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weyrwolfen · 4 months ago

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Caveat Emptor: Chapter 3 - Suppressio Veri

Rating: T

Characters: Gen, Commanders Fox, Thorn, Thire, and Stone, Quinlan Vos, Coruscant Guard

Warnings: canon-typical violence; references to self-harm and suicidal thoughts, injuries, loss of autonomy

Previous chapters can be found here on Tumblr or here on Ao3

Fingers bit into CC-1010’s face, pulling him forward painfully to look directly into cruel, yellow eyes.

“Nala Se’s reports never mentioned anything about the implant degrading over time,” said a man’s voice, cold and dangerous, terrifyingly familiar.

The grip on CC-1010’s face tightened, fingers squeezing skin and muscle painfully against underlying bone. He did not move, did not protest, even though inside some part of him was screaming to fight, to run. To do anything instead of just stand there.

“What a pity,” the voice said, and the hand abruptly released CC-1010, then returned in a mocking parody of a fond pat on his cheek. “You’ve been my favorite tool, but don’t worry. When you’re all used up, I have three more just like you.”

“One of those had better be for me,” Fox said when he walked out of the shared commanders’ quarters, bucket tucked neatly under one arm, to find Thire waiting in ambush in the hallway with two thermal canteens in hand.

Thire snorted loudly enough for his external mics to engage, but he also, demonstrating commendable survival instincts, immediately held out one of the canteens and said, “They both are, I’ve already been awake for six hours.”

Perhaps there’d been a reason why Fox had promoted Thire after all. Even if he was often a complete pain in the shebs.

The barrack’s caf had a burnt, metallic aftertaste, but it was strong enough to wake the dead, which was exactly what Fox needed at that moment. He hadn’t slept particularly well, not that he ever did these days, and his oddly vivid nightmares had left him feeling particularly unsettled and distracted. Once he was awake and alert enough to get picky about his morning stimulants, he could always steal some better osik from one of the Senate breakrooms.

Once they reached the lifts, Fox was feeling mostly human enough to ask, “Sitrep?”

“The CSF is in a snit,” Thire said, pressing the button to call one of the lifts. “Apparently the Jedi confiscated several cultural artifacts from the Chancellor’s private rooms under SB 1468-28.”

The kriff? SB 1468-28 had to do with regulating imports and exports in Republic space. It had thousands of sections and subsections, covering everything from negotiating tariff rates to pages and pages of non-sentient species deemed too endangered to be legally traded. Not that Fox imagined that the Jedi would be risking setting off major political waves by publicly seizing something like a smuggled kanthra skin rug from the Chancellor of the Republic.

Former Chancellor of the Republic?

Kriff, it was going to be another karking long-shebs day with an unending chain of more of the same on the horizon. The caffeine couldn’t hit Fox’s system fast enough.

The lift finally arrived, and when Fox and Thire stepped inside, Thire hit the button for the hanger floor instead of the one which would have taken them to their offices. Straight back into the belly of the beast then.

“The CSF has determined that at some point after you left the Chancellor’s office, the door to his emergency turbolift was opened twice,” Thire said once the lift rattled to life.

Well, that explained why nobody had tried to arrest Fox yet. “Any leads on who?”

“No,” Thire answered, a little too quickly. Fox kept his suspicions to himself, but something cold coiled in the pit of his stomach. “It’s not even clear which side the door was accessed both times. Someone wiped the system with one of the Chancellor’s personal codes.”

Okay. That was slightly more unexpected. Fox had his own security access codes. He didn’t know the Chancellor’s, so CC-1010 shouldn’t either. Right?

Stop. Suspicions weren’t facts. He could suspect all he wanted; he didn’t know anything.

“The CSF is working the angle that the Chancellor himself opened the door, even though nobody has a working theory as to why,” Thire continued. “The Guard has been tasked with excluding other points of ingress from consideration.”

Of course. Of course, the CSF would try to ice the Guard out of the real investigation. Shabuire.

Except Thire knew the risks of this investigation getting out of the Guard’s hands as well as Fox did, but he wasn’t acting particularly concerned about being dismissed from the primary crime scene. And that had some significant implications.

Stop it. Stop speculating. Stop working the karking case.

Fox was compromised. His officers would tell him whatever was safe for him to know. He had to trust them on this, because there weren’t any guarantees that CC-1010 wouldn’t report everything that was done and said here back to kriff even knew who.

So Fox kept his questions behind his teeth and tried, with very limited success, to put them out of his mind as well.

The lift doors opened out onto the Guard’s hanger bay. Fox managed to not wince, but only just. There was something about the lighting in the space that always exacerbated his headaches. The pain tabs he’d downed before kitting up for the day weren’t quite doing their jobs, but Scav was firmly against upping the dose or changing the type of medication until it became absolutely unavoidable. Something about not wanting the Marshall Commander of the Guard to be wandering around the Senate, armed to the teeth while also tripping balls.

As if all of them didn’t already occasionally do their rounds, so strung out on stims that every light had rainbow-edged trails in their vision. It came with the long hours and the strill osik requests Senators often kicked their way, on top of their usual duties.

Thire passed by the larger gunships and troop transports, instead aiming for the smaller, two-man speeders. Picking the nearest one, he took the driver’s seat and fired up its engines, leaving Fox as the ride along. Probably wise.

“Where are we headed?” Fox finally asked, when the awkward silence in the speeder became unbearable. That at least seemed like a safe question to ask, seeing as he was about to find out anyway.

Thire’s bucket was unreadable, visor forward as he weaved through traffic, but he tapped his index finger against the steering yoke in obvious thought before saying, “We’re meeting up with Hound’s team. He thinks they’ve found something in the Chancellor’s emergency evacuation hanger.”

Okay.

Fox really wanted to ask for further information.

He did not.

He did, however, finish his first canteen of caf and start in on his second while Thire went through the extra security protocols of requesting and receiving permission to pass through the energy-shields that kept the general public well away from the Senate Dome’s extensive substructure. What little sense of humor the Senate Guards had previously exhibited had seemingly shriveled up and died in the midst of the current crisis. Thire had to repeat both of their designation numbers three times and submit their clearance codes twice before being granted entry.

The access portals were wide, dimly lit, and eerily empty. There should have been at least a few maintenance droids and work crews down here, monitoring the building’s infrastructure and performing minor repairs. The only sentients Fox saw as Thire guided their speeder through the twisting series of tunnels were his own men, patrolling the area on speeder bikes in teams of three. The Senate Guard must have shut everyone else out, including the small army of maintenance and support staff that kept the lights on and the water running for the entire Dome, because Fox sure as kriff hadn’t made that call.

That was going to cause problems down the line, from compromised utilities to Senators who could and would take any inconvenience as a personal slight.

Thire rounded a final corner and slowed to a hovering stop where a full squad of Coruscant Guards had set up a watch along one stretch of walkway lining the massive panels that made up the tunnels’ heavily-armored walls. A security request popped up on the speeder’s main terminal, and Thire entered his own codes in response.

The Guardsmen shifted to either side of one of the heavy wall panels, making room for one huge plate to rotate up towards the ceiling on artfully concealed magnetic hinges, revealing a set of heavy blast doors.

Once the doors lensed open, one of the troopers, Facet from the trooper’s unusually ornate rerebraces, waved them forward.

Thire guided the speeder through a series of similar blast doors, waiting in each of the connected room for the previous set to close and the next to open. They were kill boxes with concealed defenses mounted in the walls around them, but their exact specifications had been above even Fox’s high clearance level. Being at the mercy of an unknown, deadly automated system made the hair down the back of his neck prickle in instinctive unease.

And yet, he still somehow knew that the fourth room would be the last in the series.

Bright lights glinted off ornamental metals and red-paneled walls. The architecture of the hanger broadly matched the public-facing portions of the Chancellor’s office, all curving walls and gently ramping, carpeted walkways. It was large too, excessively so, given it only held a trio of sleek, custom speeders.

Fox screwed the cap back onto his second, half-empty canteen of caf and set it in the speeder’s center console. Then he fished his helmet out of the floorboards and pulled it on while Thire maneuvered the speeder over to a corner of the space where two guard transports were already docked.

The magnetics inside Fox’s helmet hissed as they engaged, and his HUD flickered to life. His light settings were lower than standard, his one sop to the headache which was still lingering behind his eyes. Once his HUD finished scrolling through its own internal system checks, he sent out a ping using his command overrides and received back answering data from the armor of any trooper in the immediate area.

Fox’s system picked up Facet and his men on guard outside the hanger’s concealed entrance and a few other scattered troopers patrolling the tunnels above and below his current position. Most of the signals came from Hound and his team, as expected.

Hound had brought two full squads to perform this investigation. Fox pulled up a three-dimensional rendering of the space and nodded slightly to himself in approval. The room’s exits, including all air-intake and ventilation shafts, were adequately covered, and the remaining troopers were canvassing the space in orderly, meticulous detail. Hound’s systems reported the presence of three massifs as well, but Fox only spotted two of them. Perhaps the other was with the four troopers who were beyond the hanger’s ornate double doors, no doubt checking out the emergency turbolift from this end of the system.

Hound himself was waiting next to his team’s transports, Grizzer alert and watchful at his side.

Thire made for the ARF trooper’s position and settled the speeder down with practiced ease. The doors of the passenger compartment swung upwards like especially ungainly avian wings.

When Fox stepped out of the vehicle, Grizzer barked a rumbling, chuffing sort of sound the massifs were trained to make whenever they spotted a target. Hound shared a brief look with Thire, obvious and weighted even through their visors, and then palmed a treat out of one of the pouches on his belt. He handed it to the massif, whose entire hindquarters wagged excitedly at the reward.

Fox certainly had some thoughts on that, but again, he kept them to himself.

“Sirs,” Hound said, giving Grizzer the hand signal to sit, which she did with an open-mouthed, razor-toothed grin. The ARF then snapped off a sharp salute, which Fox immediately waved away.

“You wanted to show me something?” he asked, trying to get this farce moving along.

“This way,” Hound said without any further preamble.

While one of the speeders berthed in the hanger was emblazoned with the Republic cog and the other ornate signs and trappings of office, the other two were aggressively plain. They both looked expensive, and a particularly knowledgeable observer would notice the armored panels and shield generators artfully worked into their designs. But neither would be immediately pegged as belonging to any specific one of the millions of wealthy sentients who were on planet at any given time. A few troopers were clustered around the speeder with the badges of office emblazoned on its side panels, scanning the interiors and taking holoimages. Hound guided them towards the second speeder, a dark gray model whose doors and trunk were already open.

Fox’s footsteps faltered, a wave of dread and expectation washing over him. Expectation of what, he couldn’t have said. The open trunk turned out to be completely empty.

“This speeder has been washed down with enzymatic cleaners and then an aggressive sanitizing agent very recently,” Hound said, gesturing vaguely towards the entire vehicle. “The navigation record and access logs were wiped with the same code used on the Chancellor’s turbolift.”

“Have you alerted the CSF?” Fox asked, looking down into the empty trunk. He kept expecting to see… something. He wasn’t sure what.

“Not yet, sir,” Hound said, and Fox looked up at the awkward hesitation in the ARF’s voice. “We were waiting for you to sign off on it.”

They should have notified the senior CSF agent assigned to the case immediately upon finding something this suspicious. The explanation for that breach of protocol occurred to Fox abruptly, and it was both unwelcome and nauseating.

His men were covering for him.

If I’m here when the CSF agents arrive, my biomarkers will be recorded for exclusion from any subsequent evidence logging.

