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sleepyfawn444 · 2 years ago

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Speak up, Love. - Pt. 1

Miles Quaritch x fem!reader

Summary - Selectively mute!reader is an incredibly important scientist + medic who was killed while tending to soldiers in an active warzone before becoming a recom and getting taken under the wing of renounced colonel, Miles Quaritch.

Warnings - Explicit content, no smut, selectively mute + smart reader, sub reader, mention of blood (he spits blood into her mouth), fighting, alludes to bullying (Lyle to reader, other soldiers to reader), smut in future parts, petnames ‘sweetheart’, ‘darling’, and ‘good girl’ used

‘"they're simply jealous. Like the assholes earlier. They were jealous of you. I wished to speak to you, whereas I got disgusted by even looking at them."’

——/——/——/——/——/——/——/——/——/——/

Colonel Quaritch is wrapping up his orientation speech to the rest of the recoms, yourself included. Amongst the tall blue aliens all of you have found yourselves representing as, you are visibly smaller than most, if not the entirety of the crowd. Even in your human form, you would’ve seemed pitiful compared to them.

It would be easy for anyone here to portray you as inferior to them. You’re not a soldier. You don’t hold the rank they do.

You’re unimportant; simply a medic who was somehow trusted enough by your superiors to be present on a hostile planet, yet idiotic enough to have wound up fatally injured.

Very few, maybe even none, of these people are aware that given the incentive, you could end them without a second thought.

"Ah, Corporal Wainfleet. Good to see you again." The colonel says after wrapping up his speech, looking at the man next to you, Lyle Wainfleet. You've never even made eye contact with the guy, yet he dislikes you.

You’ve heard the way he speaks of you when he assumes you can’t. The way he degrades your work, your intelligence, you.

Lyle nods in respect, shaking Colonel Quaritch's hand as he stands and leaves.

"Ah." The colonel says as he steps to the side, leering over you as you look up from your seat. "Hello." He tilts your head up, his fingers pressing under your chin.

Your eyes narrow, but only slightly. Lyle halts in his tracks. He looks back towards your conversation, as do most of the recoms still in earshot. Hums and Haws start to slip from their mouths.

So, they’ve pinned you as an outsider then.

Corporal Lyle leans his weight onto the foot closest to you. He sucks in a breath. “She’s, um.. That is-”

The colonel leans back on the heels of his boots. He’s looking at Lyle through the corner of his eyes, not bothering to dull his harsh expression.

“I know very well who she is, Lyle.” His voice drawls on the other man’s name, his tongue running over his teeth as his inferior hurries to justify the stuttered attempt of an introduction that Col. Quaritch didn’t want nor need.

"She doesn't speak very often, sir.” Lyle offers finally, a smirk dancing across his lips as he finishes the sentence. “In all honesty, we don’t think she can, except for when she is displaying her quote en quote, ‘revolutionary’, scientific work.”

He laughs. “I think she might be too cowardly to face peoples reactions when she opens herself up to conversations that don’t affirm her high opinion of herself.”

The colonel raises his eyebrows at you, a soft expression of concern, his fingertips grazing your jaw as he turns away. "Hm, Lyle?"

"Yes, sir?"

“It would do you well to mind your own business.”

His eyes flick back down, returning his undivided attention to you, while lowering his voice for just your ears to hear. "Oh, I definitely know who you are. Would you be interested in, well I don’t know, proving your competence to your superior?"

As your eyes widen, you realise that it would probably be in your best interest to respond to him. You ought not to be disrespectful to your superior, so you move to nod in response.

If you speak, you will either embarrass yourself and attract even more attention towards you and the colonel, or you will try and your voice will simply not comply, humiliating yourself in front of one of the few superior officers who has not yet been properly acquainted with you, or your work.

Colonel Quaritch’s fingertips hold you in place, depriving you of a silent manner of response. You can hear his voice in your ears, despite it not leaving his lips. ‘If you want to say yes to me, you have to find a better way to do it.’

You open your mouth, your shoulders shaking in tune with your voice as it fails you. "Y- ye, I.. hm."

His fingers leave your face, taking pity upon you, allowing you the privilege to respond to him without losing any more decency than you have already, which if you consider it, may be statistically impossible.

As soon as he allows you the ability to move your eyes away from his, you do. You glue your eyes to the ground, giving a small nod. Noticeable enough to satisfy him as a response, yet not so frantic as to prompt mocking comments about your enthusiasm.

Muffled snickers make their way to your ears from across the room, and your heart falls. You had assumed that the colonel’s squad of recoms had left the room, or removed themselves from earshot at the very least.

Colonel Quaritch turns to face the group of recoms in the opposite corner of the room, his face twisted in irritation. Clearly, he is a man that doesn’t approve of being interrupted. "Don't you have somewhere to be?" He snarls, his hand resting on your shoulder. The group of eavesdropping soldiers quickly scatter, trailing off in the direction of the mess hall. If they are in search of food, they shall be disappointed. Any leftovers were likely cleaned away a while ago.

"C'mon." He commands, tugging on your shoulder. You stand, finding the height difference between him and yourself impressive. He must’ve been one of, if not the tallest in the room. There must be at least a foot between you. You could probably find his file somewhere, get his exact height. The colonel interrupts your train of thought, placing his hand in a fist around your wrist. It’s gentle, allowing him to have leverage without putting you in pain.

He leads you behind him through the RDA base, drawing attention with every step he takes. While you walk, - he walks, while you get dragged - You attempt to make it seem as if the staring is lost on you, distracting yourself by watching his tail slide along the back of his calf, every so often lifting up and swishing across the front of yours.

On your tippy-toes, you reach out and use your free hand to tap on his, very muscular, upper arm and grab his attention. He wouldn't notice you otherwise, you think. Even if you stood in front of him and stopped him from walking, he would simply shove you aside. The colonel seems to be lost in his own world most of the time. Not in the way you are, though. In a cocky way. He holds himself in a way that says 'I don't care what you think of me. I don't care about you, why should I? Do you care about the roach that crawls over your shoe? About the millions of ants you squash throughout your lifetime? You are nothing but a mere insect to me, why should you matter?'.

He stops in his tracks and turns to face you. If the two of you hadn't already attracted enough attention, you're gaining more by the second. "What is it?"

You raise your eyebrows and point ahead of you, careful not to accidentally gesture towards anyone. Where are we going? You want to know.

"Oh darl, I have heard legends about the way you fight, your insane talent in mere hand to hand combat that most men cannot equal with any weapon known to mankind.. You have no idea what I would've done to get you in the ring. Yet, you - for some reason - opted out of being a soldier.”

You nod with a smile dawning on your face, him slowly matching it with his when he senses the pride that he instilled in you. His grip, almost loosened to the point of letting you go completely, tightens again as you walk towards the gym. A path clears in the colonel’s wake, your eyes facing the floor to avoid accidentally catching anyone else's as you pass. The colonel slows as he notices your discomfort, swapping his grip on your wrist for his arm slung across your waist. You lean into him, as if when you get close enough you can melt into him and disappear.

He pulls you down a hallway with next to nobody down it, "Shortcut. Less stares, if that was troubling you." He glances to the side, giving you his eyes. You nod. You dislike the attention that Colonel Quaritch is drawing to you.

His grip on your waist loosens slowly, and eventually he lets you slip out of his grip and trail a few steps behind, likely because of the severe decrease in crowding around you. You glance up from your feet when the soft thudding of his footsteps disappears, to find that he's stopped in front of a heavy-looking door and is fumbling in his pockets.

You run your eyes over him, zoning in on a shiny ring hooked to one of his belt loops. Hanging from the ring are a few keys, and a square card that gives him access to his room. You presume he's looking for one of the keys that are resting against the fabric of his pants, and remove the loop from his body while he rummages through his pockets.

You take a few steps forward, slipping past the colonel, and kneel down to look at the keyhole. Colonel Quaritch steps towards you in wonderment as you slide in the door’s key. You turn the key in its hole, and receive the affirming click.

You pull the key out and step back to let the colonel open the door, but you forgot he was directly behind you. You falter from the impact of stepping into him, stumbling downwards, but his arms snake around your waist on instinct as your back hits his chest. You let out a sigh of embarrassment.

You try to resume your plan of moving back to the side and following Quaritch into the gym, but his arms tighten around me, holding you in place.

"Not yet darl. How did you unlock that?"

"You were looking for the key, and I saw your keys. I took the keys, then I looked at the keyhole and I matched the key with it. I was right about all of that, so now the door is unlocked. If you would let me g- g, g-"

"Wow. That was a bit of a breakthrough for you huh, sweetheart? That's a lot of words in a short time. Good job darlin.”

You move your hands around funnily to accompany words that will not come out, slipping out of Colonel Quaritch’s arms and turning to face him. The Colonel raises his eyebrows patiently, watching you, slightly amused. He gives you his tablet to type on.

You nod softly, your fingers immediately beginning to type.

'I don't really like speaking. I never have. Eventually I just became accustomed to staying silent. Sometimes I just can’t bring myself to get words out. I find it easy to speak about my intelligence though, except when I feel like I am going to be singled out for it. I like explaining the process of my thoughts. People don't like it when they can't understand things, I like it when I can help them understand.'

When you turn the tablet around to show it to him, he takes a second, making sure to read it carefully and correctly. He doesn't want to miss a word.

"I'm glad you can speak about your intelligence darl. I'm sorry that people single you out for it, they're simply jealous. Like the assholes earlier. They were jealous of you. I wished to speak to you, whereas I got disgusted by even looking at them."

The blood rushes to your face as the colonel watches you carefully, taking you in. He taps the tablet lightly, tilting his head. 'Do you have something to say?'

You take the tablet from his hands, staring at the tablet blankly, before shaking it to erase the previous writing.

'Thank you, Colonel Quaritch.' You type.

"Colonel Quaritch is long. Colonel is fine." He mutters, his eyes on the tablet.

You shake the tablet to erase your writing once again, raising your eyebrows and biting your lip as you type.

'Just colonel?’

"Yes."

You slowly hand the colonel his tablet back as he leads you into the gym. He goes through the door first, capturing any possible attention, dragging it away from you. You follow through after him, glad to find that there's nobody inside.

The colonel grabs your wrist again, and pulls you towards the wrestling ring in the corner. He stops halfway, positioning you in front of a punching bag, and supplying you with a pair of boxing gloves. He stands behind you, the sight of his shadow towering over yours nearly bringing you to your knees with the wish of sinking into the ground.

You pull on the boxing gloves and tighten them appropriately, and stand still while the colonel repositions you. He lays a piece of tape a few centimetres in front of your feet, and you bring a foot forward to rest the tip of your boot against it.

You try to buck out of his grasp when he places his hands on your hips, but he simply pulls you backwards and grips you tighter, fingertips already forming bruises. He tilts your hips at an angle, and promptly releases you. "Sorry, darl, but you have got to be tougher than that."

You nod, quickly and apologetically, while he steps out from behind you. He stands, on the edge of getting in the way, far enough to be safe from accidentally getting wiped out by the punching bag, but not out of reach if you happen to do it on purpose.

'Square up' he gestures, and you follow his command, lean your weight into your toes, and throw a punch. A hard punch. It could've been harder, though. Even so, the punching bag is flung into the air. You step aside as it comes back down, catching it as it swings past you. Having slowed it down, you release it, and let it fall back to its original position.

"Good girl," the colonel snarls, positioning himself behind the punching bag. He takes a few steps back, for his own safety.

You shift your weight ever so slightly, and take a second punch. To the colonel's dismay, you hold back, and the bag doesn't swing into his face.

"Don't do that."

"W-?" You tilt your head slightly

"Don’t hold back on me. I'm strong enough to take whatever you throw at me, darling."

You nod, punching again, as hard as you'll go, so the chain that's hoisting the punching bag doesn't break or come unravelled. The force of falling to the floor usually splits the bag open. It's happened before. Quite a few times actually.

Colonel catches the bag, almost half effortlessly. He throws it back. You punch it once more.

He nods slightly while catching it. "Good job." He passes it back, and you throw another perfect punch.

Catch, throw, punch. Positive affirmation. Repeat, repeat.

The colonel catches, throws, makes his way behind you, distracts you. You step aside, and Colonel Quaritch gets hit square in the chest with a punching bag. He stumbles back and falls to the floor. After giving a small, quiet chuckle, you walk over and kneel next to him.

"Sorry darl, that was my fault.." He winces. You tilt your head softly, giving him a patronising thumbs up. He rolls his eyes, and smacks your hand down. You cradle your wrist to your chest in overly exaggerated pain. "You can punch harder than that. We both know it."

You shake your head, calling his bluff.

"Oh darling. Stop lying to me. I was there. I know what you can do."

You scrunch up your nose, tilting your head to the side in confusion .

"I saw you knock down those punching bags. Every. Single. One. Every time."

Blood rushes to your face again, your cheeks flushing a deep purple.

"Yeah, there you go. You know what I'm talking about. You know you're proud of yourself. You should be sweetheart."

I nod quickly, waiting for him to get to the point.

"You know what I want you to do, darling. You need to punch it as hard as you can, you want to and you know it. You want to break it. Can you do that for me darl?"

You smile through pursed lips, an attempt of hiding your pride in your own strength. You bring yourself to your feet, positioning yourself in front of the punching bag. When you look towards the colonel for his approval, you find his gaze already glued on you. He nods affirmation, and you take a deep breath while getting into position. Shifting your hips, you squeeze your eyes shut. Once you open them, you let out a deep sigh, and throw your fist against the firm exterior of the punching bag.

You step aside, breathing in and out with relief as the bag circles the rafter it's dangling from. The chain, rusted, ancient, and distressed, gets halfway unravelled before snapping off. The bag slaps the floor beside the colonel with a loud thump, and fortunately without splitting.

The colonel rises to his feet, and once you pull off the boxing gloves, he shakes your hand. You gesture towards the ring and he nods once, sharply. Your hair brushes the insides of his thighs as you bend down to retrieve your gloves, and he takes a sharp intake of breath before getting a pair of his own. You slip under the bottom rope, and he climbs over the opposing top one.

You meet in the middle of the ring, and the colonel's voice softly counts down.

"Three, two, one-"

You throw a punch to his chest, and he's forced to take a couple steps back and regain his breath. He doesn't get the chance though, as you throw yourself against the ropes to propel a kick into his stomach.

He coughs softly, spitting a little bit. He places his gloved hands on your waist, and throws you onto the ground. He places one of his feet on your spine to flatten your back, and sends a kick bouncing off your skull. Your gloves reach above your head, grabbing onto his ankle. You tug it, and the loss of balance removes his foot from your back and brings him down to your level.

Jumping to your feet, you force a foot under the colonel's stomach, and flip him onto his back. You bring a knee to his stomach, leaning all your weight onto him. Colonel Quaritch squirms. sputtering, trying to shove you off of him. He eventually topples you, your head slamming against the floor. His feet outstretch, trying to push you out of the ring and onto the ground as he squirms. Once he realises his efforts are going to waste, it's already too late, and you’re straddling his stomach. While you send a punch to his nose, his hands come to your waist, ready to throw you off. You slam one of your hands to one of his wrists, but it's too little too late. The hand you assaulted goes to the ground, but his other one pulls you down with it. He climbs on top of you, making you whimper slightly.

He's crushing you with his weight. You tilt your head back onto the floor and scrunch up your face before you look back up to face him. You take in his features for a mere few seconds before his gloved knuckles slam into your right cheek, the left side of your face landing against the ground so hard that you’re sure there's a black eye forming. A drop of the colonel's blood falls onto your bruised cheek, and you look up to see the blood from his nose dripping into his mouth, and dripping off his face.

"Need a break darling? Too much?" The colonel chuckles, looking down at you condescendingly.

A smile dawns across your face, before you punch him in the eye hard enough to send it spinning for a full 360 in the socket. His smile matches yours, and so does his attitude. The colonel punches you in the chest, making you gasp for air. He takes the chance and spits his blood into your mouth. You gag, choking on his blood, and turn to the side to spit it out. Well, you try to, but his fingers stop you from moving. Before you get the chance to resolve it by just turning to the other side, his hand slips from the side of your cheek to under your chin, holding you in place.

"What a fucking bitch." He grunts with a chuckle, and you shake your head as violently as you can with your face in his grip. "No, darling. You are. Yeah, you are."

You glare up at him, your eyes holding his.

"I knew you were strong, but god, sweetheart. You are fucking magnificent. Swallow." He growls, the familiar snarl you’ve heard him use many times before seeping into his voice, and a drop of blood falls from his philtrum onto your bruised cheekbone.

You gather up saliva to return his blood and spit, but his hand slides over your mouth and forces your head down on the ground as more of his blood drips onto your face.

"Nah, darling. Don't do that." He lets your head come up slightly, just to bring it back down to the ground, somewhat gently.

Your gaze softens as his hardens, and you reluctantly swallow, the metallic taste of blood sticking around as it usually does.

"Hm." He chuckles. "Good girl. Good girl."

You squint your eyes at him in anger, quickly flipping him on his back. Kneeling one knee next to him, you bring the other to his crotch, and strike as hard as you can. Once. Twice. Thrice. Four times. Fi-

He grabs you by your collar and hoists you up to face level, making eye contact with you. He doesn't want you to miss a word he says.

"You cannot win, darl. You're strong. You might be stronger than me. But I am smarter, and I am bigger, and I am faster. I am purely better than you darling, and there is nothing you will ever be able to do about it."

You like the colonel in the ring. He thinks the way you do. He's cockier, yes, but that's because he thinks he can win. And he will. He's like you, you think you can win anything that you want to. You don't think you want to win this.

You don't like most people, but you like Colonel Quaritch. You like the colonel from the hallway, the person who gave you a voice and listened to every word it said. You like the colonel from the punching bag, the guy who fed your ego, was interested in your strength, was cocky enough to stand behind your punching bag. The guy who was strong enough to take it. You like the colonel in the ring, the dickhead who got blood all over you, who thinks he could win if you didn't want him to, who says what comes to mind without hesitating about if it's going to hurt you. It doesn't, by the way. He might be able to hurt you, but his words can't.

He wasn't incorrect, per se. He is smarter than you, but only tactically speaking, your job isn’t to win the war, it’s to make sure he can. He is bigger than you, his height is much, much larger than yours. The span of his shoulders is too. As is the size of his muscles. You don't think he's faster than you, but you’ll get the chance to find out. You memorised his room number. You could challenge him to a race, presuming he has any free time. But he is not using any of his superior properties, he is trying to outdo you in sheer strength alone. He could crush you if he wanted to, squash you like a bug in under a minute without so much as a second thought. But he doesn't know how to. You must show him.

