kray I just finished void paradox. WHAT WAS THAT☹️ dude the doomed laurmau was RAMPANT I DONT EVEN. KNOW HOW TO FEEL RN MY HEART💔 at least they’re alive…???? THEY CANT LEAVE ME LIKE THAT NO
Tommy & Aph broke my heart this series. I enjoyed every second that boy was on screen but also hated it because it makes me sad. The part when she gets possessed and nearly hurts him, and he’s the one to snap her out of it, and she’s terrified of the possibility of hurting him again like OUCH. Family dynamics in media, ESPECIALLY found family, hurt me SO MUCH it makes me sob and these two were no exception. They just care about each other so much and it’s so painful and sweet. I love them.
On a brighter note loved Polly & Laila they’re actually adorable, and Monty was such a fun character but also just genuinely really sweet. You can tell he’s a good guy, especially when he’s interacting with Tommy. I honestly didn’t rlly care much abt Jayden though unfortunately IM SORRY💔
And the laurmau. Oh goshh the laurmau. So good this series. I’ve never been huge abt laurmau but DUDE this series might be the reason I start falling in love with them. THEYRE SO. SO. UHHHHHHAUSHAHAHSH
anyways. Sorry to flood your inbox with yapping. but thank you for giving me the motivation me to watch vp. Your posts and art abt it genuinely made me so interested cus I’d been putting it off for a while, and I’m SO glad I actually watched it. I GET IT. I GET THE HYPE. THIS IS PEAK. I’m devastated by that ending but also grateful I got to see it. THANK YOU🥹🥹🥹
NEVER APOLOGISE FOR FILLING MY INBOX WITH YAPPING EVER!! I DEEPLY APPRECIATE IT A LOT ALWAYS!! RAHH!! if anything im sorry for responding to this so late ToT i got a bit caught up with school related stuff, which makes it complicated for me to write longer posts! (the original draft i had of this decided to delete all the words i had down too, so uh. ive had to rewrite a bit of this.. sniffle..)
I deeply appreciate and am honoured that some of my silly VP posts got you interested in watching the series. VOID Paradox genuinely means so much to me!! its like, for real the WHOLE REASON i got back into Aphmau two months ago. it holds such a special place in my heart. ITS SO GOOD. VOID PARADOX IS SO PEAK. IT IS EXCELLENT. POSSIBLY ONE OF THE BEST MCRPs PERIOD. ugh im still not over it. im still not over VOID Paradox.
doomed laurmau is my favourite flavour of laurmau i think. something about it never working due to circumstances.. ohh.. oh its so cruel.. and VP laurmau is so special. ITS SO MEAN HOW THEY JUST LEFT IT OFF THE WAY THEY DID. LIKE??? WHAT DO YOU MEEANN WE DONT GET TO SEE MORE?? OF THIS ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE DYNAMIC??? JESSON WHYYY!
oh i freaking love that scene with Tommy and Aph so much. its such a massive subversion of the trope where "character A (in this case Aphmau) is possessed and character B (who would usually be the love interest, like laur) breaks them free of the spell." instead of Laurance getting her out of it, her son does.
her adopted son. not even blood related in the slightest.
THAT. WAS SO WELL DONE. HONESTLY ONE OF THE BEST SCENES IN THE ENTIRETY OF ANYTHING APHMAU HAS MADE. it means SO MUCH to me. Tommy and Aphmau mean so much to me. they are the BEST mother-son duo i have ever had the pleasure of witnessing!! ough!!
Polly, Laila, and Monty are possibly some of the most fun and engaging sort-of-but-not-entirely-side characters that Jess has ever written. obviously every character she comes up with has been infinitely fun and engaging, but something about VOID Paradox and its small cast of just. objectively really fun characters. it speaks to me.
Polly is super intelligent, but also a plagariser, and steals Monty's work because he cant prove it was his.
Laila is somehow probably not getting paid despite FINALLY being slightly better than an intern, and yet she clearly has equal power in her relationship with Polly, and has plenty of autonomy and control in the relationship. i found her role in their dynamic really fun lol.
Monty is a genuinely fun, sweet guy. who despite his love for adventure, decided to put an end to it and settle down with his Polly. and yet, the moment his home realm saw signs of danger, he hopped back into his sciences, and attempted to keep his home safe for as long as he could.
and his dynamic with Tommy?!?!?!?! AAAUGH!!! oh theyre such a neat father-son duo. theyre so neat. theyre impeccable. Monty respects his son so damn much, and can approach Tommy with such a real and honest understanding, because he truly has been Tommy. he has had such similar emotional experiences to his clone. and despite Monty approaching his son with advice akin to what a lot of teenagers receive from condescending parents, the whole idea is flipped on its head once Monty gets to the point of what he's saying to his son. UGH JESSICA AT IT AGAIN, SUBVERTING TROPES IN SUCH A FUN, GENUINE WAY, THAT ALLOWS FOR FURTHER CHARACTER GROWTH!! shes watched so much anime, you can just tell lmao
Jayden is cool imo. we know so little about him, and yet he doesnt attempt to overstay his welcome in the story. he is just some guy who happened to be displaced by the Void's shenanigans and accepted his fate for the time being.
what little we do learn about him doesnt take away from the themes in the story either, and i think it helps Jayden blend in nicely as another cast member. he's an addition i appreciate because of his simplicity and straightforwardness in his role. i do miss Jayden.. sigh..
as someone who was a huge zanemau and aarmau shipper when i was little, i was NOT expecting to fall in love with laurmau--and by proxy Laurance--in the way i did, in the big 2026. genuinely such a life changing, life altering ship. ESPECIALLY IN VOID PARADOX. literally everything theyve got going on is sooo good and sooo delicious and genuinely so awesome. the chemistry, the attraction, and the interactions the two of them have are so meaningfully written.
