#i was trying to figure out how this would work between two different species of anthropomorphic bugs

[marshmallowloves]

did you know this is how silverfish mate. swear to god

[lazycats-stuff]

Hello, I hope you are doing alright! So I can have a kinda cross over idea for a teen male reader. a mix of Batfam and star wars. The reader is a Jedi padawan that had to flee towards the Earth after the Jedi were forced into hiding and the rest is up to you.

Oh... It's been years since I watched Star Wars, but wiki is here to help. If there is something inaccurate, my apologies. Also, I had to put this iconic line in here.

Summary: (Y/N) is a Jedi who ran.

Warnings:

Earth wasn't a bad experience for (Y/N). After all, he has seen many different species and has seen a lot of things that would make everyone's skin crawl. It took a while for him to adjust to life here on Earth. It was... Interesting more than anything, but he did miss his fellow Jedis.

The Sith have taken over and every single Jedi was forced into hiding and they were forced to run. (Y/N) was a padawan, well, still is, but he doesn't really have any formal training, but he managed to pick up a few materials to study.

Padawans ran the farthest and hid extremely well. They had to, they would be the first targets for the Sith to kill them. (Y/N) for some reason actually loved Earth. Here, humans were a little bit weird, but he found success here as a writer.

He has always loved writing and then humans here liked it? He had no problem writing. He wrote under a pseudonym and he really enjoyed. Soon, he found a part time job in a really big tech company called Wayne Enterprises.

He worked hard there, despite it being a part time job. He enjoyed and he offered some insight to technology. Lucius Fox noticed him quickly and took his under his wing almost automatically. Such talent as Lucius would say, can't go to waste. He would be feeling guilty beyond belief.

There he met his now boyfriend Bruce Wayne.

Bruce and (Y/N) met when Bruce walked in the laboratory, wanting to see Lucius about something, but he found (Y/N) instead. (Y/N) and Bruce talked until Lucius came. He smirked as he saw something between the two.

He waited for a few moments before coming in, introducing (Y/N) once more to Bruce. Then, Lucius took Bruce and left (Y/N) to work alone in the lab. (Y/N) didn't think much of those conversations. He didn't look for anything exciting. It was just in his code as a padawan.

But Bruce wanted something more. (Y/N) was slightly conflicted about it with his training and everything he has been taught. But there was something about Bruce that made him... Well, (Y/N) had a few hot nights with himself after a meeting with Bruce that day.

That has been going on for a few months until Bruce has decided to man up and bite the bullet to ask (Y/N) out on a date. He really wanted this, so he had to be very careful and not scare him away. It took Bruce a few months to realize that he was bisexual so he said screw it.

He will ask him out. Even if (Y/N) says no, then that's life.

You could only imagine Bruce's surprise when (Y/N) said yes to the date. Bruce was shocked, but happy that (Y/N) has accepted it. Bruce told (Y/N) he would pick him up at his place and to be ready by 7 pm. Bruce was never so nervous in his life.

His kids noticed, how could they not? But Alfred told them that there will be hell to pay if they try to do something to (Y/N) and Bruce and if they try something to jeopardize the date.

Of course, they won't disobey their actual authority figure in the house so they waited with Alfred. Everyone was wondering whether or not he was in love and they have been wondering about (Y/N). What was he like? Is he cute? How come Bruce asked a guy? Is (Y/N) a gold digger?

All of those important questions, you know. They have to look out for their dad you know? Sure, Bruce is no fool, but still. And maybe, just maybe, they were bored with their lives.

Bruce and (Y/N)? Oh, they had a wonderful time. Bruce and (Y/N) talked about a lot of stuff. Bruce just wanted to know (Y/N) even more. He really did. Something was just... Bruce may have fallen in love.

And (Y/N)? Oh dear God, he fell hard. But still, he was scared to break the code. But he already got bonded to Gotham. It was a very peculiar city to him and he loved it. He didn't have it in his heart to ever leave this city. More so to leave Bruce. There was something about Bruce that (Y/N) found interesting.

Bruce drove (Y/N) back home that night and (Y/N) meditated before going to bed. Bruce, on the other hand, had patrol to go on. And let me tell you, the kids weren't letting up. The entire patrol was chaotic and Bruce under a line of fire from his sons.

It was just tiring and... Bruce was happy that he was patient with his sons. He really was.

Bruce introduced (Y/N) to his sons after a year of dating. He wanted to take it slowly and to see how he would react. Not everyone wants to date a man, a father of four more precisely. He told (Y/N) that he had kids on the first date. It was to make sure that there were no misunderstandings.

The introduction went very well. Everyone loved how (Y/N) was calm and relaxed, an oasis so to speak. A complete opposite of Bruce. Damian loved the way he meditated. Damian already called dibs on (Y/N). Tim said that he would borrow him for tech stuff. Jason simply gravitated due to the fact that he was calm and so... Balanced. Dick simply loved the fact that (Y/N) was a calm person.

But nothing is ever perfect and nothing lasts forever.

(Y/N) had to come clean to Bruce. He had to tell him about his Jedi side. He couldn't lie to him about it and he didn't like that something so heavy on his shoulders.

Bruce was worried when (Y/N) told him that they need to talk to him. Bruce could see that it was something serious and he thought that they were going to break up.

He didn't understand the word Jedi. What? Bruce thought that (Y/N) was crazy. Then (Y/N) used the Force and showed him his lightsaber. Bruce had to sit down for a second. Okay... What the hell is going on?

(Y/N) told him everything about Jedi Order and the Sith. He told him about the Sith taking over and forcing Jedi's into hiding. Bruce processed it all and asked him about leaving Earth. It was a valid question.

(Y/N) told him he couldn't leave because he got attached. He loved Bruce and his sons and that he couldn't leave. Even as if gets safe. Bruce hugged his boyfriend tightly, giving him a kiss. After calming himself down he also told (Y/N) that he has something to confess.

(Y/N) didn't expect to hear that Bruce Wayne is Batman. And that his kids are the birds, but hey... At lease they were honest with one another. Bruce and (Y/N) shared a hug that day, happy that they got honest.

And that's what led to this moment between the two of them, in the middle of the night. It was a difficult patrol for those involved and Bruce just wanted some comfort. (Y/N) had to step in with his Force and everyone was just exhausted.

(Y/N) also had to come clean to the kids and they all wanted to see more of his Force, but he was too tired to even think, let alone use the Force. Bruce ushered everyone to go to the showers and just go to sleep.

(Y/N) and Bruce shared the shower, making sure that they are okay and unharmed. (Y/N) allowed himself to be lead to the bed to be changed by Bruce, who understood that this was not something that (Y/N) is used to. (Y/N) isn't used to operating every night.

(Y/N) reached out for Bruce who happily took his hand into his and squeezed, letting him now he is here. (Y/N) sighed as he relaxed, Bruce getting behind him and wrapping his arms around his boyfriend.

" Sleep honey, you deserve it. " Bruce murmured into the back of (Y/N)'s neck. (Y/N) nodded and just relaxed... The night wasn't really over yet.

All four sons came in at same time, seemingly having a bad dream at the same time. (Y/N) and Bruce welcomed them in. (Y/N) just got squished between them all and thankfully, Bruce had a big bed

For some reason, he wouldn't have it any other way.

[bonefall]

Hi! How would you draw a tool-evolved cat paw?

Aeons ago I wrote some speculative biology thoughts on what a tool-focused cat would begin to look like, and mentioned the way that a caw's paw might evolve. I can try to draw it out as a sketch; but fair warning that I put my art style points into cartoony anime stuff SO you're not gonna get a realistic drawing lmao

Evolution doesn't "think." It's many changes over generations that snowball into bigger ones. So I tried to look at WHAT exactly is happening between an animal with less sophisticated tool use (chimp) and one that COMPLETELY relies on tools (human) to predict where the cat's paw would end up in a few thousand generations.

Please note! My paw would still be a "link" between the ancestor, and something even more reliant on tool use. This proposed species would still be 100% capable of doing what the cats in-canon do, like hunt alone. It's for a feline species that is tool-ADAPTED, not tool-RELIANT.

(In that way, it's more comparable to, say, a lemur and a chimp. But lemur palm refs were hard to find and I did this quick because I've already thought about it.)

This paw would exist in-tandem with a "tool tooth;" A V-shaped gap in the jawline that a single fang would nestle into. Early tool-using felines would likely use their mouth to "break" or "shear" their crafts, leading to broken teeth that would make them less successful. So there would be a lot of evolutionary pressure to have better, stronger teeth.

Evolution doesn't do "one thing at a time," so if you happened to port yourself into a group of these cats and watch them craft stuff, you'd see them using their mouths as well as their paws!

Finger Size + Tool Claw

When you see real cats batting stuff around and manipulating things, and when you look at canon where they like to "hook things on a claw," it's usually the index "finger" they favor. In fact, they do a LOT of "poking," even when a cat bats at something they seem to mostly explore with the tip of their paw.

So I figure that would actually be a big difference between this species and humans.

Unlike us, who usually have our middle finger as the longest (though there are exceptions) so we can "stabilize" the things we grab, I'd give these guys a "Tool Claw" which is not involved in grappling at all. It's longer, more deeply grooved, but also more fragile than the "hunting" claws.

When at rest, the Tool Claw would stick out from the rest of the foot, straight upwards. The fur is able to "sheathe" the other three, but the index's would be too long to be fully hidden.

Because one of those fingers is now mostly taken out of combat, the pinkie would probably thicken up to compensate. Another difference from the human hand. I can imagine that if the trend continues, they might end up supporting their full frontal weight on the pinkie pad to free up the other fingers for tool use.

(But evolution's not always predictable! They might end up becoming more "back heavy" like raccoons, or rely on the invention of shoe/gloves, or just abandon silent hunting all together to become tool-reliant.)

Paw Pad Changes

Cats use the pads on their paws to move silently. As long as the species is relying on silently stalking prey, they will need to have these pads in contact with the ground to be good hunters.

So instead of the digital pads sliding down to create the "top" of the palm, I figured the metacarpal pad would split in two. So now there's a snug, dipped "shape" with which they could nestle an object into as they work with it, but also there is ALWAYS still pad in contact with the ground.

The amount of fur in-between the bottom (metacarpal) and top (supercarpal) pads probably just depends on culture and genetics. It wouldn't really have enough of an impact on the paw to be selected for to be furry or hairless.

I can imagine some groups being weird about it and thinking it should be shaved or braided or something, lmao. Or cats who live in muddy environments clipping it for hygiene reasons.

[ohnoitsz1m]

Whatever. Combine Barney AU concepts. But also he's a furry because I just can't be bothered to draw people rn

Not by any means an original idea but I've seen so little of it and what IS around isn't very detailed or isn't finished so. I'll gladly add to the pile of unfinished stuff ^_^ I may not be good at keeping up with my AUs but I try to be thorough with them while I'm working on em

Okay continued rambling below final warning also there's a maskless combine down here so like .. HL:A spoilers and general body horror (?) below ↓

Anyways so. Barney is like. A figurehead. Of sorts. Very much a "hey look the combine is actually really great and basically your best bet at survival. We promise not to take away your humanity completely just let us do a little surgery and genetic modification it's totally okay we promise." Type deal. He exists for propaganda basically.

His mask is separated into different parts because well that's just how the design ended up. It's hard to translate shit to furry bodies T_T. The mask snaps together to make a fairly airtight seal since it is technically a respirator,,, but comes off in two pieces. External ears are lame you don't need em when you have a mask and implants that give you better hearing than any other member of your species. Stuff em in the mask they're not made for your comfort anyways.

He's got kind of a modified version of the Ordinal uniform because 1 I really like the HL:A Combine designs and 2 it was the easiest to make look like his Black Mesa uniform. Just for funzies

He's still "Barney" he just got his brain tampered with. And maybe a liiiittle extra stuff. It's fiine. But uh yeah he's lacking a lot of the visible modifications that the combine soldiers usually have because if this thing started trying to tell you how cool it is to join the combine nobody would listen.

So they had to compromise. A little. They let Barney have most of his personality and a good deal of his memories, juust modified to better suit their needs.

The How and the Why of this AU aren't quite set in stone yet but the basic gist of it is:

Barney initially joined Civil Protection early on as a double agent for the Resistance, buuuuut due to prolonged separation from the resistance, propaganda aaaand tampering with the food and water supply he started turning more to the other side. He was still working as a double agent but he started to get sloppy and became more sympathetic towards the combine. Eventually the Combine figured out what he was doing and fucked with his brain for funzies or whatever. Suddenly not only is the combine cracking down harder on rebel outposts, there's a new guy appearing in between breencasts!

[tinydefector]

Hi Tiny! (First time I’ve asked to this blog, or any blog in general) Not really a request, feel free to not acknowledge this, these are simply some thoughts inspired by the Human effects series that I wanted to share with you!

For one, human doctors who are passionate about how the human body works finding cybertronian forums and trying to communicate info on how human bodies work like

- start of dialogue -

Ilovecatssupreme: no @/jewelsmoneygoldgalore(or whatever swindles username would be) that is NOT how the human body works!!

Don’t try (insert sex act here), you would KILL them!

And @/revuppowerup humans do NOT HAVE CLOACAS!! Guys please we aren’t birds we have two seperate holes

[insert fun fact about human anatomy that would probably scare the shit out of a cybertronian here]

- end of dialogue -

I just think it’d be hillarious to see a human doctor who is appalled going “guys, that’s not how that works!! It works like this-“ and proceeds to explain the human body and our parts

On a similar note, thought / scenario; a human doctor part of Y/n’s crew possibly being interested in learning more about cybertronian biology but not wanting to come off rude or overly personal with questions, especially with the cultural differences between the species they may not wanna ask things that come off weird or creepy, would possibly get along with brainstorm over wanting to know for research purposes!!

Another thought that comes to mind, cybertronians finding human forums with human monster fuckers goin: yeah sure I’d bang a cybertronian, some of their ambassadors are hot / Optimus prime kinda hot

It just seems funny, like I just imagine some people from different parts of the world like; “how do cybertronians flirt? I got this person who buys my supplies and i wanna get them to pay more” (swindle vs their supplier who can seduce who for more profit first/j I jest i jest)

But I think it’d be neat to see cybertronians figuring out that a portion of humanity is definitely interested and wants to know how to get with them safely(optional)

Also just me saying this, Nadia, mentioned on ‘Chaos on board’ is so far one of my favorite original(?) characters in the human effects series, I definitely wanna find out where her attempts at getting free drinks from swerve go

Either way loving the series so far! I can’t wait to see where it goes next, wether or not it continues considered,

Remember to take care of yourself, take breaks, the usual! <33

Oh the chaos that would insure. Both medical personnel from both sides having to sit down with their crew or people and go. " Please do not fuck/frag the cybertronian /human, we do not have the knowledge or resources to know if it's safe"

But also watching the scientists and medics working together to see what is actually possible and viable. Have to run fluid tests and samples to see if it's possible for a safe relationship between a human and cybertronian. But also the sheer shock when both sides find out that their 'equipment' is very similar.

And oh, the forums, there are so many. So are simple as just polls of 'would you frag a human?. Yes or no' then there's the secret polls shared between friends groups with a list of mech or human's to see who everyone seems to have a thing for.

It eventually leads to anonymous role play groups over fantasy, fanfiction sites, informational sites, and even rare hook up sites. Sharing information over their species. And God forbid when the hook up sites get around on both sides.

But can you imagine any medical staff getting a call for help and showing up to someone quarters to find a human and bot stuck together. Medics being baffled, shocked, impressed, horrified, and disappointed.

I'm planning on keeping human effects as the small series I've got going but if you guys want another spin off on it heading more in the horny direction I'm happy to make another. Probably call it Sites unknown or something like that.

Slowly working on the next part of human effects and I'm glad you guys like the crew had alot of fun writing them, and I might do a little spin off fic of Nadia and Swerve in the future in people really want it.