You blink, slowly, encouraging him to make a move against you, give himself an advantage. The colonel looks you over a couple times, analysing your weak spots, questioning how to defeat you. Finding stability by wrapping your hands around the ropes bordering the ring, you hoist yourself up to sit atop them. You bring your hands to your chest, and throw a few weak, less-than-half hearted punches into his.

"Wh.. what are we doing here. Are you bored with this? Are you toying with me? You can punch harder than that. A lot harder than that." The colonel snarls, his frown deepening with each word.

You shrug, your legs growing restless, swinging back and forth, landing soft kicks above his knees every so often. He takes a deep breath, getting increasingly irritated, before pulling off his boxing gloves and lifting you from the ropes to the ground.

"What do you want." He sighs defeatedly, dragging his tablet out of his pocket and handing it to you.

You start to type.

'You can defeat me. I am inferior to you, but for some reason you are trying to outdo me in the area I excel in. I am as strong as you, but you are more tactical. And you are taller, bigger. If you wanted to squash me, you could. If you commanded me to lose, I would. If you had thought for two seconds before pulling out the hotheaded soldier who spewed his hormonal blood-saliva cross contamination into my mouth, I may respect you a bit more. Colonel.'

Once he takes the tablet from your outstretched hand, his eyebrows practically shoot off his face as he reads. Shaking away the writing, he slides the tablet into his pocket before giving you his full, undivided attention, which is accompanied by piercing eye contact.

"Big move, calling me hotheaded, the very second after explaining exactly how easy I would find it to 'squash you' like a bug. Oh and sweetheart," He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning slightly closer to you, as if trying to hear something you were going to say.

"Judging by the way you get all flustered and purple when I lean over you, the way I am now, I figure you shouldn’t be so high and mighty over my 'hormonal cross contamination' being inside of you so much." As he pulls back, one of his hands reaches out to cup your cheek as he tilts his head and examines you. He removes his hand from your face and stands back, semi-weary while awaiting your response.

You extend your hands, asking for help with removing your boxing gloves. You move slowly, to not threaten him or provoke him to lash out violently. He raises his eyebrows, and his fingers go to the velcro on the gloves. You nod, pushing your hands out more "can y- pl-"

"Yes darl. I've got you."

He removes the gloves from your hands, velcroing them together. He repeats the process with his own gloves after picking them up from the floor, then he slips under the ropes and places both pairs back on the stand.

You trail a few steps behind him, like a lost puppy. You figure that now that you’re done with him in the ring, You should feel free to go. You should probably return to your quarters, and stretch and nap or something, on your own. It would be comforting to be alone after having so much attention drawn to you. To go relax in your room, with nobody able to bother you.

But, for some reason, you'd much rather stay here, with the colonel. You find some sense of.. calmness, and pleasure, in following his footsteps, like a ghost indebted to him.

He halts in his tracks, turning around to face you. You tilt your head to the side, questioning his sudden stop.

"Give me back my keys."

Oh. You fish into the pockets of your cargo pants, and retrieve the hoop that has his room card and keys dangling from it, holding it out by gripping his keycard. The colonel snatches it from your hand.

"Why are you still here? What do you need darlin?" He murmurs, hooking the keys back onto his belt loop.

You shake your head, you don't need anything. He nods in understanding.

"You're dismissed." He commands.

You give a small bob of your head in acknowledgment, and return to your quarters.

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tags: -

#atwow #avatar #avatar smut #atwow smut #miles quaritch x reader #miles quaritch smut #colonel miles quaritch #avatar the way of the water #recom miles quaritch x reader #recom squad #recom miles quaritch #recombinant miles quaritch #recombinant miles quaritch x reader #miles quaritch

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stevenbasic · 11 days ago

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GITJ Post 410: Babysitting, p5 (Breakroom Interlude Two)

“So, Keeks…what are we doing tonight?” asked the tall and thin but strikingly shapely young woman as she came into the breakroom of Far Horizons Medical Associates.

Lakshmi Vallurupalli, Lead Medical Assistant, looked up from her phone to her new friend. Both girls were in blue scrubs, and mostly done with their work day. “Hi Josie,” she smiled, watching Josie plunk down in the seat across the small table from her. Lakshmi had been re-watching a clip from one of the afternoon talk shows, suggested to her by a clinic patient earlier, an episode that had aired earlier this afternoon. She smiled wanly, and put the phone down. “Tonight? I cannot do anything tonight. Father says he wants me at home.”

“For real?” Josie answered, trying not to scoff too hard. She understood the pressures her friend felt, coming from a traditional household, and she tried to be sensitive. Even in today’s day and age, with the patriarchy quietly (or not so quietly) crumbling, some weird-ass traditions held on. But…still. “You have to turn that shit off. You’re twenty-four years old. And, besides…hasn’t your mom put him in his place already?”

To that, Lakshmi had to fight back a secret smile, and tried not to blush. ‘Put him in his place’…haha. Lakshmi had, just two nights ago, came into her parent’s bedroom to find her mother straddling her father’s naked body and shoving something in his mouth. Neither parent had seen her. Or at least, she certainly hoped they hadn’t. She had turned and stepped away quickly, but the image was now there, burned into her brain forever. She quietly blushed as she recalled it. Lakshmi respected her parents’ privacy enough to not say anything to anyone, even to her new best friend, but the memory did make her rethink her father’s demands. They seemed kind of silly, now. “Haha okay,” she answered, “You are right. I am a grown woman, I guess.”

“Yes you are and I’m taking this grown-woman out for shopping and an Amaretto Sour tonight,” Josie smiled. Though younger than Lakshmi by nearly three years, Josie felt like she’d taken the quiet, sheltered young woman under her wing in many ways. She was helping her blossom into a strong and confident person, no longer chained down by her conservative upbringing. Josie had taken her out on the town and allowed her to see a little more of the world. In return, Lakshmi had helped Josie grow and mature out of her own childish ways. Lakshmi was one of the first to treat her like an adult and respect her opinion instead of seeing her like the spoiled rich girl everyone thought she was. They were now good friends and they were helping each other become the leaders they would need to be. “You told me you needed a new dress to squeeze that grown-woman ass into tomorrow night, didn’t you?”

“I did, and - uh - I do,” Lakshmi smiled. She was looking forward to Friday’s grand-opening event, a party they’d be having in the new atrium, and she certainly did need something to wear. Her latest try-on attempts with what she already had in her closet had not gone well. Seams were torn, buttons popped. She was a ‘grown woman’ now, that was for sure. A growing woman, she thought, as she proudly felt her glutes beneath her. “Okay, yes, I need a dress.”

“Good. We’ll head to the mall, to Hera’s,” Josie said, glancing at the mug of what her friend had been drinking. It smelled good, like anise. She pulled out her own phone from her scrub pocket, checked her texts. Nothing interesting, just her mom. She put the phone face-down onto the table.

“So, how did study clinics go today?” Josie asked, “I missed it. Was over setting things up next door. Did you see Adrienne Aleppo?”

Josie knew Lakshmi really liked Adrienne Aleppo, and she sometimes couldn’t believe it herself: that this famous woman from many of the girls’ favorite shows was in their rinky-dink little clinic every week. Adrienne Aleppo was one of their study patients, coming into the office for her treatments. She was probably the biggest of a few minor celebrities that they saw regularly, and - though Josie herself was actually more impressed and enthralled by the several politicians that came to clinic - she knew Adrienne Aleppo left lots of the girls, Lakshmi included, feeling a little starstruck. How did she get time away from the Stinkers! house every week? Weren’t reality shows kinda strict that way? Whatever.

“Yes I did see her!” Lakshmi gushed, blushing again.

“Did you tell her we all watched this week’s episode?” Josie asked, indulgently.

“No, I did not,” Lakshmi replied, “but she told me all about it anyway.”

“She’s, like, ‘Queen of the House’ now, right?”

“Yeah, she is,” Lakshmi answered, suddenly leaning in closely across the table, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper and causing Josie to lean in as well, “Her boobs got really big.”

Josie laughed, and sat back up. “Oh my god Kiki why are you whispering? There’s no one here,” Josie giggled, “And, besides, big boobs aren’t really a secret any more.” Almost unconsciously, she felt herself sit up straighter, square her shoulders. Maybe she wasn’t as big as Shanette or Amelia or even Randi, but her own breasts had grown remarkably over these past couple months. They felt good on her chest, and she knew they were still growing.

“So who else did you see?” Josie asked. Having been out of clinic today made her miss some of the gossip many of the patients invariably came in with every week. She especially liked hearing about what Thalia Bates was doing with her father, and talking with some of the local businesswomen. She even liked chatting with Sheryl. “Ooo! I saw Rachel Keller!” Lakshmi offered brightly, “She is giving us all free memberships to her gym!”

“‘Big Body Gym’?” Josie asked, nodding, Josie really liked going to the gym these days, and many times went with Lakshmi to one of the corporate places near where they both lived. ‘Big Body Gym’, though, was closer to work, would be more convenient when they all moved in upstairs together, and was supposed to be one of the hot new places for girls who wanted to get big these days. And who didn’t want to get big? “That’s cool. Let’s go this weekend! You need bigger squat racks like they’ve got anyway.”

“Sure, yes,” Lakshmi continued, nodding, aware again of the massive mass of bulge and muscle upon which she now sat. She was proud of it; it had been growing nearly unchecked. “I also saw that Mary Jane person...”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Yeah,” Lakshmi said, pausing for a moment. It was sort of an unspoken thing, mostly, what was happening to some of the people on this new treatment, the turns some of their personalities had taken. “Vida asked me to set up a psych evaluation for her next week, with one of the new therapists.”

“Yeah,” Josie agreed, “There’s something going wrong with that girl.” She could think of a few other people that could do with some therapy. There were a lot of them, in fact, and not just the patients on Product, but some of her coworkers as well. Maybe haha we should do a group session. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

Lakshmi paused again, thoughtfully. “Weird that it is the last day we will have the study here,” she posited, “Next week it will be in the new offices?

“Yeah very fancy,” Josie agreed, “I was helping set up supplies in some of the new exam rooms today. They didn’t let me into the Evolution wing. I wonder what’s going on back in there?”

“I dunno,” Lakshmi answered, “maybe it is still just being worked on?”

“Could be,” Josie replied, “though most of the construction equipment, all those trucks, have moved over to the new building, across the parking lot.”

“Yeah,” offered Lakshmi. “Time is just moving so fast. Everything is changing.

“Sheryl bought the new place only a month or so ago, right? Are we expanding again soon?”

Lakshmi shrugged, sipped her tea.

“Well, with whatever they’re doing, she doesn’t waste any time, that's for sure.”

Both girls paused, now. Lakshmi sipped on her tea again, didn’t say anything.

“They don’t tell us much huh?” Josie concluded.

“Not really.”

“Hey has anyone found Cindi yet?”

The two commiserated on their lost co-worker, Cynthia. Last she’d been seen was…wait? When was that? There was that really grainy security footage of her trashing Dr. J’s apartment over the weekend, but when was she last in the office? Was it today? Last week? Was it really Cici? And where was she? Neither girl had any new information.

“Soooooo…” Josie asked her friend, looking to change the topic, “what were you watching when I came in?”

“Alicia Ray, the newslady from Channel 5 was in clinic today for her treatment,” Lakshmi answered, “and told me about what happened on The Kathleen O’Connor Show’ this afternoon. She sent me this cl-“

“Omigod yes!!” Josie exclaimed, “we were all watching it on the other side earlier. The ladies from Nexifem?? Did you see what they were able to do to that guy???”

“Yes oh my god,” Lakshmi gushed, feeling her thighs warm and once more again the heavy strength of her new weight, “That was…insane. What does it mean?”

“It means the new government is going to have to figure out what to do with it,” Josie answered, “it’s so wicked expensive now but it could, like, change everything.”

“I…I know,” Lakshmi said.

“Imagine what that guy felt like? What he was thinking?” Josie posited, feeling herself getting excited as well.

“Alicia Ray says she’s going to try to get an interview with him,” Lakshmi added.

“Omigod that’d be so cool.” TV was getting good these days, for sure, as programmers had begun to know what people really wanted. The idea of seeing Alicia Ray sitting next to that guy? Omigod. “Do you think that that could, like, happen to Dr. Jay?” Josie asked in a reverent tone, immediately taken by the thought.

“Oh no…could you just imagine?!” Lakshmi giggled lost in the moment.

“I can. All the things we could…Mellissa could do...do with him?”

Once more, Lakshmi had to pause and compose herself. She took a sip of her tea. “Know what else Alicia Ray asked me? If we knew anything about the news reports about those lawyers, that judge, the…murders last night.”

“Oh, uh, wow,” Josie answered, nodding. Her mind pulled away from Dr. J and started to race. Marisela. “Did Alicia know they’d all been here yesterday, those twerpy lawyers?”.

“I am not sure, I did not say anything,” Lakshmi replied. She leaned in again, and once more lowered her voice to a whisper. “It sounds like Marisela butchered them, Josie, in their homes.”

Yeah but didn’t they deserve it? Josie found herself thinking, surprising even herself. “W-were any of the guys married?” she asked, “Have families?”

“The old one, the judge was married,” Lakshmi answered, “Well, he was separated. They interviewed his wife on the news.”

“Oh wow, poor lady,” Josie offered, looking for some empathy inside herself…but finding something different.

“She did not seem too upset, as horrible as it looked like it was,” Lakshmi continued, “It sounded like he was abusive. She works at a nonprofit, a woman’s legal defense fund.”

“Are we going to, like, haha, need her services?”

“Do not joke about it I am worried,” Lakshmi said, “I actually talked to Marisela, just a little while ago.” She considered how she would say this. “So, the axe-throwing place we all went to last night?”

“Yeah that was fun.”

“Remember how Marisela snuck a couple axes into her bag?”

“Yeah?”

“An axe was found in one of the guys’ skulls, one of the lawyers’. It is in the police report.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“What did Marisela say?”

“She sounds a little nervous but she was also, like, laughing about it,” Lakshmi said. Both girls’ voices were now low. They knew the recording equipment in the room didn’t have the greatest audio. “I am a little worried about her. She…she is remembering her nights out more, and I think she is starting to…enjoy it.”

Oh my god tell me more, Josie found herself thinking.

“She described some horrible things, Josie,” Lakshmi continued, “she says she had the judge calling her by his wife’s name as she slowly disemboweled him.”

That sent a shiver down Josie’s spine and once again she found herself thinking surprising, and what should have been disturbing, thoughts: I wish I could have been there to watch.

“Her name, the wife’s name, was written on the wall in her husband’s blood,” Lakshmi explained, “They said that on TV, Alicia Ray told me.”

“Fuck. That’s kind of gruesome for the midday news, isn’t it?”

“Good ratings, Alicia said, anytime there is a new murder by The Harpy-”

“They’re still calling her that? Like some kind of serial killer?”

“....any time there is a new murder by The Harpy, everyone wants to see what she has done.”

“For real?!?” Josie blurted. Of course. People love their female-on-male violence these days. It was a dark thrill, popular with housewives looking for their ‘true crime’ fix. Especially, I guess, if there are private parts being ripped off, Scary-Mary’s calling card.

“Also,” Lakshmi added, “Alicia told me the afternoon replay of Melissa’s interview got them really good ratings too.”

Speaking of what people really want. “Oh yeah?” Josie asked. That interview was good stuff. She kinda wanted to watch it again herself.

“Yeah you should look,” Lakshmi continued, “It has caused another new surge in Melissa’s online followers.” At that, Lakshmi paused. “Melissa told me it makes her bigger. She says she has grown like a whole inch just since last night, since the interview first aired.”

“Jesus.”

“Language.”

“Sorry. But- a whole inch in a day? Isn’t she worried?”

“Worried? No. She says she wants to be seven feet tall by Thanksgiving.”

“Oh my…oh my god haha,” Josie laughed, “where’s she gonna find shoes?” She was, for what it was worth, trying to make a joke. But there was something stirred inside her that was making her cheeks flush. She wanted, in that moment, to see Melissa, to get on her knees in front of her. “I-is she still here?”

“No,” Lakshmi answered, “She just left. Needed to go to Evolution. She wanted to get back home to Dr. J.”

Okay that’s probably good. “Okay that’s probably good. Before Randi eats him alive.”

“Haha yes.”

“But…shoes. That reminds me,” Josie said, picking up her phone once again, “I have to pick up some shoes Melissa had ordered from Hera’s when we’re out tonight.”

“Yes she ordered some for me, too,” Lakshmi added, standing up with her mug and turning towards the breakroom’s mini-kitchen counter. “Hey do you want any of this tea? Katarina made a pot and it’s still warm…”

================================

#growingintothejob

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thespottedfeather · 11 months ago

Text

Awakening

Ominis x f!MC oneshot

Aged up, seventh year, very minor smut, possible spoilers for Hogwarts Legacy

touching self/kissing/talk of inappropriate acts

prompt: Y/N Y/L/N realises she wants to do naughty things with Ominis Gaunt. The boy who hates her and blames her for his best friends' descent into the dark arts.

words: 2.3k

Nothing was going as you had planned. Nothing was going as you had wanted. When you first started attending Hogwarts you had just wanted to fit in and be a normal witch, make friends, learn to use magic and find your lot in life. You’d never considered having a physical relationship with a boy before, it just hadn’t even been on your radar. You had once thought that perhaps there was something wrong with you that you weren’t interested in fooling around with others your age. Just like the muggle teenagers you’d known before, the other teenagers at Hogwarts seemed to be doused with hormones that had at least one pair a week getting detention for getting caught doing who knew what in a broom closet somewhere.

Maybe you were just weird. Another thing to make you stand out from the rest. First, your magic hadn’t emerged until much later, leading you to start Hogwarts in your fifth year. Then, you could somehow see traces of ancient magic which led you to become the target of Ranrok and Rookwood. THEN, you had been given watch over the repository and were now the sole living Keeper of that ancient magic. Now, here you were, starting your seventh year at Hogwarts and just like your magic, your hormones had come to screaming life much later than most, as soon as you saw him across the great hall.

Not your best friend Sebastian Sallow, the objectively attractive Slytherin who had taken you under his wing and helped you fight against Ranrok and complete the Keepers trials. Not the boy you’d spent most of fifth year with, leading to rumours that you were dating and were going to run away together and elope. Not the one you had become so close to that you knew basically everything about each other. No, the reason your heart was thudding so hard in your chest it made your ears ring was because of the boy, no, man, who sat beside Sebastian laughing at something the brunette had said.

Ominis Gaunt.

