into making it look as realistic as possible, and the thundering roar as it rolled over the tracks was something to behold, vibrating in their bones in a way that just wasn’t captured by the maglevs of earth.

“Damn, that is cool.”

Adam smirked a little, “hey think the train will get robbed on our way back to town.”

Ramirez grinned, “If we don’t, I want my money back.

The platform around them started to fill up some, and they stepped back as the train pulled to a stop, urged back by a few conductors as a couple of passengers stepped out carrying bags. Some of them were cleary tourists, though there were a fwe who looked like citizens.

Stepping onto the train, the two of them were ushered into a car in the back and sat in an uncomfortable wooden bench as they watched the other passengers slowly filter onto the train. No one even looked at them twice, except, Ramirez noticed, a very pretty cowgirl who stepped o second to last and sat a few rows behind.”

He grinned and elbowed Adam in the ribs, who looked over at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I think this planet is going to really benefit from….. A latin lover.” he whispered seductively.

Adam punched him in the leg.

He yelped, “Ouch, dude, no sense of humor.”

“I don’t know, I thought that was pretty funny.” The two of them shared a laugh as the train began to chug forward over the tracks, slow at first and then faster and faster until the landscape was rushing by below them.

The ride was rather bumpy and sort of loud, but they were ok with that.

The sun inched towards the horizon as the train moved, and the sky faded from blue to a delicate violent towards the horizon.

At some point Adam drifted off at his side and ended up slumping against the window.

Ramirez let the poor guy sleep and sighed.

It had been a rough time for the crew, and for him, but he hoped he was doing the right thing by coming out here and taking him on some sort of adventure. Sure he had selfish motives, and wanted to see cool things, but he liked to think this was mostly for his friend.

The entire sky was almost purple now, and the light of a distant city sprung up before them.

He nudged Adam awake, and the other man sat up blinking owlishly as he looked around. Little lanterns on the carriage had been lit, illuminating the interior of the train with dim yellow light. The train began to slow, and then pulled to a stop as they got to their feet and stepped off.

Walking off the wooden planks of the train station and down into the muddied dirt road of the Bramble Colony Capital: Two Sun.

The streetlights had already been lit though horse drawn carts and carriages were still being pulled through the streets.

Dogs barked on occasion and voices rose up from houses and establishments on either side of the wooden boardwalk street.

“Where to?” Adam wondered/

“The Saloon!”

“You are such a dumbass.” Adam said, shaking his head, but he followed after Ramirez. Walking down the street their boots clattering voer wooden boards and through mud the leather of gun belts creaking slightly as they walked.

“Dude I feel like such a badass.”

Ramirez turned to look at Adam eyebrow raised, for the first time since their trip started, he seemed genuinely excited.

“Glad I’m not the only one!’

“Hey!”

The two of them drew to a halt in the mud turning to the side where they spotted a man sitting on one of the wooden porches. Ramirez’s eyes widened as he saw the shiny golden star on the left side of the man’s chest, “Sheriff!”

The man Raised an eyebrow probably not used to being greeted so enthusiastically.

“You two new around here?”

The two of them grinned at each other as the man’s exaggerated rural drawl fell over them.”

The man narrowed his eyes.

“Yes sir, just visiting.”

“Well you see this building behind me.”

“Yes sir.”

“You two fools get into any trouble and you'll be behind bars faster than a thoroughbred from the starting gate, you hear me.”

Ramirez jumped up and down in his boots turning to look at Adam, “Wild west jail.”

“Not a tourist attraction Ramirez.” He turned to look at the Sheriff who was still eying them and grabbed his friend by the shoulders steering them clear, “We’ll keep our noses out of trouble Sheriff.”

Ramirez was still grinning as they made their way down the street, “Do you have a death wish?”

“He won’t kill me, but wouldn’t going to cowboy jail be a great story.”

“Getting dragged would also be a great story when all my skin pealed off.”

“Dragged?”

“Old west form of punishment where you get dragged behind a horse till dead.”

Ramirez shook his head, “I will go with a no on that one, also not a big fan of hanging, but I could do a firing squad as long as I was allowed to make a really bad pun before I go.”

Adam snorted with some amusement as they made their way towards the loudest building on the street. From the sound of the out of tune piano on the inside and the drunken singing , they were in the right palace.

Adam Grabbed Ramirez by the back of the shirt and dragged him away from the swinging doors, “Hold on, hold on.”

Ramirez stopped, “What.’

“Ive always wanted to do ths.”

“Do what?”