[oonajaeadira]

Leave Off Your Wandering pt. 1: Spring

Fandom: The Last of Us (TV)/ Joel Miller

Pairing: eventually Joel Miller x f!reader

Reader: Adult female. Old enough to have been an adult on Outbreak Day. Wyoming born and bred. Sheep farmer, easy-going but confident and self-sufficient. Likes to sing, not a great cook. Childhood friend of Maria. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n.

Rating: T for now

Warnings: Mostly just Ellie being a swear mouth. There’s a lamb birthing. Fluff…this fic is sloooooow.

Summary: Joel and Ellie return to Jackson and you introduce them to the sheep.

A/N: Set after season 1 and then diverges. Does not acknowledge the existence of further plot/seasons, although I claim the right to steal ideas and bits of cannon from the second game if I want to for plot reasons later.

Here it is, y’all. Not much happens. It’s just life in Jackson. There’s more Ellie here than Joel, but that’s because I figure Joel wouldn’t even turn his head toward someone if Ellie didn’t love her first. I’m just setting the stage for healing, for giving Ellie and Joel a nice home and good things. Nothing happens. Life is slower and softer here. Welcome to the Roost.

You were there when Tommy Miller was ushered–bloodied and busted–by the patrol through the gates of Jackson. The hard steel of Maria’s eyes through the slit between her hat and kerchief found you in the crowd and told you with a glance, I know what I’m doing. Meet me at home.

“Yeah, he’s one of them,” you’d confirmed to her later that afternoon as one of the Roostlings tended to his split lip and eyebrow in her living room. “I say we leave him to the coyotes.”

You’d trusted them once upon a time, the Fireflies. But your experiences with them were a deep education in morals and humanity. What you’ve come to believe is that everyone has an equal right to life and compassion and protection. And you might not have found that in yourself if the Fireflies hadn’t come through your papa’s ranch touting that sentiment but living up to a totally different set of rules, one where everyone had an equal expendability for the greater good of the survival of the species.

Fuck the species. If humans were meant to die out, then they would. Nothing is permanent. Not civilization or any one species, not even the mountains that surround your town–even the wind and rain would take them someday. All you can do is be good to those here and now, nurture what you have, and mourn what you lose with a little humility and gratefulness that you got to enjoy it in the first place. There’s already enough suffering. Why add to it? Or prolong it? Just let us all wane with kindness and compassion. Spend our days eating good food and caring for sheep, wildflowers swaying in the sunshiney breeze and stars twinkling at night–

“You go somewhere, Meadowlark?” Tommy teases as he passes you a plate of honey-glazed carrots, bean salad, and egg souffle, breaking you out of your reverie. You’ve come to prefer his tamales, but Maria wanted to use up some of last year’s supplies, so this Sunday’s family meal is harvest plate.

“I was just thinking about the day you came to Jackson.”

Leaning back in the wooden dining room chair, dark eyes glinting in the candlelight, his smug little smile is insufferable. “You wanted my hide on a fence.”

“Stretched and tanned. Could have been useful for patching boots at least.”

“What was it changed your mind again? Oh yeah. Weatherproofing the storehouse, building out your Roost, constructing a working loom–”

“It was the cornbread. And maybe the tamales.” Keeping a deadpan glare between you while stabbing a carrot and taking a bite, you point your fork at your best friend. “And you’re good to my girl here.”

Maria chuckles through a mouthful, shaking her head down at her plate like a mother trying not to let two warring siblings know how amusing they are. “I regret everything. And nothing.” The same dark eyes that glinted with reservation on Tommy’s first day hold back none of her big, tough heart as they seek him out now. “But speaking of mending shoes…you reminded me. Tommy’s brother came by while you were at the Roost.”

Your fork, halfway to your mouth, drifts back down to the plate. “Joel? Here? How’d he find you?”

Tommy answers carefully, chewing slowly, thoughtfully. “He didn’t, really. Patrol found him. Him and a teenager. They were looking for the Fireflies because…the girl belongs to them or something. Used my last known location and headed out west.”

“From Boston? On foot? And he survived?”

“All the stories I’ve told you about him and that’s what surprises you?”

Tommy’d been an open book from day one, answering Maria’s questions about his background, the QZs he’d lived in, why he felt the need to leave the Fireflies. As they’d grown closer and he joined in your family dinners, there were stories traded from the beforetimes, about his construction business with his brother, how his niece’s death changed them both, the things they’d done to good people just to survive. He held nothing back and owned up to his mistakes. Although he often blamed Joel for actions he willingly took part in. Still, admitted that he used his army training to teach Joel to shoot and unwittingly turned him into a killing machine.

But even so, he missed him. You could see that. Tommy missed his big brother. Wished it could be different, that he could have changed him, brought Joel back from his numbness before it was too late. Best he could do was run away from his regret, swing the other way and try to even out all his wrongs…but then found out that the Fireflies weren’t the answer to any of it. And despite all Tommy had admitted to doing, it was this ability to forgive, to take some fraction of responsibility, and to shelter his light through the darkness that Maria took a shine to.

You involuntarily glance toward the living room, toward the mantle where there’s a polaroid of a ruggedly handsome thirty-five year old man and a girl in fluffy brown pigtails. “Shit, Tommy. You think he’ll head back here?”

“Said he was counting on it.”

There’s a somber silence at the table as everything comes to a halt. Maria’s not exactly chilly, just… reserved. Ah. They’ve already been talking about it.

“Should I be congratulating you on a family reunion or….?”

The sudden winter of their discontent warms to a spring as your old friend goes back to her plate. “Well, it’s yet to be determined. Of course he’s welcome here, but not if he brings trouble.”

“He’s not going to bring trouble, sweetheart. You should have seen him that night we talked. He’s got demons chasing him, but he’s tired of running. He needs good people. We’re good people.”

“Unless he finds those Fireflies and they take him in first,” you interject. “Seems to me they’re just like everyone else, and a man who’s that good at mindless, morally-gray protection is a valuable asset.”

That sets him laughing, breaking the tension, throwing you unexpectedly off-guard after you’d just darkly insulted his kin. “Joel? Join the Fireflies? Not a chance in heaven, hell, or all the shit between! He’ll be back. He’s an asshole, but he’s my brother and I know him. He’ll be back. You’ll see.”

________

The day after coming back from your next shift at the Roost, you find yourself ass to the mud on the street outside the Jackson stables. Two bodies–yours, and that of a larger child–rounding a corner in colliding trajectories. You’d been fiddling with the buttons on your walkie, not watching where you were going, your boots taking you home the way they’ve done for years.

But she’d been moving fast–not running, but walking with that speed that teenagers are only capable of when they’re stomping off in a probable fit of angry hormones.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” she curses, diving for your wayward walkie and the batteries that spit out all over the ground as you get yourself up and your ass dusted off. “Here,” she says, clumsily dumping a cluster of plastic and tech into your hands. “I hope I didn’t break it. Are you like one of the marshals here or something?”

A quick rummage through the jumble in your hands shows no damage and you start pumping the batteries back in, casting a glance around for the compartment cover. “Not quite.” Seeing what you need a few feet away on the ground, you nod at it. “Would you mind getting that cover, miss…er… You know, I don’t think I’ve seen you around here.”

“Ellie.” She watches with interest as you clip the walkie back together and push the activation switch. “I’ve never seen one that small.”

“It’s actually an old kid’s toy. Meadowlark to Whippoorwill,” you mumble into the walkie, your lips nearly touching the plastic speaker, ���just had a butterfingers. Testing the walkie.”

“What’s a butterfingers? Are those like code names?” Ellie asks.

Her eyes–black and sparkling–hold your own, a tense moment for both of you as you both hope for different reasons that the machine still works. “Something like that.”

“Whippoorwill here,” comes the voice through the can. “I hear you. Actually need a favor. Send a change of clothes through patrol tomorrow. The big one finally popped and she was a gusher.”

“Damn! I missed it by one damn day? Shit. One or two?”

“Three!”

“Uuuugh. Well that’s just fuckin’ fantastic. Glad you were there to catch ‘em, Whip. This is gonna be a good year. I think Hank’s on the round over there tomorrow. I’ll go pawing through your closet and send some things along.” Starting off in the direction of your friend’s house, you wave back at your new acquaintance. “See ya, Ellie. Nice to meet you. Take it slow around those corners, ‘hear?”

_____

The run-in wouldn’t have been memorable but for the next night when you show up at Maria and Tommy’s place for family dinner, carrying a warm basket of muffins, happy and singing to yourself as you dance in through the door…and come to a stop when four pairs of dark eyes turn to you from the dining room.

Guests? At family dinner? A man and–“Hey there…Ellie, right? Fancy meeting you here…”

The girl smiles from her seat at the table, waving with a hand covered by the sleeve of her raglan top. “Hi.”

“Oh. You know each other,” Maria says, lifting the basket out of your hands. “Then you must have met–”

No. You haven’t met him. But he stands up from the table, wiping a hand on his jeans and extending it to receive yours. Manners. Polite. That’s unexpected knowing the little that you know. His hair is gray now and he’s a bit softer around the middle, more gravity in the cheeks. His ample shoulders have taken weight over the years–literal and emotional.

No, you haven’t met him. But you know him. You’d know those eyes anywhere; studied them in an old polaroid on the mantle just over there. Soft but strong. A good person from another lifetime who was scarred deeply by this one. Someone who cut his soul right down to the quick in order to keep others alive. Those eyes may be a bit more haunted now, but they’re still just as keen.

You never stopped to think that you might someday meet them in person.

“Hi. You must be Joel.” _____

It’s the girls at the table that notice your interest. If left unchecked, your eyes wander across and start to examine the gorilla grip on the fork, the protective hunch over the plate, the beard that’s been newly trimmed and hair recently shaped up (by Maria, no doubt), the scars across the knuckles…temple…nose…

The man’s been through hell and back since the polaroid.

Ellie though…is unscathed, unmarred.

Protected.

And observant. She finally smirks the third time she catches you staring.

Maria’s knee bumps yours to reign you in. He’s not a threat, her eyes say.

This isn’t the time to correct her assumptions, so you put all your focus on your plate or whomever is speaking, whatever isn’t Joel Miller.

“Tomorrow’s work is barrier wall on zone two,” Tommy chews both his words and his venison at the same time. “Once we’ve got that fortified, internal barrier can come down and we can incorporate it as a new section, start safely upgrading the housing there. It’s got a school facility. Be nice to restore that for its intended use instead of using the old record store.”

“Sounds good, count me in,” Joel grunts once he’s politely swallowed his mouthful. “Just put a hammer in my hand and point me at a wall.”

“Just like the good days, eh, brother?”

“Sure.”

“I could swing a hammer” Ellie pipes up.

“You can go to school.”

She scowls darkly at Joel. “Your face can go to school.”

“Ellie–”

“Whippoorwill to Meadowlark.” The walkie on your hip crackles to life and you swallow quickly as all forks stop and all eyes swing to you.

“Meadowlark here. I hear you.”

“Wanted to let you know that all three lambs are hale and made it through the night. Mom’s a little restless, but they’re all safe in the enclosure and I’m doing a sit-in.”

“Thanks for the update. Good to know. You’re in the lead.”

“I know, but Chickadee comes in next week and I bet she takes it. Anyway. Thanks for the clothes and the book, I knew I forgot something. I’ll leave you be unless there’s any change.”

“I’m giving the walkie to Chickadee tomorrow, so you’ll have to egg her on.”

“You know I will. Whippoorwill out.”

Once the radio goes silent, there’s a mix of reactions around the table; pleasant surprise from Maria and Tommy, Joel on guard, his eyes flicking between you and the others waiting to know what it all means, and Ellie’s head twisting around, trying to catch up.

“Three?” Maria trills. “You didn’t tell me there were three new lambs!”

“Yeah. Just missed them. Whip got to do the honors–”

“The big one popped! She was a gusher!” Ellie smiles as the table turns to her. “You were talking about sheep pooping out babies?”

“Ellie, manners. People are eating.” Her guardian glares at her before checking in sheepishly with Maria.

“It’s fine,” you make her excuse. “Ellie head us over the walkies yesterday and–”

“So what’s with the code names?”

The girl is practically vibrating out of her chair with curiosity.

This time it’s your turn to be scrutinized by the newcomers; two pairs of brown eyes hungry for answers.

So you explain while you pick at your dinner.

“There’s a wide acreage outside the settlement walls, on the west patrol loop. We have a good herd of sheep out there. Can’t raise ‘em all in town, there’s not enough room or grazing, although if the winter’s bad, we’ll bring ‘em in to some barns over at the old ranch house.

“But there’s four of us shepherds, each one taking a week at a time out there. Doesn’t require much. Sheep do the hard work of eating and sleeping and rearing their lambs. We do the shearing and milking, send back daily gallons with the patrols–that’ll be the cheese on your salad there. But mostly just make sure they’re healthy and taken care of. Scare off wolves and coyotes if they come sniffing.”

“You go out there alone?” She asks, wide-eyed.

“Sure. It’s pretty secure and the patrols check the fences every day. The Roost is added security for us, since it’s elevated.”

“What’s the Roost?”

“Ah, it’s kind of a fancy treehouse?”

“Thanks to me, I’ll add,” Tommy pipes up. “When I got here, it was nothing more than a shack on a platform. This one here had a target on my back until the day she had four stout walls and a pretty little porch. Won her over pretty quick.”

“Stick built?” Joel asks, shoving a fingerling potato in his mouth.

“Yeah. Reinforced. A-frame. Even pulled windows out of a lodge.”

“Smart.”

Ellie obviously has no time for Construction Corner with the Millers. “You don’t get scared?”

There’s something about her eager wonder that grabs your attention, pulls you in tight, makes you want to answer whatever question she’s got. “There’s nothing to be scared of. I mean, not for us anyway. All of us Roostlings grew up around here. We know the sounds of the animals at night, know they’re more scared of us than we are of them. We’ve seen infected out in the wilds, sure, know what to listen for, but we also know how to defend ourselves if the barriers don’t hold…and they always hold.

“But mostly, it’s relaxing. Quiet. Slow. Time to think. There’s nothing better than a night suspended in the treetops, with the sheep below and the moon and the stars above….”

Joel has stopped chewing, a wistfulness showing from underneath his gruff mask. There’s something thrilling about catching his attention.

A goofy smile cracks Ellie’s face and she giggles, reaches out to punch him on the arm. “Did you hear that? Sheep and stars. It’s everything you dreamed of, buddy!”

“I didn’t mean…” he winces at her brute force and shoots a guarded look at you. “I think I’ll leave the sheep to the shepherds. You said you grew up here?”

It’s the first thing he’s really said to you unprompted and now that you have an excuse to look him in the eye, it’s actually hard to do. “Ah, yeah. Family sheep ranch down in…well, down-river. Not far. Maria too.”

“Spent a lot of time at that ranch growing up,” she smiles. “You and your sister were bad influences.”

“Is that why you up and left us for the big city?”

Maria laughs. “Had to get out before I spent my whole life here. Whoops.”

Joel reins the conversation back. “So you haven’t spent any time in the QZs?”

“No. Holed up at the ranch with…with some folks,” you say as Maria looks away. “Then Jackson was starting up and it was safer here, so I brought in my flock.”

“Hmm,” he grunts, reading your expression, catching the slight omission in your speech. Recognizing survivor’s talk.

You hold his gaze for a few seconds, wondering what your answer is worth to him. You’ve heard of the quarantine zones, knew how rough and miserable they could be. Tommy and Maria both had their stories and you count yourself lucky for never having been unfortunate enough to have to scrabble for existence in one of them. Would have languished and suffocated. Wouldn’t have been able to breathe without the big sky, or sleep without the mountains keeping watch…

Does he think you naive? Or that–wrongly–you’ve had it easy? Does your answer tip the scales in his opinion for the worse?

And what about him? Has the QZ made him dangerous? Hard? Dishonest? Tommy always said he was an asshole…

“Can I see it?” Ellie interjects. “The Roost. Can I go out there with you?”

The question is surprising in more ways than one; most noticeably in its boldness and by your shock in a kid getting so excited about sheep. “Uh, yeah, sure. I mean, that’s why there’s a bunk bed. We bring folks out there all the time. But you have to be willing to work while you’re out there.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Joel grumbles with a tight jaw, stabbing a potato with his fork.

