“Gah,” the long-haired swordsman would scoff, an outcry overheard by his mate in the next room.
“What is the matter?” Rathteu pokes his head out from the kitchen, brow scrunched in curiosity. The straps of his kitchen apron dangle from the doorway.
“Ugh, ‘data storage almost full’. This is 19959! You would think they would accommodate these devices so people like me wouldn’t...” Rathrey trails off, tapping at his HOLO’s screen fruitlessly before huffing and tossing it to the side of the couch.
Teu raises a brow. This isn’t the first time Rey has bickered about his cellular device, ‘broken this’ and ‘maddening that’.
“...You could use mine?” Teu offers, and the couch-bound one thins his lips, peeking over the cushions to look at his mate. That was a bargain.
“...You’re onto something,” Rey says, fingerguns twirling in thought in his direction before laying himself out on the sofa fully. “I will be quick, I swear it.”
Teu snorts.
Bullshit.
“Sure you will be,” he smirks, ducking back into the kitchen for a few seconds before leaning back out of the doorway, his own HOLO between his fingers. “I’ve no expected calls today. Do go wild.”
Aaand, toss.
The arced throw makes the HOLO land firmly on Rey’s stomach, a quiet oof signalling his surprise and taking hold of it with large hands.
“Bless you,” he mumbles, right away swiping and typing away to do whatever Rathrey usually does with his own HOLO.
Not long afterwards, the two were squirming on their couch-- much too small for two tall Jennerit like them-- attempting a comfortable spooning whilst their movie rolls on their HOLOvision. After grumpy remarks and a bit of push and shove, they finalized their position, the two content with how they lay against eachother.
Somewhere within the labyrinth of Rath limbs and blanket, a small tweeting was heard with a follow-up vibration.
Teu perks up.
“--Email. Hand it to me,” he mumbles, Rey awkwardly reaching between the two of them to acquire his lifemate’s HOLO. A lazed forearm hangs over his face as he swipes and taps to check the message--
...Wait.
“What?”
Rey’s neck cranes quickly to regard Teu’s odd reaction, expecting the worst. Instead of answering his own question, though, he just holds the HOLO’s lit screen in front of Rey’s face, the both of them glaring at it intensely through the darkness of the room.
Teu read the bright prompt on-screen, in which was blocking his view to his inbox:
“ ‘Check on your little kitties! They miss you. Open the Neko Catsune app’.” Rey could feel the fire burning through the back of his head with Teu’s intense glare at him. “What is this, Carus--??”
“Ssh--t- just--” Rey scrambles to tap the screen and get the message to go away. “Nothing! See! Back to normal.” --Not entirely a lie, Rathteu could see his email inbox now.
“...Rey.”
The syllable crawls up Rey’s neck and he grits his teeth. Nevertheless, Teu rolls his eyes and scrolls through his... sudden, spontaneous 30+ new emails within the past 10 minutes.
To Rey’s distress, he reads the subject lines aloud.
“ ‘Validate your email for... for Cat Clan Wars’. ‘Check out this new offer on a premium edition of Kitty Catty Casino Jam’. ‘You have 120+ new friend requests on KittyScape’....”
Two holes were burning through Rey’s head with how flaming Teu’s glare was now. Rey’s head slowly ducks down, trying not to show his guilt.
“What is this? Dear--?” Teu growls lowly, backing out of his inbox to scroll through... the 6 new pages of apps full of cat games. His jaw lies ajar, almost shocked.
“Why are you downloading all this crap onto my phone?!”
The cheeky, guilty laughter Rey belted out next? That was cut short by a firm knee to his crotch, courtesy of their current position.
The steady afternoon was followed up by an eclipsing nightfall, courtesy of the Exodus blocking a majority of the sunlight on Echelon. Rather perfect for an evening downtown, especially for the Raths.
Straight out of the Warmaster office, the two would breathe in the last fumes of daylight on their tidally locked planet, watching Solus progressively disappear behind the massive ship in orbit.
There were a few joints that the two preferred, low profile and rather low on the wallet as well. One of these was Chom-Nom Sucshi, family-owned by a vigorous pair of Helicians that cooked fish just as passionately as their natural rage.