Adam cracked his neck and his knuckles before stepping towards the door and pushing both open. The clatter of his boots was loud on the floor and Ramirez waited for that expected moment when all of the sound would stop and everyone would turn to look at them.

That…. Did not happen.

In fact, no one noticed the two young men as they made their way inside the hot, cramped room smelling of liquor and sweat.

“My disappointment is immeasurable and my day has been ruined.” Ramirez whispered.

Adam frowned, “yeah my expectations were, well, expecting something better than that.”

Together the two of them made their way over to the bar, both leaning against it in exaggerated nonchalance before bursting into laughter. The bartender, a stern looking redhead walked over, “And what do you boys want.”

Ramirez patted Adam on the back, “me and my friend are looking to get very drunk very quick, think you can help us.”

The woman sighed, but ducked behind the bar.

Adam tilted his head at Ramirez, “I thought you didn’t like it when I drank.”

“When you drink alone, yes, but when you drink with me, we have a party.”

“Sure we do.” Adam snorted

The woman came back a moment later with two shot glasses and bottle which she set on the bar, “This will get you drunk.”

Adam flipped over the bottle to take a look, “Shit, Ramirez, this is practically paint thinner.”

“Tastes like to too.” The woman said as she poured two shots of the stuff and slid it over to them.”

Adam took it gingerly like it was a snake about to bite him.

Ramirez raised the glass, “Ready when you are, cowboy.”

“Don’t call me that.” Adam said raising the glass, and together they kicked it back bith grimacing and sputtering as they came back up to set the shots back on the bar.

Adam wiped his eyes, “Damn, Like…. Rubbing alcohol.”

Ramirez waved a hand in front of his face “Makes my eyes burn just thinking about it. Another!”

“Sweet heavens above.”” Adam Implored, but slid his glass back to the bartender, who seemed very amused.

“Are we going to end up in jail by the time this is over.”

“Probably.”

They took another shot.

It was about ten or so minutes later when Adam started to feel the warm fuzzy sensation inside his chest. Ramirez had already vanished somewhere tryin to woo the local population. No one was safe.

He took a seat at the bar head down staring at his glass.

Why was he thinking about Sunny all of a sudden.

“Someone break your heart.” The bartender said dryly. When he looked up, he expected her to be wiping at the same greasy spot of counter with an even greasier rag, but she was simply leaned against the bar staring at him.

“That obvious?”

“Nine out of ten times its the best guess, besides, most of the time two shots from that bottle can lighten anyone’s mood.”

“You got something….. Strong but like…. Good tasting?”

“You mean something brightly colored and fruity?”

“Yeah, something brightly colored and fruity.” She Smirked, “You're braver than most men at this bar.”

“I knew we were dressing as cowboys, but I didn’t know the 1800s let us borrow their views on drinks too.”

She laughed, and returned a few second later with a martini glass full of bright green liquid, “There that should do for yah.”

He sipped at it a little, and satisfied it wasn’t going to peel the first layer of his insides began to drink.

“So, this girl of yours… she leave you.”

“No uh…. I sort of left her.”

“You some kind of simpleton…. Idiot maybe/”

He sighed and slumped down in his chair. “That’s what I’m told… I left her…. So I wouldn’t hurt her. I don’t think she understood but….. I’ve been pretty messed up since the war.”

“A soldier huh.”

“Not much of one.”

“ANd your friend over there, the one dancing on the table, is he a soldier too?”

Adam turned around to look towards where Ramirez was standing on a table and dancing around like a moron to the flight of the drunken crowd below, “He sighed, do you know what a synonym for moron is?”

“What/”

“A marine.” He stood, “Hold on a second while I go get him, “

He walked over to the table hands on hips and looked up,”Ramirez, Get down from there.”

“Or, or you could come up here.”

“Or I damn well won’t.”

He turned around in a circle stamping his boot and clapping his hands.

“Come on! Have some fun.” off in the corner the piano was going loudly getting faster and faster.”

“If you don’t come here I pull out the shoe.”

Adam looked back at the bartender who looked more amused than she did annoyed. So he sighed and held up a hand, “help me up.”

Ramirez grinned and grabbed him by the hand, helping to haul him into the table, where the two of them linked arms and began dancing around in a circle in some horrible tandem rendition of square dancing mixed with swing dancing. The table wobbled dangerously back and forth threatening to tip over as their weight distribution swayed around and around. Laughing and Drunken chanting started up as the piano started to go faster and faster.