Maria had explained to you the circumstances of Joel carting the girl across the country. To get her that far unscathed? To get her to the Fireflies… He must not have found them or he would have come back alone. Maybe they were dead.

Not that that would be a bad thing.

The girl is smart. Better off here.

But it seems no amount of time can take the father out of the man and he’s fallen into the role for her pretty hard, his jaw twitching as he balances between politeness and worry.

“It’s completely safe, brother. Walled in. Patrolled. In communication, as you’ve witnessed. And the Roostlings are all pretty skilled with a shotgun. She’ll be fine. Might do her some good.”

“Come on, Joooooooel. It’s sheeeeeeeep. In a treehouuuuuu-suh.”

He takes his time chewing. Keeps his eyes on his plate.

“We’ll see.”

“Well,” you smile, winking at the girl across from you, “I just got off my shift, so you’ve got three weeks to warm up to the idea before I go back.”

“Do I get a codename?” She wiggles in her seat, grinning hard at Joel, goading him.

“Sure. I don’t know. You’re pretty spikey. How about Thistle?”

“What?” This dismays her and gets a choke–and then a chuckle–out of Joel. “Why can’t I have a bird name?”

“Because you’re not a Roostling. You have to earn your wings.”

This sets her jaw in a challenge. “Oh. I’ll earn it. I’ll earn it so hard you don’t even know. Bring it on. Take me to the fluffy bastards.”

“Ellie, dammit!”

_____

“So, he’s, uh….” you hand a dish to Maria so she can dry.

“Less than personable?” She finishes, keeping her voice down so as not to be heard by the brothers chatting on the back porch.

“Got some adjusting to do if he’s gonna fit in here, I was going to say.”

“He makes you nervous though. I can tell.”

“No. Not…like that…I just…” It’s best to avoid her keen eye, but catch her surprise out of the corner of yours. “It’s just–”

“My oldest friend in this god-forsaken world,” she declares, throwing the dishtowel on the counter and settling hands on hips. “You are telling me that? That is the man that is turning your head?”

“No. That’s not…He’s…” a growl of frustration follows, trying to scare your thoughts into cohesive order as you scrub glaze out of a pan. “It doesn’t happen that often, you know? Someone from the past showing up and there’s all this…change. I mean, he’s not really from our history, but you’ve had that picture of him and his daughter sitting out and there’s this face from the past just…looming. Like, there was this man who lived and worked construction and then the worst day happened and his child was killed and the person he was just got…replaced with that guy. It’s…I’m just morbidly fascinated by what twenty years in a post-hell society can do to someone. I mean…that smile in the polaroid…he was so warm and healthy…”

It isn’t until this moment that you realize what Maria begins to surmise. The pan and washcloth are abandoned.

“So you’ve had a crush on a man from the past all this time, making your castles in the sand. And you’re disappointed that he showed up and was that.”

She generously and lovingly gives you the time to think.

“Maybe. I don’t know. He’s still good looking, so you have to give me a little slack there. But I don’t know him. Didn’t know him. It’s just an interesting thing, you know? A little fantasy of the beforetimes? One that didn’t really line up way I imagined it?”

Maria begins to laugh kindly and quietly. Then a little less kindly and a lot less quietly. “Oh shit, that man came here for sanctuary and didn’t know he walked into a full-on trap.”

“Hey!”

“No. No. That’s not fair and I’m sorry,” she concedes, taming her laughter somewhat unsuccessfully. “Just go easy on him, okay? He’s Tommy’s brother.”

“Well, then that’s as good a reason as any for me to stay on my side of the creek bed. And, to be fair, those other guys? They came after me first. I have no interest in men that have no interest in me. So it looks like he’s safe.”

“For now,” she smirks. “But. If Tommy keeps me up at night complaining that you’ve busted a bottle over his brother’s head–”

“That was one time! And that guy was a fucking jerk!”--now you’re both laughing–”Which, I guess, yeah, if Joel’s as much an asshole as Tommy says, then maybe I should play it safe and apologize to y’all in advance!”

Thank goodness you have each other to lean on, or you’d both be rolling on the floor in a cackling mess. _____

It only takes a fistful of days and as many shy nods in passing around town for a knock to come at your door one evening.

“Well…hey there….Mr. Miller. What can I do for you this evening?”

The generated streetlights don’t come all the way down your block, and he blinks in the candlelight coming from your open door, his jaw gaping slightly before sealing shut, blocking any words that want to come.

Stepping back, you let the door open wider for him. “I was just putting a snack together. You wanna come in?”

“No, I..don’t…”

You’ve seen this look before from folks new to Jackson. From folks who’ve had to keep what they have to survive. Folks who lived among others who would never offer up anything for free without the expectation of payback and therefore have forgotten–or perhaps never experienced–the simple joy of receiving hospitality.

“You don’t want to come in? Or you don’t want to eat my cooking? Because I’d be offended by either.”

Walking away from the open door has the desired effect and he finds his way to the front room sofa in view of the kitchen on his own.

It allows you to watch him check off the boxes as you put together a tray. Telltale sign of the long-hauler as he scans the rooms for exits and places where a threat could be hiding. Check. Then the sign of the QZoner as he studies his surroundings, taking in a home that’s lived in but not damaged by twenty years of decay or depression. Check.

That finally leaves him open to be vulnerable, and you watch to see if he’ll allow himself to be at ease.

The way his fingers curl and uncurl on his knees, how he looks away when you catch his eye.

You wonder if he’ll ever really sink in. Having family here will help.

“You drink, Joel Miller?”

“Depends,” he answers vaguely, but nods with certainty.

Your offering is simple, rye crackers on a plate, a disk of sheep’s milk cheese with a knife in it, two tumblers, and a bottle of sunshine.

“You all are sure generous with your whiskey around here,” he comments as you pour him a full glass.

“Not whiskey. Cider.”

He frowns. “Cider? You make this?”

“I’m not that talented,” you wave your hand over the cheese and crackers. “As you can see, this is what I consider cooking. Like most things here, I traded for it. There’s an orchard a ride out. Gone wild. It gets harvested once a year and there’s a cider press in town. Couple of ladies spend a good month canning and bottling.”

“Seems like the women run the show around here,” he says, impressed, taking a sip and then staring hard at the glass. “Holy shit.” You’re not sure at first if that’s a good or bad expression until he goes in for another drink.

“That make you nervous? Ladies brewing up the good stuff?” You only laugh at his impression of a deer in the headlights. “I suppose if you’ve spent enough time around Maria, it’s easy to think that. It’s just a very empowered place for everyone. Everyone’s got something to contribute that gives them some pride and gets them some respect. And I guess, in that way, you don’t have to worry about Ellie here. I can tell she’s gonna find her place and do just fine.”

“That’s actually what I came by for,” he says, distracted by the cider. “You know how long it’s been since I’ve had a drink of something that doesn’t burn?”

“It’s sweet, yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s been a minute since I had anything sweet.”

You let that hang, watch him examine the amber liquid…or, rather, a memory swirling in its depths.

Twenty years of a broken heart can’t be good for a person.

“You came to talk about Ellie?”

It takes him a second to realize you’re addressing him, but he only nods, and finishes the glass. When you pick up the bottle to pour him another, he quietly stops you with a gesture and the tiniest shake of the head. No. “You ever have raiders come by your Roost?”

“We’ve seen raiders in the area. They’ve attacked the town border before. Always small groups. Hungry. They don’t have the numbers or the ammo round these parts.”

“But what about out there in the open?”

Crossing your arms and leaning back in your seat, you let him know he’s being assessed, let it sink in that he might be over-protective and has the right to be scared but doesn’t need to be. Realize he may never grow out of his defensive conditioning.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Joel Miller. There’s always a chance. But I don’t know if there are any words I can say that would magically put you at ease. There’s one thing I can see though, you care a lot about that girl. I reckon you’re here tonight because she’s bugged you about going out there. And you hate disappointing her, so here you are. But you’re also afraid of letting her out of your sight.”

He doesn’t look at you. Just rolls his glass between his wide palms.

Ducking forward, you do your best to get your smile in his eyeline. “Since I can’t convince you with words, I’ll do it with evidence. Ride out there with me tomorrow and see for yourself.”

“I don’t…that’s not what…”

“Hey. Good parents want their kids to be safe. I know the type.” It was meant to put him at ease, but you realize a bit too late that your words were poorly chosen. It’s difficult to read his emotion; there may be a few going on at once. 

Most of them break your heart. 

An apology would only make it worse. “Tomorrow morning. Stables. Dawn.”

________

He doesn’t like to talk much, Joel Miller. Knows his way around a horse like a true Texan should, completely at ease with a shotgun strapped to his back, but doesn’t seem to want to spoil the silence. Or perhaps he’s just always on guard. That’s okay. You like the sounds of the morning. The crunch of the woodland floor, the sweep of the wind in the leaves. The birds have been up for hours already, their voices warmed up and singing clear. It’s still chilly at daybreak this time of year and steam rises from the horses’ noses, mixing with the fog of the dew evaporating in the rising sun.

After a good half-hour ride through dappled forest light at a leisurely pace, you take up the walkie that you’ve borrowed from Chickadee.

“Meadowlark to Whippoorwill.”

Seconds and trees roll by as you wait for your answer. No hurry.

“Whippoorwill here. You taking another shift? You’re a day early.”

“Nope. Just giving a new resident a tour and letting you know we’re coming in at the north passage. Put some clothes on and don’t shoot us.”

“I make no promises.”

“Don’t ever change, Whip.”

As you come to a ravine and dismount, Joel finally pipes up. “Put some clothes on?”

“Yeah,” you explain, leading the horse down the steep incline, “Whip’s a nudist. Don’t ever show up at her house unannounced if you aren’t ready for a lot of skin.” When he doesn’t know what to say, you smile over your shoulder. “Just fucking with you. Although, there is a stream to the south we all like to skinny dip in come summer.” Another baffled look from him, and another sly smile from you.

He’s distracted by this to the point that he actually flinches when the barrier appears before him. “The hell?” he exclaims, examining a hedge of vines growing up over a twelve-foot tall wall of stone. “You don’t even notice this from the top.”

“Nope. That’s the point. Doesn’t look like a wall from up there, just looks like a hedge from down here. Most people don’t want to make the effort to climb down but if they do, they just assume they have to find another way.”

“This is the meadow perimeter?”

“Well, this gate anyway. A lot of it is woven steel gage and cliffs that only goats can manage. Most of it is natural barrier or camouflage like this so you wouldn’t even know there’s anything being protected.”

“Huh. Clever.”

“Welcome to Jackson Meadow, home of the Roost.”

After displacing and replacing some facing shrubs, you’re able to coax the horses through a narrow tunnel and up a gentle rise that eventually opens out into a sweeping field in a valley under the face of the butte.

It’s still early enough that the wildflowers are just slivers of purples and yellows behind their bud casings, but they spread far and wide across the green expanse, broken only by the random white-gray lumps of grazing sheep. The sun is just beginning to break over the surrounding mountains to the east, but once it spills over, it will only make the spring colors of the valley more vivid than any surviving photograph, more picturesque than any oil on canvas…probably. It’s been decades since you’ve seen a landscape painting, so what the hell do you know.

Able to ride side by side now, you make another study of your companion. And there’s a war going on inside him. You can tell he’s taken by the raw beauty of the meadow, but twenty years of looking over his shoulder makes him nervous in wide open spaces and his eyes won’t stop moving between the grasses and the treeline, constantly appreciating, constantly scanning.

“Relax, Mr. Miller. Enjoy the view. You’re in good hands. See that patch of trees up there?” You nod to a wooded area near the center of the expanse. “Roost is in there. I guarantee you Whip has eyes on us and everything in this valley right now.” Raising a hand over your head with three fingers raised, you use the other hand to point to them.

The walkie smacks on and Whippoorwill’s steady drawl comes out. “Three.”

You wave. Smile at Joel. “See?”

He relaxes in the saddle and a quiet, ponderous minute goes by before he works up the bother to ask whatever’s tumbling around in that head of his. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

“What.”

“Mr. Miller. I’m no mister. It’s just Joel.”

Things are slow in Jackson, people take their time. As you do with your answer. “Maybe it’s my way of keeping a distance, Joel Miller. You seem like the kind of man that likes people to keep their distance so he can get a good read and make sure it’s safe to approach.”

Twisting with a frown, he scans you as if he’s never really looked before, maybe a little annoyed that you have his number.

You dismount your chestnut mare some distance before reaching the trees, leave the reins to the saddle and let her be, walking over to the nearest duo of sheep–a mother and baby. The ewe bleats at you out of habit, but knows you’re no real harm. She watches her lamb though, chewing when she remembers to.

This lamb is still very young and you’re not sure if it will remember. There’s a bounce to the left, and then two to the right, and then each leg steps carefully as he haltingly makes his way forward. You’re able to scoop him up and turn him over in your arms like a baby, instantly quelling him, and his legs hilariously splay.

“What’d you do to it?” Joel, having followed suit and let his horse graze, walks up and there’s the tiniest smile as he gazes down at the creature in your arms.

“Nothing, that’s just what they do when you turn ‘em over. Here.” You don’t even tell him to put his arms out or ask if he wants to hold the lamb, you simply get close enough and the man’s instincts kick in. All you have to do is hand him off.

Joel’s surprised at first, flinches a bit when the lamb wiggles in his arms–the tiniest protest to being transferred to an unfamiliar nanny. But then both of them calm and you have to stifle a laugh as the two of them just…stare at each other. The lamb in his lamby wonder, and Joel like a new, star-struck dad.

Going about your business, you begin checking the creature’s general health, pushing at the belly, checking the mouth. “This one was born on my last watch, so he’s only about ten days old.”

“Really,” Joel sighs, totally enchanted, not even realizing that he’s instinctually bouncing the lamb a bit. The father in him showing its face again.

“Yep. And,” you indicate the mother, now watching a bit more closely since there’s an unfamiliar human involved, “I birthed that one too. And probably most of her whole line for the last twenty years or more. All of them were as little as this one, and all of them survived. And if the Roost can raise flocks and flocks of dumb little sheep, we can certainly take care of one smart little girl.”

When he scans you this time, it’s clear you’ve given him reasoning that resonates.

He allows you to lift the lamb from his arms, watching thoughtfully as the little thing springs away past its mother and tumbles into some lupines head first. After it recovers and bounces a little more, you bring Joel’s attention to the trees a few hundred meters to the south.

“You can just catch the Roost there, see? The A-frame sticks up above the treetops. And that’ll be Willa at the porch railing.”

He squints. “How do you get up?”

“Retractable ladder. Tommy rigged it for us. You gotta be in it to win it. You’re either up it or fuck it. Ergo, if the ladder’s up, you don’t get in.”

“Huh. How do you get supplies up? Pulley?”

“Yup.”

“Huh.”

It’s a quiet ride back to Jackson, and you do your best not to look over your shoulder to gauge his reaction, like Orpheus leading Euridice out of Hades trying not to lose a tenuous chance for Ellie to spread her wings. It’s not every day a young person wants to learn the shepherding gig. Most of them want to stay in town near their friends, or are too afraid of the world to venture out. Ellie though, she’s been in the world. Observant. Eager to learn. Fearless.

The sheep could use someone like her.

You could too.

It’s when he’s busy unsaddling his horse in the stables that he clears his throat, and you let the curry brush lighter over your horse’s coat so you can hear him think out loud.

“Yeah that works,” he mumbles. “Think it might be good for her.”

Poking your face over your mare’s shoulder and waiting to catch his eye, you release the hounds of smiletown. “You’re right. And probably good for you too, Joel Miller.”

____

“Whoa, coooooool!!!” Ellie says for the fourth time on the ride from Jackson as she spies the Roost through the trees.

Over the past few family dinners, Ellie asked a million questions about this week–how to stay warm, where to bathe, if the sheep bite–anything and everything, even if it was common sense.