Fox took one deep, steadying breath, forcing himself to remain outwardly calm even as his stomach churned.

“Comm them,” he said, and his voice sounded far steadier than he felt.

Hound nodded, glanced at Thire again, and then stepped back, fingers tapping over the controls on his vambrace.

On any other investigation, Fox would have taken a walk around the hanger, checking in with the rest of his troopers and taking their reports. This time, though, he couldn’t. He didn’t want to know what they were finding, or worse, what they’d been working to actively destroy. He didn’t know anything. He couldn’t. He suspected, but that was different.

He knew. He’d been here before, many times.

Not trusting himself to look anywhere else, Fox turned his attention back down to the speeder’s empty trunk. The bare, overlarge space was strange, in comparison to all of the other civilian speeders he’d ever seen. Even their own transports had some kind of traction matting in the back, hard to clean, but good for keeping equipment from sliding around in transit.

…Really, it seemed designed for easy cleanup: smooth surfaces and curved edges, with no corners or textures where a drop of blood or a stray hair could hide.

That was why CC-1010 had been ordered to use this speeder, instead of the less customized model. The first time he’d been activated, his orders had been very specific. Which speeder he should use, which tunnels to avoid, where to dispose of the bodies, and how to clean up his tracks, both literal and digital. And then to forget until he was activated once again. The memories resurfaced for his second mission, and his third, and after a while the specifics just became part of his standard operating procedure, only noteworthy if some facet of them needed to be altered.

CC-1010 had always followed his orders to the letter. Even when those orders didn’t make any sense. Even when they stood in direct opposition to the public statements made by his Master. Even when they directly violated Republic laws governing the ethical treatment of enemy combatants and civilian noncombatants.

Even when CC-1010 was entirely certain that what his Master had said was not what he had intended.

Good soldiers followed orders, and CC-1010 was an excellent soldier.

All of his trainers had said so. He’d been the best, especially in his close quarters combat and stealth modules. And hadn’t his Master deserved the best?

He had. He had deserved someone like CC-1010, who would carry out his words to the letter, meticulously destroy any evidence, and then forget the details.

He had deserved CC-1010…

“Fox?”

…His mission was complete though. He had followed his SOP and reported back to his office. He had set the memory aside, until the next time.

Except now he was remembering, and no one had activated him.

He should remember that, shouldn’t he? He always had before…

“Fox?” Thire asked again, sounding concerned.

…That was CC-4477. His concern was noted, but not necessary. CC-1010 had completed his mission. This was just an aberration. All he needed to do now was forget…

“CC-1010?” Thire asked carefully. Except that was wrong too, wasn’t it? They never used their designation numbers amongst themselves. Only when…

…Forget…

“CC-1010, what do you require to complete your mission?” Thire asked, following the prescribed script. Only someone very close to him would have noticed the tension humming under his voice.

Fox heard it. Fox held onto it.

…Forg–

Fox sucked in a gasping lungful of air. Memories trickled through his grasp, falling away like grains of sand, but some of them stuck this time.

A few, and none he ever wanted.

He’d killed people. He was pretty certain he’d killed a lot of people, civilians, and he couldn’t even remember any names, or faces, or why.

Karking Sith-damned hells, his head hurt.

Fox bent double, struggling to remove his helmet. He needed to breathe. He couldn’t…

“Kriff, no,” Thire said, catching him before Fox could fully collapse onto the floor. “We can’t do this here,” he whispered desperately. “Just breathe slowly, in through your nose and out through your mouth. Can you do that with me?”

Fox wasn’t about to risk nodding, but he could follow orders. He was good at that, right?

The strangled noise he made could have been described as a laugh, but it had only the most passing familiarity with anything resembling humor.

“Fox, I’m serious. The CSF shabuire are going to be here any second. I need you to get your osik together and breathe with me.”

Fox shut his eyes and breathed.

“I need to get to Scav,” he finally said, when he was able to straighten back up without feeling like his entire head was going to crack open and leak his brains out all over the hanger bay floor.

His nose wasn’t bleeding. That was surprising.

“You need to stand your shebs right here until the CSF agents sign you out,” Thire said, getting one hand up under Fox’s elbow to take up at least some of his weight. Thire gestured to someone off to the left, Fox didn’t think it was wise to turn his head at that moment to see who.

Hound came into his direct line of sight. “They’re taking the lift down,” he said grimly. “There’s a general coming with them.”

“Who?” Thire asked, before Fox could swallow down the taste of bile enough to do the same.

“They didn’t say.”

“Fox, are you going to be able to do this?” Thire asked, quiet enough to not carry beyond the three of them.

“Not like I have much of a choice,” Fox said, pulling himself out of Thire’s grip. His vision blurred for a moment, but it was worth it to get his helmet back on. The tinted visor and plastoid plate made it so much easier to hide any number of sins.

Thire gave him a dubious look, which Fox did not dignify with a response.

There was a trick to marching that made it possible to walk in a straight line with minimal jostling. Kriffing convenient piece of intel to have, if you were overly tired, or drunk, or strung out on stims, or about to have to report to a kriffing Jedi��while your brains felt like they were being rendered down into nutripaste. You just had to look straight ahead, keep your knees a little bent, and roll your weight from your heel, along the outer edge of your foot, to the ball. Easy. They’d done it enough on Kamino, exhausted, beat to osik by one trainer or another, and running on nothing but a heady blend of pride and fear.

Fox made it into formation just in time to see the doors swing open. He didn’t stumble once. He didn’t even puke into his shiny, new filters. Mags would be so pleased.

The CSF agents were dressed out in full protective gear this time, white coveralls with full facemasks and hoods, like they were expecting some kind of hazmat exposure. Fox couldn’t see their faces, but he’d spent essentially his entire life reading the body language of armored sentients. Every single one of them looked tense, and a few were angry.

The General wasn’t wearing a single piece of protective clothing, just a set of dark, sleeveless robes and knee-high boots. No foot coverings, no mask, no gloves, and if his expression and bearing were to be believed, no cares in the galaxy.

Kriff, it was the same Jedi from before, the one who’d brought the clearance flimsiwork to General Windu. Fox had asked Thorn to sic some of their slicers on the man, but all they’d been able to glean from the Temple’s public-facing servers was a name: Quinlan Vos.

Great. Just great. Because dealing with a General and a Jedi wasn’t enough, without adding ‘probable covert ops agent’ into the mix.

Fox breathed and did not allow his knees to buckle.

The General spotted them immediately, and made his way down the tastefully lit, carpeted stairs with a bounce in his step. “Commanders,” he said with a grin that struck Fox at utterly false.

Fox saluted. Given the creak of armor he heard behind him, Thire and Hound had done the same. “General Vos,” he said, and his voice didn’t falter in the slightest.

Vos waved one hand casually, dismissing the salute. “I’m not a general,” he said airily. “Never was assigned a battalion, something about not being able to keep my own life in order, much less the lives of several thousand troopers.” Aching, dizzy, and nauseous, and Fox still picked up on the fact that almost everything the man had just said was a flagrant lie. “You can call me Quinlan.”

Like hells.

“General Vos–” Fox tried again, but was immediately interrupted.

“How about just Vos?” the Jedi said, extending a bare hand in a common natborn greeting.

It would be rude to not take it – Fox had learned that within hours of arriving on Coruscant – but something still made him hesitate.

Kriff his head hurt.

“Master Vos,” Fox compromised, taking the man’s hand and not his wrist, like he might have with one of his brothers.

Something in the Jedi’s expression flickered, dimming the welcoming grin he’d been wearing like a mask.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, grip tightening momentarily around Fox’s gauntlet.

Because of course, a Jedi would sense something wrong with him. Of kriffing course.

Well, he couldn’t exactly say that he was perfectly fine. That would draw even more suspicion. “A training accident,” Fox said blandly, matching the Jedi lie for smoothly delivered lie. “Nothing a rest shift won’t cure.”

Vos’s eyes narrowed speculatively, and he said, “Uh huh,” in a very dubious tone of voice. “Well, I was told you fine gentlemen found something interesting. Care to fill me in?”

Fox gestured smoothly to his left, managing not to jostle himself too much, and said, “My sergeant and his men made the discovery, so please allow me to defer to him, for this briefing.”

“Defer away,” Vos said, dialing back up the charm. “What name would you prefer I call you, trooper?”

“Hound, sir,” the ARF trooper finally replied very stiffly.

“Hound, right.” The Jedi then hunkered down and extended a hand again, this time to Grizzer. “And who’s this sweet girl?”

Karking hells, like that wasn’t the fastest way to get Hound to warm up to him. This Vos kriffer was slick, and Fox was not happy about that kind of expert manipulation being directed towards his men.

“She bites,” Fox said in warning.

“No, she doesn’t,” Hound immediately corrected, sounding offended. “Not unless I ask her to.”

Kriffing Sith-damned hells, Hound. Fox wanted to grab the sergeant by the spaulders and shake him.

Instead, he let Thire steer him away from the conversation.

“Hound has this,” Thire said quietly, over a private comm line.

“He’d better,” Fox grumbled.

He was cleared rapidly, by the CSF agent who had been tasked with collecting prints and biological samples from all of the troopers present in the hanger. All of his data were already on file, from his previous visit to the Chancellor’s office. Thire managed to find an out of the way corner to sit and recover, while the rest of their men were cleared.

He was almost back down to baseline when General Vos managed to find him.

“Sit,” the Jedi said, when Fox started to rise to salute. “You look like shit.”

“I assure you, I am more than capable of performing my duty,” Fox said, every instinct screaming to conceal the extent of his debilitation.

“Sit anyway, this won’t take more than a second,” the Jedi said, dropping down casually on the padded bench next to Fox. “I’m just curious about something.”

“I will endeavor to assist you in any way I can,” Fox lied again, casually enough to sound earnest.

The General arched one eyebrow, but did not comment about whatever suspicions he had. Instead he leaned back and rested his hands on his thighs. They were gloved again, but not with the blue, sterile ones the CSF agents had been handing out. They were black leather, and Fox abruptly remembered the incident in the Chancellor’s office with the mystery item concealed in the desk.

Something about needing bare hands, to make his Force osik work correctly.

Fox went suddenly cold with fear.

“As I said, I haven’t ever been assigned a battalion,” Vos finally said as if nothing were amiss. “So I don’t have much experience working with clones. So, I don’t know if this question might be…,” he paused, obviously considering his next words carefully. “Culturally sensitive,” he finally said.

Fox’s heart was pounding in his chest, but the pain in his head had settled back down to a dull roar. Manageable enough that he could keep his full wits about him at least. “It is our duty and our honor to serve the Republic and the Jedi,” Fox said, reciting the correct response with an ease borne of long practice. “I would be happy to answer any question you have, even those of a personal nature.”

Something about his reply made the General pause, and Fox couldn’t help but curse to himself in the safety of his own head. This was exactly the kind of scrutiny he’d been trying to avoid with General Windu. Would he be able to feel it if the Jedi started digging around in his mind?

Would Fox know it was happening at all?

“Alright,” Vos finally said with a slow nod. “With the customizations, I would assume that your armor is important to all of you. Personally.”

“Yes, sir,” Fox replied, because it was hardly something that could be easily denied, but he also didn’t elaborate on the subject. That would be too dangerous. While the Guard personalized their gear less than some of the other battalions, they all still added flourishes here and there. Little reminders that they were still people, still individuals, beneath the strict protocols and the rigid formality the Senate demanded of its possessions.