THEY BREAK MY HEART AND PUT IT BACK TOGETHER JUST TO BREAK IT ALL OVER AGAIN. HE'S SO LOYAL TO HER DESPITE HER BEING A DIFFERENT APHMAU, AND SHES SO INTO HIM BECAUSE HES SO SINCERE AND GENUINE IN HIS AFFECTIONS. THEYRE SO AUUGWUGSFJHHWIFSJVJ AAAHHGGHH sobbing bawling in a ball on the floor. i love laurmau. laurmau my laurmau. ugh.
it is a CRIME that it has been ALMOST NINE YEARS AND VP STILL HAS NO FOLLOW UP. LIKE. PLEAAASEE. WE NEED TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO THE GANG!!! BEGGING WITH SUCH SINCERITY.
It has been brought to my attention that y’all want more of delinquent Sanemi teaching us how to do math… Eat up while I draft some ideas:
The idea made you laugh.
Sanemi? Sanemi Shinazugawa? Good at math?
The boy was good for plenty of things—that much you wouldn’t deny. He certainly had the looks, and the ability to ruin you hard and fast against any available surface. But math? That was a talent you’d never even begin to assign him.
Yet he’d mentioned it so casually one night, having slipped through your window like he always did when he was in the mood for a quick fuck. You were hunched over your desk, fingers knotted in your hair, frustration heavy and evident as you toiled over some stupid and totally unreasonable equation.
You were scowling then, and he didn’t like that. So instead, he offered to help.
You didn’t think that too would evolve into something just as miserable as the problems before you.
“C’mon, you can’t even figure that one out?”
Sanemi’s hips slam back against your ass, jerking you up against the wood of your desk. His hands are quick to palm at your waist in a greedy fashion, tugging you back to meet his lazy thrusts when you swallow down a whimper and let your head drop to your arm with a defeated breath.
“I thought you were smarter than this, babe.”
You suck in a sharp breath when his hand dips down to reach between your thighs, all too quickly finding your clit as he presses slow circles against you. Your pencil topples from your grasp, clattering against the desk as your fingers trail helplessly down the page of messy equations and nearly crumple it in your grasp.
But your boyfriend is evil. For his hips still, and he only smirks when you clench around him in a desperate attempt to keep him in, sob out a whine when he pulls out to just the tip.
He leans down over your back, a hand sliding up to gather your shirt as his eyes scan your work. You've barely finished writing out the first line. He paws at your breasts beneath your shirt, humming low and slow as if he were genuinely studying over your scribbles.
“Are you going to even try?”
No. How the fuck could you? You could barely pretend to care what a probability density function meant on a normal day. And now? When Sanemi was already buried deep inside you?
Those swirling and complex and all too mind-numbing equations dissolved into the greater cacophony inside your head. Then heat and the flutter of your heart and every dizzying rhythm of Sanemi fought—and won—to drown them out.
You couldn’t be bothered to comprehend anything else anyways.
Definitely not.
And fuck math.
“Write it out,” still, he demands. He coaxes your pencil back between your twitching fingers, plunging back into your dripping heat as if to prove a point.
“If you want to make any progress, ‘n pass your damn test—“ he grunts when you clamp down on him again, squeezing your ass in a warning to not. Your hand trembles above the page. “You gotta practice, baby. And if you practice—“
His fingers curl around your clit again, pinching softly as he gives a sharp few ruts that steal the breath from your lungs.
“I’ll see to it that you get a reward.”
Also surprise?? Bet you didn’t know Étoile is well adversed with heavy calculus—kind of an odd flex but I have Schrödinger’s equation memorized to a T
Can I request an angsty Chishiya x reader who’s was the older sibling to Chishiya’s patient in his backstory?
Pawn
Summary: Your faith in Chishiya was unflinching, even when he was assigned as your brother's surgeon.
Genre: angst
Pairing: pre-borderlands!Chishiya x reader
Words: 1k
TW: minor character death (implied)
Note: getting through request backlogs!! Tons of chishiya in my drafts right now (not that im complaing, I love writing for him)
When they said Chishiya would be handling Hayato's case, a large weight was lifted off your chest. He was the best among not just his peers, but in his field in general. You've seen him work with precision and speed, gloved hands weaving in and out of flesh until it was once again whole. As a nurse, you had a front row seat to this feat of his.
He was reclusive—never leaving his office, slipping in and out of hallways like a man undercover. The biggest thing you couldn't quite piece together was how he'd never cry whenever he lost a patient.
It wasn't just about crying either. His voice never faltered when delivering the news, eyes dry even as a mother or father would break down. You'd seen him a jump onto the next one just a few hours after. Business as usual.
Yet, despite his apathy, he was magnetic. He drew you in like the push and pull of beach waves. Push—you hand him a file without as much as a glance from him, only a disinterested "hm" as acknowledgement. Pull—he taps your shoulder to hand you a sandwich after a 12-hour shift. No words, just the finality of his decision as he thrusts the food into your trembling fingers.
Admittedly, this bias—could you even call it love?—you had for him set your heart at ease. Your brother didn't have the worst thing in the world. It was curable, yes, given that you'd be able to find a donor. Easier said than done.
Knowing the inner workings of a hospital can be both a blessing and a curse. You had a modest living, being able to make just enough money for yourself while also being able to send money to your parents. Still, it took a couple of months to pool enough for Hayato, accompanied by your mother, to be sent to Sakurazawa Hospital. This was his one shot. This was your blessing.
The curse was knowledge of the revolving door of corruption. You've seen envelopes stapled or clipped behind patient files before. It wasn't just about the availability of the organs, it was also about who gets to go first. Ultimately, the highest currency was time.
There were whispers of whose clipboards were usually filled with this. Sato from cardiology. Hirose from pulmonary. Chishiya from pediatrics.
God, you prayed it wasn't true. That they were just that—whispers.
Chishiya was a good man. You knew that much. You've heard his low voice, cool as ever, as he comforted kids before their operations. He never complained about harmless requests like taking a stufftoy while being wheeled into the operating room. He remembered which flavor of syrups each patient liked and noted that in prescriptions.
When they told you Hayato's operation would be moved, you swallowed the anxiety raking at your throat. Chishiya caught you in the break room after finishing his surgery on the boy who took Hayato's slot—a child of a businessman who contributed a large sum for the hospital's west wing.
You had been picking at a convenience store lunch box, lining up the pickled radishes to the left. A vacant, almost defeated, look glossed over your eyes.