And with every answer she’d listen, enrapt, her eyes flicking to Joel now and then. It became obvious to you–although maybe not to the others–that she was asking not so much for her own good, but to calm Joel, signal that she was thinking ahead and covering all the bases, that even if she already knew the answers it might calm him to hear them too.

A little overkill. But the concern they showed for each other while trying not to be sappy about it was endearing you to both of them.

And perhaps Joel was calmed; maybe not so much by the answers you gave, but the way you gave them--calmly, indulgently, and with just a little bit of sass to show you could keep up with Ellie’s tongue and put her in a figurative headlock when she got too cocky. You caught Joel smiling down into his plate a few times. And at you a few more.

He’s got a good smile. It comes out more often now.

A duffel bag lands on the ground at the base of the Roost’s tree and your horses jump a little. Then there’s a cheerful trill from above, “I’ll be right down! Just packing up the wool!”

“No rush, Goldie! We’ll go water the horses while we wait.”

Ellie follows your lead you as you dismount to pull the packs off the horses–bulky with a week’s weight of food, water, and clothes–before climbing back into the saddle and heading off to the south.

“There’s a creek up here flows right down from the Tetons. Purest, cleanest water you’ll ever see.”

“Can you drink it?”

“Absolutely. You, me, the sheep, it’s for all of us. We humans boil it first, of course.”

Ellie’s nose wrinkles. “Seems a waste. I mean, if it’s coming down from the mountains it’s really cold right? We hardly ever had cold water in the QZ. It’s so good when it’s cold.”

“You’ll be singing a different tune when you have to bathe in it.” Her face falls and you can’t help but laugh, hauling yourself out of the saddle and guiding the beast through the pebbled creekbed. “Believe me, come summer, you’ll be plenty happy with how cold it is.”

Once the horses are watered it’s a leisurely stroll back to the Roost, handing the reins over to a tall, veritable Viking of a woman, stong-boned and willowy all at the same time, the long golden braid spilling down her back and curls springing out from the sides of her face giving her the appearance that she’s wearing a lazy albino scorpion on her head. Her blue flannel matches her eyes and clashes with her sunburned cheeks.

“Ellie, this is Goldfinch, our junior Roostling.”

The woman takes Ellie’s small hand in her long, sturdy fingers. “Maybe not so junior if you pull yourself up on board.”

“Goldie started with us about ten years back when she was around your age.”

“Ten years ago?” Ellie asks. “There hasn’t been any new shepherds since then?”

The Rootling shares a concerned look with you before you answer, “Well, there have been, but not all of them stuck.” And you put the question to rest by helping Goldie pack up your horse. “Shit, this is a lot of wool. How many did you do?”

“About twelve?” She answers. “I’m only taking ten worth. Left the rest for you.”

“Damn, you must have been bored. Ellie, can you hand me that duffel? Thanks.”

As Ellie brings the bag to you, she’s also scanning the thatch of forest where the Roost stands. “So she’s taking the horses? She doesn’t have her own?”

“Horses are a sign of civilization,” Goldie offers. “Especially if they’re on a picket line. And we like to keep it not so obvious that we’re out here. We’d have to keep them on picket or they’d just wander off back toward the gate an s hang out there wanting to go home and give away that location.”

“Besides,” you explain, “won’t need ‘em until we go back to Jackson. Safest place to be in the whole pasture is the Roost with the ladder up and a loaded shotgun nearby, not trying to saddle up to ride off. If there’s trouble, we can hold out the time it takes for a posse to come down from town.”

“Is there ever trouble?” Ellie wonders, just slightly concerned.

“Never yet,” you wink.

Finally there’s the ceremonial clink of the walkies, acknowledging that the leaving Roostling is taking hers home and the new occupant has one with a completely restored battery. “Patrol, this is Meadowlark taking over for Goldfinch.”

A few quiet seconds. A pinecone drops nearby.

Then a man’s voice from the speaker. “Meadowlark, this is patrol, we read you. We’ll be hitting east gate around noon today. Anything you need?”

“Nope, we just landed. By ‘we’ I mean me and a learner. New girl, Ellie Williams. Callsign Thistle.”

“Copy. Welcome to the Roost, Thistle.”

Ellie beams, then blinks as you hold the walkie to her face, and you nod her a nod of encouragement.

“Thanks…patrol. Uh…Thistle over and out.”

“Good job, kid,” Goldie says, hoisting a leg over the horse and taking the reins of Ellie’s mare from you. “Have a good week, you two. May your days be filled with storms.”

Once she’s out of earshot, Ellie turns to you. “Storms?”

You strap a pack over each shoulder and start climbing the ladder. “We’re in friendly competition with each other to have the most lambs born on our watch and shear the most sheep. If it rains it can be miserable work at best and impossible at worst and we’re less likely to make good numbers. So it’s an affectionate curse.”

“Oh. Seems cruel to the sheep.”

“What do you mean?”

Shouldering a smaller pack, Ellie starts climbing behind you. “Wishing for storms when they have to be out in it.”

“Eh, they’re happy as clams when it rains. They’ve got wool sweaters already.”

“I’ve never worn a wool sweater.”

Reaching the top, you wait for her to crest so you can see the look on her face when she does. “Then you’re in for a treat. It takes a lot to waterlog wool. Rolls right off. You’ll see. You’ll love it. And that’s not even mentioning the socks!”

“What does happy as a clam mean–” she begins, but stops abruptly as her face comes to the top of the ladder, her mouth opening in awe, rounding in concert with her eyes. “Whoa! Holy shit!!!”

The Roost as a whole isn’t all that large and can be crossed in half a dozen steps. Roughly a seven meter square platform, it holds a one-room cabin with a balcony running along the north and east sides. The windowed, A-frame peak looks out to the north pasture and the roof slopes just out and above the east balcony to shade it in a cascade of knotty pine. Windows wrap all but the west side, the interior wall of which has a simple built-in double cabinet bed with a single bunk running across its head above.

It’s this cabinet bed that draws Ellie inside, and you watch her slowly take in the rest of the cabin, with its rustic table and chairs–Goldie left a couple Indian Painbrush in a mug of water in the sun–the windowed corner with the soft, plush, patchwork pillow chair and a basket full of wool roving, the opposite corner with its woodstove upon a harlequin tilework patch of floor and the spare array of cooking tools on spiraled iron hooks in the knotted wood walls.

The honey dark timber stretches overhead to a peak, from which hangs dried strands of vegetables and herbs, higher up a set of snowshoes, a number of straps and ropes–a butcher’s hook among them, the one arguably ominous tool, meant to make dragging a bloated carcass easier…although it is rarely needed anymore.

Even though the Roost has become your home away from home, the fresh smell off the boards and the dust motes dancing in the sun make you pause and smile every time.

It’s just comfortable enough for two people, a generous hideaway for one, and your favorite place in the whole world. There’d been more than one occasion where you thought about asking Tommy to build you its replica in Jackson, but it would be a shame to ruin its uniqueness…and, of course, there were higher priorities in town.

“Is that where you sleep?” Ellie points at the cabinet bed.

“Yep. Or you, if you want. There’s a bunk. I’ll take whichever you don’t want.”

Bouncing over to the side of the cabinet with the recessed ladder, she climbs, pats the mattress, and frowns. “Why’s it all lumpy?”

“It’s filled with fleece. Same down here. It doesn’t feel lumpy when you sleep on it. Feels like a cloud hugging you. How’s the view up there?”

Ellie pets the bunk mattress another second or two, considering it, before turning out with a smile, “It’s–” but the smile fades when she sees beyond the four meter peak of the cabin and out through the windows for the first time.

Turning to face outward--to see though her eyes–-the sun is breaking fully over the butte, filling the valley like a warm, golden bath, serving up a green to the eye that exists nowhere else in the world. It never gets old and is beautiful from every angle, especially this view from the treetops, birds-eye.

Wordlessly she descends the bunk ladder behind you and wanders out to the balcony, resting her forearms against it, staring out at the vista, and you let her have it while you unpack the bags, situate the supplies, assess the woodpile, toss a set of fresh sheets on each bed.

Once finished with the settle in, you join Ellie where she’s drifted to the other side of the balcony, looking out at the north pasture where the sheep like it best.

After a moment she asks quietly, “What was this place before?”

“This land?” you specify, and she nods. “It was just this. A valley meadow. Native land.”

“It’s hardly touched out here. No broken buildings. No bomb craters.”

“Nope. This place was never really that urban. Even with all those people, some wild places remained. Some were actually sanctioned by the government as untouchable natural places, just to let the animals live and the trees grow. It was for everyone to enjoy.”

“National parks.”

“Yeah, that’s right. This was part of a park like that. But Jackson wasn’t densely populated. Didn’t spread as fast out here. We were low priority. No bombs. So many of us lived on our own land that when the governments came to round any of us up, we’d take up arms and hold our ground. It’s what my sister and I did when they came at our ranch. I think after a while military just left the area thinking if we all got infected it could only spread so far before it just finished off the population and had nowhere left to go.”

“Did it?”

“Oh it came, but it didn’t take everyone. It wandered in later, like everything does out here. Cordyceps are like a fashion. It spread in the urban areas first and made its way out here eons later. But there were fewer people in a lot larger space…and a lot more guns. It was easy to stamp out.”

Ellie’s not like most of the other kids in town who nod at your ancient stories of the olden times. To them, this is the world as it is and how it will be and stories of how it used to be are less than monumental, just a passing curiosity for aimless evenings around a fire. But Ellie’s attention reaches beyond the meadow, beyond the mountains, beyond what she can see. It stretches out in time and tries to divine the past and what might have been; she tries to calculate what exactly was lost and in what ways it’s actually better. A life she could have had versus the one that’s brought her here to this balcony in the morning sun.

A far off bleat becomes a signal for the reverie to break, and you bump your shoulder against hers.

“C’mon. I’ll show you how we do the rounds.”

_____

After a few days, Ellie is doing the morning rounds on her own, reporting in when she notices an ewe in a lay, keeping an eye out for cast sheep–“You see a sheep on its back, do whatever you can to right it, you’ve got about twenty-four hours until they die there of bloat and stupidity,”--and generally letting them all get to know her.

“You’ll need to take your time. Let the lambs come to you or the mammas get emotional about it. Treat ‘em light and gentle for a while. If the ewe sees no need to watch you anymore that means she trusts you and you can pet and pick up the little ones if they let you. But they start cryin’, best to put ‘em down and let ‘em run. Never chase them. You chase them and never let them come to you, they’ll run when you need to get to them most. Take ‘em some apple or carrot and they’ll be your friend forever. Squash and pumpkin are good too. Sometimes I’ll bring out a pocketful of oats. Don’t tell the stablemasters in town; they’d have my ass.”

By mid-week if you couldn’t find Ellie, all you’d need to do was climb up to the Roost and survey the green meadow for the contrast of her red tshirt and you’d spy her sprawled out in the grasses surrounded by a clutch of lambs and ewes. The girl was a sucker for animals.

Shearing went by faster with someone there to hold hooves and legs or just keep the lambs within sight so any ewe under the shear wasn’t kicking to check on her baby. It might have been Ellie’s least favorite part except for the evening time task of carding wool (“Boring”) and drop spinning (“Impossible”).

“Motherfucker,” she whispers, singing a song of hatred at the breaking threads on her spindle, throwing her hands out and taking a dramatic fall backward onto the wool rug she’s sitting on.

“Patience, young grasshopper. It’s not a fast skill; it can take years to learn to spin consistently,” you laugh in the warm glow of the lantern, your spindle wizzing as your yarn pulls at an even gauge, “and all you have out here is time. You’ll get it.”

“Grasshopper? Have I graduated from Thistle?”

“Nope, sorry. Old joke, before your time.”

Abandoning her work and rolling over to her belly, Ellie kicks her stockinged feet lazily in the air and pulls at the fibers in the rug. “There’s only one more day left and there haven’t been any new lambs.”

“Season’s slowing down some. They’ll be fewer and further between.”

“Don’t you wanna win?”

“Win at numbers? Not if it means the health of the sheep. They’ll birth when they birth. Besides, nobody’s beating Willa this year. Those triplets made that a certainty.”

“Whippoorwill’s name is Willa. Chickadee’s name is Addie.”

“Yup.”

“So everyone turned their name into the closest sounding bird except you.”

“Nah. We’re just not real clever with the names is all. Goldie’s name is Pam. We just call her Goldfinch because she’s a blond. Probably wouldn’t even have callsigns but that it makes it easier to hear over the walkie.”

“So what about yours then? Why Meadowlark?”

You smile. “Larks are songbirds. I like to sing when I’m out here. I’ve been caught at it so many times, I don’t even hide it anymore.” You belt a made-up melody loudly out through the open window into the night, “Isn’t tha-a-at ri-ight you wooly ba-a-a-asta-a-a-ards!”

A sleepy sheep calls back in irritation.

“You’re a weird lady.”

“You’re a weird lady.”

Ellie laughs begrudgingly, sits up with a grunt and starts picking at her thread again, squinching her mouth at the lumps. “So if I become a Roostling, I don’t get to pick my own bird?”

“I’m sure we could make an exception. Why? You got one in mind? Because left to us you’d probably be a red-bELLIEd something-or-other.”

“Ha ha. Fine. I don’t know much about birds. Mostly just pigeons in Boston.”

“Well fuck if I’m gonna call you Pigeon.”

The night’s starting to chill down a little and she hugs her knees into her chest, setting her chin on them in thought. It’s about time to close up the window and put a few logs in the stove, but Ellie’s attention wanders up and out among the stars.

You have so many questions. Were all the kids in Boston as stubborn and wild and foul-mouthed as her? Where were her parents? Dead, most likely, but how did she survive them? How did she meet Joel? Did she smuggle run with him? She’s a fair shot with a shotgun, but not practiced. Did he get her here all by himself? That takes a lot of luck and skill. He must care about her a lot to bring her with him all this way, to keep her safe….

“So it was just you and Joel out there for a long time, huh.”

“Yeah.”

“I bet you’re happy to finally have somewhere warm to sleep. Traveling during the winter would have been rough. Good thing it was a milder one this time around.”

She gives a pathetic shrug. “I dunno. I liked it. Just us under the stars. We looked out for each other.”

“Well, you have a lot of folks who will look out for the both of you now. And if you need someone to look after, well, these sheep could really use you.”

Unexpectedly, she laughs, something you’ve said keeps her in the giggles for a while. “One night we were camping and I asked Joel where he wanted to go most in the world and he said he wanted to settle down and farm sheep. This is kind of his dream. But then he said that he wanted to be a musician. Maybe he should be the one out here with you to watch sheep and sing.”

“Maybe. Does he have a tolerable voice? The sheep are picky, as you’ve heard.”

“I don’t know, he wouldn’t sing for me,” she squishes her cheek into her knee, giving you a shit-eating grin and a teasing sing song. “But I bet he’d sing for you if you asked him.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you smile and wink, trying to hide your chagrin under a swirling cape of nonchalance. “I can be very persuasive. But...I don’t think Tess would like that so much.”

“How do you know about Tess?”

“Tommy has his tales. They were quite a little family unit for a while. I’m actually surprised she didn’t show up here with you two.”

This sobers her, turns her attention back out to the stars, halting her response. “She would have…. but she didn’t make it.”

A chilly breeze sweeps through the window, and you’re not quite sure if it’s the drop in the air or your heart that makes you shiver.

Tess didn’t make it. In the world as it is, that means one thing. You wonder what happened. How. If it was horrific–of course it was, you can see it in Ellie’s hardened eyes that it was–and how much it affects her or doesn’t. It’s so difficult to tell with kids these days. In the end though, it hardly matters how. In all the myriad of ways it could have happened, it would have ended the same.

You wonder if Tommy knows.

You suddenly feel ashamed of that selfish little spark of hope it sparks in you.

But while what you know about Joel Miller could fill a book, what you don’t know about him could fill a library.

And you’ve had enough time pass through you to know that a lot of patience and a little observation can go a long way towards preventing disaster.

Thoughts for another time.

“What about you, kid, hmm? What was your answer? In all the world, where would you go?”

But you’d already guessed, seen the longing in her face every night this week and see it now as she looks out the window at the silent silver satellite in the sky.