But instead of hammering at this minimal departure from regulations as other natborns had done before him, General Vos just asked, “Would a clone trooper ever loan someone else his set of armor?”

That caught Fox a little flat footed. Yes, a clone might gift a single piece of plate, and no, Fox was not about to explain the cultural traditions regarding such an exchange. But an entire set of armor? That was easy enough to answer. “No,” he said firmly.

Whatever reply Vos had been expecting, that obviously hadn’t been it. “No?” he repeated, but it must not have been a serious question, because he didn’t wait for a response before saying, “Interesting.”

Thire, appeared around the landing gear of the Guard transport, slowing awkwardly when he spotted exactly who was speaking with Fox.

“Commander,” Vos said, turning to address Thire with another warm, fake smile. “What can we do for you?”

Thire stiffened, but his voice was smooth and professional when he answered, “The CSF has taken down everyone’s biometrics. They are asking us to clear out of the hanger.”

“Typical,” General Vos said with enough honest sarcasm that Fox had to choke back a sardonic snort of agreement. The Jedi rose to his feet and dusted his hands absently on his thighs. “Commanders, it’s been a pleasure,” he finally said, smiling at them both in turn. “I look forward to working with you in the future.”

Like hells.

The machine hummed loudly, and lights flashed on the other side of Fox’s closed eyelids. Pumped full of Scav’s latest cocktail of meds, neither the sound nor the lights were actively painful. But being inside of a medical scanner always made Fox feel uncomfortable. Trapped. It was easier to just close his eyes and try to not think about it.

Finally, the machine whirred to a stop, and the thinly padded gurney Fox was lying on slid out of the scanner.

He opened his eyes to find Scav scowling down at him.

“Something’s definitely wrong,” his CMO said, sounding personally offended by the whole situation.

“Anything more specific than that?” Fox asked dryly. It wasn’t like Scav to be this vague about medical diagnoses.

“No, our scanners are too osik’la to get an accurate reading on whatever’s going on in there,” Scav said, taking hold of Fox’s opposing arm and helping him sit up.

‘In your kriffed up, defective brain,’ Scav meant, even if he didn’t say it out loud.

Maybe they should have sent him back to Kamino, to let the longnecks pick him apart.

Maybe he should have eaten a blaster bolt and saved his brothers all of this trouble.

Except…

I have three more just like you.

It hadn’t been a dream, just like whatever had happened in the Chancellor’s hanger hadn’t been a hallucination.

And Scav hadn’t even batted an eye when Fox had laid out all of his suspicions in the medic’s small office.

“I’m working on it,” Scav finally said.

Fox eyed his armor, which was stacked against the far wall of the exam room. He had osik he needed to be doing. The Senate was in an uproar. Mas Amedda might hold to the exact same political beliefs as Chancellor Palpatine, but he had far less charm and far fewer allies who owed him personal favors. Apparently he’d said the wrong thing to the wrong mid-Rim Senator during the morning’s open floor debate on an upcoming resource allocation bill, and suddenly everyone was remembering that none of them had actually voted for him to fill the political position he currently held.

The fighting hadn’t even slowed down when the acting Chancellor attempted to call for a brief recess for midmeal. Last Fox heard, aides had started bringing catered meals right out to the Senate pods so their delegates could keep screaming at one another, which was putting a massive strain on the security checkpoints that were trying to scan every box for explosives and toxins.

Stone was keeping a lid on things, but he needed all of the support he could get. Assuming Fox could keep his osik together long enough to actually be of some use.

“Scav?” Fox said as he slid off of the gurney. When his CMO looked up from his ‘pad to glare at him, Fox went ahead and tempted the gods, little and great, by saying, “Work faster.”

AN: If anyone else wants me to tag them as this gets updated, please just let me know. @tazmbc1

#caveat emptor fanfic #star wars fanfic #tcw fanfic #clone wars fanfic #the clone wars fanfic #commander fox #commander thire #sergeant hound #grizzer #quinlan vos #coruscant guard

32 notes · View notes

randomfoggytiger · 26 days ago

Note

Why do you think CC wrote/cowrote xfiles porn? At least he is listed as writer. Maybe he had to approve the use of Mulder and Scully and get credit.

He seems to be more of a concept guy and not necessarily a put into action guy. I think he had potential if he didn't seem set on just one narrative like a stubborn child. Part of good leadership and success is being surrounded by better talent. Learn from others. I wonder why he chose to view Scully on such a narrow manner and through the lens of a woman's place is through motherhood so that she was minimized as a character and person on the revival. I cringe at the revival scene when she is being seductive to the weremonster. So, she can be seductive to a stranger but not to the man she loves? I wonder if he has some sort of traumatized or repressed view on sexuality. Did he walk in on his parents having sex so he thinks sex is dirty?

Has he success on any other show after Xfiles? There was Millenium, but I have 0 knowledge of that show.

I think he co-wrote xf porn because it was something fun to do-- like DD and GA making out as their characters in the FTF deleted scenes and on Jimmy Kimmel's show.

To be fair, it wasn't CC who wrote the weremonster scene. Gillian consented to film it (and thought it was fun), regardless-- just didn't see how ridiculous and crazy it looked in reality, until the commentary footage. It's not my cup of tea; but she had a great time filming something similar in Three of a Kind (though that episode was better written, imo), so.

Charitable interpretation: CC thinks Mulder is more emotionally detached-- more of a weirdo-- who doesn't value the "normal" or expected things from life. Scully, meanwhile, is the realist. Mulder wouldn't see the problem of running off to x-files with a child while Scully would see what days/weeks away from their son could do to William. It would be a failing on Mulder's part to not factor their child into the picture, and a credit to Scully to always do so.

The problem:

This sets up a dichotomy that erases Mulder's personal growth and progress while setting Scully up on an impeccable, always correct pedestal. In the Pilot, CC wanted Scully to set Mulder straight, and for the audience to root for her while doing so. That's great and all, but Mulder in the Revival-- in Season 5, in FTF, in Season 6, in Season 7, in Season 8 onward-- isn't the same man anymore; and Scully isn't the same woman. Both are (were) parents; and both had had "one in five billion" and "but you saved me" and "my constant, my touchstone" conversations spanning nearly thirty years.

Further, I noticed something while reading through old interviews: David Duchovny kept rerouting 90s CC's OG vision (softening Mulder up, focusing his gaze first on Scully, keeping her opinion forefront in his character's thoughts and actions, etc. etc. etc.), and probably did so, again, between S10 and S11 (e.g. Mulder went from putting William "behind me" in Founder's Mutation to holding him reverently in MSIV.) David also "got" Chris enough to collaborate and add ideas to the original mytharc... something he didn't do, really, for the Revival (or IWTB, if I recall.) In short: it was DD who kept pushing Mulder's character forward, and CC who kept regressing Mulder's character back.

What does this mean? CC had an original vision and never deviated from it, despite the arcs his writers took the characters on.

As for any sexual speculations, I know he had at least one girlfriend growing up; and has been in a long-term, committed marriage for years. In fact, Mulder and Scully's relationship seems to be modeled after his and Dori's marriage-- going long periods of time without seeing each other, both consumed in their own work, both trusting each other during their time apart. And knowing that CC wrote many, many other aspects of his life into The X-Files-- sunflower seed habits, Hegel Place, his family's names, Vin Scully, his and his wife's birthdays, etc. etc.-- I wouldn't be surprised if his marriage preference made it way into his work... oh wait, it did (which he sort of admitted in this post.)

He's also stated that Mulder and Scully make up both sides of his personality (which I discussed in this post); so I don't see it as Scully being a model woman so much as modelling his best character traits, or Mulder being an out-of-touch weirdo so much as modelling his out-of-touch, weirdo traits. And-- this is speculation on my part-- I think he romanticizes both parts of himself, to an extent; and, hence, romanticizes MSR's patterns of behavior.

The problem? Again, Gillian and David grew their characters beyond the Pilot.

So! Those are my thoughts (thus far.)

#asks #anon #xf meta #CC #mine #boatloads of speculation (at the end)#thought I'd deleted this-- phew!

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wantonlywindswept · 1 year ago

Note

👀

post-order 66 identity fuckery au because vader decides he misses rex. he can't have rex, but he does have that clone who rex always spoke of with grudging fondness and who cody often compared rex's personality to and--

that's close enough, right?

---

CC-1010 doesn't know why he says it, probably due to his impending death, but he's gotten Vader's attention off of the troopers that fired on him and solely focused on him, and he can march on entirely happy with that.

So maybe something in his brain misfires, because he feels Vader's invisible grip around his throat and something angry and petty and cruel rears up in him and he spits,

"He would be fucking ashamed of you."

And 1010 doesn't. Actually know exactly who he's talking about? Entirely? But he knows it hits because Vader freezes and then Vader roars, and instead of being choked to death or his neck snapped or his head separated from his body, 1010 hits the wall again and again and again and--

1010 wakes up.

He's a little surprised.

He doesn't entirely remember why he's surprised.

He doesn't...remember a lot, actually.

But he wakes up, and he's in a set of officer's quarters (seems right), with the hum of machinery telling him he's on a starship (seems wrong). His throat's as dry as Geonosian dust but when he stumbles blearily into the fresher to get a drink, a jolt of electricity zips up his spine when he catches sight of himself in the mirror.

(Wrong wrong wrong wrong--)

1010 runs a palm over his light-colored hair with a frown. The ends are short and prickly, like he'd only just buzzed it. It matches with his face--mostly unscarred, devoid of any tattoos--and it looks familiar, but the perspective seems off, somehow, like the angle of viewing is wrong (wrong wrong wrong).

But 1010 just shrugs, and turns on the water to drink straight from the tap. He's pretty sure that he's used to everything being Wrong.

He's wiping his mouth on a towel when the door of his quarters opens--

catches sight of black armor and feels fear anger terror hate fear fear fear

--and steps out of the fresher to snap to attention, adrenaline kicking through his veins.

"Sir," he salutes crisply.

Darth Vader watches him, silently. Tilts his death's head like a hunting bird eyeing its prey.

"At ease, Captain."

1010 blinks.

He's pretty sure he was a commander. Was he demoted?

But now that he thinks about it, he can't really remember his last posting. He knows that he was in charge of other clones, in a position to give orders, and that was well within the duties of a Captain.

Besides, it's not like Darth Vader could be wrong.

"Are you well enough for duty?" Vader asks. He gestures toward the armor rack in the corner, which holds a set of plastoid lined in royal blue. The colors and markings are familiar enough, even if 1010 thinks it would look better in red.

1010 mentally checks himself over: besides the lingering feeling of Wrongness, his body is entirely free of pain. It seems novel, for some reason.

"Yessir."

"That's good, Rex," Vader says, voice oddly cautious. "Get geared up, and we'll go to the command deck."

Rex, 1010 thinks. He recognizes the name, fondness curling in his chest at the sound of it. It's a good name.

Rex nods easily, which makes Vader relax.

He crosses over to his armor and pulls the jaig-eyes helmet over his head.