Wordlessly, he brought back the chair in front of you, sitting down and looking primarily at the table. His head hung low, tendrils of platinum blonde hair framing his face.
To your surprise, he reached over to still your hand. His palm was warm, lithe fingers unsure of their place in your skin. He squeezed you lightly, eyes still planted on the table.
"He's not going to make it in time, is he?" you finally murmured.
He shifted his gaze, soft brown irises meeting yours. It was like the surface of still water being broken. A sob tore its way out of your throat. Tears, more than you thought you'd ever have, rolled down your cheeks and spattered onto your scrubs.
Grief for an impending loss wracked your body violently, shoulders shaking, lungs straining to catch a breath always five steps ahead. And throughout it all, Chishiya's grip on your hand grew tighter. As if you'd be washed away with all your sadness if he'd let go.
"I'll do everything I can."
A promise. A resigned fate. Chishiya was no fool. He was like you—collateral from a skewed system. And god, he hated being a pawn. He hated reading over the referral letters from men with deep pockets. He hated how familiar he was with shattered faces whenever he'd break the news of a reordered transplant list. He hated that of all the people he could stomach doing this to, it happened to the one person he couldn't bear to hurt.
Happen it did, during the early hours of a Tuesday summer. He could hear you from outside the door, after they've wheeled out the defibrillator, after he declared the time of death. He meant to escape to his office, like a coward with his tail tucked between his legs. But when he heard you wail alongside your mother, the ground wrapped around his feet, shackling him to witness your anguish.
His mind raced, preparing its reflexive defense. He was forced. He was pressured. Hayato would've passed anyway. That's what his senior advised. Even with the surgery, it was only a matter of time.
Time.
His stomach twisted, throat drying up. Like waves receeding before a tsunami. He thought of how he bumped into you in the break room two months ago. Your forehead was slicked with sweat, scrubs all crumpled, a fresh cup of coffee in hand. You moved away from the espresso machine, eyes crinkling up to greet him.
He didn't know what went into him. Among everyone he's ever met, you were the only one he couldn't look straight in the eye. Maybe he feared you'd see him for the man he really is. Maybe it's because you were dangerous with how easy he'd be willing to let his guard down.
"It feels like we never get off the clock," you offered, hoping he'd catch your throw at a conversation.
"I know this floor better than my apartment," he smiled tiredly. From the corner of his eye, he saw how you beamed, giddy at his willingness to talk.
"If we ever get off, we should get real food." Chishiya stilled for a moment. You realized the implication a second too late, face already starting to burn. "I mean, like, individually. At our own houses. Or at a restaurant. We as in, you go get your own food and I go get mine."
Chishiya finished pouring his coffee. Two creams, two sugars. He turned around as you were still babbling, his watch already pushing him to see his next patient.
"___, we should go to that curry restaurant that just opened across the street. If we ever get off."
Chishiya's watch beeped once more, tugging him back to the present, to his place outside Hayato's door. He could still hear your watery voice. His eyes glossed over, the edges of his clipboard blurring like watercolor. But time was a cruel master, and it beckoned him forward.
"Rick, I'm busy-- I'm twelve assignments behind! I'm practically f-fffailing, failing all my classes! I'm pathetic, I'm not going to have a future-- I'm-I'm-I'm going to be stuck with a nothing job once you grow sick of me! and, and I don't want to be--"
Rick blows raspberries while Morty's words continue on, spouting about the same problem; repeating the same points over and over. His words aren't processed fully in Rick's head, he sees no point in listening if there's nothing he wants to change. For everything to eat something must be eaten, every rose has its thorn, every silver lining has a cloud.
Morty grimaces at Rick's amusement from the wordplay. "Never change your name Morty, you're-you're a.."
He begins to sway, tumbling from the doorway and forces his weight upon the shelf as he leans on it.
‘I wish he wouldn't make a habit of messing up my room.’
"Rick," Morty breathes in the smell of liquor, "Let's get you back to the garage, alright?"
-------
Morty blows raspberries as he sits on the counter perpendicular to Rick's main workspace.
Rick's a tall drink of water; that, plus the metal that blurs his humanity, makes him heavy. Dragging him by the wrist—while he sways into every other piece of furniture—left Morty with a racing heart. If only he had time to play a sport or go to the gym, he wouldn't be so winded right now.
“Okay, Rick, I'll, uh, leave you to yourself. I have things I need to finish.”
“Wow, wo—w, Morty, you dragged me all the way here because you didn't want to be around Grandpa? Is that right, Morty? You hate Grandpa?” He leans forward in his chair, places his hands on his knees, and forces his face near Morty's, making the young boy lean back and turn away.
“Rick, I was busy! You can't expect me to be around you all the time.”
“You only care about Grandpa when he helps, isn't—HIC—that right, Morty?” He kicks off the counter and leans back in his chair.
Oh my fucking god. Morty looks at him with frustration.
“Yyyyou want dinner? Lunch? I learned to make chicken alfredo.” Morty shifts his center of gravity backward as he leans on his hands and looks at the ceiling. I wonder what other dishes Jessica likes..
His attempt at humoring Rick is met with an eyeroll.
“What? What, you think Grandpa needs his grandson to baby him? You think I'm disgusting, don't you, Morty?”
“Jesus Christ.”
Morty slides off the counter, hits it thrice, and a beer fridge emerges where he applied the force. Upon opening it, cans fall out rapidly.
“Here” he picks on up and hands it to rick
Rick scoffs at him and chugs the beer from Morty's hand before Morty returns to sit on the counter. Rick takes another, and another, and another. The floor is covered in crushed cans. It smells strongly of yeast and alcohol. The world is in the palms of a drunkard.
"Mortyy." Rick rolls his chair over to Morty and lays his head on his lap.
"Morty, you love Grandpa, right? Want to give Grandpa a kiss? A little smooch from my little poo-pa would make Grandpa sooo happy."
Rick’s smart. He smiles to himself as he watches Morty's face contort. Rick’s an asshole; he's just doing what assholes do, but Morty's skin isn't as thick as he wished. How many nights did he spend wishing he'd only dream about Jessica, only to have his mind fixate on the rugged man?