_____

“Ow, dammit! Just keep a good hold on her back legs so she stops kicking me!”

The lamb is breach and you’re halfway up to your elbow in sheep, trying to push at the little one’s one back haunch to clear the way for the other leg. Ellie, wide-eyed and trembling with excitement keeps letting the ewe’s leg slip and you’d be laughing if the hooves didn’t pack such a punch.

You must have seen a thousand sheep born and assisted in a high percentage of those in your lifetime, but this one manages to give you a new rush. It’s the morning you’ll be heading back to Jackson and you were afraid you’d go all week without Ellie getting to experience a birth. Here it is, and she’s just as thrilled as you’d hoped and all you have to do is make sure both the lamb and the ewe make it through.

It doesn’t take much–a little push, a little twist, a little pull, a little gasp from Ellie–you’re able to get both back hooves in your hand and the little one comes sliding out in a gloopy mess onto the grass. Your favorite flannel is caked with blood and you’ll have to go straight to the launders with it on arrival back in town…

…but it’s all worth it when the baby bleats the tiniest baa and Ellie giggles and clutches her cheeks.

“Holy shit! That was awesome! It’s so tiny! Can I name it? Like Snowball or something?”

The footfalls making their way through the meadow proceed Willa’s answer, “You don’t have to do that. The earth and the sky and the wind will name her themselves.”

Leaning back to acknowledge not only your friend and her arrival, but also a broad form following her clad in denim and gristle.

“Brought you a friend,” Willa smirks for the girl’s benefit, tilting her head in Joel’s direction.

“Joel!!! Look!!!” Ellie’s grin is so full she can’t even close her jaw, gaping like a kid who just saw her first Christmas tree.

Another tiny bleat escapes the lamb as its mother begins to lick it clean and Joel’s eyes nearly disappear behind cheeks and crinkles. “Hey there, babygirl. You have a good time?”

“Fuck YES.”

Willa extends a hand to help Ellie up and Joel does the same for you, taking care to keep your dripping forearm at a good distance.

“She did real good out here; you’d be proud,” you praise the girl, squelching her grin with a big, wet, slap on the back. “I’d love to have her again.”

“Aw, maaaaaaan!” Ellie reels in disgust as you dig your palm into her shoulder, really getting the juices in there.

“You just earned your keep, kid.”

This snaps her head around. “Really? Do I get a bird name now?”

“Yup. And I think I know what’ll suit you just fine.” In a short second of mountain time, the wind picks up just a little, lifting the brown curls around her face and the sun comes up behind her over the bluff, kissing her pink cheeks as you lean down and look her straight in the eye.

“Welcome to the Roostlings, Starling.”

____

You let them ride ahead of you, allow the father-daughter team to catch each other up on the week’s news, watch adoringly as Ellie chatters on about the lambs and how they tumble and bounce and how cold the water is and how the Roost creaks and sways a bit when it’s windy, which sheep were her favorite and how much she hates spinning wool.

Next time you’ll have to teach her how to knit, you think. She’ll probably take to that a little better.

And when he’s not giving her his glowing attention, Joel’s only report is that he started work in the new section of town, nothing exciting except the house was blessedly quiet for a whole week thank god.

She still has stories to tell Maria and Tommy at family dinner, repeating again some of the highlights you overheard her tell Joel, and new ones she just remembered. Your friends smile and listen, bewitched, time enough to give her an ear and delighted with the novelty of an excited young person at their table.

“Looks like you have yourself a new recruit,” Maria laughs. “What did you settle on for a callsign?”

Ellie tips her head back, answering through a mouthful of potatoes, “Starling!” and slaps a hand over her mouth when a chunk goes flying.

“Ellie, dammit, talk OR chew, not AND.”

Maria ignores Joel’s curse at her dinner table to ask you, “What prompted that?”

You chew and swallow, pointedly showing off the patience that the girl couldn’t muster, a blatant tease. “Seemed a good choice. Kid’s a sucker for the stars.” You match Ellie’s smile before you sweetly add, “And, y’know. Because starlings are loud and annoying as hell.”

That earns you a bird of another kind.

_____

Tommy cuts a good silhouette against the coming twilight as he lines himself up to the peg and explains for his adopted niece how to score a ringer in an after-dinner game of horseshoes. He demonstrates the looseness of the grip, the swing of the iron, and Ellie soaks it up like a sponge, eager to learn.

He’s a good teacher. He taught Maria…who is currently beating his ass. But Maria is good at whatever she does regardless, always has been.

You concluded long ago that it’s not your game. Branded it a Texas thing and took up your spot on the back porch swing with a bottle of cider, kicking off your boots and putting your woolen-socked feet up on the railing to enjoy the setting sun reflecting off the mountain face.

There’s a cheer as Ellie tosses and the shoe lands with a loud clang.

The porch door opens when Joel returns with a bottle for himself. But instead of rejoining the game, he wanders over to sit next to you on the swing, upsetting it enough to pull your feet from their perch.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Pull up a seat, Joel Miller.”

Several lazy minutes pass, a sweet, comfortable silence filled with the occasional sip from a bottle and an exchanged smile as you push at the porch a little, encouraging the swing to do its thing. And he lets his knees go soft, keeps his feet on the ground but aids in a little gentle rocking.

“Thank you,” he says, finally, tipping his head toward his ward as she scores yet again, “for taking her out there. She hasn’t shut up about it since.”

“Yeah? What’d she have to say?”

“Went on about the lambs, complained about how cold the water was. Said she was tired because she liked getting up early in the morning to see the sunrise but liked being in the trees at night and wanted to stay up to listen to the night birds. Said you liked to sing when you work and the fact that she didn’t complain about it–and from what I heard the night we met you–makes me think you’re not too bad at it. Not too fond of your cooking, though.”

That earns a snort from you. “Well I don’t blame her there; I warned y’all. I wouldn’t say she’s the most obedient kid, but she sure is smart, and really capable and brave. That girl eats the world with the spoon she’s so hungry to know all the things all the time. And strong–she swings an axe better than me. Got a mouth on her–”

“Sorry about that–”

“--and is beautifully, brutally honest, and pretty fucking hilarious. She’s really special.”

“Yeah. Yeah she is.” Something like pride melts his shoulders as he watches Ellie joke around with Tommy, and then slowly evolves into gratitude as he turns to you, to someone who can see her like he does. “Funny, that’s what she said about you.”

There’s a pull to share in that pride and gratitude, to lean in and let yourself bask in the glow of the compliment.

But a wall goes up when you reveal, as kindly as you can, “She told me Tess didn’t make it.” As his eyes grow stony and deny you the pleasure of their focus, you chase after his attention by turning your body toward him on the swing, bringing a knee up and placing a hand on his forearm, gently urging him to stay here with you. “Hey. She didn’t tell me what happened and I don’t need to know and you don’t have to talk about it. But I do need to ask you one thing. That man out there might be your brother, but he’s my friend. And Tess might have been your lady, but she was still family to him. She was important to him. And he’s important to me. And I need to ask you if he knows.”

The arm under your finger tenses as his fingers grip the cider bottle and you move to let go–to let him know you’re not forcing him–but a hand claps down over yours. It’s now his turn to urge you to stay, to give him a minute, to let him bust through whatever is starting to well up in him so he can swallow and tell you, “He knows.” Another quiet minute as he stares out at his family on the back lawn, his jaw working to bring the air in and keep the tension out. “He knows. Thank you…thank you for… taking care of him too.”

His fingers flutter a little, scarred knuckles contracting and loosening like he’s fighting the instinctual urge to hang onto something. So you set your bottle on the porch railing and gently lift his away too, slip out of this awkward hold and instead shift his hand between both of yours, giving it warmth, giving it permission to hold onto you like it wants to.

“They’re my family, which means you are now too. As long as you plan to leave off your wandering and let us keep you safe and cared for, that’s thanks enough, Joel Miller.”

“Quit that,” he grumbles, clasping your hand in case you interpret his words as an ask for release, needing a stolen moment of secret comfort in the deepening twilight. “Joel’s enough. You sound like my mother.”

“Okay,” you compromise, trying to tame your eager heart, silently explain to it that there’s nothing here but the time to do things right. “Okay, Joel.” You smile. “Joel Joel Cinnamon Roll.”

“Shit,” he cringes, shakes his head slowly, stifling a laugh. “Now you really sound like my mother. That’s what she used to call me, how did you-- Tommy.”

“Yup.”

“I hate you both.”

“No you don’t.”

Ellie scores another ringer and Joel smiles. “No, I don’t.”

________

NEXT: SUMMER

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

[cloudraker]

heyo! I saw ur post and wanted to ask for tfp decepticons with a winged! S/o

preferably with megatron, soundwave or shockwave and knockout! Like how they would react and act around them, or like how they would use reader to their advantage? (Not in a bad way)

Reader has a long wingspan (18 ft) and is bigger than a normal human? Like smaller than Arcee but bigger than average.

Please tell me if that’s too much for you! And ty! <3 stay safe

Ofc!! And no worries, it's not too much at all :) Thank you sm for requesting <3

TFP Megatron, Soundwave, Shockwave, and Knock Out with a Winged S/o

Under the cut :)

Megatron

Honestly probably doesn't even notice you're any different at first until you start zipping around

I would say that of the four he's the one that cares the least

That isn't to say he doesn't care at all, far from it! He's got more than a handful of schemes, plots, ploys, etc ready to use when the need should arise

Depending on how you fly and such, he might take your movements into consideration when it comes to his own flight or when training troops. The information gets passed on to Starscream for the latter, but he's still aware of it

He doesn't expect you to be able to keep up with him when he's flying, but he will commend the effort

He does expect your wings to be in peak condition; they're one of your defining features and something that he see as putting you above the rest of your species

If you're at all self conscious about your wings, he scoffs and tells you to take pride in what sets you apart. It's not great advice, but it's something

Soundwave

Enjoys running his fingers through your feathers if you'll let him

Despite being in a relationship, he's still got a job to do. If you're up for it, he'll ask you to do recon or survey areas that need to be scouted in a more subtle way

He's not above using your humanity for the benefit of the Decepticons, but he wouldn't knowingly put you in harms way

Of the four, he's got the easiest time helping you groom your wings due to how thin his digits are

He draws comparisons between you and Laserbeak at times, though he does keep those thoughts to himself

Shockwave

Dude has got plans and ploys in place to test things and ideas

At times it might feel like you're more an experiment than a partner

He's always more than happy to run tests on how far you can fly and how fast, how much weight you can carry and for how long/far

He's also rather interested in your biology, pulling up diagrams of a typical human body and comparing it to yours, trying to figure out why you're different

It might be hard to notice, but he's more careful when it comes to tests. It's one of the few ways he has to show he does actually care about you, and doesn't want to see you hurt if it can be avoided

If there's something you want to train towards physically, you can count on him to come up with the most optimal training program possible

He finds it helpful to have you in the lab and having you zip around and collecting tools for him so he doesn't have to step away from his work

He understands the concept of keeping muscles strong, and makes sure you exercise enough if you're keeping him company in the lab

Knock Out

Dude makes sure you know how pretty your wings are

Makes sure you've got every product you'd ever need to keep them in top condition. Don't ask where he got them from tho

Schedules regular sessions where the two of you just preen and gossip

Also finds it super helpful that you can just fly up and reach the spots he can't and buff them out for him

Absolutely admires the strength you have in your wings. The idea that you have to actually flap them and have enough strength to get yourself off the ground is foreign to him as it's super different for Cybertronians

Not a fan of molting tbh. There's feathers everywhere and guh they're everywhere

Will still (reluctantly) help you deal with it tho

Knock Out makes sure you know he thinks that your wings make you much cooler than other people, and is not above making fun of the Autobots for having 'inferior' humans on their side

[lilacargent]

Here we go again,

Puzzles/ jigsaws would confuse Aliens so much

Set on the serpentine, beginning of the humans tenure

Important crew:

Primoz, captain -Limoyh a four armed species-Krag, second in command (brother of Primoz)

Kit, dokter -avian, bird like, she has feathers like a swallow-

Ortez, ASR (all species resources, human resources in space) -kiltak, insectoid species, think ants but exoskeleton-

Lugea, helmsperson (does the steering) -rock like alien-

Artex, engineer/mechanic 1 -also Kiltak-

And then our humans:

Kamari, navigator -Eritrean woman- (has cat named Sidra)

Markus, weapons expert (knows how to use them and upkeep, also shields) -Swedish man-

Petrus, mechanic/engineer 2 - Italian man-

Lilly, administrator/note keeper (learns languages for fun)-english woman-

~~~~~~~

Puzzles

The serpentine is on route between trading posts, this is currently the furthest route without proper jump point because of the static energy surrounding the dual planets castor and pollux.

Primoz is getting worried. The humans are becoming increasingly more jittery and Kamari looks like she a pinch away from punch someone, Markus has been ‘humming’ a song that annoys her greatly. Honestly the noises the tall man is making don’t seem that bad but every few minutes her eyebrows twitch which Ortez told him is a sign of frustration.

Before the captain can figure out how to keep them from doing something deathworld worthy, Lilly comes in with precariously stacked carton boxes and Petrus carrying a table. Setting the pile down the smallest human straightens out “look what i brought! Old earth puzzles! This one has a deer and this one has the old world wonders” immediately the humming stops and Markus is at the table with Petrus “oh yes Lilly you are the best! I wanna do the deer one, that is gonna be a challenge”

With the table in the corner of the bridge the tension among crew is nearly gone, as all species try to put the cut apart pictures together, Lilly brought 9 puzzles and at a certain point a competition was forming: after one of the human unit had finished a puzzle the other crew try to make it in less time. They have yet to win.

Looking at his relaxed crew Primoz grins at his brother who is trying to use all his four arms to put pieces together without much succes. Turning away from the competition he taps Lilly on her shoulder “how do you guys do it? Also why did you think to take these things with you.” Lilly looks up from her drawing (the crew bent over the table making the puzzle) “well i knew it was going to be a long trip, Kamari thinks Markus will be ‘professional’ but he can’t help himself” her soft smile when she puts air punctuation around professional makes her look much younger than she is “puzzles are something many humans enjoy, not everyone is as good at them as Markus, but he does this thing where he uses the shape of them more than colours. While he isn’t colour blind, he has real trouble with telling differences in shades. No idea why it works this well but it does, Petrus has already won three nights of free drinking on Castor from betting.” All of a sudden looking bashful Lilly ducks her head “ah eh yes sorry forget i said that we don’t bet on this at all!” Primoz just grins “nobody has broken anything this whole trip, im not going to disrupt the flow you and your unit created. Don’t worry.”

At arrival Petrus has won the whole human crew free drinks for the foreseeable future, and the crew in its entirety hooked on puzzles. While not all species see the colours the same way or understand the patterning in the pieces the feeling of putting in the correct pieces makes it such an enjoyable activity that Lilly brings new puzzles after every holiday back home.

~~~~~~~~~

This one was born out of the confusion my family had when we were making puzzles (jigsaws?) the pictures in pieces… this is where it becomes super clear English is not my first language. Anyway, we had two puzzles out and they were so surprised i could differentiate the positions the pieces needed to be in without context. I had to tell them that the pattern otherwise won’t make sense,

I have the same thing as Markus that colours are fine unless you put several of the same colours next to each other and call them different. This is why the deer one is super hard,

The two puzzles that were described:

[regular-gnome]

I adore your Archivists and the lore you make for them and their personalities and relationships between each other and Collector! You don't paint them as Good but misunderstood or cartoonishly evil.

They are god-like entities and their morality system and values are way to different for mortals to easily relate and understand. And good luck for them to not grow up with an issue or two and then proceed to raise a young collector with no problems =3

Also a question if you don't mind👉👈(sorry if you already answered it, my memory is bad TT) So all five of them are collectors(and they are the only ones of their kind), the siblings have a different name for their group why? And our Collector's name is the same as species or will he have something his own later like others when he is older?

The empty, uncaring void filled with extinction and destruction is not a place where kids grow happily without any lasting issues and from a mortal point of view - a weird perception of good but they are trying

I don't think anyone has asked about this one yet! Their names are related to their identity and that connects to their history; they don't really use individual ones, but rather what describes who they are.