The heir of Slytherin. The most eligible bachelor at Hogwarts. The only guy you’d ever looked at and wondered ‘what if?’. The one who hated you beyond measure. After Sebastian’s delve into the Dark Arts at the end of fifth year, Ominis, whom you had only a shaky acquaintanceship at best, blamed you for his best friend’s decline. You had all agreed not to turn Sebastian in for the murder of his uncle, but Ominis had since only ever regarded you with disdain. He had never said that he blamed you for it, but what other reason could there possibly be for his retreat from you? He practically stopped talking to you altogether, and anytime you were forced to interact he seemed to be in pain just being around you. Eventually you just stopped trying to rekindle your budding friendship and let him be.

You looked at him now, his perfect pale skin and blonde hair seeming to glow in the light of the floating candles. His crystal blue eyes bright with laughter, and his body, gosh, he had grown up in the summer. His broad shoulders held with proud, perfect, posture, and the bearing of a man who knew he was devastatingly handsome. How could he not? Sure, Ominis was blind, but he just oozed charisma. Perhaps that was why he was so snarky all the time, to stop all the girls, and some boys, who only wanted him for his looks from getting too close.

It didn’t matter. Because you, despite your newfound libido, would also, never get the chance to find out who he was behind that snark. Ominis hated you, and he probably always would.

Weeks had past since the start of the school year, and you couldn’t have been happier. Your classes were going well, the Quidditch season was due to begin soon, and you’d been getting a strange amount of male attention of late. You supposed you had grown up a little over the summer, but as you never really thought of those kinds of things before it wasn’t something you’d noticed until you had started getting winks and flirtatious comments from some of the braver boys in class. Even Sebastian, who you knew thought of you as a sister, had commented that you had grown quite beautiful. Right before he threatened to break Garreth Weasley’s arm if he dared to wrap it around your shoulders again while sitting beside you in the great hall. You had laughed then, but now you stood staring into a full-length mirror in the undercroft trying to determine what exactly had become so appealing about you.

You had taken off your robe and were turning this way and that looking yourself over. You supposed your clothes did fit a bit more snug in certain areas now. Your breasts had filled out some more and caused your blouse to strain ever so slightly, and your hips flared out from your waist in a curve you might have described as pleasant if you weren’t worried about feeling vain. You pulled a few poses to check out your figure at different angles and wondered what it might be light to have somebody else touch your new curves in more than a fleeting hug. You hesitantly cupped your breasts and gave a light squeeze trying to imagine somebody else’s hands doing the touching. Your mind immediately only placed one person in that place and your cheeks burnt hot red in the mirror as you pictured Ominis’ deft hands stroking across your body.

“What are you doing here?” a cold voice spoke from the doorway making you jump.

“Ominis?” you squeaked out turning to face the object of your very inappropriate imaginations. Thank goodness he couldn’t see what you had been doing, your core still pulsed at the idea of him touching you. Having him in front of you now, looking so very perfect, nearly had a whimper escaping your lips.

“Who else would it be?” he asked as he sauntered over, “Sebastian is at Quidditch practice,”

“I know that” you said weakly backing up as he got closer, “I was just, not expecting company,” you blurted out.

“You sound flustered Y/L/N, what were you doing before I got here?” he asked raising his was towards you an assessing look on his features.

“Nothing,” you said, much too quickly.

“Somehow, I feel like I walked in on something I shouldn’t have,” he teased, “But you are alone…” he trailed off and tilted his head slightly to the side, crystal eyes not quite meeting you.

“I wasn’t doing anything,” you stated, “I was just looking in the mirror,”

“Looking in the mirror?” he asked and it struck you that this was the first conversation you had had with Ominis where he didn’t appear to want to run away.

“Trying to figure out what all the fuss is about,” you told him and turned back to the mirror not able to keep looking at the gorgeous man before you without doing or saying something you’d regret.

“What do you mean?” he asked, and you realised you could still see him behind you in the reflection, so you tried to keep your eyes on yourself.

“I’ve been getting…attention, this year I don’t normally get,” you told him truthfully, if only to keep the conversation going, maybe you could be friends now, maybe he had forgiven you, “I don’t understand why,”

“I see,” he murmured, “Well, I don’t, but I get what you mean,” he jested making you giggle. He seemed to think for a moment before nodding his head and stepping up close behind you so that you could almost feel his body heat.

“Ominis?” you asked cheeks burning hot again after only just cooling, voice barely a sound, “What are you doing?”

“I’m interested in ‘seeing what all the fuss is about’,” he stated and raised his wand allowing it’s red glow to illuminate your body as he traced your curves without touching you, “Is it true?” he asked as he continued his painstakingly slow mapping of your body.

“Is what true?” you asked him, mouth gone dry from how intimate this situation was and he wasn’t even touching you.

“What Sebastain keeps saying,” he says, “That you keep staring at me?”

“Oh…” you squeaked, not realising you’d been caught in your sneaky admiration across the great hall at meal times, “Umm…yes?” you asked, not sure where this was going.

“Why?” he asked you as he finished tracing your left side and deftly moved his wand across to your right.

“Well, umm,” your heart a beating fast now, and your could feel it everywhere, “because, well…”

“Because…?” he asked drawing you out, allowing the tip of his wand to gently, oh so gently, stroke along your hip. You couldn’t take it anymore. The words tumbled out in a blur.

“Because you’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen, and I can’t help but want to exist in the glow of your presence forever. I want to be close to you, I want to be able to touch you, I want you to touch me back in so many ways, if only I was worthy of such a gift. But I know that you hate me and so I just look at you from afar and dream of a time when you didn’t, when I got to enjoy your cunning wit, your incredible intelligence, your unending kindness, and be one of the people you care for right beside Sebastian and Anne,” your breath came out in pants and you flushed hot and cold all at once from embarrassment and dread at the thought you may have just ruined your one chance to renew a friendship with this absolutely beautiful man.

Ominis’ wand stopped moving against your body as he stared mouth slightly agape at your confession. You blinked hurriedly trying to regain some semblance of decorum.

“But, I’ll stop, I won’t bother you anymore, I’m sorry,” you mumbled and started to move away only to be stopped by Ominis’ cool hand gripping your elbow gently but determined.

“I don’t hate you,” he said gently, “What gave you that idea?”

“After fifth year, you started to avoid me,” you said glad that he was focusing on that part of your outburst instead of the more embarrassing parts, “You blame me for Sebastian, I know, and it’s ok, I’ve never resented you for it,”

“I don’t blame you for what Sebastian did,” he stated, “I backed off because I thought you loved him,”

“I don’t love Sebastian, I mean I do, as a brother,” you explained, shocked that Ominis had seemed to believe the rumours, “I’ve never looked at a guy with that thought it mind until this year,” you stopped, “Why would you have to back off?”

“Well, I thought that would be obvious,” he said, “because, how did you put it? ‘I want to be close to you, I want to be able to touch you, I want you to touch me back, if only I was worthy of such a gift’,” his voice was soft, a gentle purr directly into your ear, shocking you as you hadn’t realised, he’d moved so close.

“I…I had no idea,” you said, “I’m not good with emotional subtleties,” you explained, “I only realised this year that I even wanted to be close to anyone in that way,”

“and why is that?” he asked

“Because I’m weird?” you asked

“Not that Y/N, why did you realise this year?”

You were silent for a moment and turned to face him, looking up into his crystal eyes, getting lost in the galaxies within them, “because I saw you and my whole body caught on fire,” you stated bluntly.

“You can’t just say that kind of thing,” he said a lopsided grin on his face, “It’s very inappropriate, a man could get ideas,”

“Do you want to know what I was really doing when you came in here?” you asked, feeling brave.

“Is it going to give me ideas?” he asked tilting his head again in that way that drove you mad.

“I was touching myself,” you said and took his hand that wasn’t holding his wand and placed in on your waist, his fingers twitched against you and you guided his hand up to your ribs, “and thinking of you,”

“Y/N…” he groaned fingers gripping you slightly, “this is highly inappropriate,” he said walking you backwards until your back pressed against the stone of the wall. He braced his other arm above your head on the wall, the red glow of his wand illuminating his face in a way that highlighted the masculine lines of his face. Your hands lifted to rest on his chest, revelling in the feel of his tensile muscles beneath the thin cotton of his shirt.

“I’m beginning to realise I want to do all kinds of inappropriate things with you Ominis,” you whispered.

“If we do this Y/N, I won’t be able to walk away again,” he said, his lips brushing against your own with each word, “If you decide you want another, I will not let that man live,”

“Merlin,” you moaned at the tone of his voice, “Just kiss me already,”

His lips were soft but demanding when they crashed against your own. A needy moan filled the air, and you weren’t sure which one of you it was that uttered the depraved sound. The kiss seemed to both last forever and not last long at all. Ominis’ body pressed up against yours and you felt deliciously trapped between him and the wall.

“You’re mine,” he stated, “I’m not letting you go again,”

“Took you guys long enough,” Sebastian’s voice called out happily causing you and Ominis to jerk apart, “I was beginning to think I’d have to lock you up in a broom closet together until you saw sense,”

“Go away, would you?” Ominis snapped making you giggle.

“Oh Ominis, you have to at least take her to dinner first,” Sebastian teased before laughing manically and running away as Ominis sprang towards him with the intention of whacking him upside the head.

Send me prompts :)

-Feather-

#hogwarts legacy #ominisgaunt #ominis gaunt #ominis x mc #hogwarts legacy ominis #best friend Sebastian Sallow #sebastian sallow #ominis x reader #ominis x oc #gaunt #fanfiction #oneshot #x reader #drabble #light angst #x you #angst

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illyrian-dreamer · 2 years ago

Text

Overwritten – Part 3

Azriel x Reader

Summary: After months as his prisoner, Hybern has hijacked your mind, turning you into an enemy of your home, your family, and your mate, Azriel.

Warnings: Violence

Words: 1,384

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Part 3 ∇

Ripped from the white abyss, you gasped awake in an unfamiliar place. Had Azriel finally claimed you? Were you dead?

Clutching at your clothes – you felt the rough fabric of the tunic you had always worn. Surely you wouldn't still wear a thing like this in the afterlife? Heart pounding from the poison-fuelled hallucination, you ran a shaky hand through your hair, doing your best to calm your breathing.

“Y/N?” someone said from beside you. You froze at the sound, your stomach sinking. You knew that voice.

With wide eyes you forced yourself to look, your blood turning cold at the sight of him. There, in the flesh, was Azriel.

His demonic wings reached high above his head, blue siphons glaring just as they did in your nightmares. He was broad, strong, with weapons strapped to his frame – a threat in every way. There was no sign of a forked tongue, hellish red eyes or the sinister smile, but the shadows were here – speaking to him, likely advising on the thousands of different ways to kill you without him having to lift a finger.

You saw the male’s mouth move, but panic was a roar in your ears, making it impossible to hear. A slow hand reached across the bed you lay in, and you watched it with a deadly glare. He was surely going to kill you. Still, you were unable to move, frozen in utter and pathetic fear.

Do it quick, you found yourself begging.

You heard him then. “Y/N? It’s me, Azriel.”

Pain sliced through your mind as a white light flashed before your eyes. That cold, unfeeling voice that had coached you for so long ringing through your ears.

Azriel is an unmatched evil. He will kill you. The only hope you stand is to kill him first.

And as venom took over, you found yourself reverting to the animalistic instinct that protected you for so long. He would not get the chance to kill you – today was his day to die.

Spearing Azriel to the ground, you felt poison course through your veins, fuelling you with venomous strength as you pinned him down. Pushing your thumbs into the crevice of his throat, you gritted your teeth, cutting off his air supply.

Azriel’s eyes were wide with shock as he tried to pry your hands off.

“Y/N!” he gasped, his voice straining through your grip. “Stop.”

He was strong – but you had nothing to lose, and everything to gain. Your freedom, control of your own mind, your life. He would not take that away.

You pushed your thumbs further, trying to close the gap in his throat and forcing his head into the ground. Blood was building in the Shadowsinger’s face, his tan skin quickly changing to a deep red. Shadows began to spasm around him.

“I d-don’t want to hurt you,” he gasped, his hands slackening against your wrists. Good, you thought – not long now.

The male threw you a final pleading look, one that you were sure was meant to disarm you. You would not let go until he had taken his last breath.

Scarred hands on your wrists tightened then, forcing your fingers to unbind from his neck. Your eyes widened, and it was then that you realised he had not been using all his strength until now. Azriel pulled your arms of him, spreading them wide while you still straddled his body to the floor. Now in an incredibly vulnerable position, you new he would try and pin you under him if he got the chance.

Swinging your legs off, you pulled your wrists flush against yourself, freeing from his grasp. You practically kicked him to scramble to your own two feet, Azriel quickly standing too, his palms open as you now faced each other, neither of you daring to move.

“Y/N,” he panted as he regained his breath, the blood now moving from his face. Fuck – you had missed your chance.

Azriel was capable of dark, demonic things, an evil magic brewed within him – it was the only truth you knew. So you also knew, you had a better chance of running than fighting. Scanning the tent for an exit, you saw the only path in or out was blocked by the tall male, his wings flared like a net that would surely trap you if you were stupid enough to try.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his voice soft. Your ground your jaw at the blatant lie, and launched for him again.

This time, he knew it was coming, and caught your arms before you could wrap them around his neck. “Y/N, please, stop fighting!”

You couldn't help the feral snarl that escaped you, your teeth bared as you kicked his stomach, sending him stumbling back. You aimed for his shoulders, pushing him into the wooden unit and knocking you both to the ground, medical supplies sprawling, glass bottles breaking around you.

You were on him again, pinning him so easily – almost as if he let you. Azriel kept his palms raised as your hands found his neck again.

“Fight me if you have to, Y/N. I will never hurt you back.”

Your vicious glare softened as you took in his words, your lips pressing to a thin line. Azriel was stronger, he had proven that. Yet here he was, lying prone beneath you, completely at your mercy. Was he residing to his fate? Would he let you kill him?

You shook your head – mind games was all this was. “Liar,” you snarled, tightening your chokehold around his neck.

And he let you. He let you press your thumbs into the crevice of his throat, let you force his head to the ground again and again, blind rage and the desperate need to kill consuming you.

I love you.

You blinked, your grip slackening ever so slightly. That voice – it was far away, but somehow from within.

I love you, Y/N.

Azriel hadn't spoken, but you had heard his voice clear as day – within your heart or stomach you didn't know. And it terrified you.

You had to finish the job, to end him now before that voice could infiltrate your mind further. Freedom beckoned at you, light and promising, and so so close. With bloodthirsty rage, you pressed the final breath out of the Shadowsinger.

That was, until you felt a blow so forceful it could be heard. Before you could turn and snarl, shadows and night had consumed your vision, and purple eyes were the last thing you saw before everything went black.

————

“That did not go well.” Rhys straightened, leaving your unconscious body on the floor as he want to help his brother stand. Azriel coughed, regaining his breath yet again as bruises were quickly forming around his neck. Rhys held out a hand, propping the Shadowsinger up as his shadows hung limp, as if they too needed to regain their strength.

“She strangled the hell out of you,” he commented.

Azriel didn't answer, his stance broken as he looked at you slumped on the ground. You looked like yourself, his beautiful, peaceful, caring mate. Whoever attacked him just now, that was not her.

“You were going to let her kill you brother?” Rhys asked, his tone confused with a hint of dismay. Rhys knew the lengths he would go to protect Feyre, but allowing one mate to kill the other was something he couldn’t comprehend.

Azriel limped over, bending down and scooping your body to his chest. His eyes darting across your slack face – such a juxtaposition from the feral, snarling female that was going to kill him just moments ago.

“She needed to know I would never hurt her,” he said softly, his voice hoarse.

Rhys nodded gravely, stepping out of the way as the Shadowsinger lay you back on the bed, pulling the covers over you and brushing a tangled strand of hair from your face.

“It seems we have a lot of work to do.” Rhys noted, his tone grim.

Azriel finally looked at his brother. “What if I never get her back?” He was broken, the hope he held earlier lost in the violent sprawl with his mate. Even his shadows kept close, not daring near you.

Rhys clasped his hands on Azriel’s shoulders, levelling a look at him. “We will brother. Feyre has a plan.”

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Part 4 >>>

AN: I wish I could say writing a tonne of violence isn’t fun... but I’d be lying. I hope you liked this chapter, I would love any feedback on the story so far! Comment to join the tag list too. MWA 💕

Tags: @hyacinthoideshispanica @kennedy-brooke @cosmic-whispers @jazmin2211 @psychobookaholic @fieldofdaisiies @marina468 @itscaitymoore @timecharm @icey--stars @lucyysthings @valeridarkness @alw-aysjanuary @brekkershadowsinger @ladygloucester @ciannemar83 @wiitchkiller @xtreme-shipper @thorslonglocks @im-bili @kexrtiz @shadowcrowsworld @lillithathecat @marina468 @aroseinvelaris @cynicalpotato95 @goldentournesol @maddithefangirl @holywolfsstuff @banasheefan56

#azriel #azriel x reader #Azriel series #acotar series #rhysand #azriel angst #azriel mate #azriel brainwashed #acotar brainwashed #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel x brainwashed reader #azriel amnesia #acotar amnesia #sarah j maas #azriel acotar #azriel pov #azriel x kidnapped reader

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siblingshuffle · 7 months ago

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Sibling Shuffle Lore Facts

Heyyy

Sorry it’s been a little while longer than usual

I haven’t had a lot of time to work on The Darkman Problem (it IS still coming) but I feel a little bad that it’s taking so long when it’s ultimately like 3 panels that I just haven’t had much time to work on. I’ve got time right now, so it should be coming really soon, but, uh… yeah.

Anyway, have some lore in the meanwhile!

Rock has a room at Light Labs. He doesn’t stay often or for very long, but it means something to Rock that they have it at all.

Roll knows how to roller-skate. Kalinka has been trying to teach her how to ice skate any time one of them visits the other. (They’re also ((kinda)) pen-pals for most of the year! And by that I mean they send frequent emails to one another.)

Tango has done that thing that cats do where they lay across your computer keys. To literally everyone at Light Labs. On many occasions.

Bass is barred entry from every arcade and bowling alley in the city , following The Incident™️. He’s actually pretty proud, seeing this as an accomplishment.

Tempo lets Rhythm do her hair sometimes while she reads off memes or Reddit stories she thinks Rhythm would find funny.

Time Keeps Slipping still happens in this universe. Here, Blues was sent back to the lab after realizing he was running at like 12% battery (since he got that "weird/sometimes-painful sensation" in his left arm, and he usually gets that more often when he’s at a lower charge). That’s when he was stopped and taken by Oil Man, though, meaning Blues was exhausted and honestly not feeling too great for that arc.

Piano has a theory that Wily might have gotten her and Bass's IC chips mixed up while making them, but has too big of an ego to admit this mistake. She has one of those cork boards with pictures and red string all over about it. (Bass doesn’t really care.)