Maybe it would be nice to feel rick, make love,, morty’s heart leaps and functions only to keep morty alive for rick anyways,, its be nice to feel rick’s hands all over him, have his fingers inside of him to do more than force contraband up his ass, maybe instead it could be rick inside of him, and they’ll kiss, and rick could be rough with him and bend him in two while tears swell in his eyes and sob moans of pain and pleasure
Morty shoves Rick’s head off of him and offers him another beer.
Maybe just once he’ll indulge in his fantasies.
As long as nothing changes—as long as Rick doesn't remember—it won't count. It's just to make his desire stop festering. If he has the real thing, then he’ll realize it's not that good.
They've both lost count of how many beers Rick has drunk as the nth one falls to the floor.
Rick squawks something before standing up and stumbling towards the door.
“What?”
“-ɯooɹɥʇɐq.”
Morty stares at him, still unsure what hes saying.
“The fucking bath—URP—rmm...”
‘Oh.’
The younger one grabs Rick’s side as he guides him to the bathroom. There's not much Morty can do; it was hard enough making him walk across the dining room when he was drunk, but now that he's wasted, he's flailing around and seeing double—he's a safety hazard to the house.
"Rick, you done in there??"
An incomprehensible response is bellowed before Rick emerges out the bathroom.
There's more piss outside of the toilet than in it. Or at least that's what Morty thinks it's safe to assume. It's all clear, looking no different from water.
He'll make fun of Rick later for this.
Rick's fly is down. He doesn't bother to clasp his belt together either. Morty doesn't realize how fixated his eyes were on it until Rick tries to stumble past him. He pushes Rick back into the bathroom and closes the door behind him.
‘It's just a hug.’
His ribcage is squeezed to Rick's abdomen and his head is planted in his chest. His heart flutters as he feels Rick envelop him back.
"Awww-HIC-ww m-mymhymy sweet lil grndsn"
Morty wished time could stop right now, to feel his grandfather's warm body for eternity. The hug is awkward, it's slightly uncomfortable with how bony and solid Rick's body is, but it's Rick. It's the man who's in all of Morty's memories, the one who taught him how to use a bong, how to bring an avian race to its knees though inserting a new insect into the ecosystem that completely destroyed their crops; forcing them to move their economy to revolve around vodka, and how to avoid traveling on water. Rick is the reason that Morty is the Morty-est Morty. Rick is an inventor, he's smart and charismatic and easily gets along with everybody-- it's an honor to simply be around him. He fucks what people can't comprehend.
So it's not Morty's fault when he props himself up on the sink and kisses his grandfather's forehead, cheeks, ears, neck,,,
‘Is it really happening if he doesn't remember this?’
‘It's just a kiss. Its nothing. Its for us to go back to being normal, back to a time where we where just family. If i do this then i can get over these feelings and then i can finally have a white picket fence and admire it with Jessica. Its fine. Theres no need to be nervous cause theres nothing at stake,’
He sinks his lips onto his grandfather's chapped ones. As Morty places both hands on Rick's, he forces their faces to collide again and again as Morty gives sloppy kisses.
The towering figure laughs, “wicked boy, evil boy, try-trying to seduce-- URP-- grandpa? Aww so cute”
He plants one hand on the mirror behind Morty. And cups his face with the other before finally reciprocating.
It feels so good to have Rick so close to him. To feel his heat, to taste the beer from his mouth, welcome the bitter flavor and yeasty smell and breathe the same air as Rick and to know what Rick is sharing the same sensations as him.
It's too good. Morty feels his jeans start to tighten. It doesn't help when Rick snakes his hands under the yellow cotton; pulling it up and off Morty's figure.
Morty's mind begs for more. He wishes he was on his bed and on top of Rick, they'd be making out and Morty could hold their chests to one another while running his hand through his hair and tracing stars along Rick's back all while Rick grabs fistfuls of Morty's hair and pulls on it.
Rick's hand explores Morty's body, brushing gently against his neck, chest, arms, and then finally pinching his pretty little buds.
Morty bites Rick's tongue at the new sensation. He jerks back.
"S-s-sorry-sorry I didn't mean to, it feels good I swear, please don't-- please don't stop."
Rick places a hand on his thigh and kisses his neck. His legs feel wet, upon looking down he sees the cloth melting off him.
"Oh Jeez." I liked that pair,,, mom is going to be mad when I ask her to buy another..
He's completely naked now and Rick just looks at him.
He's fucked aliens that look nothing like humans, he has porn of circles fucking on his computer, there's no way Rick is disgusted by my body.
“Look at you and your weird little dick, yeah youre-- HIC-- such a small litttle guy”
Horrified. Morty immediately moves to cover his erection.
"Don't—don't be like that, Morty. It's cute. Come on—you want Grandpa to do this right?"
It's just one time. Everybody wants to fuck Rick, Rick wants to fuck everything. He's fucked planets... Us being together means nothing in the grand scheme of things. People continue to die if this happens, children still starve if we don't, we'll still be a family if he doesn't remember.
Even if he does, he doesnt care. He never does. He can just mindblow himself
It's just one time.
He pulls Rick's belt out and places it beside himself.
Your comm link goes off, the voice of one of the hospital’s human security team members on the other end letting you know a personal star ship inbound from Coruscant is seeking permission to land, its sole occupant claiming you’re aware of his arrival. You give clearance and request that he check in with Emerie first before being escorted to the lab. The security guard ends the transmission and a strange sense of nervousness settles in the pit of your stomach. Completely irrational, you tell yourself. It’s just Kix. What do you think is going to happen? You notify your team that Kix is on his way and they spring into action – preparing slides, loading charts, models, and lab panel results.
You slip away and stand near the lab’s reinforced security doors, thinking back on the late night conversation you and Wrecker had while you were in your own lab, talking about Kix. You have the feeling you’re going to have to come to grips with the fact that the colleague and friend you were closest with during the war may be no more. Before your anxiety can get the better of you, the lab doors slide open and there stands Kix flanked on either side by a security droid. Underneath the mask of exhaustion, it’s still him. Same quirky little smile. Same dark, glittering eyes with permanent laugh lines at the corners. Same eyes that now are overbright, glistening with tears of happiness as he reaches for you.