I've put the reasoning and my stab at the lore under the cut since I thought it might be a bit long and not everyone into it (and I just figured out how to add the read more cut so im gonna use it)

They are not the only ones in existence; they are just in this part of the galaxy we see. In the beginning, when the universe wasn't as expanded, the Children of the Stars were closer to each other, exploring the young galaxy together and living among other living creatures - mortals.

After the extinction event that left the children alone on the barren world, they decided not to let it ever happen again. They began collecting life from the surroundings and spread it to uninhabited systems, later establishing the first archive to help with it. Thats when they started call each others collectors, and after creating archive those collectors connected to it that cared for and used it were archivists. It didn't go fantastic, they were young figuring things out on the way, the lessons they learned got contained in the Guidebook everyone took. At this point, they also realized that everything they were doing was not enough. The galaxy was too vast, with too many worlds facing their ends too far apart. They separated making own archives, now too far away to ever really meet and find each other.

On how it realates to names. Collie is a kid, they are a collector so The Collector, they live around the archive but it's not their responsibility at this point -it's The Archivists. As Collector grows up and becomes an Archivist they can take a specific set of tasks and be associated with them taking on a title. However, this also means that titles can change.

The first sibling in the story, after establishing their archive, was just named The Archivist. When another collector grew up to help, they divided roles, with Curator handling organization inside the archive and Naturalist handling "ground work". Later, the tasks of the Naturalists were divided, now becoming Anatomist and dealing with the living environment and Architects handling the unliving aspects . Following Archivist became The Wayfarer, responsible for keeping track of every collected place and noting any changes they undergo. They scout out planets that are to be added to the archive.

I'm not certain what Collie would want to do in the future. I think they might be inclined towards tasks related to being around mortals as they are pretty social, so they could probably take on some responsibilities from Anatomist and Wayfarer. But, I can't say for sure what title they might take

And here's a fun little aspect: the universe didn't stop expanding. The places their archive reaches keep getting further away and more advanced systems, so planets that are more than basic fauna and flora are more prone to collapsing. At some point, probably when Collie is an Archivist, the archive might have to split, and the names will shift again

[dullgecko]

(Journalist Riz)

When Riz gets nominated for an award, he gets a plus one to the ceremony. Who do you think Riz would invite?

As much as he loves them all, I think Riz would probably either pick Sklonda, Adaine or Gorgug; depending on who is available. Maybe Fabian, but it all depends. Fig and Kristen are no gos.

Riz had gotten home before his mom that day, stopping by the mailbox in the lobby of the appartment to grab their mail before heading upstairs. It was mostly junk mail, a couple of bills (which he pocketed so he could pay them himself before his mom saw them) and weirdly enough a letter addressed directly to him.

It was suspicious. No one ever sent him letters. Riz flipped it over in his hand to look at the back (no return address, hand delivered obviously) before he felt the envelope between his fingers. Noting the weird texture and thickness of whatever was inside before giving a slight bend. Whatever it was had multiple pages enclosed plus at least one or two pages that were shorter than the edges of the rest.... this warranted some investigation. He wasn't about to open a weird letter without checking it for traps first.

Once he was securely in his apartment he placed the envelope on the kitchen table, first trying detect magic before starting on the usual trap-detection routine he had to go through every time he got an info packet from his rogue classes. The goblin found nothing. It was just a normal, untrapped, suspicious letter.

Now that he was relatively sure it wouldn't explode in his face he ripped it open, Riz digging one of his sharp claws under the flap an tearing a neat line along the top so he could access the contents. He slid the thinner pieces of paper out first, surprised that he was holding two glossy VIP tickets to an award ceremony in Bastion City in his hand. The letter that accompanied them getting unfolded and read quickly as he searched for the reason why.

Oh.... well. Wow okay.

He glanced at the tickets again, quickly digging out his crystal so he could bring up the website for the ceremony and scroll through the list of nominees. Yep. There he was. 'Riz Gukgak - nominated for his piece exposing the unethical hunting of sapient species for level grinding in the Mountains of Chaos'.

There was a fairly substantial cash prize if he won too and he honestly didn't think he'd ever held that much money in one go before (saved for the cursed coins in Kalvaxus's hoard, and that didn't count in his mind).

The rogue flopped heavily onto his couch, still clutching the letter and tickets in one hand and his crystal in the other while he stared at the ceiling. Sure he was aware his article had been popular, the Bastion City Newspaper having bought it from him for a decent amount of money, but he didn't think it was that good. He'd written it on a whim, something he'd discovered incidentally while working a different job for the LPRTF that had left him with a lot of information buzzing around in his head but nowhere to put it other than into an article. This was... wild.

He glanced at the letter and tickets again, holding them up and snapping a photo before sending a text with the picture to his mom.

//Hey. I've been nominated for an award. You free Thursday night next week? They sent me a ticket for a plus one.//

//Honey thats amazing! Of course! I'll let work know I won't be free. We can discuss details when we get home. I'm so PROUD of you.//

Riz laughed, flicking over to the group chat as well to update his friends and getting a swarm of similar texts, though they were more packed with emojis than his mothers had been. It had been Fig that noticed the second ticket, the archdevil reposting the picture into the chat after circling the extra ticket in red.

//Omg who are you taking as your plus one?! Do you have someone you want to ask out maybe? >:3//

//No. Dude. I've already asked my mom.//

//Lol figured. You'll have to tell us how it goes! Down to the second updates.//

The next few days had been hectic. Between school and work he had barely any downtime as it was but Fabian had insisted he get a new suit for the ceremony. Riz had protested that his normal suits were fine but he apparently had no say in the matter, the half elf saying it was a gift to congratulate him on his success and basically dragging him from store to store in his quest for the best. The girls had kidnapped his mom though, something he found out after he got home (arms overloaded with a new suit, and shoes, and socks, and cufflinks) and found his mother in a similar state of overwhelemed overshopped exhaustion surrounded by her own pile of clothes.

And so the day of the awards ceremony came, Sklonda getting a little teary eyed on seeing Riz in his outfit because he looked so much like his father. They were hustled quickly into the dark theatre once they arrived, the pair of them sitting through nearly an hour of speeches and awards before Riz's own catagory was announced.

He felt a little out of his own body when they announced that he'd won, heavy feet making their way up onto the stage to accept his award and cheque and got ready to make his speech. The rogue blinking in surprise when he noticed his party seated near the far back of the room waving wildly at him as he gave them a confused look.

Of course they were here. He shouldn't have ever doubted that they WOULD be. Between Fabians connections and Figs ability to get into places she shouldn't there was no way they'd miss out on this.

Riz shook his head in amusement, giving them a small wave back before clearing his throat to speak. Having to take a few seconds before he was finally able to get the words out.

[jpitha]

Between the Black and Gray 6

First / Previous / Next

Fen and Ma-ren made their way down station until they reached the main promenade. This was pointedly separate from the Human/K'laxi space and was a much nicer place to walk around. Plants, open spaces, even large windows gave the promenade a breezy, friendly look that the forty third floor lacked.

They rounded a corner and came upon an anonymous shop entrance with the Gren's dotted and slashed script above stating that it was a Gren Familial Association. Fen shook her head. She figured that gangsters were gangsters no matter what species they were.

As she and Ma-ren pushed open the doors and entered the club, the bouncer behind a lectern at the entrance was startled awake. He growled but then saw who it was. "Fen. Ma-ren." He yawned, and his mouthparts stretched as his jaw opened wide. "Tam'itarr is in the back, he's waiting for you."

Fen grunted thanks, and they walked towards the back of the club. It was only mid afternoon now, and the club was mostly empty. A few old regular sat in the large overstuffed chairs the Gren preferred, with a long front instead of a back to accommodate their reverse articulated legs. Ma-ren waved to a few regulars she knew and got mouthpart gestures and grunts of acknowledgement in return.

The back was much the same. Here, a Tylan was cleaning the bar, while a Sefigan was moving chairs and cleaning the floor underneath. They both nodded at Ma-ren and Fen, but did not stop working. Seated in a large, round booth was Tam'itarr with his son Tam and a few other Gren. Fen wasn't an expert at Gren physiology, but Tam looked upset. Tam'itarr however, spread his arms wide.

"Fen and Ma-ren! My favorite refugees! I am so glad you received my invitation to come and say hello. Please, sit! I'll have someone bring you a drink. Ma-ren, I managed to procure a small supply of chamomile, would you like a cup?"

Chamomile Tea, a K'laxi favorite has nearly passed into legend once they left Colonial Space. Ma-ren had never had it, and she would hear stories from her parent's parents about it. Her eyes went wide and her tail flicked. "Sure Tam'itarr, thank you."

"Don't think I have forgotten you either, Fen. In this same shipment, I managed to get ahold of a case of actual Parvatian wine. The real stuff. None of us can drink it, but I'd be honored to let you have a bottle and tell us how it is."

Fen blinked. None of the species here can consume alcohol, so it's hard to come by. There are home fermentations and distilleries of course, but it's all this side of drain cleaner. Fen can't recall seeing a bottle of wine in anything other than a novel or show her entire life.

"S-sure Tam'itarr, thanks. I'll try it and let you know." A Tylan brought out a dusty bottle and handed it to Fen and then disappeared behind the bar. "Tam'itarr, I don't wish to sound ungrateful, but why are you being so nice?"

Tam'itarr chuckled and patted his son on his back. "Tam here told me earlier about his run-in with the newbie. It's been a while since we've had new humans here, and it seems that this one is... different. Vel also mentioned that you and him had gone over to Spyglass and were inside for nearly a whole day."

Ma-ren shrugged and she flicked her tail. "He wanted to see the ship, he's interested in old stuff." The Tylan bartender brought out a steaming mug of tea and set it in front of Ma-ren, and gestured to Fen. She handed him the bottle and he deftly popped the cork. He glugged a measure of burgundy liquid into a glass and offered it to her.

"A new human shows up, deftly avoids my son's welcome wagon-" Tam glared, but said nothing "-and then is taken to Spyglass by you two, stays inside for a day and also knows a lot about 'old stuff'." Tam'itarr leans forward. "You can see why I'm interested, ladies. This human knows things. Whether they are useful things or dangerous things remains to be seen, but I would like to meet him. Please arrange it."

Fen took a sip of the wine. It was much less sour than she thought it would be. It was round and coated her mouth. The wine was on a completely different level than the hooch the local humans made. "Tam'itarr this is amazing" Fen blurted. Tam'itarr leaned back and his mouthparts smiled. "Excellent. Swing by with this human today or tomorrow, and we'll consider everything square." The bartender returned with a small box of tea for Ma-ren and another bottle of wine for Fen.

They exited the social club, gifts carefully wrapped and worked their way back up to their level. On the lift, Ma-ren looked at Fen. "We shouldn't have accepted those gifts."

"Probably not, no." Fen shrugged. "You know as well as I do that you don't say no to Tam'itarr, and at least he is trying to be nice first. We'll ask Gord to come along and meet him. Maybe it's nothing bad."

"Fen, he's a human from who-knows-where who knows a lot about old ships and is apparently way older than he lets on. He said he knew Spyglass."

"He's not a human, remember? He's an AI. I thought that they never left Colonial Space."

"That's what I thought too, but he's here. Maybe he's looking for something"

Fen gestured. "Or he's on the run. Still, Tam'itarr wants to meet him. Gord has already proven he can take care of himself. We'll just be honest. Show him the gifts, explain how he's the local power on the station and say he wants to meet him. I'm sure Gord will go along with it."

Ma-ren wasn't so sure, but she didn't say anything. They dropped off their gifts at home and wandered the floor until they saw Gord. He was sitting on a bench, reading his battered pad. When they approached, he looked up and smiled. "Hi Fen and Ma-ren! How are things?"

Fen nodded. "Not bad Gord. What's up with Spyglass?"

Gord closed the pad and put it down carefully. "She's... doing better. I brought her up to speed more on things and she agrees for now to keep a low profile. I'm hopeful we can scare up some parts to repair her reactors so she has two going. She can move under her own power then. It would be nice to reinstall more, but I don't know if we'll be able to do that here. I'd probably have to head back for something like that" He trailed off.

"Back? Back where Gord?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Back to human space Fen, it's not gone."

"They sure act like it's gone out here Gord. Nobody has ever talked about going home. When any of us asked as kids, we were told it's impossible."

"I could see why your folks would say that yes. Things are... different now than they were when they left. Your families were fleeing the Empire, and they're still around, but life goes on." Gord shrugged. "Most people just keep their heads down and live."

"What's it like? Back in Colonial space?"

Gord looked past them and thought a moment. "It's different than out here. It's hard to explain. Well, no, that's not true. Humans and K'laxi aren't refugees back there. But don't mistake that for more freedom. If you're not a part of the Empire, the best you can hope for is to be left alone, though that never lasts."

"What if you are a part of the Empire?"

Gord smiled wryly. "They don't want people like me, I don't know. I've always been 'part of the problem'. It's just now that we're almost gone, they've turned their attention on others. That's probably why your families left, you became inconvenient and were next up to be 'taken care of.'"

Fen stared at Gord. "You can't go back, can you? You'll be caught and killed."

Gord sighed. "No, I can't really go back. I got away once by the skin of my teeth, and all I had with me were the clothes on my back, my pad and my pack of AI cores. If I go back then I will most likely be killed, yes."

"So you can't go get more reactors for Spyglass."

"Even if I could go back, there aren't anymore Starjumpers. If I had some printable mass, her printers could make more, but it's a long, slow process and it doesn't matter, because we have no printable mass." Gord shook his head. "We're stuck here unless we can make something that doesn't exist." Gord hung his head.

Fen stared at Ma-ren. "Gord, we were... invited to speak with Tam'itarr," Ma-ren said. He's Tam's father and the local gang leader. He wants to meet you."

Gord lifted up his head. "He does? Why?"

Fen crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "Really Gord? You got around his son's shakedown and practically ran to Spyglass, something nobody here has been interested in for decades. You caught his attention and he wants to know your deal."

"Okay, okay, that's fair. I should be better at this. I was just so excited to hear that a Starjumper survived."

"Gord, what happened to the Starjumpers?"

"They were destroyed Fen. We were destroyed."

"Who did it? The humans?"

Gord looked up at Fen and Ma-ren. "It's complicated, and painful, and sad. I don't really want to go into any more detail than I have already right now. The short answer is everyone did it, through ignorance and hubris and treachery. We were never a large population, not even in the tens of millions. I have no idea how many are left, either free an autonomous like me, or shackled like Spyglass was. Most old human ships required an AI to operate them. They could have been refitted to be run by a crew, or have a shackled AI to run them but not have any agency. I've seen both." He stood. "You can see why it's important for me to get Spyglass up and fully operational. Ideally she needs four reactors reinstalled, and her two existing ones overhauled. I could name a dozen places that we could take her for that, but if any still exist, we wouldn't be welcome there. If we can do it at all, we're going to have to go about this a different way." When he stopped talking, he blinked, as if he had just parsed what Ma-ren said earlier. "This Tam'itarr is a gangster?"

"That's right Gord. Effectively runs the whole station."

Gord nodded. "Gangsters I can deal with. He might have just the answers I need. I just hope I can afford his price. Let's go meet him."

[satancopilotsmytardis]

SpiderShig and Catbi are so freaking cute together, so much trust and love and Dabi getting left and absolute mess.

I am curious though, how did they go from spite fucking with a bar hook up to a functional and loving relationship?

They make my heart warm 🥰

So they actually started talking that night because of Dabi's ego and spite and Tomura's general chillness and willingness to watch someone drive straight into a brick wall just to see how their car crumples. The thing is, though, that they didn't fuck that night. Shig took Dabi to his nest and they had a couple more drinks and chatted, but neither of them had ever slept with anyone else yet. Dabi didn't want to have kids and wrapping it isn't really a thing with the barbs on the dick, most people don't want that inside them anyway, and inter-species pairings aren't really treated kindly in this version of the world. Tomura never slept with anyone because he didn't want to fucking die or have his genitals removed by his partner. So they hung out that night, but Dabi claimed that he had a filthy raunchy night when he came home the next day because Enji was giving him shit about being out.