Beat can be carried like a basketball under one arm. This is usually when he’s in recharge mode (in which he can slide his wings inside of his body, thus letting him be carried like that more easily).

Power-saving mode will gradually disable non-essential functions in a Robot Master the closer they are to 0%, such as the ability to speak or eye-screens lighting up. They might move a bit slower than if they were functioning at 100% charge, and behave as though tired. Power-saving mode activates automatically in Robot Masters that find themselves at 20% charge or below.

Dr. Light and Dr. Wily both have “worlds best dad” mugs. The difference is, Light’s mug was a Father’s Day gift, and Wily bought the mug for himself.

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amor-immortalem · 21 days ago

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Baby Horns pt. 1

Summary: with the beginning of spring comes the shedding of all young demons’ baby horns. What happens when the half-demons lose their horns for the first time? How do their parents comfort them?

A/N: I’ve been thinking about a headcanon I saw on here once about the brothers shedding their horns every year and began to think about how the half-demons that have horns would react to losing theirs for the first time. This’ll be multipart cuz I can’t remember how many of them have horns in their designs right now...

also keep in mind these blurbs are all happening at different times too like months or even (in Cyrus’ case) years apart

・・・〆・・・

Cyrus

The constant itching on his head is enough to cue Cyrus that something is wrong with his horns. It starts out mildly at first, only itching enough to be a mild annoyance. He doesn’t have his parents to ask about this, having been taken away from them so long ago, so he does his best to ignore it.

The itching only gets worse as the spring goes on, getting to the point where Cyrus is transforming into his demon form regularly and actively scratching his head against his bedroom door frame just to soothe the odd sensation.

Why do they feel so loose? Is the question that invades the bottle-black-haired boy’s mind as he inspects the onyx horns that haven’t grown much since they first came in jutting out from his scruffy, unkempt hair. Messing with them only causes the itch to intensify until Cyrus can’t help but to rut the side of his head against his bathroom door frame.

It feels so relieving until the half-demon hears a ‘snap’. Blue-to-gold-eyes snap open in horror to see the small, corkscrewed appendage fall to the floor in front of him.

“Korrina!” The tanned boy calls out to his captor who’s just downstairs brewing new types of medicinal potions to sell in her shop.

“Quiet down, Avaro” the witch sighs as she puts her utensils down, not even turning to face him. “I can hear you just fine.”

Cyrus pauses for a moment at the use of the name she’d picked out for him when she’d won him in an auction seven years prior- one that made him feel like a newly adopted pet.

“Don’t call me that. My name’s not Avaro and you know it.” The 12-year-old grumbles. “Use the name my real parents gave me or don’t call me by a name at all.”

“And I told you that old name was dead. Avaro suits you better anyway.” Finally turning to look at him, Korrina’s mint-green eyes widen in delight when she sees the horn clenched in his hand. “Are your baby horns finally falling off? Here. Come here.”

Excitement bubbles up in her voice and Cyrus is more than a little weirded out by it. When he doesn’t respond in the way she wants, Korrina uses magic to pull the pre-teen to her.

She takes his horn from his hand and places it in her bowl to be ground up later.

“I wonder if the other one is ready to come off too.” She muses as she cups Cyrus’ face with one hand to hold him in place and uses the other to test the horn still attached to his head. “It is!”

With a quick jerk of the wrist, the black-haired witch is able to snap it off his head.

“OW!” Cyrus yelps as he smacks her away with his wing, knocking himself down in the process. A small trail of blood trickles down the side of his face. “That hurt!”

“Ohh, my poor baby…” Korrina grabs a handkerchief and wipes the side of his face before uttering a spell under her breath and kissing the wound. “I’m sorry.”

“Get your lips off of me!” The half-demon growls as he pushes her away. “You’re not my Mom- don’t try to kiss my injuries to make them feel better. It’s gross.”

“Avaro,” the witch gasps with a frown, “You’ve always been my baby. I’m heartbroken that you would say that.”

“You really are crazy.” Cyrus hurries and scampers back off to his room before Korrina can do anything else. “And stop calling me that name!” He slams his bedroom door, now two horns short and done with interacting with his delusional captor.

・・・〆・・・

Azalea

“Muuum, my head itches!” Azalea complains as her mother does her hair from an official ball at the Demon Lord’s castle. “Will you scratch it for me?”

“When was the last time Dad filed down your horns for you?” Arella asks, gently scratching her nails over where her horns would naturally spiral out of her head. Perhaps they just needed to be tended to and that’s why the 11-year-old’s head was itching so badly.

“A while ago…” Azalea admits while leaning into her mother’s touch, eventually becoming so relaxed she let her glamour fade away to reveal her demon form.

“A long while ago it seems,” the human arches a brow at the look of them. “You’ve been avoiding having your horns taken care of, haven’t you?”

The half-demon freezes when her mother finally catches on to what she’s been doing as she answers with a quiet “maybe.”

“Well, now you know why your head itches. First thing tomorrow, were filing these-!” As she’s talking, Azalea’s horns literally pop off of her head. Arella looks down at her hands with wide eyes and concern.

As if on cue, Azalea happens to look in the mirror. Her eyes go wide as she sees what’s in her mother’s hands.

“Are… those my horns?”

“Don’t panic.” Arella says calmly, “I’m sure there’s a perfectly normal explana-”

“DAAAAAAAD!” The freckled half-demon takes off in search of her father, as if he might be able to do something about her missing horns.

She finds him downstairs as he’s teaching her twin brother how to tie his tie so the boy doesn’t manage to somehow strangle himself with it.

“What’s with all the racket?” Mammon finally lets Aurelius go as Azalea runs circles around them, freaking out about something he can’t really make out right now. “Hey slow down, kid, I can’t understand you.”

When the demon does finally manage to catch his daughter, she’s full-on freaking out about how her mother had just torn her horns off her head. Something seemgly backed up by Arella when she appears with the appendages still in her hand.

“Please tell me this is normal for this time of year.” The human frowns as she places them on the table beside her.

It takes Mammon two seconds to connect the dots before he’s laughing to himself.

“You look weird in that form without your horns…” Aurelius comments to his sister earning him a pointed glare.

“Yeah well at least I ain’t got wings that I trip over cuz they’re too big for my body.” His sister growls back.

“Dad says I’ll grow into ‘em one day.” The green-eyed boy pouts.

“Okay, enough, you two.” Mammon sighs, “Azalea, you’re gonna be fine. Mom didn’t tear yer horns off yer head, they fell off. Remember when y’all were loosin’ your baby teeth? Same concept applies here.”

“So I’m gonna be fine? That’s it?”

“That’s it.” Mammon confirms, ruffling his daughter's hair, much to his wife’s disappointment. “They’ll start growin’ back in a couple days until they’re ready to shed off again at the end of next year’s summer. I coulda told ya sooner if ya stopped hiding from me every time I brought the filer out.”

“Well maybe if that stupid machine wasn’t so damn loud, I wouldn’t…” Azalea grumbles as she smooths her hair down and she and her mother return to her room to finish putting her hair up.

・・・〆・・・

Zulima

Zulima was enjoying a nice trip up to the human world with her father when one of her horns plopped down onto the book below her. She’s startled at first before she remembers back to the conversation she’d had with her other father just days before leaving for this excursion.

Gathering the boney structure in her hand, the silver-haired 11-year-old descends the steps until she finds Solomon in the basement taking inventory of all his materials.

“Papa…”

“Yes, dear?” He replies absentmindedly.

“I’m becoming a woman...”

“hUH!?” Solomon whips around, one part in surprise, the other in bewilderment at just how casually his daughter announced such a big life event only to find the girl holding one of her horns in her hand. To find its just that makes the sorcerer left out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, you’re losing your horns. I thought you meant something… else.”

“I mean I got my period yesterday too, but I thought you wouldn’t want to know that.” It’s said with such a deadpan that Solomon can only pinch the bridge of his nose, vowing to have talk with Asmo when they got home about how their daughter delivers these types of announcements.

“Well, where’s the other one? I can make you a salve to help with the upkeep of your new horns using the old ones if I have both.”

“Still attached to my head.” Zulima drops her glamour to show the still attached horn jutting out from her silver hair. “It is really wiggly though.”

“Does it hurt when you mess with it?” Solomon asks as his daughter shakes her head. “Good, that means it’s ready to come off. Here, tie this piece of string to it.”

He hands the half-demon a piece of string while tying the other end to the doorknob. Once Zulima has her end secured around the top of her horn, Solomon simply slams the door shut and the horn pops right off. No muss, no fuss.

“There we go. Nice and easy.” Solomon smiles as he inspects his daughter's hair for any leftover bits of keratin that might’ve broken off where the horn used to be attached to her head. “I’ll take those, and you can go off to bed for the night. I’ll call your father in a bit and let him know that you finally lost your baby horns.”

“Okay, thanks, Papa…” without much else the 11-year-old is bounding back up the stairs.

Once she’s gone, the witty sorcerer deflates, pulling out his phone.

“‘Becoming a woman,’” he scoffs in irritation, dialing his partner’s number, “When I get my hands on you, Asmo, I swear… Why would he tell her to say it like that?”

To be continued (I promise)

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me! shall we date?#obey me mammon #om! mammon #obey me solomon #om! solomon #obey me oc #obey me next gen #arella #cyrus #zulima

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xxnashiraxx · 3 months ago

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With Stars to Fill My Dream (11) - Try to Keep the Truth From Showing Up

Hi!! Sorry for the delay!!! I've been having fun learning how to make gifs and things for this fic! It's been a blast, but that's why it's taken so long!

✧˖ Please remember, the update schedule has been adjusted to every other week - Chapter 12 will come out on 10/20! ˖✧

Summary: A street-smart, musically inclined human girl with a tragic past gets abducted by a nautiloid after her painfully average shift at a retro singing diner. What's worse- putting your all into Olivia Newton-John and Travolta for lousy tips, or getting your guts ripped out by a gnoll? Or worse- getting turned into a hideous humanoid squid? Ofelia Montez will have to see if she can survive long enough to find out.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Canon-typical violence and gore.

Word Count: 9,535

I have some screenshots below, as well as the non-spoiler version of the art at the end of the chapter on AO3! Please enjoy and happy October!!!

Behold! The spoiler-free version of this artwork! Just in time for spooky season!

+Blighted Village shenanigans and sucky, angsty stuff.

✧˖Tag List: @khywren

Opening under the cut!

“Won’t you try? She likes you.” Astarion scowls at their annoying half-elf cleric, going back to sewing.

“While it feels good to hear you say it, Shadowheart dear, I’m afraid she isn’t taking visitors. She didn’t even bat an eye when young Wyll’s patron turned him into a devil. I’m sure seeing my face wouldn’t cheer her up much.”

“Ugh, you’re such a prick, you know that? Imagine just trying,” She turns heel, complaining the entire way back to the fire. He snickers, finishing up the filigree near the edges of the piece. It’s adequate, hardly his best work, but it’ll do. It’d surprised him that he’d even started the project, to begin with. He’s hardly ever been one for sentimentality but… well, he’d never been given the choice before, had he? She may think it’s shit craftsmanship, anyhow. Either emotional reaction would be satisfying.

“Knock, knock, darling.”

“Go away.”

“Please let me in, everyone’s worried about you and expects me to do something about it. Nonsense, I know, I told them you hate my guts and wish I’d die.” She flings the flap open, her hair a wild mess winding around her head. Furious eyes glare daggers at him, dark kohl smeared beneath them.

Quite a sight.

“What? I never said that!” Her high-pitched voice makes him snicker and she rolls her eyes. “Right, a joke. Very funny. Look, I told Wyll I was sorry about what happened to him. I gave Karlach an air hug. I told that blue-winged bitch to take a long walk off a short pier. Not that it’d work, she can fucking fly...” Her expletives make him smirk, watching her wave her arms around her head as she turns back to look inside her tent. “Now can’t I just brood in here about what stupid Raphael said, in peace, without everyone trying to butt in?” He smiles, thinking she looks rather ridiculous, before stepping inside and making himself at home atop the little stool she keeps in there. She doesn’t protest further, meaning she’s begrudgingly happy he’s here, and won’t shoo him out.

“You know, when a devil tries to get me to take a deal by dangling things in front of me they’ll know I would want to hear, I don’t take it too seriously. He was only offering it to see if you’d take the bait.”

“Gee, you don’t think I didn’t know that?” She grimaces after she says it, eyeing him apologetically as she sinks down onto her messy bedroll. “Sorry… I just… how else would he have known those things to even offer that?” Astarion waves a hand dismissively.

“They know all, but it’s only to get you to accept their offer. They’ll provide, but once that’s done you’re indebted to them for eternity. Never forget that.” She looks down into her lap, gaze troubled. When she looks back up at him it’s with those wet round eyes that he abhors.

Perhaps they’re starting to grow on him, however…

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yourneighborhoodneighbor · 1 year ago

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super cool ghost ice mega slide

(masterpost to my fics while ao3 is down) AO3

fic under the cut

Having another superpowered person as part of Batclan was great, even if he wasn't technically a meta (I'm dead, Duke, that's more of a medical condition-). Having a portable snow maker year round was even better.

Duke had taken to Danny pretty quickly after the younger teen had been picked up off the street, hurt and borderline delirious, surprisingly not by Bruce, but by Jason. Once he had been cognizant enough to realize in which city he was, and in whose cave, he had had a pretty major freak out, believing himself in danger through a mix of the idea that Batman hated metas and whatever had hurt him so badly in the first place.

After Duke had managed to get out of his stupor at seeing whatever it was the kid had become (and seriously, he had seen some pretty unusual things because of his meta abilities, but a 4k HD 1080p 4D experience of a real life eldritch being was not one of them) he had promptly kicked everyone out of the room in the med area (except for Alfred, whom he very politely asked vacate the room) to try and calm the kid down.

After revealing his own meta status, assuring the glowing kid that Batman didn't actually hate metas, he just wanted to protect his city from mind-controlled superpowered people, and that he was safe from whoever had hurt him, the kid had finally calmed down enough to return to a more human-like appearance.

From then it was really no surprise to anyone that the new kid (who could transform into an actual human, and really? Black hair and blue eyes again?) got promptly adopted and revealed information that got an entire branch of the government taken down by the blazing wings of fury of the entire Batclan (even Damian had quickly become attached to the newest kid once his katana was gushed about with the accuracy and fervor of someone who knows how to wield the weapon).

What had been unexpected was the kid having a connection to the Lazarus Pits (which were apparently something called ectoplasm) and being able to help Jason get rid of what turned out to be a huge amount of toxic gunk from himself, leaving him with only the good gunk (Duke tried not to think too much about it), which made the too dead-but-not-really boys bond quickly.

On top of all that the kid was also an engineering and astronomy nerd (as well as had a knack for math and physics), which appealed him to Tim greatly, and he made puns like would die (again) if he didn't, which appealed him to Dick, and, he preferred communicating with means other than spoken words (usually inhuman sounds and growls), which he bonded over with Cass, and he was actually good a baking, which appealed him to Alfred, and he was also already a vigilante, which appealed him to everyone else-

The point being, everyone loved Danny, including Duke himself, so it was a bit hard to get some to spend with him by himself, which was why Duke was going to make the most of this day.

He wasn't actually alone with the young half-ghost, Cass was also left at home while all the others went about some business or another out of the manor, but Duke knew hanging out with both Danny and Cass was often double the fun since underneath the chill facades both of them were actually feral little shits, so that wasn't an issue.

That brought him back to his first point: having a brother who could make no-melt snow on command was the best!

So now here they were, the three of them standing side by side on top of the tallest point of the manor, facing a slope so steep it was almost 90º degrees at first and then bent and curved all over the yard in ways Duke just knew wouldn't pass a safety inspection, those tiny cheap plastic sleds in hand (“for the full experience,” Danny said, even though they certainly had the money to buy other sleds). Duke was regretting some of his choices, looking down, but now he was committed, no way was he quitting, Danny and Cass would tag team on teasing him for the rest of time.

“Ready?” Danny asked, a too wide smile on his face and eyes open with the kind of crazed excitement only someone who was already dead could have.

Cass answered by putting her sled on the ground and sitting on it, position ready and her face mirroring Danny's.

Duke stood corrected, only people who were already dead, and Cass.

He really was going to regret this, wasn't he. Well, too late to back out now. This is what he got for hanging out with the two most unhinged people in the family, he supposed (and that was saying something, considering the kind of family Duke had).

“Sure, yeah, what's a little sled race down a death slope of doom?” the meta answered with more confidence than he felt. He was the Signal! He could do this! Besides, Cass and Danny wouldn't actually let him break his neck and die, right? Right.

Cass patted his shoulder sympathetically (as if-) as he sat down. Here went nothing.

“Remember, whoever makes it down in the least amount of time wins an ice cream! And no powers! You're up first, Duke!” Danny exclaimed as he pushed Duke forward.

Duke had barely any time to process the fact that he was already in a semi-free fall before he was already approaching the tunnels that made up the bottom half of the “super cool ghost ice mega slide” (patent pending). He remembered he did, in fact, need to breath, filling his lungs to the top and letting the air out in a scream.

The meta boy could do nothing but keep screaming as he reached speeds he was pretty sure went against the laws of physics, making loop-de-loops and turns so steep he thought he was going to slam against the side instead of turning a few times.

After what felt like an eternity but also too little time to have actually completed the Slide of Doom (more accurate name, in Dukes opinion), he finally made it to the end, promptly getting bowled over by a gleeful Cass and cackling Danny, who he hadn't even noticed were right behind him.

“Mmfffhblggggheroff-” Duke grunted, turning over and subsequently throwing off the other two into the surrounding snow. Danny accepted his fate, while Cass sat up and grinned at him.

“And?! Wasn't that fun?!” Cass signed excitedly. Duke was about to say it was terrifying, but cut himself short when he noticed he was smiling.

Huh. That actually had been fun. It had been really, really fun.

“We should do that again,” he breathed out. “We should do that again, but all together! More weight means more speed! We can see how far off the finish we end up!”

He was excited now, he was PUMPED! He grabbed Danny around the waist, carrying him like a sack of potatoes and and running up the ice steps (sibling with ice powers for the win-) back to the roof, Cass behind him with the sleds.

He ignored the ghost boy's protests about being able to walk (“and fly!”), eager to enact his new plan.

Once up there, he dumped his brother and accepted a sled from his sister, sitting down on it.

“Cass, sit on my lap! Danny goes on top because he's a lightweight!” he told the others, receiving a token protest from Danny, who got further teased about his half weight by Cass.

Once they were all settled, Duke got really to start them off by pushing with his legs when Danny yelled out.

“Wait!”