Those who were able to sing along in time with the words, soon stumbled over them, their lips tripping over the words that spilled from their mouths.

Adam and Ramirez stomped their boots and kicked up their heels in a wild tornado, both of them having surprisingly good rhythm. The piano grew faster and faster and faster until they were simply spinning around in a wild circle.

And then the door slammed open.

The piano cut off, and Ramirez went tumbling into Adam causing the two of them to pitch backward off the table and hit the floor with a loud “thud”. The room was dead silent except for the sound of boots rattling over the ground.

Adam ad Ramirez groaned rolling into sitting positions as they looked up at the intruder.

The man they saw was…. Greasy and unkempt with a snarled black beard and a pockmarked face. He wore a tatty black leather jacket and grimy fingerless gloves. His clothing was travel stained and filthy. When he walked into the room, his smell was just as present as he was.

“Don’t stop on my account.” He said, “it looked like we were just getting to the fun part.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing back here Louis.” the bartender snarled,”I thought we made it very clear that you weren’t welcome last time.”

The man raised his hands innocently, “Oh please, I am just here to/...collect charitable donations.”

“Get out! Or we call the sherif.”

“Sheriff is busy…. Chasing outlaws outside of town.”

Adam and Ramirez exchanged looks as they slowly got to their feet.

The man reached towards his belt, “You boys stay right where you are.”

Adam raised his hands, “Woah, no harm done.”

Adam glanced towards Ramirez, giving him a look as he began to inch quietly to the side. Adam moved strategically in the opposite direction keeping his hands up.

He tried to look as shifty as possible to keep the man’s attention, “I think you should leave like the lady said.”

“Oh ho so one of the twinkle toes dancing boys thinks I should leave.”

“I do, so i am going to ask politely first.”

“And then what.” his hand inched down hovering over the grip of his gun. Adam did the same, though his fingers had gone numb. He was a good shot, but dueling! He knew he would fumble! He just knew it.

“I’m going to stop you.”

He laughed, “Oh you wil,l will you.”

Adam stared hard at the man’s face watching Ramirez move into position behind the man’s back, “I will…. I have the angel’s on my side.”

The man started to laugh.

Ramirez struck, grabbing a bottle from the nearest table and cracking the man across the back of the head with it. The man went down hard but Ramirez doubled over clutching his hand,”Fuck….. My hand! I thought those were so supposed to break! Shit.”

Adam leaped forward pinning the man to the ground.

A few other men and women rushed forward to help and soon enough they had him hog tied on the floor.

He stood up heart beating with exhilaration.

Ramirez rubbed his hand and groaned in pain.

Adam pressed his knee into the man’s back.

The bar tender came around from behind the bar, “That was a dumb move boys brave but dumb.”

Adam looked over to where ramirez was still nursing his wound, “yeah, I think that describes us pretty well doesn’t it. I got this guy, the rest of you can go back to drinking.”

The bartender shook her head, “You buys drink free tonight.”

Ramirez grinned, “how can I say no to that! Drinks on me!”

Adam ignored the cheering of the bar for a moment, as he pulled the guns from the mn’s belt, and…. A very large knife. He noticed the decorative handle and, out of curiosity, pulled it out. It felt heavy in his grip, with good heft. He tested the edge against the hairs on the back of his arm, and they fell away smooth.

“Not bad.” he muttered.

Sunny would like…..

He paused

Looked down, looked around and then back down fighting with himself internally before.

Discreetly tucking the knife into his own, empty, knife sheath.”

Looking up he saw one of the serving girls staring at him.

He blushed and held up a finger to his lips.

She smiled, ruby red lips parting slightly, and winked at him, turning away exaggeratedly as if she hadn’t seen anything.

The door crashed open again a few moments later, and the Sheriff came barging into the room huffing and puffing like a bull, covered in dust, fingers stained with cordite. He paused in te doorway frowned at the scene before him and walked over, “Louis Grey.”

He looked down at Adam, and then Over at Ramirez who was taking advantage of his momentary glory.

“Thought I told you not to get into trouble.”

“You never told us not to stop it.”

He grunted and motioned to a few men to help him drag the body back to the jail, “Guess this is a thanks I owe you then. He has outstanding warrants in several counties, can never catch him though greasy little weasel.”

The unconscious man was dragged away only just beginning to stir. The sheriff shook his hand. “You boys be safe, and try not to do something so dumb next time.”

Adam touched the brim of his hat. “Yes sir.” He reached down to touch the knife at his belt, “We will make sure of it.”

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