“How many crab puffs?” Teu pipes up from behind his menu, eyeballing Rey hard as he jots down the number of puffs he wanted.
“Twenty-five?”
Rey doesn’t look up from the paper, his chickenscratch writing barely legible from where the Rath adjacent sat.
“Get your eyes checked,” he mumbles, clicking the pen and pushing the paper forwards with his order.
Teu squints.
Four.
“You know they might mistake that again,” Teu murmurs, looking back down at his menu. “Our writing resembles Thrall graffiti behind the restaurant.”
Rey huffs and there’s a rather frustrated click from his pen again as he scribbles the number out aggressively, leaving a whirlwind of ink where a pitiful 4 used to be.
“Fine, let’s try again.” He doesn’t sound particularly fond of having to retry, but he does remember the waiters bringing them a whopping 25 puffs more than they had wanted.
Sure, the two love them, but... Not that many.
Moments later and the two were more than ready, orders taken by the passing waitress and leaving the two alone to banter during the awful wait. Talks of the most vile commanders and snobby noblemen and women were the end highlights of every Warmaster workday, and there was no shortage of bullcrap happening when it came to Jennerit politics.
Mid-tangent, however, Teu spots the same waitress tip-toe on over, humming a low tune on her breath as she sets down multiple plates onto their table.
One of which was rather large.
Rey stopped short, breath caught in his throat and hands in the middle of a passionate gesture of speech, eyes downwards.
Thirty crab puffs, all laid nicely strewn about a paper surface in a woven basket.
This menace was an all-time high. Notably, Rey’s face reddens, but before he could object to the one who brought their excess food, the short Helician was gone. The fury behind the pivot in his chair was enough to make the whole booth catch aflame.
Teu’s jaw was ajar with awe. The corners of the swordsman’s mouth threatened to curl, taking all of his willpower to not burst out in loud laughter.
“Shut up! Just! Shh!” Rey barks anyhow, pushing the basket forwards with a couple of the pastries flying out at his partner.
Teu wheezes.
“But I have not said anything--!” A snort leaves him and he picks up a puff, stuffing his mouth quickly before his laughter would escape. His ears were aflutter with amusement, though, so that was a good enough giveaway.
“I can see it on your face! Just-- Don’t look at me!” Flustered, the long-haired of the two crosses his arms and sharply turns his head away, huffy and red.
Teu seems to chew a little faster as his mouth betrays him, curling up in a smug smirk that seems to make Rey shake. There goes the chuckling fit, a snortle replacing his bellows as he continues to eat--albeit lacking elegance.
“Our writing is crap, dear, and it won’t ever not be,” Teu concludes after he swallows his bite, a toothy grin spreading from ear to ear.
Rey straight up grabs a puff between two chunky fingers and chucks it full force at his lover, the mark being his right cheekbone. Teu gurgles and blows a raspberry as he fumbles with the tasty projectile, catching it and shoving it into his mouth with more laughter.
“What are we supposed to do with these!?” Rey furiously remarks, knowing how much the restaurant staff charged for leaving so much food behind. His hand gestures slowly become more violent and rammy.
Teu shrugs.
“Get creative,” he muffles through his mouthful, laying back in his seat and letting his feet sit on the booth across from him, beside Rey.
The other Rath growls, looking over his shoulder at the other tables.
“Sure, creative, what are we to do, carus? Simply dispose of them elsewhere?”
Teu doesn’t respond for a moment. Something perked up in his head, his gaze growing more squinty and distant with the lingering thought..
“Verod?”
Teu piques, ears up and alert at his name. Without another word, he grins, his hands snaking over to scoop another couple of puffs up. He straightens in his seat, looking around them before-- without warning-- tossing them behind their booth.
Rey’s eyes widened.
“CARUS,” he hisses in caution, hunching over at his lover’s action. Teu giggles gently and takes a couple more puffs, leaning over the table as he scoped his next target.
A couple was just getting out of their seat to get more food.
Steady...
Rey didn’t even move to stop him. Too baffled, he watched hopelessly as more pastries flew from their booth, Teu’s aim exquisite as they both land 3 booths away.
One landed in the lady’s drink.