Cass and Duke looked up at him with questioning glances. In response, the boy got up, touched the slide and… Oh-hoho, this was gonna be good.

“There, it's extra smooth and slippery now. We're in for some Cool Running!” Danny said, settling back on top of the pile, grin matching his two siblings'.

“Alright, let's break some legs” Duke muttered, pushing forward with his feet.

And damn-

If Duke thought he was going fast before, they were racing the Flashes now!

All three siblings let out manic laughter, whopping and screaming as they held on to each other for dear life, the forces of the turns threatening to pull them apart.

As they neared the finish, Duke saw a shadow, barely having time to process before he was blinded by the flash of a camera.

They kept going a bit after the finish, the speed they came with not letting them stop, eventually colliding with a pile of snow and finally flying in different directions.

Duke couldn't stop laughing where he had landed, full of adrenaline and absolute mirth. A little ways away, he could hear both his siblings in the same predicament.

After a managing to get himself under control and trying to get his breathing back to normal, he sat up, freezing when he saw the amused audience they suddenly had.

“Umm, guys?” he called out to the other two.

“What?” Danny asked, sitting up as well and freezing as he saw what Duke had seen.

Cass was the last to rise, looking at their audience with as innocent a face as she could manage while clearly a culprit to their exploits.

Bruce simply raised an amused eyebrow, Alfred at his side looking perfectly regal while innocently holding a camera in his hands.

“I see you were having fun on your day off,” he stated, lips threatening to curl into a grin.

The three sibling looked at each other, before Cass reached over and simply offered one of the tiny plastic sleds to the man.

All of them were locked in a staring contest for the next few seconds, before Bruce's face finally broke into a grin and he grabbed the sled.

“Thought you wouldn't ask!” he said, turning and running up the steps, yelling back at them for being slow pokes.

The siblings all grinned at each other before running after the man.

Yeah, having access to unlimited snow was great, but getting to spend time with his family in it? Even better. bonus unrelated snow LBM drawing

#dpxdc #batpham #fanfiction #my fics #yourneighborhoodneighbor

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ask-healthy-light · 1 year ago

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To the others' relief, not only had Spike not noticed their knowing glances or solemn nods, but his smile brightened after Stygian's compliment, and his wings fluttered excitedly for a moment, before he thanked the Princesses for their help; and after Stygian bowed to the Sisters, he politely asked them if they could tell him how Starswirl was doing, or whether he or others could help in any way.

With a kind smile on her face, Celestia said there was some trouble, but apart from this, Starswirl was doing much better than before, and he had even requested to see the other Pillars; and they had returned to the Castle to look for a couple of mirrors, large and small, to enchant, to give to the Pillars back in Ponyville and Starswirl respectively, through which they could talk to one another.

In an instant, Spike leapt into the air, and offered to help, at least until the others got back to the Palace for lunch, which briefly made the others' hearts ache, but they hid it with a smile, and gestured for Spike to lead the way; but as they followed him upstairs, the group trotted past Nox's room, where Luna stopped for a moment, and sighed, before she perked up again, and closed her eyes.

From the Crystal Empire to the Dragon Lands, Luna reached out to Nox through the Void, and politely asked her about the massive bag of trinkets she got from the Market, and whether she had also found a small, hoofheld mirror, by any chance; for the Bearded said that he would like to see his friends of Old again, and her Sister had formed a plan to link a couple of mirrors for him and the Pillars.

As soon as she started to talk to Nox, Stygian and Celestia heard her voice in their minds as well, and they asked Spike to wait before he flew too far away, whereafter they turned around to see Luna quietly sitting in front of the door to Nox's room; but after a moment of silence, just as Celestia took a step towards her Sister, they heard Nox's quiet voice answer her, and they sighed in relief.

When they heard both Luna and Nox's voices grow emotional as they spoke with each other, the others did not utter a word, and they focused their attention elsewhere as best they could, at least until Mother and Daughter sweetly said goodbye; and after the two wiped away their tears, as Nox followed the path to the Scorched Plateaus, Luna asked the others for a moment as she stepped into her room.

After Luna returned, and had kindly thanked Stygian and Celestia for giving her some time with Nox, she revealed a small mirror that she got from a bag in Nox's room, which she bought while they were at the Crystal Market; for after she was given permission, Luna managed to find her bag of trinkets under a cloaking spell, though it would have taken the others much longer to find where she hid it.

Even though it was a truly beautiful mirror, with brilliant blue crystals of various hues inlaid on its frame, and Luna had promised Nox that they could easily find another small mirror for Starswirl to use, she was all right if they used it for their purpose; for she admitted it was neither unique nor valuable, since the vendor stand she purchased it from had more than a dozen identical mirrors.

Apart from this, she added that Nox also wanted the others to know their company was nearly off the slopes of the Great Volcano, and despite a couple of hiccoughs, as well as a few moments of strife, fortunately, everybody was all right; and she promised Luna that she would stay in touch to let her and their friends know about their journey, which she dearly hoped would be over within a few days.

But at that moment, just as Eclipse flew downstairs to tell Celestia they had sent the letter, Luna realised what she had said in front of Spike, whose eyes lost their warmth as he sombrely landed on the ground; for while he knew that their friends were away, it never crossed his mind that it would take such a long time for them to return, especially given the ways they could teleport to and fro.

As a small and kind smile grew upon his face, he politely asked the Princesses:

"Could you please try to send them the baked goods we made? Or at least, mention these to them?"

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idontwanttowhy · 1 year ago

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Review: The Legend of the Blue Sea (2016)

Lots going on...in a good way!

Synopsis:

On vacation in Spain, con-artist Heo Joon-Jae encounters a mysterious woman sporting a precious bracelet. They spend two days together as he conspires to obtain the bracelet for profit. Meanwhile, modern-day bounty hunters have been sent to capture Joon-Jae as revenge for a past conning. He and the woman are eventually cornered at a lighthouse on a cliff, where she convinces him to jump into the sea to escape. Upon becoming a mermaid when they hit the water, she saves him from drowning while erasing his memories of her with a kiss, and promises to visit him in Seoul.

A few months later, Joon-Jae is tortured by gaps in his memory and a picture with a woman in Spain he doesn't recognize. He bumps into her in Seoul, and, determined to have her fill in the gaps, brings her to his home for interrogating. But she seems out of place, keeps mum, and claims she doesn't have a name. Her naïveté earns her the name Sim-Cheong (meaning: very stupid), and she is taken under the wings of Joon-Jae and his associates/roommates as she learns the ways of Seoul while pursuing her own personal mission.

At the same time, Joon-Jae has also been plagued with dreams about the life of a nobleman who looks just like him, from the Joseon era--Kim Dam-Ryeong. With the help of a neuropsychiatrist and a former classmate/forever friend-zoned admirer Cha Si-Ah, Joon-Jae uncovers more about Dam-Ryeong, and heeds his warnings to not let history repeat itself.

And with all this going on, Joon-Jae also navigates having been estranged from his now sickly father, looking for his birth mother, and fighting with his step-mother and step-brother for a seat at the chaebol table as the rightful heir.

AC Overall: 8.5/10, renewed hope in Lee Min-Ho

This drama had been on my list since forever, as it's a kdrama classic, but I'd been avoiding it since being traumatized by Lee Min-Ho's Boys Over Flowers performance (the beginning of it--I never even finished the show). That being said, I should've watched it sooner! A classic fated-love drama with resistance from the male lead at first, and a Lee Min-Ho redemption to boot. He played Joon-Jae so well it almost (...but not quite) made me want to take a second stab at watching The King: Eternal Monarch. His role as Joon-Jae called for a range of emotions, and he did that beautifully. I can't believe I'm saying this but, he was adorable? As a 6'2" man who doesn't fit the stereotype of a soft male lead?? The main couple was sooooo cute, with Sim-Cheong trying to seduce Joon-Jae and Joon-Jae (unsuccessfully) resisting and then actually fully falling into it and....UGH. MY HEART!

The side characters were great too, and the story developed organically, in a way that was intriguing and not too boring or redundant. I was loving this rollercoaster of a drama--until I realized there were 20 episodes instead of 16. Not sure if it was because I had prepared for 16, but those last 4 felt excessive and unnecessary. And still, some strings were left out of the final bow; questions remained unanswered and the overall ending wasn't as satisfying as the journey. First 3/4-ths is GOLD, just be prepared for a few odd last episodes and unfinished business sloppy put together.

AC Comments (spoilers)

There's much too much to go over in a complete way, so I'm just going to nitpick at characters and their actors by making comments rather than whole points:

Let's start with the female lead. Jun Ji-Hyun tried her best as Sim-Cheong; loved her from My Love From The Star (with my fav, Kim Soo-Hyun...I have a condition where I have to mention him whenever I can :), but her acting here was inconsistent. At times she played naive, fresh-out-of-the-water quite well and comically, but in other moments she'd be sage-like--knowledgeable "beyond her years" in a way that was incompatible with her "dumb blonde" persona at all other times. Which only added to my confusion throughout the series of whether she was the same mermaid from Dam-Ryeong's life in the Joseon era, or simply a reincarnation/descendant of that mermaid. They acknowledged that mermaids live longer than humans but never truly clarified much else about them. Which made it harder to understand her meeting Joon-Jae in the beginning, back in Spain. Did they just happen to bump into each other, and that set off history repeating itself, or was there something she already knew before meeting him? Wish they had explored mermaids a little more...

And the last conflict, where Sim-Cheong decides to take Joon-Jae's memories before she leaves on her little sabbatical in the sea was DUUUUMB. He EXPLICITLY said he wanted their memories, and what does she do? Robs him YET AGAIN of their time together. But then Sim-Cheong returns...for what? Just for fun-zies?? Knowing he shouldn't recognize her but that there would be a ~connection~ between them, WHYYYYY would she return to torture and confuse him??? Overall I'm glad Joon-Jae* (*the writers) did the journaling work-around...but the poor guy should've either been left alone again, or not had his memories erased. Preferably the latter.

Now, Lee Min-Ho. I never got the hype, but this drama did it for me. He was able to be both childlike with his schoolboy crush on Sim-Cheong, and a suave man with the way he approached everything else. Unlike his leading lady (sorry love), he was able to balance the two personas expected of him beautifully, and his character did nothing wrong. Which is unusual for me to say of a kdrama man but, here we are. And the emotion! The scene where he breaks into his father's house to get him out before it's too late--broke my heart! Joon-Jae PLEADED with his dad but was ultimately betrayed by his own past and reputation...almost had me in tears when watching, and I'm on the brink of tears writing this now...

And then the other characters; they were cool too. The step-brother Heo Chi-Hyun was a great villian-who-tries-not-to-be-a-villian, and the step-mother Kang Seo-Hee/Ji-Yeon was masterful as the puppeteer of Chi-Hyun and his biological dad Ma Dae-Young. Although, they really lost the plot when Ma Dae-Young lost his memories and thus himself. It's almost as if the writers wanted us to lose our memories of him too or something...;).

Joon-Jae's friends and fellow conmen were cool too, although Tae-Oh and Cha Si-Ah getting together at the end was very...weird. Yet again, it's like they needed to give Si-Ah a happy ending after being betrayed (but not really bc he was never actually yours, girl), and the only way to do that was to have her be in a relationship? Not to mention that Tae-Oh looks like a high schooler...but I digress. I could go on and on about Si-Ah being a puppy for a man who never wanted her but I'd rather not waste my energy. It is what it is.

And I admit, they really had me with the fake-out that Jo Nam-Doo, Joon-Jae's OG, was the ultimate betrayer...I honestly believed it after he was such a dick about Sim-Cheong being a mermaid the first (and second and third) time he found out. But his character was redeemed when it turned out he was only pretended to betray to ultimately save his BFF. PHEW!

There's sooo much more to talk about (loved how Joon-Jae was the only one to hear Sim-Cheong's thoughts--besides the grade-school bestie--, and Joon-Jae's mother played a cool role in the drama too, etc. etc.) but I'll end it here before I do too much (more than I already have). Just...give it a watch if you haven't already, truly is a gem worthy of being a classic.

#kdramareview #legend of the blue sea #legend of the blue sea review #Lee Min-Ho best performance

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frostycatblr-fandom-files · 1 year ago

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A Brother's Love Will Heal You

Warnings and Information: We're making up birds for Star Wars as practice for "Wounded Wings". When it comes to writing how young or old Clones are I'm not sure how it all works in canon like everyone else, so we're working on a system just within the NTMYB universe, we're going from "Generation" and breaking it down from there; they're all the same Generation, but they have different Growth Cycles. Growth Cycle "A" would contain multiple Batches, and from there everything works the same as before in previous installments where you have "oldest" to "youngest" within a Batch. (Generations > Growth Cycles > Batches.) Canvas hasn't gotten completely better (congratulations on the new phobias and trauma, baby boy!), but he's doing a lot better since PLB and CLB. He's back fighting with the brothers of the GAR and his General again, at least. Scruffy's made his peace with the fact that wherever he goes, the brother he's taken care of and has become bonded for life with will follow. The Clones aren't just soldiers, they're brothers. Every last one of 'em. Note: Some named Clones are not part of my list of 18+ Clone OCs, but that could be subject to change. No Mando'a here as usual. The usual use of italics. As an explicit warning: there are allusions to how this Growth Cycle was treated by a Trainer on Kamino. It can be interpreted as mistreatment at best, abuse at worst.

Word-count: 9,136 [holy sh-]

Suu-weet! Suu-weet! Suu-weet-weet-weet!

"What was that?" a Shiny from a newer Growth Cycle asks, craning his neck and looking into the thick tree canopy above the marching unit.

"Uh oh… Better be careful." Scruffy chuckles, imagining the widening eyes under his brother from another batch's helmet; Canvas had heard the younger brother's question about something he's intimately familiar with. He nudges the Shiny-brother playfully, something that often helps little brothers find their confidence the more the seasoned and battle-hardened brothers encourage and reaffirm. This younger Growth Cycle was lucky and most found their Names on Kamino.

Scruffy and many others of the same Cycle weren't too sure why exactly they never found their Names while training on their mother-world. Maybe there was a sour phase from one of Kamino's three moons, or something.

(Not that Scruffy believed in that stuff. The phases, risings and fallings of the moons and the planets and stars didn't dictate his life, only a good blaster and a watchful brother did. But hey, each their own. It was a far more humorous reason than the truth, besides…)

Canvas is jogging through the underbrush now at the second round of Suu-weet!-s, shedding his helmet and using his binocs. "What? What'd I do? What'd I say?" the brother named Cubby asks, sounding nervous and slightly embarrassed over the vocoder crackle.

"Canvas really likes birds," Scruffy elaborated for Cubby as Stick made his way closer with their brother's helmet tucked in the crook of his arm, "and he's probably going to try to find it if he can without straying too far from marching formation."

The helmet is given to Scruffy. "Uh-uh. More like really, really likes birds." Stick jokingly corrects his batchmate.

"Oh." Cubby says simply, the three of them now watching as Canvas continues to sweep the leafy branches with the binoculars. Even the General has now stopped to watch, having been marching in the middle of the formation with their men as well.

"Has he found it, General?" Scruffy asks the Jedi. Once again, Canvas has been kept a close eye on by the COs and General since Scruffy's return to duty. He was greeted so warmly by Carver and Cairn when they stepped off the LAAT, and helped acquaint them to his batchmate. Carver especially had practically squeezed Canvas until both were blue in the face, relieved to hear Canvas was sleeping once more since their last update.

"You little nerf-herder, I was so worried about you!"

"I-I'm sorry, Car- I didn't mean-"

"Hush, don't apologize to me. We're just glad you're doing better..."

The Force-wielder hums thoughtfully for a moment before perking, standing slightly straighter than before after a glee-filled yelp echoes through the forest. "Your brother is very excited about this one. I'll take your brother's helmet, so you can-"

Scruffy doesn't need to be told twice, even once, before he's giving his brother's equipment to the Jedi to go see what has 'Vas so excited that it's affected the General. "Thank you, Sir!" He carefully skirts through the underbrush and takes care not to fall flat on his face because of hidden roots, slightly breathless when he gets to his little brother's side. "What is it, 'Vas? What's up there?"

"That's a flame-throated- wait… no wait! Flame-bellied bunting! Those are even rarer than the flame-throated buntings! Look, look!" The binocs are thrust into Scruffy's hands, and looking where he's directed, a deep fork in the canopy to the southwest of their position off-trail, he can make out the feathered critter thanks to the magnification. It's a small little thing, it's back, wings and head an ashy gray and the throat is dappled in red and yellow before it bleeds into a beautiful blaze of orange. He understands where it gets its namesake, the bird's belly looks like the heart of a fire in all those glorious tones of orange that covers the whole underside. Small, almost beady little gray eyes and tight, conical beak.

Scruffy wolf-whistles below his breath. "That's a beaut of a bird, 'Vas. I'm going to guess… male? Seed-eater?"

"Y-yes! Wait, how'd you know? Did I already tell you? I don't think I did…"

He shakes his head at Canvas, giving him the binoculars again so he can continue to observe this prized find. "I've been paying attention to what you tell the General, little brother." Speaking of, the Force-wielder has joined them, the remainder of the company has now stopped to rest on the trail as they call over their shoulder that they can't leave their brothers too far behind.

Packs and heavy gear are lowered for the time being from weary but seldom complaining shoulders. "Yessir!" Clones chorus together. Any excuse to rest is welcomed.

The hem of the Jedi's outer cloak is gathered higher so it would not drag through the leaf litter as they carefully make their way down the gentle slope to join their men. "What have you found, son?" the General asks with interest, peering above them into the broad-leaved crown of the towering tree.

"Canvas called it a flame-bellied bunting. Beautiful bird, sir."

"Here, General," Canvas offers the equipment with excitement to share his find to another interested party, trying to direct his superior on where they'll find the flighted creature and see for themselves, "it's to the right of the-!"

Gone on the wing, the bird drops from the branch and flits away deeper into the forest in a dazzling flash of color before the Jedi ever gets the chance to have a proper look.

"Blast it." Canvas whispers dejectedly. "Sorry, General…"

"Don't be, son," the Jedi assures him, returning the equipment, "there could be other chances to see this beautiful bird, Canvas."

The trooper with all his brother's scuff marks slouches the more he talks. "I doubt it… it's rare to see them so deep in old-growth forests." Canvas murmurs with unfettered, bitter disappointment that he can't help for the moment, regretful that he's letting such emotions get the best of him. "B-but… maybe. Hopefully." he adds softly, filling his lungs with the rich, clear air of the forest to calm and steady himself. Look on the bright side. Have hope. "The… Force works in mysterious ways. As does nature. So I… like to imagine they are very intertwined." Scruffy and the General give him gentle smiles, his brother throwing an arm around his shoulders as they walk back to the others and join them for the rest break.

