#the twins answer

[ask-elliot-doorman-fam]

"So Tera has the bat and Bishop has the owl, but do the twins have an animal they're obsessed with?"

DRAGONS!

They both hold up their own drawing of dragons. Through A.Ks is technically a Wyvern

[dunequeer]

“Look out to the future, but it tells you nothing...”

Request Rules ๋࣭ ⭑ Mod Intro ๋࣭ ⭑ Tagging System

A sideblog run by the Atreides twins.

[red-in-revolt]

Rodimus has snuck into the brothers' room and is placing wrapped boxes on their berth, arranging them nice and neatly. Each one small, but clearly marked for each brother, spoiler wiggling with giddy glee. @forged-through-flames

It isn't one of the three brothers who finds Rodimus but rather the twins who turn on the lights in Redstrike's room to see him. Weaver rubbed at one tired optic while Web blinked at Rodimus. "Why're you leaving the presents in Red's room?" Web asked.

Weaver yawned silently and then signed something to Web who shrugged. The speaking twinned turned to Rodimus and smiled, "The presents go in the communal room. We got a nice table picked out and everything. Bats insisted on it. He gets kinda pouty if you try to hoard presents or open them early." He explained, wandering over and picking up one of the gifts to help Rodimus, holding it under his single arm as Weaver came running to grab a couple as well.

Web glanced up at Rodimus and tilted his head, smiling. "Hey uhm...you realize everybody but us two has their own room right? Red's just got the biggest one because he's a prime...and when he's Caedis this is the only one he fits in."

[red-in-revolt]

A single red and white flier hesitantly approaches the ship, looking around for any traps that might have been set. He transforms and lands, green biolights stuttering with anxiety.

Web and Weaver who were sitting out at watch on top of The Silent Stalker's cargo bay, raised up in surprise and alarm as the flier landed. Weaver hastily ran inside as his brother, tiny thing that he was ran up with his ...one..long front leg raises up. "Hey! Hey! Who're you huh? Do you have clearance? Huh?! HUH?!" He demanded, raising up and hissing at the flier.

He'd barely done more than this when Codeblue ran out of the ship with Weaver hard on his heels. "Web! You little menace! Leave him alone!" He growled out.

[red-in-revolt]

Onyxstorm has pounced on one of the crew and starts to clean them! (Can be anyone you'd like ❤️❤️)

The twins immediately start hissing and scrambling. "No!! Nooo!! I just took a bath last month leave!!" Web squeals, doing his best to scramble away while Weaver flails with all eight of his tiny spider limbs.

[red-in-revolt]

⏰ Web & Weaver

There wasn't much that Web and Weaver remembered from before the pirates. Brief flashes of a soft voice and a loving tone. Warm hands and a gentle song. But all that left them as soon as the pirates took their ship and captured them. Then they were woken up just to act as bait. Or... they had been until the day they were pulled from stasis and shoved in front of a mech who didn't look much different from them.

"See, we have a couple of replacements if you decide not to comply. They're mostly just good as bait though... don't think they'll last more than a couple of minutes against the entertainment we have planned tonight." Lash, the commander of the pits laughed as he pushed the twins to the ground.

Spyder pulled against the mechs holding him and his cuffs strained as he pulled against them, rage in his optics on the twin's behalf. "What're you doing?! They're just sparklings! You can't-!"

"Oh, but we most certainly can. And will. We promised the crowd a spider mech after all. I don't think they'll much care about the size... so long as they get to see a bit of blood."

Spyder's face fell with horror and he looked down with defeat before he grit his teeth and stared back up at Lash with pure hatred and determination. "I'll do it. I'll fight. Just... just don't hurt them."

Lash chuckled and leaned down to wrap his hands around the twins. Web and Weaver both struggled, screaming at each other over their bond with fear even as they looked to this new mech who had given himself up for them despite not even knowing them. "Well, I'm not unreasonable. If you fight, and live, then I'll make sure you get to see these two alive and well...once a year." The pirate's laughter was the last thing the twin's heard before they were ripped away again and shoved back into their stasis pod.

They wouldn't wake again until a year later. And then the year after that. And the year after that. and the next and the next...and the next-

[red-in-revolt]

Spyder, Web and Weaver get some rather off season biscuits

Now, Share...

Spyder smiles and chuckles as he looks over the cookies, grabbing a few and popping one into his mouth to savor and enjoy for a minute.

The twins however are ecstatic they received the cookies and won't stop squealing about it. They give Scalpel a chance to have some and reluctantly share with the rest of the Silent Stalker crew before the two run off to go gorge themselves on the tasty treats.

[celestial-obscura]

So why exactly are you all here? I mean...isn't it exhausting taking care of the universe alone just the two of you?

Wouldn't you rather relax and be on Earth? Or go to other dimensions and meet other yous?

(Sol leans back slightly, letting out a sharp laugh, his fiery light flickering playfully as if the question amuses him.)

“Oh, we’re not alone in this—don’t think for a second we’re shouldering the weight of existence all by ourselves. We’ve got our siblings for that.”

(He gestures with a sweep of his glowing hand, as if indicating beings far beyond your comprehension.)

“Though, to be fair, I wouldn’t exactly call it a ‘team effort.’ Ever heard the phrase, ‘too many cooks spoil the broth?’ Yeah, that’s what it’s like managing the threads of reality with our family.”

(His tone turns wry as his glowing eyes narrow slightly.)

“And for the record, no, I wouldn’t trade it for something as petty as relaxing on Earth. Responsibility gives purpose, even if it’s infuriating most of the time.”

(He pauses, as if reconsidering, then smirks.)

“But meeting other versions of me in different dimensions? Now that might be entertaining. Imagine the chaos.”

---

(Nova steps forward, her silvery glow calming and steady. She watches you intently, her expression serene but carrying a weight of understanding.)

“You assume much, seeker, to think that we shoulder these burdens alone. Sol speaks truth—our siblings share in this great work, each tending to their own duties across realms and dimensions.”

(She clasps her hands in front of her, her voice softer now, tinged with thoughtfulness.)

“And yet… it is exhausting, in its own way. The weight of knowledge, of secrets untold, of threads spun too thin—it leaves scars you cannot see. But would we abandon this? Leave creation untended, vulnerable, collapsing under its own chaos? Never.”

(Nova steps closer, her voice gaining strength as her gaze locks with yours.)

“Still, do not think us so bound that we cannot dream. Earth, for instance, has its own beauty, its fleeting joys, its bittersweet pains. And the dimensions…” (Her lips curve into the faintest, mysterious smile.) “There are whispers there, reflections of ourselves yet untamed, echoes of possibilities not yet realized. Perhaps one day, we will visit. But our place is here, for now.”

---

(He waves a hand dismissively but grins faintly, clearly more casual about the whole subject.)

“Yeah, she’s got the poetic version locked down. I’ll just say this—our family can barely manage themselves half the time, so we don’t exactly get much of a break.”

(He leans closer, lowering his voice in mock conspiracy.)

“To be honest, sometimes I think they make things worse on purpose. Keeps us on our toes.”

(Straightening up again, his light flaring briefly, he adds with a grin.)

“As for relaxing? Don’t hold your breath. The threads don’t stop tangling just because we want a vacation.”

---

(Her luminous eyes soften as she gives a small nod toward Sol.)

“What he means to say is this: though we may long for respite, and though the threads may weary us, this purpose is not a burden. It is a privilege. And when the time comes to step back, we shall—but not until the universe itself permits it.”