Rey covers his mouth with a gasp, other hand smacking down Teu’s wrist and pinning it to the table.
“You can’t be-- serious--!!”
“Oh, but I am,” the other coos, sticking out his long, forked tongue before using his other hand to fling more puffs, this time to the booth in front of them. Rathrey let forth a honk of warning before peering over the wall, seeing that no one was occupying it.
Thankfully.
“By damned, you need to cut it out,” he grumbles, though he doesn’t sound overly angry about this. Teu thinks he was slowly starting to accept it.
“Oh, fine,” he pouts, but gives him a wink, plucking his chopsticks from his plate and pretending to eat some of the other articles brought to their table.
Rey glares with annoyance, but with an inner amusement.
The night trembles on with sweet and sour foods filling the Raths’ gullets, soft conversation and silence filling their experience with ambience and full bellies. As the waitress walks by for one of the last times tonight, the Raths wave her down, obliviously asking for the bill.
What still sat on their table was a bad omen.
As the waitress nods and walks away, Teu smiles at Rey absentmindedly, satisfied from a good and filling meal. His hand trails across the table, looking to meet his lover’s, but hits the one thing they forgot about.
He freezes.
There were still at least 20 crab puffs sitting menacingly in the basket.
Both swordsmen silently glared at it. The lady was coming back with their bill, and they’ve still got plenty of food left to boot. They were going to be charged a whole extra dinner at this point.
Rey’s nose twitches, eyes intense crimson and ripping their gaze up to Teu.
“Well?! Don’t just-- don’t just sit there!” He quips, both large hands reaching forwards into the crab puff abyss and grabbing a huge handful. “Get them out of here!”
Pastries flew in a fluffy seafood firework above their table, an air-strike of deliciousness bombing everyone’s nearby tables. Confused sounds of disgruntlement fill the establishment as Teu joins in on the desperate purge of the food, shoving some into his mouth as he whips the extras at nearby vacant booths.
Their pairs of hands both cease immediately when they hear the clacking of the waitress’ heels approach, both strategically putting on their resting poker faces. A benefit to having a naturally grumpy and neutral look.
One crab puff remained in the basket.
The Helician leaned over in curiosity, her hand full of credits from Teu’s wallet. The two frighteningly look down at the final puff, lump in their throats.
“Can I have this?” She chimes, an innocent smile on her face.
Simultaneously, the one-tonne weight on the Raths’ chests flatten and disappear, the both of them exhaling their relief silently.
“--Sure, go ahead,” Rey ushers her, pushing the basket forwards. The gal plucks the pastry up with two fingers, plopping it into her mouth.
“Thank you, darlings. Hope you enjoyed your night here. Have a good one.”
Without another word, she pivots, and the clack of her heels slowly dissipates among the ambient of the place.
Teu slowly looks over at Rey, who seemed to hang a stare with him for a surreal moment or so. Their mission accomplished, they both stand up rather quickly, their feet taking them faster than their heads could process what they had both done this evening.
There’s the multiple smacks of the swordsman licking sauce from his fingertips, giving a generous suckle to his thumb to get the rest off before giving a big happy sigh.
An identical hand slides a packaged treat towards him, and he looks down at it. He squints, straightening up in his chair and scooting it in as he processed what it was.
It hits him.
“Oh.” He bursts into a fit of chuckles. “Of course. These damned things.” Both large hands scoop up the crinkling plastic of the fortune cookie, gently tearing the top open to reach the sweet thing inside. It dumps out into a small pile of crumbs onto the table, already ridden with plates of finished sushi and various meats.
The other swordsman across from him smirks, and opens his own cookie package. Both Raths hold their small treat in their hands, and their eyes meet.
“Well?” Rathteu starts, fingernails tapping the cookie in hand. Rathrey snorts, giving a nod. With a tiny crunch, the cookie breaks down the middle in an effortless motion, spilling out the folded up paper inside.
“You go first,” Rathrey insists, fiddling with the small fortune between his fingers.
Rathteu gives a wide grin and holds his own between his thumbs, half-lidding his eyes to read. He clears his throat.
“’Look at the small things in life. Sometimes, they are the best’.”