"It is good to have hope, Canvas."

"Agreed, sir. C'mon little brother, let's see who the General gave your helmet to and we'll go rest our legs." Scruffy follows up, steering Canvas in the direction of their brothers when Stick gives an over here! wave that was hard to miss. "Maybe we can find someone with a catalog of the planet's fauna and see if it has anything on the flame-bellied bunting. You could show the General that way, at least. Woah-woah, mind the roots!" He warns as Canvas skips off, enticed and excited by the idea of using a planetary catalog. The General rumbles with soft laughter at the Clone's deep sigh when the warning is hardly heeded, and Canvas's feet find the bare pathway through the forest without trouble.

"It is always so endearing; how much you all care for one another in your own little, unique ways. The camaraderie… unlike anything this galaxy has ever seen."

The words, the mantra, comes as naturally as breathing at this point. Scruffy hardly realizes he's said them for the hundredth time perhaps in answer to the Force-wielder's observation.

"Brother looks out for brother, General."

"Indeed you all do…" They seem almost grateful when they smile at Scruffy, clapping a steady, calloused hand in a gesture of comfort around the armor that protects the Clone's shoulder. "It is a wonderful thing, to witness such dependable, valiant men I serve alongside find the bravery in being soft and vulnerable to another brother. Now go rest with your brothers; you're still recovering."

The last sentiment was… peculiar. Something about the way the Jedi said it. "But, General, I- I was approved for combat and deemed to have properly recovered." Scruffy reminds them, hoping the reminder comes across respectfully.

"In that sense, yes. That is true, Scruffy." the General tells him sagely, which only serves to confuse the soldier further.

"But-"

Stick cups his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice and get his batchmate's attention. "Hey, Scruff! You'll never guess who had a catalog of fauna found here!" His left hand makes a scooping motion, urging him to get over here! already. Scruffy exhales softly, turning to his left to bid the General a polite good-bye, that he should go see what's going on, but he finds that the Jedi is already gone, several paces ahead in the blink of an eye. Strange… he hadn't so much as heard a sound through the leaf litter.

"Scruff, c'mon!" Stick was getting insistent. Better go see why.

Canvas can't believe it.

Neither can Scruffy, apparently, as he's cupping this brother's face in his hands to scrutinize the tattoo tucked near the hairline on his left temple. "Cypher? You- wow. Look at this! When did you get a tattoo?" The datapad Canvas is borrowing from is another of Scruffy's surviving batchmates, it turns out. (The notes Cypher's taken on all the wildlife are incredibly extensive, too.)

"Another member of the planetary reconnaissance and research party," Cypher replies, trying and failing to nudge Scruffy just a hair out of his personal space, "the ink was sourced from a very pigmented plant found here on the- hey! I'm trying to explain, back off a bit!"

Scruffy apologizes for the third time, stepping back before inviting his batchmate to continue. "Sorry-sorry; found where on the planet?" He doesn't mean to repeatedly encroach his batchmate's space, honestly. He's just so surprised to see just how much his second youngest batchmate has changed on him since the last time he's seen Cypher.

"The sector to the southwest, past the large canyon formations." Cypher explains, gesturing with his thumb at the holomap laid on top of his things with a highlighted section pulsing in blue on the HUD. "Which is where we've seen a strange number of naturally occurring cairn-like formations."

A stack of worry stones goes scattering as someone kicks his foot out in surprise. "Hey! Wait a minute!" Cairn's head now snaps up from the huddle around Canvas as he sifts through Cypher's notes for birds. "No wonder I recognized your voice; you're the one that ended up inspiring me and I finally found my Name because of you! I had no idea you were Scruffy's batchmate."

Cypher's expression is somewhere between a regretful grimace and a touched smile as they shake hands. "Yeah… There was a reason for that… But I'm glad I ended up helping you find your Name even if I didn't realize it, Cairn. Nice to meet you."

Cairn senses there's a nerve he shouldn't trod on, and so he leaves it alone even though he's brimming with questions as to why yet another of Scruffy's batchmates didn't want to associate with him. Scruffy was easily one of the nicest, most helpful and patient brothers a young Shiny could hope for, and he'd counted himself lucky that he was created in the same Growth Cycle as him, at the very least. "Nice to meet you too, officially, Cypher. Thank you. F-for the Name. And for letting us borrow your research notes so Canvas can figure out if you have his bird, too." Maybe, maybe, he could ask about it some other time. But he wasn't going to hold his breath.

"Sorry if it's not organized in a way that makes any sense to you, Canvas. It, uh, makes perfect sense to me with the way my brain's wired, but… it's definitely not alphabetical or even by color and animal type." Cypher offers in apology, nails skimming over the back of his head to self-regulate.

Canvas shrugs softly, glancing up at Scruffy's batchmate with an easy smile. "That's okay, Cypher," he tells him. "I'll find it, I'm sure."

It's another few minutes of carefully clawing through data before the idea strikes him to look through the photo files. Surely, at least there was a chance of finding his bird in there this way. He'd tried asking if Cypher had the bird in his records, but the name or description didn't spark any recognition for him, so he allowed Canvas to look through it himself.

"Knock yourself out."

Oh wow. So many birds. At least in the photo files things got sorted automatically thanks to a feature in the system. And with so few orange birds in the galaxy (sadly), it shouldn't take long at all before Canvas's eyes caught that living flame made of feathers.

"Yes!! He has it!" Canvas declares triumphantly, pumping a fist into the air that narrowly avoids Carver's temple. "Oh, s-sorry Carver!" The huddle of brothers closes in around him as he opens the image file from the thumbnail, the image expanding to fill the screen, waves of awed murmurings rippling through the group. "Hey, Cypher said knock yourself out, not someone else!" Carver teases, ruffling his curled hair as payback after he's had a good look at the flame-bellied bunting. "Where's the General so we can show them before we have to start moving again?"

Scruffy looks around, sweeping the forest for the Force-wielder before they're spotted on a wide, flat rock; legs folded under them and head bent deliberately. "Meditating."

"Maybe chow time will be better to show the General, then. Don't want to… y'know." Canvas gives the datapad back to Cypher and begins gathering his own things, balancing his bucket on his knees so he could don it in a moment's notice.

Many Clones in this unit were often hesitant about approaching their Jedi General if they were taking the opportunity to meditate, oftentimes with Carver's Mudhorn in their hands as they did so. They aimed to be respectful of what little time the Jedi could dedicate to their way of life, or maybe it was better described as a religion, during the war. It was mostly understood by the soldiers of the GAR that even if they couldn't understand it, they should aim to respect it. The Force is what their Generals found strength in, found courage in, found help in. Perhaps without the Force, more brothers would remain trapped in cave-ins, more brothers would have been picked off by hidden Separatist forces… and lost to detonations.

Had the General not called out in warning that Scruffy was walking towards a laser tripwire, his brother might not have slowed down or hesitated enough and-

He would've been down to just two brothers from other batches (who weren't COs) that could give enough of a kriff on the regular to take care of him when he didn't want to take care of himself. The "twins" of another batch different from his own and Scruffy's, Carver and Cairn.

Canvas taps one on the shoulder as they get the call to start moving forward again. "Hey, Carver, don't forget your All-Kit."

Carver's hands quickly pat down his utility belt and find the tool is in fact missing. "Oh! Thanks brother. Don't wanna lose this." He shakes his head in agreement with Carver. They weren't sure where the Clone had found the old vibroknife or the All-Kit, but both had been invaluable in this soldier's creative hands.

"Blast it! Sealed shut. Where would we find a fusion cutter way out here, to get in?"

"Oh, Commander, I can let you borrow this, I believe it has a fusion cutter setting!"

"Carver, that's- Where the kriff did you find this?"

"Not sure, Sir, to be honest. Just… found it near the airfield. I-I think."

The Commander hails the General on the comlink, requesting they help lead the way forward as they begin their march. The whole company will have a long way to go before they reach their position to make camp for the night. They have to make up for lost time. There's some grumbling at the front of the marching company asking if it was some kriffing rookie who was slowing them down this time, and the voice belongs to someone of an older Growth Cycle, from the sound of things.

It's a hoarse and unhappy vocalization. It's not missed by the General. It's not missed by Scruffy, more importantly. Scruffy hauls off before he can be stopped, and it's several minutes later before Carver, Cairn, Canvas and Stick find their friend and brother reaming this other soldier out while everyone else walks past in formation. His back is plastered up against the trunk of the towering tree, hands at chest level with his palms out towards Scruffy imploringly, the t-visor wagging almost anxiously as Scruffy lays into him, fingers like battering rams into the impossibly firm material of their plastoid armor.

"Uh-oh. Sounds like Snapper's getting a taste of his own medicine. Whaddya reckon he did?" a trooper behind the quartet asks. It's another older brother, one of their few permanent snipers in the unit, so he doesn't get many chances to interact on a personal level with his brothers of the GAR.

There's a gentle laugh. "Made the mistake of assuming the reason we got a break was because of a rookie." his companion replies, bumping elbows in a gesture of unspoken communication. Canvas can guess these brothers behind them are gesturing to him. He's grateful he's wearing his bucket. "Hey! Snapper! Tell Canvas thank you, you ungrateful nerf-herder, and maybe Scruffy will let you off easy! You don't have to love every Clone-brother you meet but at least be nice to them."

Hands pat the backplate of Canvas's armor, a soft touch intended to be friendly and non-intrusive. Probably from the sniper. There's a murmured thanks for the break, brother and a genuine glad you're back with the company that's nearly lost in the hundreds of feet drumming over the soil and leaf of the forest floor. The words invoke a tingle in the corners of his eyes and comfortable warmth in his chest to hear he'd been missed by brothers he didn't know well in the three weeks he, Stick and Scruffy had been aboard the Venator-class ship.

The company comes to a halt a standard hour after the sun has sunk behind the hills on this side of the planet. The imposing formation of men clad in white armor had taken on a nearly romantic glow as the dying light of day washed them and their paint patterns in the vivid hues of yellowed oranges and sweetened pinks. It doesn't take long after the lanterns have been activated before Cypher returns to this segment of the formation, completely stepping past Scruffy with the same uneasy silence an unmarked, decaying grave invokes in the men as they march past.

Cypher won't make eye contact with him when he seeks out Canvas to loan the datapad to him once more, this time the HUD is loaded up to a file just for the bunting; no need to dig this time.

He's polite with Stick, nodding in silent greeting. But there's not even so much as a polite hello for Scruffy. It's like he's not there. It stings a little. What did he do wrong? What does Cypher still hold over his head?

"Hey, Canvas. I'll need it back soon, but you can show the General your bird, now."

With childlike glee, 'Vas takes the device gratefully, carefully getting to his feet and dusting off his plastoid armor before trotting off to find the Jedi. "Oh, thanks, Cypher. Appreciate it!"

"Mhm." His gloved hands ball into fists the moment Canvas has left the radius of light from the lanterns they're using to illuminate their camp, voice a threatening purr. "Would you stop staring at me already?"

"Why are you still mad at me, Cy…?"

Scruffy wishes he never asked when the upper lip curls into a wicked, cutting snarl, and the fury increases tenfold as Cypher whisper-yells to avoid disturbing the other Clone brothers nearby. "I never needed you to try to be some kind parent to me just because I'm the second youngest of our batch, just because I'm a Clone! I just needed my brother! And I needed him to not embarrass me all the time by-!"

"Cy!" Stick cries out louder than Cypher with a jolt, looking mortified. "Cut it out! Is this about that old data drive, still? What happened on Kamino when we were all trainees and cadets was an accident and he's apologized a million times for it! Scruffy never meant to erase your drive. And he was only trying to-! To… And was it such a crime that he was only trying to make us laugh if this isn't about the data drive?"

"In front of the Trainers? We were supposed to be showing them we were combat-ready and fit to fight for the Republic, show them we meant business and could rise to any occasion, like we were made for. And goofing off in front of the Trainers never did us any favors." Cypher growls, hands squeezed so tightly the gloves creaked.

Carver and Cairn study their spats and boots, faces flushed with discomfort as they listen to two of Scruffy's batchmates lay into one another. They abruptly stop once Canvas comes jogging back into the radius of light with the datapad, his expression bright and perky. Cypher stalks off the moment the device is back in his hands, Stick hits the dirt and trails after, hot on Cy's heels. Scruffy sits on top of his pack, motionless. They aren't sure if Scruffy is about to cry, or just bottle these feelings up and pretend they never happened so he doesn't worry Canvas.

He's not sure how to answer his little brother when Canvas speaks up in a timid voice, noticing how many of them look uneasy, his face falling with worry. "What happened…? Why'd Cypher leave?" Maker, the look of uncertainty and confusion is crushing. Canvas has such an expressive face, and he doesn't always have the self-discipline to not "make too many faces". (Whatever the kriff the Trainers meant by that.)

"Cy, uh… doesn't feel like having his rations with us, I guess." Scruffy offers lamely, breaking into his sealed, GAR-issued MRE to add water into the pouch. He didn't feel like eating. But 'Vas, so bonded to him, so intrinsically entwined… he needed a good example, still. His batchmates had been taken from him one by one as a Shiny before he was ready to decide for himself if he would strengthen or sever those batchmate bonds.

He promised Faro.

"Don't you think that's too much water?" Cairn prodded, looking at how much water the Basic instructions dictated they should add to soften the food.

Scruffy shrugs half-heartedly as Canvas takes a seat and breaks open his own ration packet, and then pauses to scrutinize the water. "It's better when it's softer. Makes it easier to mix all that seasoning in, no dry pockets."

Carver blinks in surprise before reaching out to nudge Canvas's shoulder. "Hmm, good point. I'll, uh, give it a shot. See if it actually makes these things palatable. Good news is the hydro packs are from Naboo again, too, so 'Vas won't get stingy with his water intake." Canvas ducks away, softly whining something about how the Coruscant water is kriffing disgusting and he thinks there's something wrong with it.

"...'Sour'? Really?" Scruffy asks, hearing this curious observation for the first time. He doesn't recall anyone else vocalizing that sentiment for the water rations supplied by one of the Core Worlds.

"Naboo's water is sweet!" Canvas insists of the Outer Rim planet's export. "C'mon, you're telling me that a planet shared by the Nabooians and Gungans aren't gonna make serious efforts to take care of their water?" he added as he dribbled in water from his hydropack to moisten the rations.

Scruffy nods, conceding to his little brother's reasoning. "Okay-okay… I guess that makes some sense." He waited until he was sure that Canvas had begun to eat his own rations before returning to his own, taking his time to savor the food and think before they would get the call to go dark that meant they would be expected to kill their lanterns and get some sleep, or at least keep their traps shut so those who could sleep could do so without disturbance.

The relative silence is disrupted with the call of a brother's voice from far away. "Hey! Canvas!" Startled, the group's heads perked up in unison, swung in the direction of the voice.

"Huh? Who's that?" someone asks.

"Shiny named Cubby. He's the one who noticed the birdsong." Scruffy explains shortly, nodding in greeting as the Shiny breaks into the warm glow of the lantern from the shadows. "Hey, brother. Good to see ya again."

"Oh, hi, nice to meet you, Cubby." Canvas and Cubby shake hands, trading toothy, friendly smiles, "Likewise, Canvas. Hey listen; I've got a group I'm already planning on eating with tonight, but I was wondering if maybe you can tell me all about that bird I heard earlier this afternoon in the morning? I'm told you're the brother to ask."

Canvas nods, eager. "Sure, sounds great." Cubby grins practically ear to ear as he repeats the phrase back to Canvas with a word of thanks before he walks off to join his group, some pep in his step.

Stick never makes it back to their group before the COs call out "go dark, boys!" and one by one, groups down the line kill their lanterns once they've gotten their things situated for sleep. Packs arranged in a circular formation, blasters in an arm's reach. Men in every other grouping will take watch, and luckily for his group, no one's expected to be awake. Canvas's eyes scan the treeline in vain, looking for Stick.

Where could he be?

What had happened?

There's a hand on his lower back, coming up from the forest floor. Scruffy has already laid down and made himself comfortable. "Hey, you need to get some sleep if you can, 'Vas."

"But where's…?" Why wasn't Scruffy concerned about his batchmate not being back? What had happened in the two minutes he was away to show the Jedi the image file of the bird? Why did Cypher seem so upset? "Where's Stick? Where'd he go? What-"

"He'll come back, Canvas…" Scruffy forces through a yawn, "he's got a light. C'mon, try to get some sleep." Reluctantly, Canvas hesitates to drop onto one of his shoulders and try to sleep away the fatigue of the day. There's something wrong. He hasn't known Stick as long or as well as he's come to know Scruffy, so he can't say with certainty if the behavior is normal for this brother. But Scruffy… something's up.

"Did Cypher say something to upset you when I was gone?" Canvas asks, knowing it's likely a long shot. It was always such a long shot to ask these questions as the baby of a batch, much less the baby of a totally separate batch. Not your batch, not your burden, some older brothers might say. You typically learned to keep your nose out of it… Typically. "What happened? A-are you okay?"

Scruffy doesn't answer that at first, at least not verbally. Scooching himself closer on the forest floor, Scruffy throws an arm around his side, effectively pinning Canvas down. "It's not your job to worry about me, little brother… I should manage my own feelings."

"B-but-"

Scruffy means business, voice firm, arm pulling him closer. "In the morning. I'll tell you what happened in the morning, Canvas. We need to sleep."

He feels his breath hitching. "But Scruffy…"

Someone sits up, and the pik! of a compartment on a utility belt popping open punctuates the silence. The worry stone is tucked into the palm of his hand, strong fingers closing his fist around it. The object Canvas used as an anchor since he was a Shiny, usually so effective, does little to abate the threat of tears presently. Why the kriff is he crying like a damn cadet? Again? He thought he'd gotten better and could rationalize that Scruffy was going to be okay, he was going to be okay out in the field again, once this brother from another batch had found the trick to getting him to sleep when the anxiety got the best of him and he couldn't be rational on his own. Why is he kriffing crying?!

"Can I do something to help?" Carver offers to Scruffy once he's sat up, able to pull Canvas to his chest once he's shed the chestplate, laying the sensitive, fleshy shell of Canvas's ear above his heart. Scruffy wags his head softly, taking slow, measured breaths. "I've got this handled, Carver…" If he just held Canvas to his chest like he did in the unofficial rec center on the Venator-class ship, hopefully it wouldn't take an hour for his little brother to calm down. Wouldn't take an hour for him to fall asleep.

