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soothing-flowers · 24 days ago

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word count: 2.5k

warnings: y/n (male reader), smut, genshin impact smut

What happens when you mess with Wriothesley? well he’s gonna fuck the attitude out of you of course!

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Wriothesley hates you. At least, you think he does. If he doesn’t, he’s doing a great job at faking it.

To be fair, it is your fault. You have a huge crush on him, and instead of, oh, I don’t know, talking to him, you decide to just tease him a little.

Besides, your days are spent running paperwork all around the Fortress since you scored a job there as an assistant to well, everyone, six months ago when you desperately needed a job after your last place burned down accidentally during an attack. You don't really have time to find out if someone's interested in you. You could talk to the other inmates, but then Wriothesley would knoe. Oh well.

You grab your next stack of paperwork and see where it needs to go. Ugh. The front desk. Monglane is wonderful, but she’s really chatty and will gossip if you let her.

“Hey, Monglane, here’s those papers you needed!”

“Oh, thank you, Y/N! Hey, have you heard?” Monglane beams as she cheerfully takes the papers from you, “Wriothesley is out of office today. Something about helping the traveler! Oh, I wonder what it could be? Could it be official or…”

You nod and just zone out as Monglane speaks. If you let her speak on her own, she gets it out of her system faster.

“Who knows! Anyways, have a good shift Y/N! See you around!”

You smile and wave as you walk away, trying not to roll your eyes.

Out of office she says? Perfect.

You love messing with Wriothesley. It’s almost a game at this point. I mean, what else would you do to a guy who acts like you’re garbage? He seems to almost think you’re an idiot. There was a thought of leaving him notes like a secret admirer at one point, but it felt too cheesy, and you knew he’d catch on pretty quick since you’re one of the few people who goes into his office anyway.

Besides, he messes with you too. Wastes your time, sends you on wild goose chases, the only stuff he really can do to mess with you in the Fortress. He says the only reason you still work at the fortress is because he pities you.

You head to Wriothesleys’ office and slip in, move his papers around, and slip back out successfully without anyone noticing.

You head to the cafeteria and grab your food. You’re just about to dig in when you hear it; Wriothesley huffing and puffing through the halls. He glares at you as he walks by. You smirk. He knows it was you who moved his stuff, but he can’t prove it since the office doesn’t have cameras. It’s really attractive how mad he gets.

The rest of the week is just retaliation and escalation back and forth between the two of you. You mess with him, he somehow gets you more busywork. You flip him off discreetly in a corridor, he somehow gets you locked in a room for an hour. If only he had locked himself in there too.

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Wriothesley hates you. How arrogant you are, how you act like you always know what you're doing.He especially hates the pranks you play, when you shuffle his papers around, it drives him mad. It was funny at first but now he's ready to fire you.

He doesn't even remember why he started hating you in the first place. He even thought you were cute at one point. Now he just kind of wants to smack you. Is he attracted to you? Maybe, but that doesn't outweigh the disdain he feels for you.

He took pity on you when your house burned down and let you stay at the fortress and work there. He's almost starting to regret it. Almost.

Wriothesley heads back to his office to grab some paperwork.When he gets there, he notices it's all shuffled around.

Damn it, Y/N. Do you have to be such a nuisance? You’re insufferable.

He puts his papers back and storms out of his office. He passes you in the cafeteria.

Archons, you look so stupid. That dumb grin on your face. I know you did this. If I could fire you I would.

Wriothesley huffs the whole time as he heads to drop off his papers to Sigewinne in the medical ward. He stops when hears some of them having an interesting conversation.

“....well yeah, Y/N is kinda cute, but he’s such a brat.”

“I could set him straight. Just fuck the attitude outta him.”

“Wouldn’t work. He seems to only be interested in Wriothesley.”

Wriothesley rolls his eyes as he walks out of earshot of the two of them. He thinks it’s not surprising that they talk about sex in the halls. It is a little surprising that they talk about you though. He hadn’t really thought about you in that way, not really. Sure, he had thought that you were cute at first, but once you started messing with him, the attraction all but faded.

Wriothesley has kinda known that you’re into him. He just doesn’t really care, especially since you keep messing with his stuff.