He raises a brow, blankly looking up at his mate without moving. His lips sputter and he sits back, letting the little piece of paper flutter to the table. A ring of water leftover from a cup dampens half of it.
“Right, sure,” Rathrey snorts, and they both burst into a snickering fit, shaking their heads. “I feel enlightened!”
“Now then dear,” Teu counters quick, gesturing at him cheekily. “Go on, read yours.”
Fangs pique from his lip as Rey grins, looking down at his own fortune. His progress is halted as his grin fades, a harsh squint overtaking his previously bright eyes. Teu’s ears point up in worry.
“--Dear, what does mine say?” Rey beckons hastily, grin returning and forcing the paper into his bondmate’s hands without another word. Teu holds it up to his face, reading aloud:
“’Things will get worse before they get..’” Teu thins his lip, brow raising high. “...get batter.’” His wrists clunk against the table as he lowers the fortune, laughing loudly.
Rey looks on in confusion.
“B... batter? Is that- did you mean to say that?” He leans forwards sharply, Teu smacking a hand against the table again as he laughs further. He doesn’t hesitate to show Rey the spelling mistake, causing that grin on his face to explode tenfold and evolve into the same tier of hearty laughter.
“Don’t worry, dear! Things will get batter!” Teu teases between hiccups of their bellows, holding his face as the booth behind them looks on slightly disturbed.
“Thank you, my love! That is so reassuring!” Rey does a dramatic fainting gesture, laying down on his side of the booth and biting his lip hearing Teu wheeze and yell his amusement with it all.
It was wonderful hearing him laugh so hard. They both had not done so in a while.
The youngest Jennerit perks his head up from his trance, the eerie silence over the table only broken by his Mum’s scornful hissing from next to him once in a while.
He says nothing, eyeing what’s left on his plate. Family dinners were always a drag at this household; it was more like a funeral, everyone competing with eachother to see who ate the quietest. Any hint of a fork screeching against a plate, gulping, or loud chewing was shot by daggers of glares from all around the table.
Nothing less to expect from the Rath family.
And thus, feeling his taller mother’s gaze stinging down on him, several family members peering over at the duo, his pale face goes red, avoiding eye contact.
“You are not leaving this table until everything on that plate is eaten,” her low bassy voice continues, every syllable stabbing her child with embarrassment.
He looks down at his plate again. Meatloaf. An ungodly amalgamation of unknown meat and several vegetables and grains he hasn’t even heard of before. His mouth threatens to form into a grimace; a lot of the unidentifiable bits of veggies were off to the side. His stomach turned at the thought of eating that stuff, too.
“...Yes mum,” he finally quietly quips, voice almost drowned out by the quick clinks of his fork against the plate and his further attempt to scoop up a bite of the brain-like meal. He takes his time on purpose, knowing his mum’s crimson eyes were glowering into his soul to take the next bite, but eventually he feels her eyes tear off. A silent huff of relief leaves him, and he makes the bite motion... but doesn’t sink his teeth in. The brown mixture of food drops back down to his half-empty plate with a quiet thunk.
His mom, on the other side of him, seems to save the day. Always the flipside of the coin both physically and mentally, her broad shoulder gently nudges her son, one of her calloused hands scooting her plate towards him.
Verod looks down at her plate in worry, then back up at her. Her red sclera beam with haste, clinking the edge of her plate against his in urgency. He blinks, then gets it; with long fingers he takes his fork, scooping up a generous amount and ‘distributing it’ over to her plate. A few seconds of this exchange passes, everyone else seemingly oblivious-- fortunately.
His humiliation hadn’t ceased, but at least his plate was now a third of what it had been. His mom gives him a wink, his mum looking over at the two beside her with a squint. The two mothers hold their gaze, Mom with a smug grin whilst Mum held her superior Rath Gaze, and Verod could almost feel his body slink under the table from the tension.
This was going to be a long night, meatloaf or not.
[HIBERNATION.EXE_PROTOCOL_AUTOPLAY: AUDIO RECORDED 0:12 AGO]
[The audio recording is of Willy, speaking for the first time in three months. He sounds calm and happy.]
....Hey.
.....Things’ve changed. Had some time to think n’ stuff.
---You know.