#tcw #tcw fanfiction #commander fox #aka cc-1010 #darth vader #captain rex #if in absentia #continuing my 'fox and rex grew up as alpha's favorite gremlins' agenda #all clones are interchangeable if you miss your captain enough!#also #someone else should write that

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mysticalsoot · 2 years ago

Text

miscommunications and mistakes

another fic of my self-indulgent boarding school au

A/N; this was fully based off a dream I had like under a week ago and in all honesty- also reader now has a sister in this au and said sister is dating Tom (don't ask questions okay-)

summary; reader harbours strong feelings for Wil but is too afraid to admit them due to the fear he won't see them for who they are. after they make a slip up after an evening out with him, Wilbur hatches a plan with reader's sister.

tw// swearing, use of bunny as a nickname (reader bounces when excited lol), uses of boy regarding the reader, kissing, lowkey a makeout, dude IDK-- it's like fluff central with dashes of angst..and I wrote Wil as gay in this fic- not making assumptions Abt irl wil- this is just fiction and like super super niche

words; 4.2k

pairings; cc!wilbur x transmale!reader (could be read as nb/non fem presenting, just avoid the uses of boy!)

pronouns; none really! but uses of boy, and uses of y/n!

masterlist

---------------------------------------------------------

Normally on weekends, you'd be back in the dorms, stay on campus and revel in what little alone time you had. The peace of silence draped over the halls. Only broken by a few dorm doors slamming from other levels.

But nothing was normal with Wilbur. He came prancing into the dorm, practically skipping when he dipped his head into your bunk and gave you the cheekiest grin he could.

"Heyyy, bunny-" You lifted your head immediately at the sound, lifting your attention from your book to his face and your annoyance at the interruption immediately fizzled out when you saw him. He took away all of your worries and anxieties when he looked at you, and you so desperately wanted him more than a friend--

"Hello to you too, bee," You smiled softly at him as you pulled up your legs to give him room to sit at the end of your bunk, "What's got you all giddy this fine Saturday afternoon, hm?" You knew you were smiling so wide that anyone who wasn't as oblivious as Wilbur would've clocked immediately. But Wil doesn't notice the romantic feelings that seep into your gracious smile or the way your eyes sparkle at the idea of getting more time around him.

"Sooo…" He trailed off, leaning to rest his cheek on your knees as he spoke, "I asked your dad if I could take you with me and go out for the day. Like around mid-city? Go to a couple of different craft shops maybe...You know, do what kids usually do these days-" He lifts his head and cuts himself off, a playful smirk replacing his grin.

"Wilbur, I adore you, but I don't think you have the best idea of what 'kids do these days'," You chuckle softly as you meet his eyes and they crinkle at the corners as he leans his head back against the wall, shaking his head and chuckling with you.

"Fine- but would you still like to go?" He asks, his voice soft, only meant for you despite how the question was one that wouldn't hurt if it graced another's ears. It was for you nonetheless but he made sure it was said just for you and god-- if you didn't know better, you'd say there was a reason.

He's straight, Y/N. Get a grip. You thought, like you always did. At this point the phrase was a mantra, said mentally anytime he did something that could even just barely come off as more than platonic. It was a reminder to you that he couldn't feel the same unless he didn't see you as you were. And he made sure you knew he saw you as nothing but a boy. Just as you are.

"Yes, I'd love to," Your smile was soft, warm and you set aside your book and pulled off your covers just to snake out of your bunk. If you'd look in his direction, you would've noticed Wilbur's sweet and soft smile and his eyes big and wide. But you didn't, and so you lived in ignorance any time he gazed at you for longer than a few seconds--which was every time.

"Wonderful.." The word was mumbled under his breath as you put on your shoes, tying them and hopping up afterwards to grab your wallet.

You walked over to the door and waved with your hand, giggling, "Well come on then! We have craft stores to venture into!"

Your words brought a bright smile to his face as he slunk out of your bunk and followed you, the reminder of his towering height now a thought on the tip of your minds.

"Yes, sir!" He giggles as he follows you, and you feel his hand ghost over your waist from behind, as if he was trying to guide you. Your breath hitches in your throat and stays stuck until his hand is moved back to his side and you let out a small breath, not of relief but you can't entirely tell what feeling lies underneath it.

It wasn't long until you were both outside of Hab 1, exiting into the parking lot and you started walking over to the bus stop. Wilbur grabbed you gently by your wrist and smiled. You turned back to face him, tilting your head to the side as you give him a quizzical look.

He lifted his other hand and dangled your dad's car keys in his palm and your eyes went wide, his hand letting go of your wrist.

"Wil- How?!" Your tone was more surprised as you stepped forward, grasping at the keys almost as if to assure yourself they were real.

"Apparently you're not the only one he favors-" He smiles mischievously and giggles as you grab the keys, before handing them back.

"He trusts you to drive his car? With his child as the passenger?" Your jaw might as well be on the ground with how you gape at Wilbur, at the idea your father trusts him this much. He won't even let Grace drive his car, but then again, she is fifteen and just got her permit so in reality, trusting a sixteen almost seventeen year old with a driver's license a year old actually isn't the worst.

"Yep, he does. I didn't even ask, he just offered. I tried to say no but- Your dad can be scary when he's determined. It also seemed like he wanted to get back to talking to Andy and I'd rather take the offer and let him…talk, than be at the receiving end of his annoyance," He giggles softly as he leads you along across the parking lot to your father's car.

"You mean flirting?" You chuckle softly at the mental image of your dad trying to flirt and falling short repeatedly, even though all he has to do is look Andy's way--

"Okay, that is what I mean-" Wilbur smiles as he scoffs, opening the passenger door and letting you step in before walking to the driver's side and getting in his seat.

The car ride is uneventful after that, music playing in the background as you both hum along to it. Wilbur's eyes intently focused on the road in front of him, more cautious than you've ever seen him before. He was so careful with every move he made, clearly he knew how scary your dad could be when his child is hurt. He could care less about his car getting a scratch or a dent, it's replaceable, expensive, but replaceable. You and your two siblings were not and if you asked any person he passed by through life, he thought the world of you three. You guys are his world and have been since the moment he adopted you. Who knew a mid 20s grad student could find such joy in raising three pre teens into adulthood? The three of you are not pre teens by any means now, and the thought in itself was daunting to him but he found great pride in his kids. Sometimes impulsive decisions you make when you're freshly an adult, pay off.

When Wilbur pulled the car gently into a parking spot, putting it in park and putting the emergency break on--just in case--he sighed and rested his head against the headrest, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. You smiled softly and chuckled along with it as you dipped your head to meet his eyes.

"You okay there, Wil?" He shook his head, as he smiled worriedly.

"Uhh, besides the fact I just drove one of my closest friends in his dad's car, ten minutes away from campus, I'm fine-" He took a few deep breaths as he took the keys out of the ignition and stepped out of the car. You started to follow suit, unlocking your side when he shook his head, "Nope, wait for me."

The words made a dusting of pink crawl up your cheeks as you looked down, smiling to yourself. Wilbur practically ran around the car to your side and he opened the door, "Such a gentleman," You giggled as you stepped out of the car, his hand held out for you and you take it. He closes the door behind you and holds onto your hand for a few seconds longer than what is platonically acceptable--

He's straight, stop it. Another thought, another mantra and you take a deep breath, walking with him onto the sidewalk. You smiled over at him as he smiled back, his eyes on you for a split second before refocusing on the concrete of the walkway and you felt his arm ghost around your waist again, hovering ever so slightly. It's there, but it isn't and you two walked into the first shop, a small bookstore combined with a bakery.

Your eyes lit up at the scents that wafted up your nose immediately, assaulting your senses with warm pastries and the smell of old books despite most of the books being sold are brand new. Wilbur noticed your glowing expression and giggled, the two of you finding a spot out of the way to look at the menu. He leaned down closer to you and spoke by your ear, "Get anything you want, okay? I'm paying, so don't even try to pull out your wallet." He smiled as he pulled back, readjusting his attention to the large menu board on the wall, his arm going back to his side.

You knew not to argue, you wouldn't win anyways, and he'd go as far as taking your wallet and hiding it from you if you even dared to pay. So you shrugged and tried to find a pastry that piqued your interest and it wasn't hard to--it was still before noon and while you ate breakfast with your sister in the cafeteria, you still had a hankering for something breakfast-y.

You told Wilbur your order and he guided you with him to the counter, him taking control of ordering and getting you what you ordered a long with a crossiant for himself. He was smiling politely during the interaction and you watched him the whole time, how he nodded at the cashier, bounced his head a slight bit as his card got rung up. The slight frustration in his eyes when the card wouldn't read the first time--every bit. It wasn't unusual for you to notice all of the small things about him, but to watch him do something like this, somehow felt domestic and just made the happy feelings erupt and flutter in your stomach.

He's straight, why can't you see that? Another thought and you're looking away, trying to hide the small frown that crawls onto your lips.

His arm ghosts again, your lower back now, and then his hand is on your side. You were zoned out, didn't notice the small smile on his lips as he nodded to something the cashier said and then he smiled over at you before guiding you to a table by a window.

He pulls out the chair to the left, smiling and waving for you to take a seat, you do with a soft smile on your lips and he takes his seat across from you. This feels so…nice. But misleading. It almost feels wrong to even imagine the possibility of this being more than a close platonic friendship. Anything more than the obvious.

He breaks the silence with a soft smile, resting his chin on his palm while his other hand rests on the table. You catch his fingers twitching, almost like he was going to reach out to you, but restrained himself, "So after this, craft store?"

"I need yarn anyways, it's dad's birthday soon-" You chuckle softly and Wilbur shakes his head with a smile, scoffing playfully.

"When do you not need yarn?" A small and teasing smirk crawls up on his lips as he folds his arms on the table, leaning forward just a hair.

"When I'm dead," Despite the monotone aura of your delivery, you're smiling widely, a playfulness held in your eyes.

Wilbur laughs softly at you, his eyes crinkling like they always do and his nose scrunching up while he smiles warmly, "Let's hope that isn't soon, alright?" His tone has a genuine warmth to it, like a part of him means what he says and you swear the way he says 'alright?' will be the death of you.

"Well, if I do die soon, Andy is going to have a handful with my father," You scoff slightly, shaking your head at the thought, the conversation topic is dark but your smiles and your playful tone makes it softer.

The moment you finished speaking, your order was called and when you went to stand and get it--Wilbur stopped you by placing his hand on yours for a brief moment, his eyes glancing at yours with a gentle warning in them. So he stood up and walked over, grabbing the two drinks and pastries he ordered for you both, and found his spot back across from you. He rested an arm on the table as he ate his pastry, watching as you eat yours with a happy sway.

"You like it?" Wilbur giggled as he watched you, putting down his pastry so he could rest his chin on his palm, and admire you with a soft smile.

You nodded your head excitedly, smiling wide as you chew. Wilbur smiles as he shakes his head in awe before he finishes his own pastry, you following suit.

The both of you had gotten up afterward, taking your drinks and wandering around the bookshop, picking out books or trinkets for one another. You found a space pen for your dad, Wilbur smiling at your thoughtfulness when you saw it, immediately going on about how much your dad would love it-- how he needed one after Evan stole all of his favorite ones. Wilbur found the moment endearing, seeing you so excited about getting something so small but meaningful for your father. You weren't even there for him, but you managed to think of him anyways.

The rest of your afternoon was spent together, walking around mid-city, going to different shops and making jokes, and sharing glances that should be a tell of mutual feelings but you both were much too oblivious. And afraid.

You feared he was straight or rather, you knew he was straight, whilst Wilbur feared that if you knew he liked you, you'd think he thought that way because he saw you as a girl. Which was not true by any means but he knew you too well, he knew how your mind worked, how those negative thoughts would seep in and infest anything positive.

It was inching closer and closer to dinner time for that evening, and you both promised that you'd be back beforehand, even if it was the weekend, neither of you liked being late for things. Regardless of if lunch times were flexible and merely a suggestion, it still bothered you both to be there past time.