And Enji did what Enji always does, and used that as an excuse to kick him out. Dabi was, of course, not in a good place after that, and had to go back, with his tail between his legs and ask the guy he barely knew if he could stay with him for a little while until he found some different work in town and could afford to get a place of his own since his siblings would be cut off if they helped him. Shig felt a little bad himself for the cat and let him stay. The heavy petting sessions really were just to keep Dabi from getting all of his fur/hair ripped out on his silk at first, at first. But of course, during one of those, they both started to get really hot and had to separate for a bit, with Tomura really worried that Dabi coming onto him afterward was him trying to 'pay him back' for letting him stay at his place.

It took them about a month before they broke under the sexual tension and they got off together for the first time, Dabi finding out that spiders have two dicks, Tomura finding out the barbs on Dabi's dick wouldn't hurt him. Once they figured out that they were compatible in bed, and with Tomura being a hunter who was entirely self-sufficient from the village anyway (apart from the occasional luxuries like booze which he trades pelts and silk for) Dabi was given the invitation to stay indefinitely as his mate, and more or less is Tomura's sugar baby now.

I also headcanon that Tomura weaves his silk into pretty clothes for Dabi to wear in town so that he is always dressed like he's more well-off than Enji. He still gets to see his siblings and he and his mate are doing very well together. The softness and affection came from them being on their own and relying on each other to be an understanding ear. And now they get to have great sex every day too lol.

Thanks for commenting!

[bloodgulchblog]

What are the weirdest facts about Halo you know. Like just absurd stuff. I mean there’s the worm mechs but I wanna know if there’s more

ALRIGHT let's see what I can remember off the top of my head before I have to leave for the day:

Once upon a time in the most ancient space days before the Halos were fired, everyone in the galaxy thought the San'Shyuum were incredibly sexy.

A scrapped enemy from the early Halos was a gigantic, lumbering one-eyed creature that they were thinking was a whole species the Covenant weaponized. The Sharquoi would later be used as a forgotten Forerunner weapon in a novel that are hive-mind controlled from this metal crown that will dig into your brain.

It's a kind of widely known fact about them, but the Forerunners as a species reached a point where they were not considered to be actual adults until their bodies had been extensively augmented, and it was a signifier of importance and status to go through multiple mutations over the course of their lives. (Which is why they are so radically different from one another in size/shape/appearance.)

The way the Librarian found out about how the Forerunners genocided the Precursors was by traveling out to where it happened and finding a planet where there was a population of Forerunners that had been surviving without technology for tons and tons and tons of generations. (They conveyed this information to her by biting her, so that the bacteria their ancestors had genetically engineered to contain memory and information could teach her about it.)

We have one canonical example of a smart AI living for a very long time... and it's because he was actually two AIs in a trenchcoat who would switch which personality was in charge while the other one went out to live in the internet-of-things between space tractors and cropdusters for a while to recharge.

Jiralhanae smell. They communicate tons of information through scent/pheromones, and are noted to stink noticeably when they're scared.

The Unggoy are a very musical people. They have a 42-storey high building in their capital city dedicated just to the musical arts.

The way the Covenant found the mech worms in the first place was that the Lek'golo worms were eating Forerunner technology and they did not like that, but then they figured out that SOME of them would just eat AROUND the technology so they had an Arbiter negotiate with them and get them to help kill off the other kinds. Normal Covenant stuff.

Huragok are actually living tools created by the Forerunners for building and maintaining stuff. There were once some Huragok that were used by Forerunner Lifeworkers that could work with living tissue the way other Huragok work with machines, but they were all wiped out. (...One does show up in a book but shshhhh I'm trying to keep this simple.)

Ideas of the "ideal female body" humans have are based on the Librarian's appearance because she messed around with genetically implanting stuff into humans so much.

The way you euphemistically talk about Sangheili groups that let their women fight more than is conventionally allowed is you say they have a "strong protector-of-eggs tradition."

The whole splinter population of Sangheili I mentioned recently that didn't want to joint he Covenant, so they went and hid in a Forerunner structure and succeeded for several thousand years.

The planet Onyx where the Spartan-IIIs were trained was actually secretly a Forerunner shield world. Now that it's been brought back into normal space, it takes up most of that solar system. The inner surface of the sphere will take generations of work to explore because it is so large.

[yulesarts]

i have finished designing and drawing them... these are my newest hnk ocs' final designs!!

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Background

Vivianite was born within a deposit of iron on the beach of beginnings, formed between fragments of ancient human bones long since fossilized with the aid of the sea water. They were one of the first gems to be born. Not long after came Erythrite, born near a cobalt ore deposit, thus gaining the colour they have. The two are similar in structure, and became bonded as siblings.

They worked as a pair for a while, but Erythrite was captured by the lunarians and Vivianite was left distraught. Due to this, he isolated himself for decades, furiously doing research into the gem shards that came back from the lunarians. 300 years later, a new Erythrite was born. Vivianite was conflicted over this - the ghost of their old friend has come back to haunt them in a way, although he is completely different from the previous Erythrite in every way possible. Vivianite chose to keep his distance, but watched over the young Erythrite nonetheless.

Nowadays, he simply keeps to himself, either doing research and experiments on things he finds interesting, or out doing fieldwork and noting down new species when he finds them. The younger gems both fear and respect him, as he's the oldest out of all the current gems.

When Phos asks Vivianite to follow him to the moon, he agrees to go. Part of it is morbid curiosity, anothher part of him is tired for having lived so long, and he yearns to see the old Erythrite once more. During the moon arc, he becomes part of the lab team trying to figure out how to bring the shattered gems back.

BIOGRAPHIES

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Vivianite "Vivian"

Hardness level: 2

Stiff, Loner, Morbid

Role: Biology Expert

Relationships

→ Erythrite: Sibling/Ex-partner

→ Rutile: Mentee

→ Padparadscha: Old friend

→ Yellow Diamond: Old friend

→ Lapis: Research partner

HCs:

The areas of him where there is bone are stronger, helping to protect against attacks

Helped mentor Rutile when he came into existence, later on helps him with Padparadscha

Gets excited about the organic life forms easily, wants to know all there is to know about them

An expert on gem biology

His human AU counterpart would be a coroner

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Erythrite "Eryth"

Hardness level: 2.5

Loud, Energetic, Straightforward

Role: Architect/Patrol Duty

Relationships:

→ Vivianite: Cool senpai

→ Sphene: Close colleagues

→ Red Beryl: Fashion friend

→ Diamond: Gossip friend

→ Euclase: Games friend

HCs:

Fixes broken parts of the building

Learnt how to make glass, favorite past time is making stained glass pieces

Friends with almost everyone, easy to get along with

He goes on patrol very occasionally, and only reports back to the others when he finds a sunspot

His human AU counterpart would still be an architect

[girafficparka]

Untitled WIP I’ve been working on off and on to help with writers block for a different fic. I kinda really liked it so here ya go!

Inspiration: mass effect 3 owes me a decent shep/garrus/kaiden love triangle, and I plan to collect.

~~~

“I don’t know what you’re in the mood for tonight, Shepard. But Vega insists that we watch something called…Hard Death?” Garrus was saying as he entered her cabin. He was reviewing the title of the vid on his omni-tool. “Scratch that. Die Hard. He said it was a traditional human holiday vid, so I thought…Shepard?”

He stopped short when he looked up and caught Shepard staring at him, silently, from her couch. Humans weren’t exactly the easiest species to read - they were expressive, but often he could never figure out what each of their hundred of expressions meant - but he’d like to think he knew Shepard pretty well. She looked…stricken.

“Shepard?” he repeated, fully entering her cabin and approaching her. He went to sit next to her but she held up a hand to stop him. He paused at an awkward angle, halfway between standing leaning down to sit next to her. She stood up, standing in front of him with her hands fidgeting before her. He had never seen her look so…nervous.

“Shepard,” he repeated, for the third time, his voice soft. Confused. “Talk to me.”

“I…I have something to tell you and I don’t…want to.”

Well this was new. Shepard wasn’t afraid of anything, least of that being talking.

Thoroughly confused, he asked, “Ok?”

Shepard stared up at him and pulled her lower lip into her mouth, biting it. He’d seen her do that before, in a very different circumstance. Here it was just further proof that she was worrying. Panicking. “You are starting to freak me out a little bit here, Shepard.”

Shepard released her lip with a POP and raised a hand, running it through her fringe - er, hair. Judging by how it was sticking up she had been doing that for awhile.

“Are you hur-” he started, reaching out a hand to touch her face.

“Kaiden came by. A little bit ago.” Garrus’ hand froze. He didn’t know why, but the way she had said it…made him feel cold. He waited for her to continue, dropping his hand. Shepard’s green gaze followed it’s movement before she dropped her own hand from her hair. Her eye flicked between his for a moment before she let out a harsh breath, turning away from him to pace.

“He…said he wants to try again. After that bullshit he pulled I almost threw him out. But…he seemed…sincere. He kept bringing up Ilium and the SR1 and…uggh.”

Garrus remained silent, and frozen, where he had paused near the couch.

“I didn’t tell him yes. But I did…agree to a date. One date. We never got closure after…I died. Not really. And I wasn’t sure if we - you and I I mean - were still, I mean you’ve been back no the Normandy for a month and we haven’t even talked about…oh my god, I’m rambling. I never ramble.” Shepard stopped her pacing, turning to look at Garrus. “If you tell me not to go I won’t go.”

That pulled him out of stasis. “What? Why is that my decision?”

And it was an easy decision.

No.

Don’t go on a date with Kaiden spirits fucking forsaken Alenko. He had his shot, and he blew it. It was Garrus’ turn now. But what had he been doing with ‘his turn’? (and how pissed would Shepard be if she could read his thoughts right now). Movie nights, quips across the battle field, platonic if lingering touches as they hung out in the battery. She was right, he’d been back on board the Normandy for a month and he had nothing to show for it. He’d had a chance - a hundred chances - to bring up how he felt about her but he hadn’t. She’d always seemed so stressed, so harried. He hadn’t wanted to burden her, to pressure her. He’d let her take the lead on their reconnection. She’d been friendly, so he’d been friendly. And every two minutes there was some damn crisis - a dalatrass to bribe, a galaxy-changing medical marvel to facilitate. He’d wanted to be the calm at the center of her numerous storms. And now it sounded like she’d been waiting for him to-

“We were, you know, together recently. So I thought-”

“Seven months ago.” Garrus clarified, unsure why he was bringing up the time frame.

“Huh?”

“We were together seven months ago. And we thought we were going to die.” What was he talking about? Why was he saying this?

Why did he sound so cold?

His tone tripped Shepard up. She suddenly looked less frantic. She stopped wringing her hands, and was looking at him with an expression he could not even begin to interpret. “You’re right. We didn’t make any promises to each other. You aren’t…responsible for me, nor I you. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you about this. I guess I just…wanted to make sure you and I are…good. If I do this - the date with Kaiden, I mean.”

Garrus needed to swing by the medbay - there was a pain in his gut that had to be from something physical - a bullet wound his medi-gel had somehow missed?

Tell her to not go out with him. Fucking idiot, tell her!

“We are good Shep. You go on that date - or not! Whatever…whatever you want. We are good.” Shep? Where the hell had that come from. “If that’s all, I got to go - guns to calibrate, you know-” Garrus began making his way back through the door. He paused at the doorway just as Shepard called.

“What were you…saying about a movie?”

“Uh, oh that? Nothing. I’ll tell you later. See you in the morning, Shepard.” And before he could say something embarrassing, or pitiful, he left.

As he made his way to the elevator he stumbled. He felt off-balance - like the artificial gravity had abruptly been turned off. What had just happened? What the hell had just happened? He felt a sick, heavy feeling rolling along his veins, originating from somewhere deep in his gut. As the doors slid open on the crew deck, Garrus had had the chance to examine the sensation coursing through his body, finally setting in his chest like a heavy weight.

Jealousy.

~~~fin, for now~~~

[snarkys-malarky]

So here's a little drabble that has been eating at my brain like a Geonosian brain worm so I had to get it out! Please like, reblog and tell me what you think!! I'm still trying to figure out how to make posts look really good like some of the others I see on here so any tips on that would be appreciated too! Hope you enjoy The Book as much as Tech and Echo!!

Tech and Echo discover a lending library on Ord Mantell and Echo shows Tech the joys of book borrowing. However, Tech discovers something unexpected and has trouble deciding how he feels about it. Big Bro Echo to the rescue!

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Tech had been delighted to find that Echo liked to read. It was one of Tech’s favorite activities, especially when between missions, if he wasn’t working on one of his many projects. There was a time when Crosshair would sit and read with him on the spare padd, the two of them sitting companionably in the cockpit en route to wherever and reading whatever was on their respective padds.

But Crosshair wasn’t there to sit with him anymore… and Tech had not realized how much he had missed that simple companionship until Echo had joined them. The first time Echo had hesitantly inquired about something he could read on, Tech had nearly jumped from the pilot’s chair in his excitement. When Echo had mentioned the existence of places where you could actually find books in flimsi form AND touch them and read them, Tech had been hooked. It was on his list of Things To Do When The War Is Over Or I Have A Chance To Try.

That was a particularly long list.

Unfortunately, they were never on any planet that A. wasn’t in a state of war and B. had enough time anyway to look for something like that. It wasn’t until they were on Ord Mantell and running from the Empire that it struck either of them that Echo had promised to take him to one someday. When it had come up in conversation, they had both paused before sharing identical looks. It was only the work of a moment before Tech had his padd in hand and coordinates to the nearest book lender to their ship marked out. They wound their way through the seedier streets of the city until coming to a slightly more reputable part of the town. Tech was afraid they might be a bit conspicuous in their armour in this nicer area but Echo assured him it would not be an issue. As they received no odd or curious glances, he could only assume Echo knew what he was speaking of and continued on til his HUD map showed them at the right place. It was a small, inconspicuous-looking building with only a sign beside a doorway declaring what it was. However, when they entered…

Oh, when they entered!

Tech was very glad he had his helmet on because he knew he was most likely gawking. There were flimsy books everywhere! Echo directed them to a side area where an older Rodian was sitting behind a desk. It wasn’t long before Echo, with fake chain codes in hand, had acquired them both lending numbers which they could use to pick out books to take with them. Tech had long since sliced the padds that they kept on the Havoc Marauder so that he could access other things on them besides just mission related information. He had access to as many things to read as he might want thru that but there was something about this riot of readable items surrounding him that made his insides feel like they were quivering in excitement and happiness. He followed Echo as he showed him how the areas were divided into general topics and how things were arranged. It wasn’t long before they were each browsing through their selected section. Tech was fascinated by the colorful graphics on the covers. He picked up one after the other, examining them and seeing how they were put together. It was all fascinating. He began to wander, trying to see how many sections and topics were available to chose from. It was then he saw it. An entire shelf of books of what looked like several different species in various states of dress and arousal. He glanced around and stepped closer, curiosity peaked. Upon further investigation, he realized these books all had a common theme of romantic, and rather sexual, overtones. He didn’t know how to quantify his thoughts on them. Why would beings wish to read about what he assumed was a largely private issue for most sentients? Granted, there were several species that were overtly sexual by nature but even so it didn’t strike him as a topic usually read about but something more of a participatory activity.

The artwork on the covers was quite fascinating however. It was as he was examining those a bit more in depth that he saw it.

There, right beside one depicting what appeared to be several Jedi in ridiculous poses with scantily clad Twi’lek females hanging over them, was one with what seemed to be a clone, in full armour, arms clasped about a quite curvy female human.

He tried to resist but his curiosity was too great.

He picked it up and turned it to read the blurb on the back.

It was indeed exactly what it appeared to be.

A clone romance.

He had never even imagined that nat-borns, of any species, could or would think of clones in this way. It had seemed that most sentient nat-borns in the galaxy, if they gave a single thought to clones at all, usually only had bad thoughts of them.