“Ad’íka,” he says, voice cracking with emotion. “It’s been so long. You never contacted me and I thought the worst. Why didn’t you let me know? What happened?”
“Kix, I…” is all you can come up with before your own tears start, clinging to Kix like your life depends on it while you sob against his chest.
All activity stops at the sound of your anguish, Tizaan gesturing for the other team members to clear out to give you some privacy. The security droids take the hint and leave, and for a long while, you and Kix hold each other tightly. Despite the fact many clones held great disdain for nat borns, Kix had been an exception, taking to you immediately when you’d been assigned to his unit. The camaraderie had been so strong that you and he often were teased for acting like a married couple, and perhaps if things had gone differently, you’d have ended up with Kix instead of Wrecker. Wrecker. Mar’éyce.
When you finally let go of each other, Kix dabs at his eyes with his sleeve and lets you lead him to a prep table. You sit across from each other and at first you don’t even know where to begin. When you do find your voice, you fill him in on everything that’s happened. Instead of being indifferent like you feared he might be, it’s quite the opposite. His visceral reactions to your experiences silence your nagging doubt. Once you finish your story, Kix takes you by the hands and squeezes them gently.
“Saying “I’m sorry” is too hollow, ad’íka. And it’s not enough. This should have never happened. But it did, and you were caught in the middle, and suffered greatly because of it. You’re still suffering. My vod is suffering. When I tell you that I’m going to make sure no one else has to go through this, I mean it. I’ll put a rush on everything. Call in a few favors to move up the clinical trials. Anything you need, just name it.”
“One thing at a time, Kix. I called you in because we need your advice on how to proceed. I’m afraid it’s not as simple as we were hoping it would be. Once you review the data and formulate an opinion, we’ll go from there. Senator Chuchi has been kept apprised of everything we’ve been doing, so once you come up with a plan, we will share that information with her. As we speak, she’s in the process of drafting a bill that would enact a system-wide quarantine of Iego until such time an effective cure can go into mass production. She knows you and I are meeting, so I hope you’re all right with sitting down with her and discussing all this.”
“If anything, this could be the excuse needed to finally update the mandatory vaccine list for travelers,” Kix adds. “I don’t think anyone’s updated that thing in at least ten years. Now that there’s a very real and credible threat, the medical academy’s infectious diseases experts will be forced to react.”
“You have all of our resources at your disposal, Kix. If you need anything, please let any of my team members know. I’d assist you, but I’m taking another doctor’s shift in the outpatient clinic for most of the day. I’ll be happy when I can be out of here for good and back working with patients.”
Kix chuckles and shakes his head. “You never did like the back end aspects of medicine, ad’íka. Seems like some things will never change.”
“Too much sitting around and too much paperwork, Kix. You know I always have to be where the action is!”
*****
After concluding a follow-up appointment with your last patient of the day, you’re too tired to walk across the huge medical complex back to the hospital, instead opting to take the last shuttle departing for the main building. A maintenance droid is busily cleaning the lobby’s tiled floor as you make your way into the lift and push the button for the lab. You’re hoping Kix has good news for you, but there’s a part of you that thinks he’s a bit overoptimistic about the situation. When you step out of the lift, a mouse droid is zipping down the hall toward you, chirping away. Even though you don’t need its assistance, you’re happy for its company while it takes you to the lab. Kix is sitting at a table with his eyes glued to a microscope, while Tizaan sits beside him making an entry on his datapad.
“Got anything good?” you call, mustering a smile when Kix looks looks your way.
“Good? More like excellent,” Kix replies, waving you over. “These are some fantastic samples. Now that I’m getting a clear look at this thing, it’s even worse than the way you originally described it to me. I’ve never seen a hemorrhagic virus do this much cellular damage. The brain tissue samples are especially appalling. Tizaan’s been narrating your autopsy notes while I’ve looking at all these, and it makes me wish I could’ve seen the damage firsthand. Seeing it through the microscope is nothing.”
“Whose sample are you looking at? If it’s the first guy I opened up, he was by far the worst. I could barely pry his brain out because of all the swelling. I also couldn’t believe how much damage had been done to Shep and his daughter Lyana’s brains when I did their autopsies, and they had only been infected for a very short period of time.”
“The first one,” Kix says, looking back down through the microscope, adjusting the magnification. “Although part of the damage was certainly caused by the extreme fever he was running. A basal body temperature as high as the one you indicated is definitely rare, but not unheard of. Everything I’m seeing here confirms your findings, at least in human victims. I wish you’d been able to get some near-human specimens, just for comparison.”
“It was too risky to try and get one of the bodies from the caravan. I wasn’t about to send AZI down there by himself and let him get mobbed. There weren’t many near-human species aboard, but you’re right. All we can do is rely on the testimony from the caravan pilot that near-humans can be infected, given that he was the one handling the bodies. And that leads me to ask, in your opinion, is a universal vaccine and subsequent treatment for the Pabu virus, and the Iegoan group as a whole, even possible, or will it have to be tweaked so it’s species-dependent?”
“I’ll have an answer for you once I examine this thing on the molecular level, ad’íka. There’s a few key things that I’ll be looking for, but I have a hunch we should be able to make something universal,” he replies, swiveling around in his chair to face you. “Your team is already off to an excellent start, based on what you’ve told me. Antiviral treatments as a whole are just so damn tricky to deal with.” He pauses for a moment and looks over at Tizaan, then back at you. “With your permission, there’s something I’d like to do while I’m here. I want to see the virus acting in real time. I want to use a fresh blood sample from me, and infect it. Tizaan, you should let me do the same with a sample from you.”
Tizaan puts down his datapad and looks over at you, his mouth set in a straight line as he shakes his head.
“Oh, Kix, I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I mean, we have plenty of blood samples on hand you can look at. AZI didn’t go to all that trouble collecting them just for them to not be used.”