"So, did you enjoy your day?" Wilbur asked softly as he looked down at you, a sweet smile on his lips as he admired you. You didn't notice the glint in his eyes or the way he bit his lip gently when he looked at you. How would you notice?

"I loved it, Wil," Your own smile matched his and as you went to open the passenger side door, Wilbur tsked and immediately opened it for you. You groan at him, in playful annoyance as you roll your eyes, "Seriously, Wilbur?"

"Yes, seriously. I am a gentleman, am I not?" The boy smiles softly, eyes crinkling and glowing with…appreciation and platonic love--which is what you decided to call it and you hoped it was something more.

“If I argue, I'm not going to get anywhere, am I?” You tilt your head to the side slightly, a teasing and playful smirk on your lips as you fold your arms over your chest. You lean against the side of the car door, chin up to meet his eyes. He looked away for a moment, smiling as a blush crawled onto his cheeks, and when he looked back at you, his lips curled into a coy smile.

“You’ll never win, darling,” He smirked softly as he dipped his head close to yours, not so far as to insinuate anything more than teasing, platonic banter, but enough to toe the line just a hair.

“Okay- Fine.”

You tried to ignore the way your voice cracked at the end, how your blush showed on your face, and how your voice entirely deceived you. Wilbur won't notice, you thought, he’s too oblivious.

He did, but he simply smiled to himself as he shut the passenger side door and walked around the car to the driver’s side. The drive was decently silent, a comment here and there but the drive back to campus was short anyhow so there wasn’t much you could say anyhow. Once he pulled into a parking space, he leaned against the headrest, turning his head to face you, a small smile on his lips.

You smiled back and as you looked at him, he felt too distracting. Everything about him, his stupid fuzzy curls, those puppy eyes--the way his dimples and smile lines showed ever so slightly. How his lips were so pink, curled into such a small and sweet smile--his cheeks softly dusted with pink- You wanted to kiss him right then and there, it was stupid but you weren’t sure how much longer you could let yourself hold back. And it wasn’t like you were the one to make impulsive decisions by any means. You weren't someone to let your feelings overtake your logical thinking but god…he looked too pretty to think about it. So you kissed him. You leaned over the central console and you kissed him, it was just a simple peck but it was enough to spark fireworks in your stomach. It felt like an eternity that you had your lips on his when it was mere moments before you pulled back and reality rushed in. How stupid you felt and now how embarrassed you were.

"God-- Wil, I'm sorry just-- Sorry." You mutter out, turning a deep shade of red and feeling that burning feeling of guilt build in your gut. You reached over and opened the car door just moments later and Wilbur did the same on his side, not saying anything in response. You wished he would just yell at you, it's better than painful silence like this.

He stopped at the gate, stumbling over his words, “Uh, I promised Tech I would hang out with him- like over in the Davidson Center so I- I’ll see you later, yeah?”

You nodded, trying to give a soft smile but ultimately failing and walking the other way.

You are an idiot, or at least that’s the conclusion you’re coming to. It isn’t greatly beneficial but neither is impulsively kissing your probably straight best friend, now is it?

You tried to shrug off every negative and intrusive thought, walking up the stairs to your dorm so you could vent and complain to your sister, and that plan couldn’t be spoiled at this point. A few more steps and you were swinging open the dorm door, sighing from relief when you find Grace entirely alone in the dorm.

“Jesus- knock next time!” She jumped in her place, nearly screaming as she got spooked from reading peacefully in her bunk. Her face was written in a slight scowl but her expression softened the moment you met her eyes, “What’s wrong?”

“I fucked up,” You run your hands down your face as you find a seat on the bench, leaning against the desk.

“How..so?” Grace’s voice was unsure as she climbed down the ladder of her bunk, walking over to you, and sitting next to you.

“I kissed him-”

“Wait really? Finally!” She was beaming with excitement and you shoot a glare at her, her demeanor changes immediately, “How bad?”

“Okay well for starters- after he didn't even say anything until we got to the gate and then he told me he was going to see Tech- and that’s fine honestly it could’ve gone worse but I really think I messed up big time now- I mean, he’s straight for fucksake!” You speak all in one breath, taking a deep breath afterward and leaning your head on your sister's shoulder.

She holds back a laugh as she whispers, “Did he kiss back?”

“Yeah-” She was about to cut you off when you spoke again, “But it doesn’t mean anything. It could’ve just been instinct,” You screw your eyes shut, the guilt building up into your throat, burning your insides.

“You’re not going to listen to what I have to say so I’ll say this; give him time to process and you won’t feel like such shit anymore, okay? Now, I think you should go lay under the Saturn V and decompress, yeah? It’s your spot,” Grace smiles softly as she ushers you up to stand, nearly pushing you out of the dorm.

“Fine- Fine- I get it, Tom is coming over isn't he?” You throw a playful smirk as you chuckle softly at the way your sister is acting. She scowls softly and a slight pink tint crawls up her cheeks.

“No- absolutely n- okay maybe. Now, go!” You roll your eyes playfully as you walk away.

A bit of fresh air wouldn’t hurt.

The thing is, the Davidson Center, which is where the decoy Saturn V sits outside, is on the other side of campus. So while it was mid-October and decently chilly, you still managed to break a sweat and be a bit out of breath. The hilly paths and the heat leftover from the day radiating from the asphalt also did not help. A few minutes passed and you were through the gate and under the large rocket.

You sighed a breath of relief at how cool it was underneath, not a single drop of sunlight as the sun began to set behind the hills and trees. So you found a seat underneath, closing your eyes and letting the wind rake through your hair and fan over your face, silence draping your being in a meditative comfort.

And then it was broken, “Hey, bunny,” Your eyes shot open at the sound of the familiar voice, the nickname processing only afterward, and the voice was quickly identified as Wilbur.

“I thought you had plans with your brother?” You ask softly, moving to stand from your spot on the concrete. You didn’t take any steps forward, but he took them towards you.

“I did, he had a meeting with his crew trainer that got in the way,” He shrugs, smiling soft and sweet as he took a few more steps towards you, the space between both of you, now gone.

You smile back, memories of fear and guilt so far gone that all you feel is that usual hoard of butterflies in your gut. He puts his hands gently on your upper arms, his thumbs rubbing softly as he looks down, shuffling his feet. Part of you wants to freeze at his touch, but you instead melt, letting out a soft and satisfied sigh.

“I need to tell you something,” Wilbur starts, his feet stopping their shuffles as he moves his eyes to meet yours.

“Yeah?” Your voice is soft and small, eyes widened only slightly as you search his face for any inkling of what he may need to say--and you come up with nothing.

“I think…” He trails off as his eyes dart from yours down to your lips and back to your eyes, “I think it would be better if I speak with action,” And so, he drops his hands to your sides, letting himself wear a small smirk on his lips before he leans down and captures you in a deep and passionate kiss. One that if it goes on too long, lips will be left pink and swollen from how much love gets poured into it. Wilbur then moves a hand up to cup your cheek, and then his other on your other cheek, thumbs rubbing the soft skin gently as you reach your arms up and drape them over his neck. You pull him down slightly, opening your mouth just a hair more to somehow deepen the kiss even more than it already is. His body presses on yours as you press yours upwards onto his. Soft sighs and sounds of excitement slip out, swallowed by one another as sweet smiles curl up on both of your lips. It’s only when you’re both desperate for air that he pulls back, running his thumb over your lips, admiring how pink they are. And he smirks, “Oh, I’m gay by the way,” He chuckles softly as you swat at his arm, smiling wide from euphoria.

“No fucking shit, Sherlock!” You both giggle and he drops his head down onto your shoulder, pulling you close into a hug.

“I’m sorry about earlier- I was… kind of shocked and I didn’t know how to react. I just- I hope this makes up for it,” He sighs against your shoulder before turning his face against your neck, rubbing your back as he smiles, “I like you, like, a lot. And in the gay way.”

You giggle in response, “You know, I like you too,”

taglist; @sleepyburs @lillylvjy @ella-fella-bo-bella

#wilbur gold #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot x gn!reader #wilbur soot x male reader #wilbur #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x reader #boarding school au my beloved

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imomisoplays · 2 months ago

Text

Ham Ramen

Hello, tombler!

I’ll be moving on to Nanami Ito’s household soon, so I thought I’ll indulge myself with this last recipe (for a while!) from the ranch. However, today we’re not cooking with Stella, but please welcome (a) very special guest(s) – give it up for Osh Coush B'Gosh! It’s the club's (puny) name for cousins Leia, Soleil and Frejr. A little refresher if needed: Leia and Soleil are Stella’s children, while Frejr is Vienna’s son. Stella and Vienna are daughters of Kiyoshi Ito, making everybody introduced in this post Kiyoshi's grandkids. I consider adding Nanami's kids to the cousins' club too when they're older, since Kiyoshi and his wife Aria basically raised Nanami in my game. Phew, maybe a detailed family tree is needed for context.

One of the club's activities is to watch movie, and @midnitehearts's Studio Ghibli Movie Mod enabled us to watch Ponyo, an animated movie from the renowned Japanese production house Studio Ghibli. The gorgeous television set is the TELLY by @charlypancakes -- I use this television set everywhere, as the modern frame version can be seen in the background on Vienna's house here. So, so versatile. And if the TV is not centered on the fireplace, please pardon my (lack of) object-placement skill 😅

Soleil and Frejr are feeling particularly hungry after watching the scene where Sousuke and Ponyo eats ramen. The iconic "It's ham!" surely made their stomachs growl. Also, look at how cute they are. They will become teenagers soon, look at those puppy eyes! My friend told me this is exactly how parents felt seeing their kids growing up and becoming older. What a turn of events that I get to feel this with my imaginary sims children first. 🥹

As insinuated with some hints above, today we are cooking ham ramen from Ponyo. The recipe cc is made by @oni28 (click here to download). Please be aware that you would need to have Oni's Recipe Pack Mod (updated regularly on their Patreon) for the recipe to appear in your game.

Let me also introduce you to today's cook: Leia Ren. She's a straight A student on Chestnut Ridge High School, working part-time as a video game streamer and with an interest in robotics. Leia had the opportunity to graduate early, but since she hasn't decided what she wants to do for college, she still attended school as usual. Leia also helps in taking care of the horses, but she's not a hardcore horse person (completely different story with Soleil).

Ingredients for this recipe is simple but guaranteed to taste good: soft-boiled eggs, ham, and instant ramen. Loving the nod to the OG Nissin’s Chicken ramen package here. Leia's CC earrings are from @nolan-sims and can be downloaded here -- I always have at least one sim who uses a variation of Nolan's earrings for every outfit. Leia's mom Stella used to be that sim, but I revamped her style to be more refined (...or snob. Stella is that lady who lives in a ranch, owns two horses and does gardening everyday while being a snob y'all) as she grew older, so I'd like to imagine Stella passed down all these cute accessories to her daughter.

Leia slices the eggs and the ham. Are you wondering where Soleil and Frejr are? Well, they're on the kitchen too, stealing ham one slice at a time.

Leia starts boiling water to cook the instant ramen. The entire kitchen could hear Soleil's stomach growls. Our puppy Sol is shy because he's the only one being hungry, if only he knew Frejr is too but apparently a better actor.

After the ramen is cooked and plated, place the slices of ham and boiled eggs, and garnish with green onion. I love how @oni28 even made the bowl exactly like in the movie. It's the detail for me.