This was…intriguing.

He cast another glance around before flipping it open randomly and beginning to read.

He felt his face turning red.

Was that even possible?

He flipped to another area and began to read.

He could feel himself beginning to sweat.

He shut the book abruptly and, after a moment of deliberation, slid it to the bottom of the small set of books he already had in hand.

He left that book section before he could get caught and hurried to another. It wasn’t long before he was engrossed in another section. It didn’t take him long to hit the maximum amount of books he was allowed to check out at one time and he returned to the counter where the elderly Rodian sat and tried not to fidget as he ran his scanner over the bar codes on the spine of each book. As soon as he was done, Tech grabbed them up and stuffed them in the rucksack he had brought along just for this purpose. Echo had one as well and Tech was relieved since he didn’t want to risk getting The Book mixed in with Echo’s. Tech began to wander around, looking for Echo and it wasn’t long before he found him, a pile of books of his own in hand. Tech offered to carry them for him since balancing them in his scomp arm looked a little difficult. Echo accepted with a grateful nod and less than 30 minutes later they were headed back to the Marauder, respective goods in hand…or sack, as the case may be.

Echo went directly to the bunk that used to be Crosshairs and sat his sack down as he began to rummage. Tech headed for the cockpit with his. Thankfully, Hunter had gone for supplies and  Wrecker had taken Omega and headed to fulfill their after mission Mantell Mix tradition. Often they wandered around the outdoor markets as they enjoyed it so he knew they wouldn’t be back for a bit.

Enough time for research.

At least, that’s what he told himself as he pulled out The Book and began to read. Tech could read incredibly fast when he needed or wanted to. As he progressed through the first few chapters of the book he found himself slowing down a bit in order to catalogue the rather fascinating physiological responses he was having to the content.

His slow was still a lot faster than most people and he had completed reading the book by the time the others started coming back to the ship. It was a fortunate thing as he had found the contents to be exceptionally arousing, both physically and mentally. He had found it necessary to, as Hunter liked to say “take care of the problem”, caused by the very viscerally worded content and the imagery provoked by it. He had also been quite surprised to be so emotionally compromised by the storyline and he could not help but wonder if the writer had any personal experience they were drawing from as the way they had written and portrayed the clone protagonist of the story felt very real to him.  So much so in fact that he had found himself resonating in sympathy several times with his conflicted points of view.

He had also been surprised with his feelings regarding the female protagonist. Tech would be the first to admit his experience of the female of any species was lamentably limited. He was, after all, a clone, raised amongst other clones and spending the majority of his time on missions and in the battlefield. There were few females to be encountered in such scenarios and of the ones that were, the type of scenario set forth in the novel had certainly never occurred. Even so, he found himself, confusingly, echoing the feelings of the clone protagonist of the story toward the female.

Even now, having finished the book several hours earlier and hidden it away in his secret spot, he found himself ruminating on the story and feeling both satisfied that they had been able to escape to Wild Space together and simultaneously upset. It took him until several hours into the night cycle to conclude the reason for his upset. When it struck him, it was both so simple and so profound that he was somewhat shocked at the revelation.

He wanted that for himself.

He wanted to be noticed and fixated on, desired and dreamed about. He wanted someone to feel that depth of emotion for him that they would fight the galaxy and give up everything they knew just to keep him in their life. He wanted to experience that level of passion and sexual gratification and connection to someone who felt it for him as well.

When the revelation hit him, it felt rather like a strike to his solar plexus. It left him feeling winded and uncomfortable, more so when he realized that such a thing was highly unlikely to ever happen with the way he and his brothers lived their lives.

He couldn’t quite understand why it hurt as much as it did though.

He tried to put it out of his mind by immersing himself in the other books he had borrowed but the thought continued to pick at the edges of his mind until he felt unusually irritable.

It was inevitable that one of his brothers would call him out on his oddly bad mood. He was just extremely grateful that the one that eventually did was Echo as, of all of them, he was the most likely to be able to understand and have an idea of how to address the issue.

They were in hyperspace on their way to yet another job for Cid when Echo finally approached him late into a night cycle and asked him what was bothering him. He simply dug out the book and passed it to him and asked him to read it. Echo took it silently, his eyebrows rising ever higher as he surveyed the cover then flipped it to the blurb on the back. Tech did his best to ignore the curious and rather impish look his brother cast him before he nodded and agreed. He focused himself on his own book as Echo settled in beside him in the co-pilot’s chair to read. This was a familiar and comfortable scenario for Tech. Echo often found it as hard to sleep as Tech, with his always busy brain, did and frequently found his way to the cockpit to sit in quiet companionship with him as they read or occasionally talked.

Echo, for his part, was deeply intrigued by what Tech had passed to him. He’d never pegged Tech as the type to be interested in sex, much less a secret romantic. Tech had always tended to keep himself to himself, and while he could be physical if a brother was needing comfort, he wasn’t at all what Echo would call the cuddly type. Really, none of the batch were, with the notable exception of Wrecker who, for all his size, was much closer to what Echo was used to with the brothers he had known. It was Wrecker who had most often physically comforted him with hugs and cuddles when he was first with the batch and trying to adjust to, well… everything.

Echo settled in and began to read. He could see at first glance why Tech had been caught by the book. Clone/nat-born romance was, while technically banned by the Republic, still something that had happened quite often, if scuttlebutt was to be believed. Hell, Cut and Suu were proof that the idea wasn’t so far-fetched as the nat-born purists and politicians wanted everyone to believe. Clones were still technically fully-functional human males with fully functioning sex drives and, once they discovered the power of their own physical appeal to certain beings in the galaxy, they were as prone to sexual encounters as any nat-born. The GAR and Senate had recognized that early on and turned a selectively blind eye which in turn meant 79s had been a hotbed of hook-ups and the neighboring GAR sanctioned 69s pleasure house had done a banging business (Echo chuckled quietly at his own unintended pun). There had been much less care given to the occasional sexual encounter but the deeper feelings that could develop into a relationship? That was something else as it undermined the whole argument that clones didn’t count as sentient beings deserving of autonomy. So, while relationships did happen, it was kept much lower profile since they all knew the consequences it could hold for a brother caught or even accused.

As Echo read, he tried to see it thru his brother’s eyes. Why would this have upset Tech to the point of becoming so off-center they had all noticed? Echo had to admit, the sex scenes were pretty steamy and, had he still had all his parts intact, would probably have had him squirming in discomfort from some needs of his own. As it was, he could still mentally appreciate the details and, as the story progressed, could feel himself connecting with certain aspects. The idea of being loved so unconditionally as Tayla loved Jax was rather intoxicating. Echo had long since accepted the fact that such things were beyond him now, it was an old pain that occasionally pricked but no longer ached as it once did but connecting with these characters was causing that old pain of wanting love to rear its nasty head.

Echo paused.

Could this be why his brother was so out of sorts?

Could it be that Tech, the one who, out of all his now brothers seemed most unlikely to, actually wanted to have love? Wanted to have a relationship and a sexual one at that?

Echo took a deep breath and slanted a side-eyed look to his lanky brother draped sideways in the captain’s chair beside him as he considered the thought. While at first it had seemed rather absurd, the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Tech was the most brilliant person he had ever met, of any species but, with that brilliance came differences too. Echo had been quick to take note when he had joined the Bad Batch. As an ARC, he was no fool himself and had applied himself to learning as much about his new batch as he possibly could as fast as he could and one of the glaringly big things he had noted was that Tech didn’t tick like the rest of them. He wondered if the others even noticed how they accommodated some of his more quirky traits. The longer he was with them the more he doubted that they did notice, it was just second nature to them. None more so than Crosshair though. It had actually not surprised him a bit to learn that they had been tube twins. They seemed to almost have another sense when it came to one another. Echo often noted Crosshair helping Tech to calm when he got agitated or taking him away before he had one of his shutdown episodes, something that had terrified Echo the first time it had happened until Hunter let him know it was just part of how Tech worked. Likewise, Tech always seemed to know when one of Cross’s migraines were incoming and would dim the shipboard lights which everyone knew was a sign to quieten down. They did the same for Hunter on the occasions his senses got overstimulated but it wasn’t as instinctual, often wasn’t until Hunter was showing clear signs. Wrecker had once told him that Tech and Crosshair had always used to sleep together until they got too big to fit in the bunks and even then, if one had a bad night, the other would find a way to fit in with them. It had struck Echo hard as he had already noted how much less prone to physical comfort the batch, and especially Tech, was with one another compared to every other clone batch he knew and made him wonder for the thousandth time what this group of brothers had been through to make them the way they were.

Now that Crosshair wasn’t with them, did Tech long for that comforting connection he no longer had? Was this a case of transference or had Tech always harbored these secret hopes and desires like so many other brothers had?

As he finished the story, he sat for a minute and contemplated how to approach the issue.

“Have you finished the book?” Echo couldn’t help the involuntary quirk of his lips at the question. He should have known even if Tech was doing 5 other things he would still be keeping watch and waiting to pounce as soon as he perceived he was finished.

“Yes I have.”

Tech fidgeted a bit and Echo let him stew til he could ask his question, “Well, what is your opinion?”

Echo looked over at him and cocked a brow, “Is it my opinion on the book you want or something else?”

Tech grimaced, “In truth I do not really know.”

Echo gave the book a little wave, “is it something to do with this that has had you in a, shall we say, less than pleasant mood lately?”

Tech stared out the front of the ship into the swirling blue of the hyperspace lane for a moment before turning back to Echo.

“I know that you are someone who could understand what it is to wish you could be someone other than who you are. You were once whole in body and now you must deal daily with what was done to you by the Techno Union. I can see that this has caused you much distress at times, and not just because of the pain associated with your cybernetics,” Tech paused a moment as he began to fidget restlessly, bouncing his leg and tapping his hands against his thighs. Sure signs of his discomfort with the topic, Echo knew, but he soldiered on, “But did you ever desire before that happened to be someone other than you are? To have a life other than the one you had? To want things that, as a clone, are by nature, denied to you?”

Echo had long since learned to look past the occasionally painfully blunt words Tech used to reach to the heart of what he was trying to say. And what he was saying now was what Echo had been suspecting. Now he had to find a way to say what Tech needed to hear in a way he could understand it. He considered for a moment before answering.

“I don’t think there are many brothers who haven’t, at some point, wondered what life could have been like if we weren’t soldiers, didn’t wonder what we could be if we had been given the opportunity to be free after the war. For myself, I…met someone, once. She,” Echo shifted uncomfortably, dredging up old memories was hard, “she made me want the chance to be something else. But I… couldn’t leave my brothers to do it. I couldn’t be like Cut and… she understood that. I had hoped after the war that clones might have a chance to live free like other sentients in the galaxy, that maybe I could go back and find her but then… the Citadel happened and… a lot of other things and I realized that that dream was just that, a dream.”

Echo looked over at Tech who was regarding him with wide eyes. Echo tried not to smile. Sometimes he forgot that he had not been with them forever, that there were parts of his story they didn’t know.

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

Tech gave him a Look.

“Did you ever try to find this woman again?”

Echo gave an uncomfortable shrug before turning to look out the viewport, “It doesn’t matter. Sometimes its better to leave the past in the past and go forward. I’m a different person now and am on a different path.”

It was silent for a few moments before Tech spoke again.

“Do you ever wish to find something like that again?”

Echo shot his brother a sidelong look and quirked his lips at the question and the very nonchalant way Tech tried, and failed, to ask it. Echo turned and leaned his head back against the seat headrest.

“It would take an extraordinary woman to want me as I am now but, sometimes, I remember what it felt like to be with her and I… miss it.”

He watched from the corner of his eyes as his brother took and absorbed his words. He waited a bit more before he turned his head to look at his troubled vod.

“There is nothing wrong with wanting to love someone and be loved in return, even for clones, no matter what the Kaminoans, or Senate, or GAR or any other being says. We are just as human as any nat-born and have all the same wants and wishes. And there’s nothing wrong with not wanting that either. What is good for one person may not be the same as for another, everyone is different. But don’t ever feel like you don’t deserve something just because the galaxy makes you feel like you shouldn’t Tech.”

Tech gave him a faint smile before leaning back in his seat as well. They sat in companionable silence for a bit before Tech spoke again.

“I… know that I am at times somewhat… difficult to communicate with. I have never learned the knack of easy communication with other beings. I try but, something in me is just too…different. At times I know I even exasperate my batch, who have had since our decanting to learn to deal with me.”

Echo looked over, his heart clenching in compassion at Tech’s unusually halting speech. It hurt him to hear Tech speak of himself in this way. It wasn’t that it wasn’t true, it was just that Echo had never realized Tech was so aware of it, felt so keenly his differences. Echo had learned soon after joining his new batch that Tech loved to talk about the things that interested him, which seemed to be everything, and that the others often lost patience with his chatter. Not that they ever were intentionally cruel or indifferent to him but it was obvious that they often just considered it background noise. Echo made it his mission to engage Tech a bit by asking questions occasionally and was rewarded with surprise, shock and a painful amount of hesitation at first, and then, when Tech realized he was truly asking and not just messing around with him, unbridled enthusiasm and joy at having someone to engage with. That alone sealed Echo’s intent to make sure to listen to his younger vod. Maybe not always but often enough that he knew he was heard. And Echo found he quite often enjoyed listening to Tech and finding ways to try and trip him up on his knowledge or get him to debate his point on something. Soon, picking at his younger vod and getting him to reveal that sharp and biting wit and humor he had was a valued pastime. And he could tell that Tech enjoyed it too by the simple fact that he would seek him out to bounce his thoughts off of sometimes.

Echo paid attention now as his vod turned to him with a surprisingly vulnerable expression.

“I have worked to adjust my parameters so that this failing of mine is less intrusive than it used to be but I still have never been what one could consider an easy companion. I doubt that is something I will ever truly master,” he looked down, “I am grateful to have all of you as my brothers and companions but I have lately been struck with the desire for more and cannot help wondering if I am too different for anyone to…consider.” He ended, somewhat lamely, with a small, awkward hand gesture.

Echo’s heart clenched yet again for his vod. This, at least, was something he could address. He turned the chair so it was facing Tech and leaned forward til he could clap a hand on his brother’s knee. He knew Tech was iffy about physical gestures but he needed to get his undivided attention. Tech jumped and shot his gaze to Echo’s and Echo let go now that his mission was accomplished.

“Listen vod,” he began, making sure Tech was tuned in to him, “Every brother I know who has ever felt that way has, for lack of a better way to say it, felt that way as well,” Echo huffed a chuckle before continuing, “when you’re a clone though, the worry is often how can I make someone see I’m not exactly like all my other brothers? How do I make someone see me for me? We all have worried that there is either not enough special about us to stand out or, like you, if we are too different for anyone to want to see us and still want us. I have it on good authority of several nat-borns I’ve known that this is a problem they share and worry about as well. Everyone sometimes wonders if they are worthy of love and I’ll tell you what I was told when I posed that question myself.

You. Are. Worthy. No matter who you are or how you feel about yourself, you are worthy because you are a living being and every being that exists is made to give and receive love because love is the basis of the Force. Love is the greatest thing you can ever give or receive.”

Tech simply looked at him with his big eyes, so similar and yet not to his own. Echo looked back, hoping like everything that his little brother understood what he was trying to say. Finally, Tech slowly nodded and leaned back again into the capacious pilot’s seat.

“Thank you Echo. I… will have to think on what you have said. It is a difficult concept to… internalize.”

Echo smiled, “Just as long as you eventually do. I mean it vod,” Echo felt the need to lighten the mood a bit, “After all, I love your quirky shebs and if you can win me over, you can win anybody.”

Tech smirked over at him. “You are entirely too easy. The better descriptive would be, if I can get Crosshair to not threat me daily with death, I can win anybody.”

Echo laughed. It was true, Tech was about the only one Crosshair didn’t threaten to shoot daily. Whether that was because he actually did love him more or simply didn’t want to consider twin murder one couldn’t tell.

After a few moments of comradely silence, Echo looked over at Tech.

“So, you gonna show the others the book?”

“Absolutely kriffing not.”