“We have only tried infecting non-humanoid animal species with the virus, Kix,” Tizaan objects. “The doctor nor I do not have the clearance to authorize such experiments using humanoid samples. You’d have to take this up with Emerie, our Infectious Diseases department, and hospital administration due to the extreme risk level. If something were to go wrong and the virus got out, or mutated...”
“I know what the risks are, Tizaan,” Kix says, slight irritation creeping into his tone. “This isn’t my first pod race, so to speak. I think it’s important we document the entire incubation sequence. Recording the process from beginning to end will provide more insight leading to a cure. Besides, what would you rather have me do? Test it here so your team can gather the data, or take the isolated virus samples back to Coruscant with me and have my people do all the work?”
You knead your temples and sigh. “Guys, please. Kix, Emerie’s already given her permission for further testing and she’s already submitted a request to the ID team. But if you’re greenlit...and this goes tits up, this is all on you, Kix. We will not be responsible for any mishaps or loss of lives. You understand me?”
Kix flashes you a cocky grin. “It’ll be fine, ad’íka. Trust me.”
Something in the way he says trust me makes your skin crawl. Kix misses the way you raise an eyebrow at his rather flippant response, but Tizaan doesn’t. He’s spent enough time around you to know when you’re holding back. And right now, you’re struggling to hold your tongue. Kix turns his attention to one of the computers displaying molecular data, his back to Tizaan. Tizaan picks up his datapad and starts typing, and a few moments later you hear your own datapad ping from across the lab with the sound of a message notification.
Who does he think he is, coming in here and implying he’ll take any of our materials back to Coruscant? Next thing he’ll be asking is to share credit when we publish our findings! I really don’t like this. Should we be asking for increased security? Thoughts?
*****
The sun is just dipping below the horizon by the time you and Kix leave the hospital, waiting for Wrecker to come pick both of you up. While you wait, an uncomfortable silence settles between the two of you. Before you left, you caught up with Emerie and your heart dropped when she confirmed that permission was granted for Kix and the ID team to commence with testing. Kix was almost giddy at the news, going on and on about how important this is because it will help innovate better treatments. While you knew he was right, it didn’t stop your stomach from churning out of fear. All you could think about is how dangerous this is, and what will happen if it gets out again.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Kix says, scanning the horizon, looking at nothing in particular. “Are you mad at me for something?”
“Mad? No, it’s just…”
“Just what? If you’ve got something to say, do it.”
You look up at him and this time there’s no smile dancing in his eyes, just an unnerving and strange coldness. He crosses his arms and he frowns, waiting for your response.
“Kix, don’t look at me like that. You want to know the truth? I hate this idea of yours. I fucking hate it. There’s too many things that could go wrong. You and I both know that lab accidents happen more than we care to admit. Pantora isn’t just some tiny island in the middle of nowhere, like Pabu. If there’s an incident, there’s no way to contain it this time.”
Kix scoffs and postures himself with arms spread wide. “Are you serious? Remember, you’re the one who came to me, asking for my help. Then, and now. The way I see it, I’m the only hope you’ve got, so if you don’t like what I want to do, tough shit.”
You can feel the anger rapidly welling up in you. You know he’s goading you, but you’ll be damned if he gets to disregard your feelings. “Listen to me, Kix!” you shout, stepping into his space and poking him hard in the chest with your finger. “You weren’t there when this blew up in my face. You weren’t there when I saw a man bash his fucking brains in against the window after he puked a waterfall of blood. You weren’t there when I cut open the mayor of Pabu and his little girl and saw all those ugly clots all over their organs. And you sure weren’t fucking there when not only me, but your vode watched our friend blow her brains out just after her husband died from the virus. I pulled a three month old fetus out of her, Kix. This is not a game! If something goes wrong, there will only be losers. You, me, everyone. I don’t know how much more clearly I can say this!”
Kix’s arms flop down to his sides and he stares at you wide-eyed, his mouth hanging open. He’s crossed the line, and he knows it. You’re shaking furiously, and he slowly reaches out to take you by the upper arms. “You’re right, ad’íka,” he whispers hoarsely. “I’m so sorry. I...put my excitement first instead of you. I never factored in your trauma or feelings. Suppose that makes me a bad friend, doesn’t it?”
“No, it just makes you a dí’kut and an asshole,” you mutter, fighting back tears.
Kix snorts and then laughs heartily. “Fair enough. You’ve always been the only one to call me out on my shit, even when my vode should have been the ones to do it. If that’s not true friendship, then I don’t know what is.”
“Kix?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t make me regret this.”
Kix smirks and reaches over to ruffle your hair affectionately. “I’ve never let you down before, and I have no intention of starting now.”
In the distance comes the sound of someone rhythmically honking their horn, and then Wrecker can be seen making his way across the complex. He brakes to a stop in front of you with a big grin on his face, clearly amused with himself. From the back of the speeder comes cheerful babbling from Mar’éyce, who’s strapped in her baby transport seat.
“Looks like I’m not the only one who’s happy to see you,” Wrecker chuckles, leaning over to open the passenger door for you. He looks over at Kix and can’t resist the urge to razz him. “Oi, who’s the reg? You pickin’ up strays on me, cyar'íka?”
“Nice to see you, too, Wrecker,” Kix says, rolling his eyes. “I see you haven’t lost your sense of humor.” Mar’éyce giggles and Kix climbs into the back next to her, wagging his index finger in front of her face. “Not another peep out of you. Your buir’s a bad influence!”
Thank you again @agirlandherquill for this writing prompt and tag game in one! 💚❤️Rules and invitation list for Writemas can be found here for anyone who wants to join or needs a refresher.
The prompt I picked for today is sobbing. I immediately thought about the first two pages of The Blood Cleaners, which I recently worked on polishing for Draft 3. I'm still working on Draft 2, but I'm also rewriting the first four chapters for Draft 3. Chapter 1 begins with a flashback of Justin at age 8 sobbing 😢I've posted this before here but this is a refined version.
Chapter 1
"It's not fair," Justin murmured as he sat in the corner with folded arms.
Elena towered over him, looking down with her hazel eyes. She didn’t come all of this way from her assignment to be soft.