"Why am I like this? What is wrong with me?!" Canvas demands under his breath, hoping he can, somehow, get an answer out of himself. Something had to be wrong with him. He was far too anxious for a Clone trooper. To the opinion of some of the galaxy that he was technically a child, he had the strength and body of an adult, and perhaps in most areas, the mental maturity and age of one, were it not for this cursed anxiety. He probably never should have left Kamino much like Cryfar with some of the head injuries he likely sustained while keeping up with the demands of those bounty hunters; the older Clone brothers were never so heartless, so… cold. There's something wrong with him.

There's something wrong with him, he shouldn't be so soft! Pathetic! He's not fit to be a soldier! The aspects of him that are so "childish" make him unfit for what he was made for. He's defective; there's something wrong with him!!

"Hey, no… Don't say that." Scruffy says with an admonishing tone. Fingers slide through the closely-shaved curls of the regulation-length cut as one of Scruffy's hands cradles the back of his head. "Nothing's wrong with you. It's not your fault you're like this. It was the Trainers who did this to our Growth Cycle. Blame them. Or a malfunction in your jar. Or the Kaminoans. But it's not your fault."

Words meant and completely intended to be comforting only make him cry harder, only make Scruffy begin to panic himself. Canvas can hear the quickening heartbeat against his ear. But he can't seem to catch his breath just yet, promise that he's not more upset, but the opposite. He's just so swept up with this swelling tidal wave of emotions that he just needs the frothy crest of the wave to finally break and crash, first.

"I-" he tries insisting, feeling how choked he must sound. Someone else adds their arms to the mix, their chest against his back. It might be Carver, the comforting hand on his upper arm belonging to Cairn.

"I-I'm o-"

There's collective whispers and murmurings rippling around him. Dozens of concerned or confused brothers. Lots are asking what's going on; is it one of the rookies having trouble adjusting; is it Canvas?

He, Scruffy and Stick have only been back a couple of days. Medics have warned the Captain, Commander and the General that while Scruffy is fit for duty again, meaning his little brothers who were worried about him are too, they had concerns that their "little Canvas" may need the Shiny-treatment for a while. Easy tasks. Easy responsibility. Lots of supervision. Lots of encouragement. So much patience.

Brother needed to look out for brother.

Scruffy, patiently, continues to hold Canvas close, verbally waving off other Clones who come to see what's going on. "Hey-hey, it's okay. Go. He'll be-"

"M'fine… m'fine." Canvas insists, this time successfully finding his voice without sounding so choked. Brothers are dismissed by Cairn and Carver so Scruffy can just softly talk to Canvas.

"Are you going to be okay now, 'Vas?"

"I-I don't need to go back to the Jedi cruiser… I'm fine. I'm ready for this." Canvas promises, trying to dry his face. Really, he is ready for his duty to the Republic again. He's just not sure why he wears his heart on his plastoid quite so much. He's not sure why he got so upset.

Scruffy exhales slowly, deliberately. For just a moment, it reminds Canvas of Faro. "That's not what I meant. What I should have asked instead was if you were going to be okay to talk about things in the morning." Scruffy really reminds him of Faro right now… and for a moment he wonders if Faro and Scruffy would have gotten along.

Faro valued discipline and attentiveness above many things… so he rarely got to see a side of his oldest batchmate that wasn't that.

"Canvas?" He's been silent for too long for Scruffy's taste. "Are you going to be okay to talk about it tomorrow?"

"M'not sure…" Canvas mumbles, avoiding eye contact with the brother who "adopted" him into his batch. It's the same inquisitive tone Faro, occasionally Gunnar, used with him when he had to complete a training exercise under the supervision of the long-necks. It's making him feel mixed up. "C-can I decide in the morning?"

It's the question he never dared ask Faro. Canvas could use it on Gunnar, but it was too daunting to test on his oldest brother. He never had any reason to fear Faro, but for some reason…

Maybe he just didn't want to disappoint his brother. Or worry him. Something.

Stick is suddenly back. Canvas didn't hear him return. "Good idea, brother," Stick yawns behind him, throwing himself on his side, "decide in the morning. Get some sleep."

"Where've you been?" Scruffy demands, almost angry. "You didn't eat your food, you nerf-herder."

Stick yawns again. He's not taking the concern for him so seriously, it seems. "I did eat. I was studyin'. Had a long talk with Cy. If you can promise to do your best to get some sleep, he might be able to show us something in the morning." Acting on intrigue, one by one these brothers slowly turn back to the soil of the planet for sleep. Carver pipes in, asking what's on everyone's mind when everyone settles down against the forest floor: "Psst! Who's "us", Stick?"

"Whoever's interested." Stick replies. It'd be cryptic if he wasn't so sleepy and more importantly warm as he closes off the other end of the 'Canvas sandwich', tapping his boot against Scruffy's. "And that's for calling me 'nerf-herder'." Scruffy only grunts half-heartedly in return, returning his arm around Canvas to cap off their new-found sleeping routine before whispering good night-s to each brother nearby.

Canvas slept a lot better when he had his brothers nearby. Sheltered from the Kaminoans. The Separatists. The galaxy at large. Safety in numbers, almost…

Almost like a nest, he decides.

Birdsong wakes Scruffy before the sun. Before Cypher has completely made his way back to them.

-weet-weet-weet! Suu-weet-weet-weet! Breeeee!

The sound is sweet, serene. It ends on a buzzy note he didn't hear the other day when Canvas had tracked down the bird and offered to show him, and the General.

Canvas… He wanted to share something so important to him to people he cared about. Or possibly, as a way of thanking them.

Scruffy remembers that once when he was a lanky little cadet, he helped a nearly full-grown brother hide something from the inspectors. An innocuous little item, just a packet of chewstim. But because it could be used to make a mess on the underside of the tables around the Cloning facility, it was considered contraband. It wouldn't be a problem if a younger Clone had it, however, as they were afforded a little more leniency. So Scruffy hid it for that brother until he'd passed inspection.

The day he returned it, the older Clone found him in the mess hall and slipped him an extra helping of food typically reserved for the near-mature cadets.

"Share that with your batchmates, little brother."

"Why're you giving this to me, Chews?"

"Because you helped me. It's to thank you, uh… What's your name, little brother?"

"Oh… I don't have one yet. I don't get much time to think about the name I want because of the Trainers. And because I'm trying to cheer up my brothers since the Trainers are so hard on us..."

"You're the oldest of your batch, aintcha?"

"Uh-huh." His hair had been ruffled affectionately after that by the older Clone named Chews.

"Keep an eye out for 'em; we brothers need each other. Don't take the 'not your batch, not your business' banthashit to heart quite so much. And don't worry about the Name stuff. One day you'll find your Name… or your Name will find you…" Chews flashed the packet of chewstim he kept in one of the deep pockets of the cadet uniform and winked.

Because of Chew's words, something changed in Scruffy that day. Thankfully, for the better. Not just for himself, and his batchmates, but all his brothers. If they knew ahead of time a fresh-faced Shiny or two would be stepping off the gunship, the Commander would usually ask Scruffy to stand beside him while welcoming the new troops and explaining their unit's unofficial "scuffing ceremony". Steal the first imperfection in their plastoid on their own terms. A mark of their autonomy, their agency, their uniqueness.

The Captain would ask him to help with the brothers who were having a hard time making friends or integrating into the unit. Help these brothers find their strengths the same way he helped Carver find his. Help the medic-brothers calm a scared soldier. And just yesterday, when they started marching in the morning, served as a cautionary tale.

"Mind your feet and where you're walking." He warned a rough-housing Shiny. (He would have gotten along well with Scruffy's middle batchmate.)

The Shiny rolled his eyes before plunking the helmet on his head. "Hah! Big words coming from the brother named 'Scruffy' because the COs had to keep pulling him out of pits by the back of his armor."

"That's true that's why I have my Name…" Scruffy said with a casual shrug, glancing over his shoulder to see how far away Canvas was before his voice became as cold as meltwater when he added: "But I triggered a tripwire about three weeks ago; and I'm damn lucky I was dead for only two minutes before they were able to bring me back. Watch. Where. You. Walk. Or you're going to end up upsetting a brother close to you, and you may not be so lucky."

He's never once told anyone but one of the COs (and he's likely told the second, which was fine) that in those two minutes, he found himself back on Kamino. The promise he made to Faro.

Scruffy's not sure how - or if - he should tell Canvas. The poor kid, with everything he's been through, both the good and the bad, had practically sobbed when he saw the little portrait of himself painted on that slab of wood after that first good sleep in days. Repeating the same six words over and over again. I love it, Scruffy. Thank you.

The birdsong begins again, and now Scruffy can feel Canvas stirring slowly out of his slumber by the sound. There's two buzzy notes this time.

Suu-weet-weet-weet! Breeeee! Breee!

"...G'morning, Scruffy."

"Mornin', 'Vas. Sleep well?" Scruffy hopes so, he can now hear Cypher carefully making his way over, creeping over splayed limbs and sleeping brothers. It looks like he's followed by the General and the Commander. "Can you hear that? Sure sounds like a lot of those buntings."

"They're… primarily active just before dawn." Canvas yawns, wiggling out from under his arm to sit up and rub the sleep from his eyes.

"Which will be perfect for us." Cypher's made his way to them, looking down at their sleeping arrangements. "... Looks like personal space isn't much of a concept around here."

He can see the fond smile of the Commander over Cypher's shoulder, and the silent chuckle as he looks at the mess of tangled limbs and the odd piece of armor that's been removed in the night. The General is a ways off. "Just the way we like it." Scruffy says with an easy smile. "Plus it helps him sleep." Canvas leans away from the hand reaching out to pat his shoulder, looking shyly away. "Helps me sleep better, too, turns out. So I can't complain or make too much fun of anyone." he admits, now sitting up and reaching over to prod Stick awake.

Scruffy, Canvas and Stick are joined by Cairn and Carver after some additional encouragement to wake up before they would typically, and follow after Cypher. The five of them, plus the Commander and the General, take Cypher's lead half a kilometer off-trail and into a snug clearing in the forest. They leave most of their armor behind to quiet their movement through the trees.

"Canvas probably knows what phishing means when it comes to birds. We don't like using the technique in the research team too often, but what my research partners don't know won't hurt them." Cypher explains, indicating where they should try sitting and waiting.

The Force-wielder hums thoughtfully. "I should take this to be a… controversial technique, then."

"Yessir. It…" Cypher stops, shaking his head, getting a better idea. Let the brother who this kinda thing clearly meant a lot to do it would be more meaningful. "Y'know what? Canvas? Would you like to explain?"

Put on the spot, Scruffy can see Canvas's ears going red, but he tentatively nods before he launches into a digestible explanation to his brothers and the Jedi. "The technique mocks a scolding or alarm call of most passerine - which means "perching" - birds in the galaxy. Because it disrupts natural behaviors, it's best to do the call sparingly. Same goes for audio playbacks of any kind of mating calls, for example. And… personally… I'd find using the calls of a predatory bird too mean to even entertain."

"Why would someone use a predatory bird's call, hypothetically speaking?" Cairn asks carefully, noting the pained wince in Canvas's face.

"It'd scare them away. Be slower to return, if at all. It's a riskier move, in my opinion… just to see if you can flush them out of hiding and see them in flight."

"Which… is… why…" Cypher is tapping away on his datapad before he hands it over to Canvas, "all my audio files are painstakingly marked. You can choose if we use a playback or try phishing to see if we can't spot a flame-bellied bunting here. I'm told that areas like this, with a little handful of blue-thistle seed, might entice them to come investigate by someone in research and reconnaissance." While Canvas pours over the audio selection, Cypher goes and scatters the seed over a low boulder and into whatever branches he's able to reach before rejoining the group.

Without major delay or dilemma, to Scruffy's minor amusement, it doesn't take Canvas an hour to decide on something to play-back in hopes of attracting the feathered rarity.

«Suu-weet-weet-weet! Breeeee! Breee!»

Scruffy takes a peek at the HUD, just under Canvas's finger he finds the word "TERRITORIAL" added after a comma to "forn-besh besh". So call he and Canvas woke up to was the flame-bellied's territorial vocalizations, most likely. Smart of his little brother to feed into natural behavior. And he sees his batchmate nod approvingly to himself; Cypher must also have realized the deliberate choice Canvas made.

Carver stuffs a knuckle into his mouth to keep himself silent when the first bunting arrives, flared feathers in all directions to make itself appear big and blustering to an imaginary challenger. Cairn's face splits into a wicked grin. The Commander looks at the bunting with silent amazement next to the Jedi, and Canvas…

Well, he looks just absolutely delighted. And no one calls him silly for softly complimenting the bird, either. "Oh, what a handsome little man you are. Your coloration is so strong! That's good. That means you're healthy."

There's an unspoken understanding that unless a Clone's interest or talent comes at any extreme detriment to their health, safety or duty, you do not mock a brother for what fascinates them. Especially in this unit with how many never found their Names until leaving Kamino, for kriff's sake.

So Scruffy is thankful that, though Cypher may have a strained relationship with him personally, he's been very willing to take them out here this morning. And he didn't even know Canvas that well. He just learned only yesterday that a brother within the same Growth Cycle really, really likes birds, and Cypher is already opening up to him in strides.

The Jedi speaks up carefully as not to disturb the number of flame-bellied buntings still gathering in response to the territorial call. "Your brother is right, young Canvas. They are very beautiful birds." They echo Scruffy's words from just yesterday when Canvas had tried offering the binocs to the General. "And, we didn't see just one, as we hoped. But a whole group of them."

"Blaze." Cypher and Canvas reply in unison. It surprises them both, and they promptly break into stifled laughter.

"Blaze?" the Force-wielder repeats curiously, "Why the word blaze?"

"The collective noun for flame-bellied buntings, specifically, would be "blaze", Sir," Canvas explains, eyeing a particularly orange bunting that hops his way, "and the flame-throated buntings' collective noun is a "burn". There were once flame-crowned buntings, too, but they've… gone extinct."

"A pity… And what was their collective noun?"

Cypher shakes his head with the smile that means he knows something. "Actually… I've heard a pretty credible rumor that there's a captive breeding program for the crowns. If that's the case, that makes them extinct in the wild, not the galaxy as a whole. It would be nice to see wreaths of flame-crowned buntings."

The Commander chuckles, watching as the bunting Canvas had been keeping his eyes on jumps from the low boulder and takes to the wing, making a short, quick whet-whet! sound just before it lands on the Clone's shoulder.

Scruffy can hear the hitch in his little brother's breath, and the stifled klic! of the datapad that had been returned to Cypher moments before. He briefly wonders what that bird call means, but he'll have to ask 'Vas, or Cy, later. Right now the two of them were counting on the silence of their brothers and General as well as their own so as not to sully such a moment. These are docile and timid birds. If one of them decided Canvas would be a suitable perch, he'd hate to kark up this moment.

"... h-hi there." Canvas stammers, voice soft and quivering with contained excitement. The little bird is so close, realistically if he wanted, Canvas could softly pet this feathered friend. "Galaxy and all her stars… you're such a perfect little thing." The flame-bellied bunting chirps a single, clear note - tweep! - and gives his head a little scratch with the left foot before taking to the wing.

There's a soft feeling of tiny, tiny talons when the male bunting lands on Scruffy's shoulder next, once more tweep!-ing. It's surprisingly loud for such a little creature, but it makes some sense with the bird so close to the shell of his ear. Scruffy is careful to hold himself still as possible, glancing at his brothers after taking a moment to soak in this moment.

Cypher has his equipment in his hands, either taking notes or pictures as quickly as he can manage before this bird flies away for more of the thistle seed. Carver and Cairn just flash him little thumbs up signals as he glances over them. Stick mouths out the words you lucky bastard, to which Scruffy agrees by means of a single, slow nod.

The Commander is talking softly to the Jedi, and he hears both make mention of both him and Canvas.

Canvas of course, visually follows the flight path the bird makes when it takes off from Scruffy's shoulder at last, lifting the spell of silence. At last everyone can make his comment about the birds, or the weather, or how lucky Scruffy and Canvas must feel to have been "chosen" by the flame-bellied bunting for a moment to perch and rest on.

"Remarkable birds," the Jedi begins, speaking reverentially, "and a truly special moment to start the day with and share with everyone. I thank you, Cypher. Now: we should return to our company before the Captain begins to worry."

Canvas is the last to climb to his feet of all his brothers, obediently following after their General the half kilometer back to their unit. From here, they can hear their brothers just beginning the process of prepping their morning ration packs.

"You're surprisingly quiet after such a close encounter with what I can assume is one of your favorite birds, young Canvas," the peacekeeper-turned-warrior notes when they find they don't hear his voice among those of his brothers, "so I would guess you're committing your experience to memory?"

"That…" Canvas replies after a long, contemplative pause. "And just thinking, General."

"Ah-hah. I see now; simply in thought."

With the edge of his elbow, Scruffy prods his younger brother for further answers. "What about, 'Vas?" They're all equally curious, but sometimes the General is just too polite to ask these follow-up questions themselves. "I mean, it's pretty clear it's most likely about the flame-belliedies, but, in particular."

"Their symbolism." Canvas answers, carefully climbing over the same, large root they came across on their way down to the minuscule clearing. "Whether or not any of it's true is just up to personal opinion, of course, but there can be a lot - or a little - of symbolism attached to birds." Canvas kindly offers a hand out to Scruffy so he can steady himself as he comes down the other side with the confidence that he will not fall. (Since the tripwire, he's become a lot more conscientious than before when it comes to traversing these often hostile, unfamiliar planets.)

"Thanks, little brother… What sort of symbolism is attached to a bunting?"

"Strangely specific symbolism." Cypher chimes in, having keyed up the question into the search function that pulls information from the Holonet.

He gives the datapad to Scruffy to read once they return to their spot in formation where he, Canvas, Stick and Carver and Cairn had slept. He reads aloud from the information he finds in the source his batchmate has selected. "Let's see…

"It's widely accepted that the Flame-bellied Bunting, discovered by two brothers over a hundred years ago, symbolizes a perhaps rather niche partnership in the galaxy. The fraternal bond. Mr.Val and Mr. Leys Helios were identical twins who took on their mother's interest in the avian wildlife the galaxy had to offer at a young age. In their mid-twenties, Val and Leys discovered the Flame-bellied Bunting (thought to have evolved from the Flame-throated) while they were out camping together. Leys reports the bird, though very shy and skittish, landed on both him and his brother as they intended to observe their new finding. 'The moment sort of bonded something in us.' Leys claims, which was later a source of great comfort when…"

Scruffy stops reading aloud for a moment, swallowing the lump in his throat that's been building the closer he has gotten to where he'd read ahead.

"When what?" Stick asks, the rest politely waiting for Scruffy to continue.

He continues reading from the article, voice full of gentle pauses to allow his brothers time to process what he reads.