WE LOVE HAM! AND RAMEN! And we clearly do not have time for obligatory dining table photoshoot today, since the boys already went in and obliterated the food.

Ending the post with another angle of my Sol puppy. Next time we see him on this blog, he might probably be a teenager already... Ah, the hearts you'll break, young lad. Anyway, see you on the next one. Dag dag!

P.S. Detailed cooking process for ham ramen is taken from this post and this post.

Imomiso’s note: This post is originally posted on the now deleted blog.

#sims 4 #sims 4 cc #sims 4 custom content #sims 4 gameplay #simblr #oni28 #type: mains #type: anime foods #sims: leia ren #club: osh cous b'gosh #repost

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princess-of-the-corner · 8 months ago

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Ok, sending this, cause I sent an ask, and sometimes if I send two in a row, one deletes itself, so we’ll see if this works!

So, I vaguely remember the MHA-Monster AU was Enji/Rei/Hikari, and I had a thought. What if Hikari, in this verse, just straight up said “no”? Like, AfO TRIED to manipulate and control her, and she slammed on the breaks, turned around and bolted? And, like, AfO at first thought, “Oh, that’s kind of cute!” and “let” her get away. Like, he wasn’t that invested at first, she was just there in passing. But then he runs into her again, tries again, and she still goes “nope, not happening”, and books it AGAIN. So, AfO is a bit annoyed, but like, once was chance, twice is coincidence … the third time is a PATTERN, ok, now he’s pissed. AfO spends a while trying to get Hikari to sign some kind of deal, but she keeps refusing, and then she gets into a relationship with a literal Angel and Demon, which effectively puts her out of his reach. AfO is angry now, WHO DOES THIS BITCH THINK SHE IS!? So, because he’s petty, he goes after her family, gets her nephew/third cousin/godson/family member of some kind (Aoyama), but that’s long term, and involved with something else he’s working on, it doesn’t quite have the punch he wants. Then he sees an opportunity with one of her kids (I’m assuming, genetics aside, she’s helping raise the Todoroki kids, she’s Mama Kari), and manages to get Toya under a deal by taking his name, forcing him to become “Dabi”.

(That’s a thing in a lot of literature dealing with Fae, Names being a big deal. The way I tend to think about it best is, have you ever watched Spirited Away? When Chihiro goes to work for Yubaba, Yubaba literally steals parts of Chihiro’s name [symbolized by taking certain Kanji] and says while she works for her, Chihiro’s name is Sen, then gets her to answer to the new name - gifting Chihiro a new name to replace the one she took, and getting verbal acceptance. Through out the movie, Chihiro is referred to explicitly as Sen by most of the characters, and later, begins to refer to herself as Sen, actually forgetting that she’s called Chihiro, until someone gives her a card with her real name written on it, symbolically giving her her name back. I imagine Fae Deals for MHA-Monsters could work similarly, at least for how AfO uses them to control people. He gets them to give up their Name to him, then gifts them a new one, which puts them under his control. If they stay under his control too long, they can start to forget their old name, or even other important parts of themselves, and the easiest way to start breaking the Deal, is remember and try to reclaim your old name.)

Oh yeah like!

Honestly I was swinging back around because I debated on this being a Hikari!Lives AU because like.

one of the things about bnha aus is that when you take away the Hero System, things change a lot. And in this AU while all the Hero characters are still being like. They’re still doing good things and helping others and the like, it’s less formal and all.

But also yeah in this AU where while not a Hero exactly she still started looking into some shit and got in over her head. But because of the nature of what AfO does changed....

Because in Canon/CC he’d just yoink her Quirk and kill her. But within this AU, while he could just kill her, if he wants to use her he’d have to force her into making a Deal. So she’d have much more of a chance to escape. Perhaps not entirely unscathed, maybe I could damage her Magic in some way. Something to work with for the later Aoyama deal.

But yeah then we also. Due to both her living and the lack of the Hero System, Enji’s in a much better place mentally. He’s still got some shit to work out but he’s at a point where that can be more easily worked out.

Hell yeah let’s lean into the Hikari lives au and AfO’s a bit annoyed she managed to escape (especially because this absolutely gets Enji on his ass which messes with some other plans)

Aand yeah even if none of the kids are hers biologically they’re her kids. And, well, a very common Deal in folklore is to take the firstborn.

#submission #bnha monster au

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narwhalandchill · 11 months ago

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hsr 2.1 kit leaks

ok idk how but even w the preliminary aventurine kit leaks i didnt register before seeing a comment on how he would actually just shred in herta+himeko FUA teams for PF too and im just? obsessed actually i Love this

like PF is already in that weird place where sustains are kinda good still but kinda useless but aventurine being an actual FUA sub dps in addition to his shielding is just? so fucking good and will go so well with the never ending follow up after follow up death spiral that himeko and herta inherently bring to PF it should be a massacre 💀💀 i cant wait

anyway his kit looks sick i rly love how its designed. ACTUAL sub dps potential in a sustain finally 😭😭 and how much crit rate (40%) he gets just from reaching 3600 def is just? so delicious. obviously the fact that he will want crit, def, spd and possibly eff res too means you kinda need to invest hard into his build to rly get the most out of him but i love that blonde fucker so. yeah ill commit. i farmed my ass off for my fu xuan to be as stacked as she is i Will do it again 🫡🫡

the eff res hes giving to the team is actually massive too ?? CC immunity to himself when his passive effect is up? shields on skill no ult dependency and shield stacking on teammates being attacked and FUAs (and like. hes not dependent on FUA teams lmao its just going to boost him) just like that???

AND hes fast as fuck somehow like what 😭😭😭😭 bro looks stacked as hell i hope he stays strong. aventurine with that 106 speed rly out there running from the consequences of his antics 🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️💀

anyway wow im hype for this bastard i Cannot wait for his animations

as for acheron im. somewhat interested? but not like too pressed abt it for now. her stacking mechanic seems interesting and ive already seen the asset leaks for her red ultimate state (which is like 700% better than her base design) but if you only see that design for a v short time idk how much itll motivate me to get her.

the lack of LC options definitely hurts like. all i realistically have for her is s3 GNSW but thats on kafka rn. ig if i got acheron i prolly wouldnt be running them at the same time but its still food for thought ig

also she really copied neuvillettes homework for that nihility team passive HSJSJSKSKF idk how i feel abt it like w our current cast it kinda feels pretty tricky to genuinely get a strong team going for an actual max stack team for acheron. like run her with pela and what? guinaifen? ig we will see what shes all abt

ig i just dont feel as much of an incentive for a lightning dps for now w kafka but eh i might go for acheron still. i do have a guarantee tho so it might be nice to save it for aventurine straight up bc then i could maybe go for his LC since it gets him even more sub dps potential but who knows

ig only gripe w aventurine (which isnt that big of deal rly) is the current lack of FUA charas like idm building ratio eventually even having daniel (and them having such heavy synergy is very funny. renheng could never 💀) n i could see myself maybe getting topaz even if im not a huge fan of her character (tho i do think shes well written; my mixed feelings r a result of her being complex) but idk. i hope we get more leaks for upcoming FUA charas.

obviously theres xueyi but her FUAs arent That frequent and unironically i wouldnt Want someone like aventurine w his likely frequent FUAs on her team eating away the toughness bar from her so itd only really work against enemies who are quantum weak but not imaginary. but worth thinking abt still. at least herta n himeko will be a guaranteed PF synergy for him so thats hype

and most important of all: def mainstat with double crit we are so back. relics with double crit that half rolled into def we are so back. etc etc etc

#also i just rly fuckinf hope aventurines hat n glasses are a part of his model i s2g he looks so naked without them 😭😭😭#maybe make them toggleable or sth but also they didnt make jinglius so...#rambles #hsr #hsr leaks /

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comfy-whumpee · 2 years ago

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Love Lets Go

The Birdhouse has occasional group therapy. CN: BBU, alcohol.

@neuro-whump, @rosesareviolentlyread, @whumper-in-training, @mylifeisonthebookshelf, @pumpkin-spice-whump, @whumpsday, @firewheeesky, @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question, @highwaywhump

“Let’s talk,” Miss Kaur said, “about what love is.”

Avis sat on the edge of the windowsill in the living room. Beside her on the loveseat were Florence and Kamala, inseparable as usual. On the left, in the armchair by the old fireplace, Boo curled up with no apparent interest in the conversation around them. Against the opposite wall was the doorway to the dining room, and the dining chair that Miss Kaur had brought in for herself. Finally, rounding out the ring, was the green sofa with Tenten and Roman at opposite ends, sat in their identical straight-backed, hands-folded pose that was a mark of their similar training.

Group conversations were a new thing. It wasn’t strictly therapy for them, but it was a way to open topics of discussion and build connections in the group, as well as a way for them to learn from each other. They were trying it out to see who benefitted, who got nothing from it, and whether anyone would react negatively. Avis was mainly hopeful that being present would help Boo, even if they still refused to respond to anything around them.

They had picked a broad theme for the first attempt. One relevant for all involved, as best they knew. After the question, there was a long pause. They all had ideas to think through before daring to say them aloud.

Avis waited in silence for Kamala to speak. It was always Kamala. She couldn’t stand awkward moments like this. Her smile was kind and gentle. “Love is a strong feeling of care for others,” she answered. Avis would have bet money that it was the definition listed in the dictionary in the study.

Kamala didn’t seem to know how obvious it was that she often recited answers that she thought were correct, rather than give her own feelings. She also didn’t seem to realise how impressive it was that she could remember so many passages word for word.

“Love is being inc-cc-cluded in things,” Tenten offered after another hesitation. Avis thought of his occasional presence at other people’s activities. If they needed a second participant, Tenten was always willing. Perhaps that was love, to him.

The silence dragged on. Miss Kaur eventually broke it, looking at the others. “Does anyone else have any initial ideas?”

Roman stared at his feet. Boo stared into space. Florence was the one who spoke. “Love is when someone looks after you.”

Better than expected, Avis thought with relief, relaxing slightly.

“Thank you for sharing, Florence. Would you like to contribute, Roman?”

Roman glanced up, startled. His voice was whisper-soft. “Love is wanting something even if you try not to.”

Avis watched as Miss Kaur absorbed that response, nothing but the slight pause before her reply to give it away. “Thank you, Roman. Could you tell me something you love?”

“Attention,” Roman answered promptly.

“Beauty,” Florence supplied, sensing that the question was coming to the rest of them.

“Making other people happy,” Kamala put in.

There was a pause. Florence looked at Tenten while everyone else pretended not to.

He shifted in his seat, only a slight turn of his hips to give away his discomfort even as he held still in the formal sitting pose, the rest of his tics vanished under his focus. “I love - this house,” he said, looking at Miss Kaur and nobody else. “It-t’s old and has winding hallways and exp-posed beams. Everyone gets their own room and they’re all, all different. It, it-t has a range in the kk-kitchen and a fireplace in here, so it’s always warm.” He stopped, hearing himself talk, and scratched his cheek. “I’ve been um, been wanting t-to say that for a while,” he admitted.

Miss Kaur was smiling. “Thank you, Tenten, for sharing that. I liked hearing your reasons.”

Tenten smiled back, pleased at the praise.

Then, the seconds began to pass again.

Roman was checked out, staring at the floor with distant eyes. Attention was decidedly not something Roman sought in the shelter, but perhaps he was different before. Or perhaps he was told that he was, and believed it now.