Without tryin’ to hurt myself? Or anyone hurtin’ me.
I needed it. Brain’s been fucked up even tryin’ to think about the simplest of things.
Just needed a good ol’ reboot.
...Alright. To cut to the chase,
I’ve been surviving. It’s what I’ve always been doing. This is no different.
Sure, I can’t... really say “I’ve been through worse”, because-- pfft-- lets face it, this is the shittiest chapter of my life,
But I can bounce back. I’m pretty good at that.
Friends have helped me n stuff. Course I feel lonely sometimes, but it’s rash. An old grump like me has those lil things happening once in a while. As does everybody.
I have friends.
If you’re around... message me. I’d love to hear from you.
I’ve been quiet. I understand.
I still love you all dearly.
If you’re hearin’ this, I ask you to not worry about me.
I’ll make it out.
My name is Wilhelm Leopold Logan Tulakuich, and I’m going home.
Same anon! DAMN, THAT WAS A GOOD READ. Thanks! I love your explanations for his behavior. Me, I think his greed with money spawned from this big fear of death and illness cause BONE WASTE, so he's pretty much sitting in a fortress of cash and cybernetics all like "FUCK YOU, LIFE. COME AT ME NOW." And the loyalty thing... Jack is decent to him in the beginning, and doesn't treat him like he's mindless hired muscle--and I think that sort of thing means a LOT to Wilhelm. HNG THANK YOU best best
holy fuckwipes mcgee this is some GOOD SHIT TOO I MEAN...
I DO believe that Wilhelm fears death so badly [Termination protocols aint helpin there] because of the pain he went through as a kid to get all of those surgeries done, and now he looks to the surgeries as a sort of painful refuge to get away from death and cheat it. It’s an ironic circle of going under the knife and coming out invincible after getting all of his bones replaced.
Who knows how much shit he’s done himself? I’d like to think the more massive scars were self-operations. NYAHHBBH
I ran out of a lot of energy typing my last post, but damn, I LOVE brain food like this. Thank you so much, anon! >D
That was the only thing that seemed appealing to look at right now.
He was gazing out his window; darkness enveloping the rest of the workshop, leaving the rays of light from Pandora’s star faintly aglow on Willy’s face. Other bright freckles of space only twinkled, leaving Elpis and Pandora in a black smudge against the endless void of space.
It was basically... “nighttime” for Helios. Lights out, quiet halls, Claptraps bumbling for their nightly duties.
He could just bolt out of here, he thinks. He could just waltz right up to Jack in his sleep and cave his head in.
But he knows he can’t. Surveillance was a 24/7 thing now. His new, un-consensual implant had him mysteriously drop on the spot at the CEO’s will. Lockdown still tainted the station, and Jack wasn’t going to lift any kind of security measure until he knew that his right-hand cyborg was no longer...
...no longer what?
A threat? A rebellious old teenager wanting freedom?
Oh, if only it weren’t for the continuous beatings, degradations, sexual abuse... Maybe Willy would consider actually behaving-- being Jack’s little toy, as he’s been told before.
No.
He had a life.
Did he?
What little of it was there left? Some years to chop off, becoming fully robotic, rotting away in a workshop he can’t escape, no contact with friends...
Often nowadays he considered ending it. It’s such a little thing, a smudge on the great map of life, why would taking his own even matter?
Because he’s of use, of course! Paid to be of use. Killing, disposing, other dirty uses of his own-- everyone would miss paying Wilhelm the Enforcer, the galaxy’s most famous mercenary!
...Right?
Oh, that’s right. He wasn’t being paid anymore. He wasn’t being taken out on missions anymore. He’s not part of a team anymore.
He’s a caged animal.
That only left one option raw in his head. But he knew he couldn’t do it. His power core is preventing him from a quick death, and the Suicide Termination Protocol could fail.
...Guess he can cross out that option, too.
Dry, quivering lips parted only for a moment, dead and glazed eye jittering with desperation.
His mouth was open, but he could not speak. Not after everything that was done to him. Nothing at this point could coerce him to formulate spoken words, minus pain-induced screams.
He could only gape at his window, fists clenching and unclenching, going right back to square one in his head.