"Later a source of great comfort when shortly after, Val became very sick and unexpectedly collapsed one afternoon, never regaining consciousness… An otherwise healthy individual, medical examiners could not determine how Val lost his life so suddenly while out camping with his twin. (Maker, that's just awful.) Leys says shortly after a memorial service for his brother, he invited a renowned galactic ornithologist to see the bird he and Val claimed to have discovered, seeking validity in what he feared would have been the first and only bird he had confidently discovered for the first time with his brother.

"'When I returned to the site of our discovery with the scientist, I quite honestly had no hope of seeing the bird again. I didn't want to. Not when Val was gone.' says Leys Helios. 'But it happened again, incredibly. Another flame-bellied bunting, a little male who'd barely seen his first spring, came and landed on my shoulder. And something within me believed it was my brother; like it was Val coming to say "Hi!" because I felt that same sort of feeling again, that bond again. It was unmistakable. I just sensed, somehow, that this was my brother checking up on me. So I no longer thought about giving up my interest in birds just because Val was gone. And in his memory, I loaned Val's name to the scientific name of the Flame-bellied Bunting and our brotherly bond to its symbolism, because our mother loved the symbolism behind birds. She thought it was a sweet little gesture. And I'll n-never forget what she sa-said to me'..."

Scruffy's tears become too thick to read through to continue any longer. Everyone is properly emotional, the Commander and Canvas are the first to step in and offer their physical comforts; a steady hand on his shoulder as once the datapad has been collected so he and Canvas can quietly weep together once the final words of the article have been read. Cairn, Carver and Stick are next to come closer and make this a group hug, which Cypher (stiffly at first) joins once he too reads those final words over the shoulder of the Commander.

What you felt wasn't just your bond with your brother when that little bird landed on your shoulder, but his love, too. A brother's love will heal you, and keep you safe, just like anything else in this galaxy.

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#frostfics #A Brother's Love Will Heal You #star wars #swtcw #sw tcw #tcw #star wars headcanons #clone oc: canvas #clone oc: scruffy #clone oc: stick #clone oc: carver #clone oc: cairn #clone oc: cypher #clone oc: commander juke #clone oc: captain law #jedi oc: caelen #fictional birds #I apologize for the length I didn't think it'd be THAT long #but clearly that brotherly love/bond theme had other plans

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silvertheredhairedstranger · 8 months ago

Text

regurgitating old (sa) sw au plot stuff from the doc that i don't think i've ever put on here before

you can dig for the other posts for more elaboration but i'll put the short of it first under the cut

sabo is from a corellian mining family and get sold off into the imperial navy by causing a tad too much trouble with his (untrained) force sensitive powers

is discovered to be force-sensitive and taken under the wing of the band of sith lords that govern the major empire controlling most of the galaxy

raised as an inquisitor and used to hunt down other force-sensitives, but since he has a moral conscious, he ends up as a double-agent by sharing info with the rebellion

is the one to push ace in the direction of the rebellion instead of killing him for being force-sensitive

has a very strong grip on the force and uses this to conceal his intent and purpose from absolutely everyone except for ace, who becomes the one person he can be vulnerable around at select times

ace is born on ruusan, a backwater planet only accessible through certain means and thus remains largely out of the imperial sphere of influence

after his mother dies, ace stows away on shanks' spaceship and is taken in by the crew and taught the ways of the galaxy up until he's old enough to travel on his own

crashes his cruiser on his first flight and becomes indebted to kuro, a mob boss that controls a sector of the galaxy by keeping his underlings drowning in debt and thus firmly under his thumb

ace ends up wising up to kuro's schemes and lays waste to one of his underling's ships in revenge, which is also how he ends up traveling with a member of the rebellion and later decides to go to base and hear them out

meets sabo first in a bar while the latter is disguised and second on a bloody battlefield where he becomes aware of sabo's "true" nature and position of power, and subsequently decides to push past both of his perceptions and try and meet sabo in the middle

notes from doc go brrrrrrrrrrrrr

shanks was on ruusan because he discovered a rumored "force nexus" deep in the heart of the valley of the dead. he never makes it very far into the valley before being forced to turn back, but on one of these attempts, he does come away with a ruusan crystal. when he happens into the knowledge of ace's heritage, shanks gifts him the crystal since ace has an odd response to it that the rest of the crew (and shanks himself) do not. it later becomes the crystal that powers ace's lightsaber.

sabo's lightsaber (tho he has no idea) once belonged to famed jedi hero gold roger. it takes him two full days to bleed the kyber crystal red from the jade color it had been originally, which is a lot less time than it takes his fellow inquisitor peers. when his handiwork is scrutinized, though, it's determined to be the best success of the bunch. later, after he and ace leave the galaxy at large, sabo spends an extensive amount of time purifying the kyber crystal, intending to turn it back to its original state. instead, he ends up gleaning all the force poured into it, dark or light, good bad or otherwise. this turns the crystal white, and it's this white kyber crystal he gifts to ace, deciding he has no need for a lightsaber as it's a tool used by so-called "light side" and "dark side" users of the force that he wants seldom to do with. adding the crystal alongside ace's blue one makes the saber pale in color but sparkle in raw power. against sabo's wishes, ace stores the empty shell of his former lightsaber deep within the ship, just in case sabo ever needs it again.

during sabo's first solo mission as an inquisitor, he's sent to an isolated planet to kill a discovered force-sensitive. this was not originally his mission. it was monet's. he's given this mission to test his ability and his loyalty, and monet instead is assigned to dismiss her younger sister, sugar. it puts a rift between sabo and monet that follows them even past death, as sabo murders monet to protect ace's life and is then greeted with a malign aura that follows him around until he leaves the galaxy. when he goes back to hq with news of monet's death, he's treated with suspicion and is subject to sensory deprivation until he reveals a portion of the truth.

sabo is firmly tethered to the dark side of the force despite having a moral conscious, and because of this, he had moments where his grip on reality and the mortal plane slips between his fingers whenever he's in conflict with himself. he loses control, in simple terms, when his emotions get too high-strung for him to function properly, and this causes him to become something like a walking vessel for the dark side of the force. sabo tries to kill the emotional side of him with little success, and being around ace is a hazard considering love is as strong an emotion as it can get.

^ this further makes sabo an odd duck when it comes to force-sensitives because he doesn't even believe in the ideology of either side, dark or light. he spends the duration of the story seeking out a neutral aspect of the force, something untainted by the ideals of light and dark. it becomes his life's mission to break from the dark side's hold and exist as a "free agent" of sorts, tapping into the force as it was when it first came to be, and existing outside of the boundaries of either dark or light. the force just is, he expresses, and it's only by the intervention of living beings that religion was formed around it, mutated the concept of the force, and left unlocking the original, "neutral" aspect of it lost to time.

each inquisitor is a sith apprentice trained under a sith lord, and sabo is placed under the control of kanjuro. after he kills monet, monet's master lucci becomes obsessed with placing sabo under his thumb. kanjuro, monet, and lucci are sabo's main adversaries throughout the story, and the only ones he has a particularly hard time with keeping out of his head. kanjuro can sense when sabo is holding back because he himself is a master puppeteer that never reveals the full extent of his power. lucci is ruthless and views sabo as a threat more than as an adversary, using every opportunity granted to him to push sabo into the dirt, also trying to get sabo to snap and reveal what he's truly capable of. money remains an annoyance from day one, refusing to leave sabo to himself and always pushing to get him to slip up, in part so she can prove she's better than him and in part due to her sick sense of malice that just wants to see sabo dead at her feet.

while working deep within the heart of the rebellion, it eventually becomes apparent to ace that nothing in life matters to him except for sabo. he doesn't allow this to distract from his work, but his sudden lack of drive is noticeable. all he wants is to crumble the structure responsible for putting sabo in chains, to make a world where sabo can live freely, unbothered by persecution from agents on either side of the force. and when it becomes clear after the war is over that they can't get that by remaining in the galaxy, then ace has zero hesitation about leaving it all behind. he believes what sabo says about the force in their galaxy being tainted by faux ideology, and he also believes that sabo will never know peace from the dark side's clutches should they choose to remain. escaping to uncharted space in order to start anew is good for the both of them – for ace, who doesn't and has never really belonged, and for sabo, who has a firm hand in everything all at once and lacks his own agency when he's constantly being pulled in a new direction by forces out of his control. now that they have each other, they need to find comfort and true peace in existing alongside the force.

sabo has never known real, unconditional love in his entire lifetime, so it overwhelms him to be faced with ace's overabundance of love for him. he first has to come to terms with what it is he's feeling, and then has to drive back his newfound obsession to focus on the tasks at hand. he has a million different masks for a billion different situations, and he refuses to let ace be the reason everything crumbles around him. his efforts will not be in vain, but at the same time, his heart knows what it wants, and that is very much ace portgas in full. sabo loves ace back with his whole being, in an unreserved way ace can only imagine the feeling of. even in the middle of a galactic war, sabo finds the time to love ace with every fiber of his feeble existence, and for his dedication, ace grants sabo his whole heart in turn to do with as he would like. ace shows sabo how to love without restriction, how to be without restriction, and carries these feelings with him while the war rages around them both.

#op #writing #i do wonder sometimes that when i start posting actual writing for this verse #if it'll be engaging and interesting enough to draw in ppl who know zero abt sw #i mean i'll post even if i'm screaming into the void by myself #but i am curious if i'll have a target audience when the time comes

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chaoticgremlinwholikescheese · 1 year ago

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i hear youre writing a book? 👀 infodump NOW i must know. 🔪

YESSSSSS (there is so much so I'm putting it under a cut)

Ok!!! So, it follows two soldiers in the rainbow brigade during WWII. One is Theo, who's a medic, and the other is Max, who's an infantry man. They are gay and in love (and adorable about it).

Theo was raised in San Francisco. His parents are Austrian immigrants who escaped when they felt the rising antisemitism. They tell him stories about the operas they used to see in Berlin, the way the mountains looked with snow and how pretty the edelweiss were.

At home, he worked at a small kosher bakery. He had a few friends, but was never popular. He did well in school, especially in writing. He speaks english, yiddish, and german. He's a total nerd.

Fun note: he would give some of the extra meat to the stray cats in the neighborhood. His boss would scold him about it, but never stop him. At war, his mom writes him to tell Theo that his boss is making sure the cats are well fed.

He's always been a non-violent person. He gets bullied and beat up (often with blatant antisemitic reasons), but stays pacifistic. His parents always emphasized that.

His cousin, Johann, is twelve. His parents had enough money to get him out of Germany before it got too bad. He's been staying in Britain. The family finally gets enough money to bring him over to the US. He has no idea where his family is. He lost contact with them, and there's no guarantee that they are still alive. This will be important later!

One day, Theo is walking home from work. Some boys start harassing him. They beat him up, saying nazi stuff, and he hits a breaking point. He hits back. When he comes home that night, his father doesn't scold him. He washes his wounds and keeps silent.

The next day, Theo enlists. His parents try to talk him out of it. But they can see that something has changed in him. They know they can't stop him. They have a tear-filled goodbye at the train station, where Theo promises to write them. Before he leaves, Johann asks Theo to find his family. Theo promises he'll try.

At training, he's kind of the odd man out. He's never been athletic. He does his best to keep up, but he certainly doesn't excell. He applies to become a medic, and is quickly accepted. He only receives a few weeks of training before he's shipped out to England to be deployed.

When he's deployed to a platoon, he's shocked at how squalid everything is. The soldiers are lacking proper clothing, food, and supplies. He sits down at the mess tent to eat.

Because he's new, a bunch of the guys start to bully him. But one guy stands up for him. He introduces himself as Max. Max is everything Theo's not; he's blonde, blue eyed, athletic. He looks like the soldiers they put on propaganda posters.

Let me tell you about Max! Max was raised in Manhattan. His father was out of the picture, so his mom was working multiple jobs to keep them afloat. He spent his childhood being taken care of by the lady upstairs, who happened to be an ex-sex worker. She's basically his grandmother, and always takes care of him. She knows he's gay, and tells him about the gay scene in New York (cautioning him to be careful). He's raised knowing that he's not broken, but that he must remain hidden.

Fun fact: Max is dyslexic. No one has diagnosed him, and he just assumes he's stupid. In fact, he's pretty smart. This is also important later.

Max sees Theo and decides to take him under his wing. Eventually, the guys do too. Except for a couple, who are just kind of assholes. Anyway, Max and Theo become fast friends. And you know, feelings start to blossom. But both of them ignore it (because y'know. It's the 1940s).

But then one day, Max almost dies. A bullet just grazes his head. Had it been a centimeter to the left, it would have killed him. While Theo is cleaning Max's wound, Max can't hold it in anymore. He doesn't want to die without Theo knowing. They have a dramatic confession scene, kiss, the works.

Some of the guys know what's going on between them. They don't mention it. It's not unheard of for it to happen in the army (in fact it was historically pretty common). Now, for some head canons rattling around inside my skull:

Theo reads a ton. He brought some books with him. When he finishes them, he trades locals for new books. His pack may be heavier, but he doesn't mind. He often reads aloud to Max, and sometimes to the entire group. It's peaceful.

Theo can sing well. As a kid, he wanted to be an opera singer, like the ones his mother told him about. He sings while working. Sometimes, at night when they're able to relax, he sings for everyone. Max loves it.

Theo carries a gun with him (he's kind of forced into it). But it's never loaded.

Theo writes to Johann. He's genuinely trying to track down the boy's family, but it's war. He can only do so much. He also writes to his parents, assuring them that everything is okay. He presses some edelweiss between the pages of his journal to send back to his parents.

Max writes home to a friend of his, Margaret. They've been close since childhood. Max's mom assumes they'll get married. Little does she know, they're gay in opposite directions. Margaret is living with her 'close female friend'. Max writes to her about Theo. It's one of the only places he can be truly open about it (although not too open. Censors and what not).

Theo doesn't smoke. He uses his rationed cigarettes to trade. Or he gives them away.

Theo's dog tags have an H, for hebrew. Many other Jewish soldiers changed it in case they were captured. Theo refused. He won't hide his Jewishness, even if it kills him.

Since Theo can speak multiple languages, he kind of becomes the unofficial translator for his unit.

Max has a heart of gold. He's basically a golden retriever in human form. He's always trying to help where he can.

Theo loves klezmer music. His parents always played klezmer records at home.

Max likes to dance. Theo can't dance, but Max drags him onto the dance floor anyway.

Theo can sleep anywhere. He's a nap-extraordinaire. Max is more of a night owl.

Theo likes golems. One day, he makes a small golem out of the mud and dirt in his fox hole. He uses his knife to carve EMET into the forehead of the golem.

Theo wants to start a small garden one day. Max can't garden at all, he has the opposite of a green thumb. But he's happy to eat whatever Theo grows.

Max taps his leg when he's nervous. Theo picks at his fingers.

Max is usually the one to initiate touch. Theo isn't very good about asking for what he needs.

Theo doesn't drink, but sometimes Max does. When Max gets drunk he gets super clingy and smiley.

Theo blushes like crazy. He can't hide his emotions.

Max's favorite color is yellow. He never saw much yellow in NYC, everything was grey. Theo reminds him of the color yellow.

The two of them often cuddle for heat. It's normal, so no one questions it. But the Theo and Max are grateful for any time they can spend together.

Theo reads comics. He had a crush on Captain America. And coincidentally, Max kind of looks like Cap....

Max is kind of a himbo, he's literally just so kind. Ray of sunshine.

Now, some scene ideas that won't leave me alone:

Theo and Max have a moment of down time. They watch the stars. One asks if what they're doing is wrong. Not because it's queer, but because they're at war. They're giving each other a weakness. The other assures them it's alright, that this is as much a strength as it is a weakness.

On Rosh Hashanah, Max manages to steal some apples from a nearby farm. He trades a local farmer for a small amount of honey. Theo almost cries when Max shows him. They celebrate together, ignoring the echo of gunshots in the distance. The honey is sweet on their tongues.

I wrote about this yesterday but I'm putting it here again. During a battle, Theo and a soldier get hit with a mortar blast. They accidentally switch helmets. The soldier in Theo's helmet gets killed, and Max sees it. He thinks it's Theo. It's not, but it scares the shit out of him. Later he breaks down about it. They hold each other, and make promises there's no guarantee they can keep.

Max is protective over Theo. Theo won't really stand up for himself, not wanting to make more issues. So Max does it for him. One day he punches a fellow soldier after he makes an anti-semitic comment to Theo.

One day, they come upon a river. It's freezing, but no one cares. It's fresh water. They take advantage of it to bathe. Theo waits until everyone is done to swim. Him and Max swim together, taking a moment of blissful peace among everything else.

Max comes upon a stray dog. He ends up taking care of it while they're stationed for a bit, and names the dog Frankie. But when they're ordered to move out he knows he can't take Frankie with him. Frankie follows behind them as they march. They come upon a farm, and some kids run over to pet Frankie. Max tells them to take good care of the dog, and has an emotional goodbye. He tries to pretend he doesn't care, but Theo can tell he's hurting.

Now, this scene is much larger:

They come upon a now-abandoned concentration camp. The Nazis have abandoned it as they're pushed farther back. Everyone is horrified, but Theo is especially impacted. These are his people. They could be his family members. This could be Johann's family.

He speaks in yiddish to different prisoners. They tell him their stories. He listens, cries with them, prays with them. He offers medical care where he can. He works tirelessly. Eventually, Max tells him he needs to stop. He's exhausted. He can't help them if he doesn't take care of himself. Theo tries to fight him on it, but realizes he's right.

They go back to the place they're staying. Max holds Theo while he cries. There's such immense grief, the kind that carves itself into your ribs. And Max is helpless to stop it. He also knows that he can never fully understand. These aren't his people the way they are Theo's.

In the next few days, Theo does everything he can to help the prisoners. He also asks around about Johann's family, but to no avail. He knew it was hopeless but had to try. He doesn't write Johann to tell him about what he's found. He wants the boy to hang on to hope, no matter how futile it may be.

Locals are forced to come in and help bury the bodies. They moan and complain, and Theo can't feel any sort of pity for them. They knew what was happening. One man refuses to work, and starts spouting Nazi shit. Theo snaps. He pulls out his gun, which is always unloaded, but the man doesn't know that. Max stops Theo, pulling him away. Theo confesses that if the gun were loaded, he would have used it.

Eventually, they're forced to move out. Theo won't know the full extent until later. He mourns for so many lives. It's never revealed whether or not Johann's family survives. That's up to the reader to decide.

After the war, Max and Theo move in together. Little by little, they help each other heal. They'll never be the same people they were before the war. But they can learn to love the people they are now.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR LETTING ME RANT ABOUT THIS IT'S LIVING IN MY BRAIN RENT FREE

#harvey's oc stuff #I need to do so much research but it will be so worth it

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