“Don’t give me that, it’s plenty fair.” She echoed across the empty lecture hall. Justin heard the children in the hallway laughing. Lady Miguela, his supervisor and overseer of the child workers, tried to hush them. Justin could pick up voices calling him “that luny kid again” or “el loco” or “what a mess he made!”
“You spilled the cleansers,” said Elena. “You clean them up.”
Justin blinked as a tear rolled down his cheek. “It was Steve’s fault!”
“Steve didn’t hit you. You hit him.”
Justin tightly gripped his sleeve cuffs. “Because he took my broom and dustpan!”
Elena shook her head. “No matter how much the broom and dustpan mean to you, it’s never okay to hit someone and throw things.”
Justin pouted.
“And worse,” Elena continued, “you could have contaminated something. Of all the places you could have gotten away with being careless, the hydroponics lab is NOT one of them.”
Justin raised his hands. “But he took it from me!”
Elena took hold of his hands. “I’m sorry, but we don’t own the tools for our jobs. The broom and dustpan don’t belong to you, not to Steve, not to anyone. At the end of the day, it belongs to the city.”
Justin pulled his hands out of hers. “But it….” He breathed in. He could cry around Elena. He only feared the kids outside overhearing him and having another reason to mock him. “But it….”
He wanted to say, But it talked to me! Elena didn’t think of him as crazy…anymore. He wanted to keep it that way.
“But it’s mine.” Justin rolled out a sob.
Elena’s eyes shifted. “I understand Steve hurt you. You don’t need to follow his example.”
Justin let the tears fall loose.
Let them mock me, he thought. If he was going to be robbed of dignity just as he was robbed of a father, a mother, a friend, a toy, and now his most favorite object in his life, he might as well just let it roll.
Elena crouched to get down to Justin’s level. Her hazel eyes faced his dark brown eyes. “I’m so sorry, Justin,” she said warmly. “There’s plenty of brooms and pans to grab from the cupboard. Once you finish cleaning up, you’ll be back with Deirdre and Miriam.”
Justin grunted as he shifted to face the wall.
Elena slowly stood up, smiling. “Hey! Tell you what?”
Justin turned and looked up at her, meeting with her smile.
“If you clean up the garden room now, then once you get a new broom and pan, I’ll send you to cover one of my assignments today. Now that you’re eight years old, you are allowed to cover some areas alone. You won’t need to spend the rest of the day with Steve.”
Justin’s face lifted. He wiped his cheek with his sleeve. “You mean it?”
“Absolutely.”
Justin couldn’t refuse a good bargain like this. He took in a few breaths. He extended his hand.
“Ok. Deal.”
Elena’s light tan hand shook Justin’s medium brown hand. She patted his spiky dark black hair.
so like im half way through season 7 and yk how sam dean and bobby are like living off the grid bc of the Leviathans, what if they were traveling with younger sibling! reader, not on no little kid type,
like teenager almost finished with high school type, and theyre trying to finish school while also trying to capture the Leviathan and keep theyre head
and sam is trying his best to keep his head with Lucifer and also catch the Leviathans while also trying to keep readers head so they dont like drop out of school??? YKWIM? this sounds so request-y I DONT MEAN FOR IT TO BE i just wanna pick your brain 🙁🙏🏽🙏🏽
anyway, love ya!
- alex ⭐️
AGHHH YAY !!! i’m just the hugest sucker for all things big brother sam sigh <33
AND DWWW this is perfect id love love to give my thoughts!!! tysm for sending this is and for providing context so i can remember LMAOOO
but i love this idea!! like i imagine having to go off the grid like. right during the last few months of readers senior year. and it’s good because you don’t have that much homework and all that, but it’s still incredibly important to get everything done so you can graduate. and i can imagine sam doing everything in his power to work with the last school you attended to have them let you finish your assignments through email almost like independent study.
and he’s doing this all while suffering with literal hallucinations😃 but he makes up this sob story (that’s obviously nothing compared to your actual situation) and he uses his perfect gentleman, super sweet older brother charm to convince them over the phone.
it’s just poor poor sam juggling all of this, fighting to keep himself, to get out of this situation, to keep everything else off your shoulders so you can focus on school. and every spare moment he tries to help you with your school work. one day, you're working on a final paper, and he's been sitting there with you, helping you edit, when he falls asleep without meaning to. he hates falling asleep. nightmares. and he'll feel awful about falling asleep on you when you need his help.
but you're alright with it. he already helped you fix the section you were unsure about, and you're almost done anyways. the rest is easy enough, and though you're exhausted out of your mind, it's nice to see sam sleep. you rarely do. you send your teacher your final draft and settle on the couch with him, too tired to get up.
sam does jolt awake from a nightmare. but he's easily grounded when he wakes, for once. you're there, your soft and sleeping form pressed against his side. you don't even stir when he flinches because your body is so exhausted. he still feels guilty when he realizes what happened, but he opens your laptop to see that you finished hours ago, not long after he fell asleep. he doesn't feel too bad. instead, he's glad to see you sleeping. you look different when you sleep, because he's gotten so used to the way that you look tired and stressed all the time now. that sends a pang through his heart when he realizes it. that overwhelming sense of protectiveness that he has for you washes over him like a damn hurricane, especially because your sleeping form looks so vulnerable. open and soft and unprotected except for him.
at least he can wrap an arm around you and fix the angle of your neck. at least you still trust him and love him and ask him for help on school assignments. at least you're there at all. sam can't wait for you to graduate. he knows that you can. he can't wait for you to have that. he can't wait to get you out of this all, if you'll let him.
A drabble I made on a whim one day and never got to finish it. It's been in my drafts for months, so have it anyway because why not.
You can make your own fanfic of this with your MC or just a plain continuation. Post it on Tumblr, on Ao3 in the cheers to the elites tag, or just keep it to yourself.
Idc just have fun with it if you ever decide to. No pressure on the need to share your work if you don't want to.
And yes, the play the cast is doing is a dramatic bastardization of the Retribution, He Cries trailer.
~•~•~
"Why am I casted as Abel?" Your nose scrunches as you look at the copy of the script in your hand. "Why do I have to play the murder hobo asshole? Can't Eliseo do that?"