...It was tiny, it was incredibly low-chance, but it was something. Something to hold out for.
I guess, since we both share the same starsign [June 11th and June 13th], I’d dig into some of the more prevalent behaviours of the Gemini and how Willy [my version of wilhelm] factors into them.
[His starsign wasn’t even intentionally the same as mine either; it’s his VA’s birthday]
“Two-Faced”
It’s a stereotype among Geminians, but yeah, Willy does sport this in a literal context [if not negative or derogatory]. Being Agender and avoiding any and all desire of the gender binary, his personality experiments with his likes and dislikes; he believes he’s a robot, straight and forth, no questions asked. It goes further than this, though.
Depending on who he’s with, his behaviour and dialogue changes accordingly. Certain friends [mostly masculine-presenting friends] finds him more on the stoic side, leaving his emotions and concerns out of things unless it directly involves him. Being with closer friends who he feels welcome with [who he has experienced intimacy with, whether through sex or general closeness] will find him being giddy, open, and acting sillier than the usual.
It may be weird to most how the stoic, dangerous and large Enforcer can go one minute Fierce Enforcer Who Ain’t Afraid of Anything and another minute Cuddly Floof that Needs a Hug and a Flower or Two. His brain tries to adapt to every person’s company; hence why he may act differently with one person, drastically different the next, and a weird mix of the two when around multiple people.
“Social Butterfly”
Despite this being one of the more well-known aspects of a Gemini, it’s shown in a different light on Willy [as it is for me]. TL;DR, the extroversion of Willy is a sort of wall, a hold-- if anything-- to keep his wits about him whilst surrounded by many people. Internally, he presents as an introvert, so it’s best described as an ambivert; with the extroversion being sort of a ruse in one fashion, and introversion showing itself more prominently.
As so, Willy enjoys his company selectively; he’d much prefer being alone over a room full of strangers, or a single friend over a group he’s only acquainted with. Recreational-wise, friends are a must. Teamwork and mercenary jobs-- the company doesn’t matter much, if at all. His strict philosophy of getting paid-then-getting-it-done doesn’t veer in the way of his social skills. Back to the two-faced blurb, he poses a much different demeanour and behaviour whilst on the job, which is important to him. Busting his fuse or bottling up emotion is something he can let out in his freetime.
--On the subject of freetime, which has been touched on a lot on this blog, Willy hasn’t had much of it, outside of taking breaks from continuous missions.
On that note...
“Mental Powerhouse”
Geminis are known for their brainpower, and Willy is no different. His left-brained tendencies and thirst for hands-on experimentation has taken him to great heights with his own cybernetics and creations.
He can go for days on end, weeks, MONTHS even, on a project or goal if he sets it. Many are either started and never finished, or many are done within a short timespan; it’s rare that there’s an inbetween.
However, as with all pros, there are cons; and that includes this mental energy being forced into doing missions. Willy can do them almost non-stop; it’s what he’s been doing for the past 40 years or so, with minimal breaks and training his brain and body to tolerate it. It’s worked; there seemed to be no underlying problems with his brain functions, even if his body has taken a serious hit with scars and reliance on cybernetic upgrades.
In comes present-day, and how this mental barrier has broken down. Continuous missions [one could call it a binge, or even call him a workoholic] and mercenary work for money had adapted his body into an always-flowing, cut-corners and productivity mode, which has affected other parts of his brain he has not necessarily exercised within this bout of time [social skills, right-brain functions, etc]. Now that he’s stayed with Hyperion, it has all come crashing back, halting the barrier to a stop and completely fucking up a lot of his emotional control and mental stimulation capacity.
He never knew how much he needed a break until much recently. Now he’s been trying his best to sleep the hours he’s missed, find hobbies, and try and catch up with other “normal” things in life. Sure, he finds it boring, and still craves missions about 60% of the time, but his brain and body have been trying to cling to as much downtime as possible, his organic aging more obvious now that he’s slowed down.
He may suffer from cabin fever, but his body needs it. Even if his suppressed depression, anxiety, and PTSD are starting to intensify and shine through for the first time.
TL;DR: He can drive himself to mental exhaustion if no one is there to gauge him, and it’s becoming easier to do so every day.