Florence was playing with the hem of their skirt, drawing repeated attention to their bare thighs through the slight movements of their hands. The question had brought something up for them, too. Beauty and its form were always difficult for them to parse.

Reliably, Kamala spoke up. “I like this house too, but people are more important to me. I’m happy if I can make someone else happy.” She gave a picture-perfect Platonic smile. “And I want everyone to be well, of course.”

“Can you give us your reason for that, Kamala?” Miss Kaur suggested.

Kamala froze, briefly, subtly. It wasn’t an answer she had prepared, it seemed. “Well, that’s - that’s obvious.”

Avis knew the line. Platonic caretakers find nothing more fulfilling than being the best partner to their owner, and answering their needs with diligence and perfectionism.

“If people are happy I can feel happy too. It’s nice to know you helped someone.”

Tenten nodded in agreement.

Boo sat on the armchair, looking between them all without a twitch of an expression to show their thoughts. But at least they seemed to be following the talk, now.

“What do we think about the idea of self-love?” Miss Kaur said, when it became clear that the group had nothing else to add. “Roman,” she called his attention back, “I’d like you to start. What is your view on self-love?”

“Um,” Roman said, eyes skittering away. He wasn’t fully present, still. Some thought was catching at him. “Self-love is when you love yourself?”

“Yes,” Miss Kaur agreed, despite the non-answer. “What might that look like, to love yourself?”

There was a significant silence.

“I’d like us to think about what Kamala said,” Miss Kaur suggested, steering the ship back on course again. “Kamala said, and forgive me for paraphrasing here Kamala, that she loves people, and she especially loves looking after people and helping them. When you said that, Kamala, were you including the people in this room?”

Earnestly, Kamala nodded.

“I’ve had conversations with some of you about seeing yourselves as people. We have worked on that knowledge, that to survive the pet industry doesn’t mean you are no longer people. This means we are, according to Kamala’s principles, deserving of love, help and kindness.” She glanced at the woman in question, who looked alarmed by being used as an example. “That includes Kamala herself.”

The clock in the kitchen was audible through the doorway. Nobody else even moved. It was difficult for them all to think through this barrier, especially when she tied it to ideas of worth and support.

“We all have an idea of love,” Sunita said quietly, with the warmth she felt for this group suffusing her tone. “What we lack, and this is common of most people, is the ability to apply that knowledge to ourselves. When we love ourselves, we learn how to treat ourselves fairly. We learn how to make compromises and how to assert boundaries. We negotiate all of those things with ourselves, and it’s not necessary for us to do that before bonding with others, but it is invaluable practice for forming sustainable relationships in the long-term.”

Kamala nodded, because she thought she was supposed to. Florence looked lost.

“Only you can be your worst enemy, and only you can be your best friend,” Sunita summarised. “Learn how you like to be treated. Then you can teach those around you. Let’s take a pause now for reflection. Take yourselves off to wherever you’d like to be, and think, write or talk aloud through your thoughts. We’ll come back in half an hour.”

Florence sat doodling shapes on a piece of paper they’d found, with a stubby pencil Avis left in the kitchen for writing the shopping list. They were drawing hearts, one of the few symbols they knew. Hearts meant love. It seemed relevant.

It was a strange conversation they were having today. Loving others was easy for Florence; they had been made to, and the way that their love had changed hands was important to them finding their place.

They were made to give, not to keep. But they wondered if they could.

Could you love yourself without being able to see yourself?

It was too far to go up to their room. They could have gone up, and nobody would have said anything, but if they missed too much therapy, Avis would get involved.

They stayed in the armchair, staring at the emptied room as if nothing about it had changed. Their voice was miles away at the best of times, but today it may as well be on another continent.

No matter what they learned from Sunita Kaur, they didn’t know how to live differently. They would only learn everything that they lacked.

Kamala waited patiently to be allowed back into the therapy room, iPad on her lap. She had a comic book open, but between pages, when she could sneak glances, she was trying to find some information about the therapeutic conversation they were having together. Normally, Mrs Sunita followed a treatment plan or template exercise that meant Kamala could find all she needed, given enough time.

Searching what is love led to nothing useful. It was too common a question. She read some articles, but they all seemed vague and at times, in disagreement about what it was.

Still, she knew from Mrs Kaur’s expression that she had said some things right. There had been approving looks, and she had used Kamala’s words to explain something. So she was doing well.

She could be good. Good pet, good friend, and good at therapy.

The bathroom was quiet and private. Tenten liked bathrooms. They were designed to be easy to clean, and they were the only place nobody ever raised eyebrows when you locked the door. He could spend as long as he liked inside, and people would only give him vague, concerned questions about whether he was okay, without prying into specifics.

He sat cross-legged on the floor, resting his wrists on his knees. He breathed. He was doing well today, only his hand twisting erratically, everything else loose and behaving itself.

Mrs Kaur was asking hard questions.

He let the thought walk by. It wasn’t his place to try and predict what would happen, nor to practice what he would say. His job was to read and respond. Find what they want and provide it with the appearance of effortlessness. Mrs Kaur wanted his honest thoughts, and he could provide.

An arm goes around his shoulders and he doesn’t move. Carved from stone, he thinks to himself, as the lights of the television flicker over them both in the dim light. He doesn’t like that Tyler is tipsy. It makes him nervous, remembering the Christmas party last year where he got in a drunken fight with Phil. They were friends again the next morning, but it was still unnerving.

He has to be carved from stone. Unflinching, unfeeling.

But Tyler doesn’t hurt him. He just sits there, smelling of sweat and alcohol, watching the screen. They’ve gone to commercial, but Roman can’t leave now. He can’t pull away.

On the screen, two men are buying a house together, talking to a nice, smiley representative from a bank so they can get a mortgage.

“Are you gay?” Tyler asks abruptly.

It’s only after he’s processed the question that Roman realises that’s what the men on the screen are meant to be. His heart sinks. “I don’t…know,” he admits after a moment.

“Yeah, of course you don’t. You wouldn’t know unless you tried being with a guy, right?” Tyler’s voice is casual, but something shifts underneath, and Roman swallows. “You don’t remember anything, you wouldn’t know.”

“No,” Roman affirms, between numb lips. Dread is climbing up his throat with claws.

“Would you want to know? I mean, it’s not like you’re gonna date. But it’s – interesting, to know, right? It’d be good to know.”

Tyler still won’t look at him. Roman looks at his lap, feeling like the arm around him gets heavier every second, every breath, every word out of Tyler’s beer-stained mouth. “I don’t mind,” he whispers.

“’Course not,” Tyler agrees, except he doesn’t sound like he’s listening. “You don’t mind. You wouldn’t mind. And you wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Roman opens his mouth to ask, tell anyone what?

“Half an hour is up, Florence.”

“Okay.”

They got up, leaving the scrap of paper behind. They returned to their seat, where Kamala had already returned on her own. Florence didn’t think Boo had moved.

Avis rapped on the bathroom door. “You ready, Tenten?”

“Yes, Avis.” The door opened. Neither of them commented on Tenten’s half-hour bathroom break. They both knew he’d needed the space.

With everyone else returned, Avis went looking in search of Roman, climbing the stairs. She had left him until last because she knew that, against her expectations, he had been hit the hardest by the conversation today. It would have, she hoped, a profound impact on everyone. But something had triggered for Roman, and she wasn’t yet sure what.

She didn’t find him in the bedroom. She checked the bathroom, and the music room. He wasn’t in any of them.

She circled the floor to the big window, but he wasn’t in it. She climbed to the third floor.

There, the library door was ajar.

The Birdhouse’s library was a long room with a wider bottom half, taking a chunk out of the third bathroom, which could afford the loss. It was lined down one wall with huge shelves, each one containing multitudes. There was fiction and non-fiction, sci-fi, fantasy, realistic stories, mysteries and thrillers and crime, fairy tales, myths, legends, poetry and drama, illustration and photography, craft books, art books, comic books, cookbooks, books on gardening, DIY, health and wellness.

On smaller shelves around the room were the personalised collections: Kamala’s riot of colour for all her Marvel needs; Florence’s photo collections from places across the globe and their easy reading novels; Tenten’s recipe books and the two history texts he had shyly asked for. Boo didn’t have anything on their shelf, but Avis knew they used the library sometimes, when nobody else did.

Roman was sitting in one of the eight armchairs scattered around the room. It was facing the window, but the curtains were closed from last night. He didn’t seem to be looking out of them.

Perhaps, Avis thought as she sniffed the papery air, this room was the most like an office.

She set herself down in the nearest armchair, nearly sinking into the plush fabric. “Hi, Roman.”

“Hi, Avis,” he said, his voice barely audible.

She sat for a minute, watching. He barely moved. He was sitting in the chair upright, feet on the floor, hands at his sides as though he’d forgotten to position them. His head was tilted down to place his gaze on the floor, but he wasn’t moving.

“I like this room,” Avis ventured after it became clear he had nothing to say. “I think it’s lovely. Things can get hectic with the others around and all the things to do, but your reading time in the library is always special. Peaceful.”

He didn’t unstick. She sensed that he wanted to, somewhere inside him he was straining to, but he wasn’t in control. He was being unobtrusive, that deadly word that both of her Help at Home rescues staked their lives on.

She rested her arms on one side of the chair, making sure she was as close to his direct line of sight as she could be. “I’m getting the sense that you’re paralysed right now, Roman. That’s okay. It’s not unusual to get stuck sometimes, when someone is faced with something that they can’t handle. They adapt, or they suffer through it. Often, they suffer in the same way as they have suffered other things before.”

Roman gave a slight nod, just enough to show he was paying attention. Was it genuine communication, or even a request for her to carry on? Or was it another trained motion? She wasn’t sure. He was still so new.

“This is because your brain learns how to survive. That’s like its superpower, like Ms Marvel. Have you seen Kamala’s comics?”

Another nod of five degrees.

“Your brain adapts. It learns what was safe and got you through a hard situation, and when you’re put under stress again, it uses that same technique. Sometimes, that technique is freezing.”

Sometimes, it was self-annihilation through service to others. Sometimes, it was emptying of thoughts and focusing only on sensory experiences free of trauma. Sometimes, it was becoming nothing at all.

Sometimes, though, it was talking. Sometimes, it was Tenten gripping his elbows and trying to explain where his head had gone, so he could find his way back.

Avis relaxed, reassured by the thought. If Tenten could do it, so could Roman. “Think about where you are, Roman. You’re in the library right now. You’re looking at the curtains. What colour are they?”

His lips moved, almost soundlessly. “Purple.”

“That’s right. A nice muted, dusky purple. What texture?”

“C-coarse. Sturdy.”

“Excellent. What about where you’re sitting?”

He looked down. It seemed as though he hadn’t seen the chair before. “C-Cream.”

Then his eyes went to her, and she waved. “Hi, Roman.”

He exhaled. She wondered how long he’d been holding that one lungful of air. “Hi, Avis.”

Mrs Kaur nodded. “I’ll talk through it with him in private next time I see him. I expected there might be some difficult moments, but I didn’t foresee Roman reacting so strongly. It sounds like he needed some help to come out of his memories, but he was able to go about the rest of his day normally.”

Avis felt tension drop away from her shoulders as Sunita laid it out so simply. “Yes. That’s true. How were the others after we left?”

Her words were edged with concern, which Sunita politely pretended not to notice. “Oh, fine. Boo listened, the others talked. They weren’t quite able to express things about themselves just yet, but we had a good moment where they offered love to each other, and saw it reflected back. I think that’s a very positive start.”