"I would most likely end up punching him in the throat than sobbing over the loss of my good-natured "husband"." Fleur bluntly explains from across you with a displeased air quote. She's casted as Despoina, your so-called wife in the play your class is assigned to do for theater class. The play is of an old tragic myth of the fall of the life god (Abel) and his wife, the goddess of magic (Despoina), trying to stop his murder spree. Long story short, Despoina ends up failing and gets casted out of the Pantheon by the two Primordials Emmera and Malkiel.
"Hey, at least you're the main character that doesn't have to act like conniving bitch." Eliseo, casted as Malkiel, points out from one of the wooden framed sofas he's seated on. "You just gotta stand there, be angry, menacing, and sneer and scowl ninety-percent of the time like Fleur."
The immediately scowl sent his way from the mentioned woman has a cheeky smile returned to her instead.
"But I don't want to be the main character." Your teeth grind together, jaw clenching hard until everything stings from your bubbling rage at the unfairness of it all. To be honest, you rather be a minor character or stage hand than whatever it is you're in right now. It's just more performance pressure to do things well, especially knowing that this play has a huge impact on your class participation and is part of some stupid intergrade competition for the school's Language and Arts Month.
Eliseo only shrugs in nonchalance, not even attempting to quell your growing frustration. "Beggars can't be choosers. You can only bitch and complain about the circumstance all you want, but it's not gonna change anything."
You groan in frustration, slapping your face with the script as you look up at the extravagant ceiling of the spacious living room. Gods above, why does it have to be you? Why can't it be anyone else? Why even have this play in the first place? Why is fate cruel?
Fleur lets out an exasperated sigh. "Let's just start practicing already before the others arrive."
Immediately your head snaps towards Fleur, brows knitted in confusion. "Others?"
"The rest of our friend group," the Vice President clarifies without missing a beat, eyes focused on her script as she casually flips through it. "I messaged them earlier to help us practice with our play."
Your nose scrunches up in displeasure. "But don't they have their own play to worry about? Won't they get confused if they act with us?"
"Weylyn is Director and Zephyrine is Vice Director in their class, so they can help us with what we can do better with our acting. Meanwhile, Ophelia's on the Production team on hers, and she can give us tips on props our characters need and can use."
"Isn't that stealing…?"
"It's called using your connections and outsourcing." Fleur frankly states. "I doubt our class' Director and Production team have any decent creatives ideas or know how to even direct properly."
"Okay, true, but what about Cooper? Why is he coming?"
Fleur merely glances up at you without lifting her head, a brow arched up. "He doesn't attend Lumintoile, remember? He's here to play the extra roles and for moral support."
"Yeah, I know the 'not-attending-Lumintoile' thing, but moral support for who???" Your confusion and question falls on deaf ears, only earning a crow cackle from Eliseo as your answer.
~•~•~
The rest of the group didn't take long to arrive. You and Fleur were busy memorizing and practicing your lines the entire time during the short wait. Though to be honest it was mostly you who was practicing. You get pronunciation corrections from Fleur on some foreign words in the script. Eliseo would occasionally jump in to tell you on how to express anger properly, which is nice of him to do surprisingly.
The first thing that happened when the group arrived was Zephyrine cackling at the news that you somehow managed to land the main character role. She jokes about your natural charisma, which you doubt is that high compared to hers and Eliseo's. Weylyn was kind enough to simply congratulate you and sympathize with you about not wanting a leading role, giving comforting head pats and warm smiles that is highly appreciated. Meanwhile, Ophelia was sympathizing with you not wanting to be in a leading role, saying: "Lots of eyes staring at you because you have so much to say as a protagonist and expecting you to do well. It makes you all jittery having to ignore all that and just… um… perform."
You can only offer her a strangled "Yep" in agreement, because… shit. She's right and you hate that she unintentionally is.
Cooper was just being Cooper.
"Holy shit, I'm gonna be a dead guy?!" Cooper exclaimed, a copy of the script at hand. A grin is clear on his face. "So I'm just gonna lay down and stare at the ceiling the whole time?"
Should… Should you be concerned at how happy he sounded?
Regardless, you press on.
With your audience of five on a sofa waiting for the performance to start, you look at your fellow thespian. Fleur, already holding a bored look, arches an expectant brow at you.
Taking one last glance at the script at hand, your mouth parts open.
"Dear wife of mine, it seems you've gone and betrayed me as well." You sharply remark at Fleur, the brief smile on your face quickly contorting to a snarl as you glower at her. "Running around and saving traitors. You know how useless that effort will be?"
Fleur stares at you for a brief moment, and you can immediately see it. Her blank face turns to something foreign; brows furrowing, eyes widening, her lips slightly parting as she takes a step back.
"Oh my beloved, you're bringing the innocent into your wretched conflict," Fleur utters, her voice soft, gentle, and trembling, "children, families—you've brought people apart because of your madness."
A faint "oh shit" can be heard from the sofa. You're sure that's from Zephyrine.
"Madness?" You let out a humorless laugh. "My wife, it was a mistake of mine to create lesser beings with selfish needs." You glare harshly at Fleur "And it was a mistake to rely on my fellow deities to lend me their aid."
You hear Cooper make sound effect noises in the background of Despoina's supposed casted forcefield shattering from Abel swinging his sword.
Then flipping papers from both you and Fleur.
Then silence.
Then more silence.
You look back at Fleur, and you see her with a scrunched up face of displeasure as her eyes are glued on the script.
"Everything okay, Fleur?" Weylyn asks with concern in his tone.
"We need Emery." Fleur states, looking at all of you. "I'm not going to baby talk Cooper."
It was quiet for a moment, everyone confused at what was said, before eventually flipping their copy of the script to the page Fleur was looking at. Then you see it, there's the Arcana Goddess' granddaughter in the script with speaking lines.
The granddaughter is a child, and Cooper is well...
"But I make a great baby!" Cooper protests, frowning and genuinely upset. Zephyrine audibly wheezes out a laugh and Eliseo fails to stifle a snort at that. Ophelia simply shoots Cooper a confused look and you think Weylyn held in the urge to let out an exasperated dad sigh. Fleur merely gives him a deadpan look.