Avis chuckled softly to herself. “I can imagine. Kamala and Florence always have nice things to say about each other, and Tenten is nice about everyone.”

Sunita smiled, the coy smile of someone who has a surprise to reveal. “It was more than that, actually. Florence wanted to talk about Boo.”

Avis’s eyebrows rose.

“Apparently, Boo helped them on a bad night some weeks ago. They needed company, and help getting food. Boo provided. Florence, by their own admission, loves very easily and very loyally… But there seems to be a connection there.”

“That’s incredible.” Hope swelled in Avis’s chest as she tried to imagine Boo expressing feelings to Florence, even through pauses and movements. “That’s a big win from today,” she said.

“Exactly.”

“And what is love?” Dr Cerasale asked.

Her mouth hung open for a moment before she snapped it shut, folding her arms. Turn it back on her, would he? Typical. “Love is dedication, affection, patience and – and believing in them.”

The therapist nodded. “And how might you describe your love for yourself?”

Oh, doubly turning it back on her. He was good.

Avis shrugged. “I don’t love myself or hate myself. I am myself. I just am. All my love is for my – rescues. And my son.” She cut him a look as he stopped before he could get the first syllable of his next question out. “Those are the most important people to me.”

“Avis,” he said, almost warningly.

“I know what you’re going to say. I didn’t replace my missing boy with them. I would have ended up here eventually, even if Florence hadn’t found me. I had to help. Even if I couldn’t help him. I know grief plays a part in it, but I won’t listen to you making it sound like grief is the only reason I’m doing such a good thing.”

He didn’t interrupt when she paused, so she carried on.

“Besides, no matter my reason, they’re getting help. I’m far from perfect, but I can give them resources and equip them for their new lives as free people.”

“And how about when they fly the nest? How will you feel then?”

Avis was about to say fine, but a sudden grief knocked her thoughts clean off track, and the word was lost. She took a breath and she felt herself circling the whirlpool. She fell still.

Leaving the nest, letting them fly. Watching them soar. Seeing their plane disappear over the horizon, her baby leaving home for his first holiday without her.

Kids left home to find themselves, not lose themselves.

“I don’t know,” she said eventually. “We’ll see when the time comes.”

Cerasale hummed and nodded. “When the time comes for them to leave, as they all will.”

They might not, Avis thought to herself. Roman might not be able to cope with everyday living on his own. Tenten could always be vulnerable to exploitation. Kamala still recreated power dynamics that put her subservient to others. Boo was still mute. Florence was still barely literate.

“How does it feel, to think about that?” he probed gently. “Your rescues leaving the sanctuary?”

“Scary,” she said honestly. “Seeing them go. Not knowing what will happen to them, not being there if anything does.”

“Do you think that is likely?”

“Of course it is. Bad things happen to everyone, but ex-pets most of all. The survival rate in American shelters is horrifying.”

“Permit my ignorance, but is the situation here comparable to that of the USA?”

“Well, no. It’s better here, there aren’t WRU vans on every corner waiting to abduct them. They’re emancipated, they have distance, they have legal status. But it’s all in the data, and it’s bad. They’re gullible and overgenerous and don’t stand up for themselves. Letting them go isn’t just scary, it’s dangerous. Legitimately dangerous.”

“But people do it. In the USA, as well as here. Do they not?”

“Yeah. Yes, of course.” Avis frowns. “But my rescues are – the Birdhouse is for complex cases. Rescues who didn’t all want to be rescued, or rather, like, they wanted to be rescued but still want to be owned. Just in a different way. Rescues who wanted rescue, but wouldn’t have wanted it if their owners were different.”

Cerasale nods, letting that sit for a moment. She’s stated her case. Her argument is pretty sound. But she knows he’s not just going to let that pass.

“Again, correct me if I’m wrong. But I wonder if that description is accurate for all your rescues. You have often spoken, in admiration, of Tenten’s innate desire to be free. For example.”

“Tenten would have stayed with his family if they hadn’t made him wear a collar.”

He looks at her thoughtfully. She dodges his gaze.

“For a while, anyway,” she mutters. She knows she’s not being fair, and guilt prickles at her for fibbing about Tenten to get her therapist off her back. “He wanted to try living independently. If he can’t, I don’t know what he’ll do.”

“Think of Tenten,” he suggests. He’s gentle, but firm. “He won’t be the only one, but perhaps he is the one you can see most clearly right now. He has many life skills, he is interested in learning and growing, he participates in therapy, and he wants this.”

She hugs her elbows, feeling chastised, the burn worse because she knows he’s right. She’s always known. Tenten will be the one who leaves first.

“It will be a scary, bittersweet day. But ultimately a happy one.” He checks the clock on the table to the side, angled so she can’t read it. “We’re about ready to wrap up. I want to pick this back up next week. How are you feeling?”

She thinks about it. It’s been a hell of a fucking week. They always are.

“I miss my son,” she says.

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youuuimeanmee · 2 years ago

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My ILY 219 Thoughts

When I first read this chapter on fastpass, my head was in mush the whole day, it feels like I've fallen in love. Even after today, 4 weeks later, I still can't put this chapter down. Everything was so intimate, it might be more intense than any romance media I've read so far. (I swear romance in slice-of-life genre is the best). With all that mush, there's also a silent dread in the back of my head, like, if tonight is the peak of Nolan's happiness since forever, what kind of pain and torture that awaits him in the future? Hhhahah let's stop thinking there.

1. I was pleasantly surprised when Nol was about to apologize to Shinae about the whole awkward-morphine-thing! I thought he's gonna use this opportunity to let her stay away from him, but nope. I forgot this is The Nolan Who-didn't-shy-away-from-Shinae-because-she's special Lochlainn. I should've known, despite the dread of loving (and losing) someone again, he also couldn't let her go easily.

2. The trio! YESS!! I was hoping they'd come! "How are you doing, stranger?" Damn right Shoushi, Nol hasn't introduce himself with his real name yet. "Oh shut up, let us have this!" Damn right Shinae. Just let them love you for God sake.

3. Awww that red blush! That crooked smile! It's the similar crooked smile Yeong-Gi had when Shinae gave him ointment for his scratch!

Nol really is touched by Shinae who doesn't give up on showing her care, despite him pushing her away many times 😭And Daww look at Lil Buddy on Nol's side ready to protect him!

4. Nol:

Also Shinae on ep 2, the first time she met Nol:

😏 Nice throwback Quim 😏

5. Soushi. "It's not like anyone's stealing my lunch money anymore." Is it because Soushi's high school is better than his junior high? Because he has friends who can kick ass now? Or because he kept receiving benefits for being Kousuke's spy? Kinda sus there. BUT! Since he finally realized just how severe Kousuke's relationship with Nol, I should trust him. Plus, Lil Buddy didn't attack him tonight! I trust Lil Buddy who trust Soushi.

6. DUCKIESS!!

If he wasn't impressed before because Dieter only described "Yeong-Gi," not "him," he definitely is now 😭 'Cause the boy who wondered where the duck is in the pond? Now that's Nolan. No wonder Nol is so touched 🥺

7. SoachRoach? Daww Soushi nooo :( I don't want you to consider yourself as a pest! Well, if being a pest means he won't leave Nol alone and continue to be his friend then I don't mind, but still-

8. The "I love you guys!" that Nol exclaimed at Dieter and Soushi, and the silent "I love you so much" that gaze straight into Shinae's eyes is *chef's kiss* 🤌🤌

9. "Shinae! Why are you standing so far away? You're a part of this group too!"

No Dieter, Shinae is a league on her own 😏

10. Haha, the "It's a Girl!" balloon that were changed into "It's a Gift!"? Nice save Shinae, real smooth. And oh, almost forgot. Fun fact, Quimchee said on her cc that if Nol were gonna have a child, he'd definitely want a daughter. Surprise surprise, the balloon Shinae brought on this ep is a gender reveal balloon, with "It's a Girl!" written on it. Quim, are you teasing us? Or is it a foreshadowing 🤣🤣

11. Ngl the panel where Nol is staring at his friends with red/pink sunrise and snowfall is soo pretty it's like shoujo manga. I'm soo sooftt 😭

12. Oh boy. That burger analogy he made is definitely dark. So his birthday is definitely:

1) getting stepped on by Hirahara; and

2) he found his birth/birthday leads to his mom's death/disappereance.

I really hope #2 is just some bs nonsense Yui has told him, but idk. Yui is the master of manipulation, some of what she said might contain some ugly truths, which, could be hard to counter :((

13. "Luck? Maybe bad luck..." Oi Nol, Shinae wouldn't know it was your birthday if it's not for the bible. You won't be able to celebrate your birthday in a good mood if it it's not for the bible. And you definitely wouldn't chase after Shinae in the first place if it's not for Nessa's letter in the bible. So it IS a good luck. How could you forget that?

14. Haha I knew she'd pick the orange! 🤣 But that doodle! I didn't expect her to do that but it's genius 🤣 And that message!

Not only it's a nod to Shinae's line when they first met (Humans suck), it's also the answer of his question earlier!

And it must mean so much to Nol cause, ugh, how do I explain it. For Nol who hate himself so much, hearing "you're a good person" might be a bit too much since it's hard to believe. But "you don't suck that much"? To me, at least, it's easier to take because it means Shinae acknowledged his downsides, but she accepts it anyway. Because she sees some good in him. Because he's special to her. For someone who were used to be told he's nothing? For someone who were told to disappear just a few hours ago by certain someone? That, UGHHH 😭😭

15. Oohh that tapping hand! I remember Nol said he knows how to do scales, so maybe he's playing imaginary piano in his head? Maybe he's reminiscing how his mom used to teach him christmas songs? Don't know if that's really the case but I thought it'll be a nice headcanon :) Shinae must've noticed how lost he is in his own world, so the way she brought him back using a finger dance, it's like she's saying "Don't go. Just look at me." 😭

16. The whole finger dance is so cute, but Nol's darken facee. It's like he's thinking, "Why do you think we can't dance? I don't care how much pain I'm in, I can dance with you. I want to." I swear, Nol's "take your shoes off" is much hotter than any "take off your clothes" from any ML in romance manga.

17. I see Yeong-Gi when I see one. With that smile, that happy remark, and that peek-a-boo? Definitely Yeong-Gi, alright. After he decided to live his life as Nolan, just this once, he wears his mask again to ease Shinae's worry, because he won't let her know alll the pain he felt (maybe I should write an analysis/theories about his motive in the future). He doesn't want to scare her, he wants to see her smile for as long as he could because By Gods he needs it. Their dance is like a sweet, silent goodbye, and they both know it.

18. Lastly, I wanna mention how good Quim is with gestures? Nol is holding only 2 fingers, like he still has a wall that says "I'm only asking you this as a friend. Not that I try to hit on you or anything." Almost like he's scared to invite her, afraid she might be scared of him.

But she's not. She accepted him with her full hand. Yet, he doesn't fully hold her hand because he's not ready to completely accept it, he's not ready to open up yet.

Despite all that, he holds what he can (Shinae's fingers) with all his might, because he's unable to let her go?

QUIMCHEEE 😭😭😭

I wanna write more but it's getting long and there's a pic limit, so I'll continue in another post! I'm gonna dump all my thoughts about what Nol might be thinking the moment he's alone with Shinae. Thank you for reading this far! 😆

#i love yoo #ily #webtoon #ily 219 #ily reaction #ily thoughts #nolan lochlainn #shin ae yoo #quimchee #ily meta #ily theory #i love yoo 219

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