Eh, maybe the inmates are right. Maybe you do just need the attitude fucked out of you. Hell, that’s probably what you want, isn't it, Y/N?

Hopefully the inmates were right, especially since Wriothesley has been pent up too.

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It all comes to a head when he catches you in his office one day.

“Ahem.” Wriothesley clears his throat as he catches you rearranging his office. “Y/N, what're you doing?”

You blink and slowly turn around, having been trying to turn Wriothesley's whole office around. “Would you believe me if I said nothing?” You let out a nervous laugh.

Wriothesley just sighs and crosses his arms. “I thought you’d learned to be sneaky by now.”

You grin and go to leave. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Bye!”

“Hold it.” Wriothesley says, stepping to block your path, placing a hand on your chest to stop you.

You were really hoping he would just let you go, even if it is super hot when he tells you off.

“Come on, Wrio, just let me go.” You crack a smile, hoping his nickname will get you off the hook.

It doesn’t.

Wriothesley leans into you, his hand still on your chest. You stop breathing.

“Is there something you want from me, Y/N?”

“Uh..” You can barely manage words, mesmerized by how close he is to you, his grey eyes piercing you like a knife. “See, I’ve been hearing about this little crush you have on me.”

Uh oh.

“And honestly, if you wanted my attention, you could’ve just asked. Is that what you want? My attention?”

“You have to admit,” You smirk, “some of my pranks are kinda funny.”

Wriothesley looks like he’s about to smack you.

“Do I need to fuck the attitude out of you?”

You blush. You hadn’t expected that Wriothesley would ever want you, let alone be so forward about his want for you.

“I don’t think that’s possible, but you’re welcome to try.” You try to sound confident, but it comes out very flustered.

“You sound so needy. You’ve been wanting this for a while, haven’t you?”

His hand starts to travel down your pants, making you lose focus and forget how to talk.

“Come on, Y/N, answer me.”

“Uh, I-I guess, yeah.”

Wriothesley smirks a little. “Where’s all that confidence gone?”

You try to respond with something witty, but nothing comes out.

He just laughs and pushes you gently onto his desk, completely ignoring all the papers that go flying. His hand gently snakes down and starts pawing at your cock through the outside of your pants. You’re somehow already rock hard.

Wriothesley notices immediately. “If you wanted me so badly, you shoulda just asked. Didn’t have to spend all those nights alone with just your fist.” He says softly, leaning in to say it directly into your ear.

You start to respond, but Wriothesley stops you, clearly done with your bullshit.

“Just stop talking.” He says as he unbuttons your pants with his right hand, “Or I could just cover your mouth. Feels like that’d be easier wouldn’t it?”

You don't speak, just glare at him. He smiles and pulls your cock out of your pants and lets it hang out in the open.

You let out a soft moan as he taps your cock, and this time he does cover your mouth with his left hand. You look at him confused since you technically didn’t say anything.

“I know, you didn’t say anything.” Wriothesley says into your ear, “I just don't want people to hear.”

No, you want me to be quiet. No one can even hear us up here. You think to yourself.

You watch as Wriothesley’s right hand starts fondling your balls gently. You moan into his hand as he toys with you, grabbing his arm with both hands to steady yourself a little. Through the outline of his pants, it’s very clear that he himself is getting hard.

“Mmmph.” You moan into his hand as he suddenly gives a small smack to your balls.

“Quit staring at me. Pay attention to what I’m doing to you, got it?”

You nod and look down at where his hand is, your breath heavy.

“Good boy.” He says as he goes back to toying with your balls.

He plays with your balls in silence for an almost unbearable amount of time before finally turning his attention to your cock. By now, you’re so hard it borderline hurts.

When he puts his hand on your cock, it's heavenly. Stroking you, up and down, and even whispering into your ear.

“Such a needy boy, aren’t you?” “I should’ve done this sooner, you look so good.” “You’re being so good for once.”

You whimper and moan into his hand. Just as you’re about to cum, Wriothesley stops touching you. He takes his right hand off your cock and puts it on your leg.

You move his hand off your face. “Please.” You whine.

“Did you really think I’d let you off that easily?” Wriothesley says as he takes his left hand and puts it under your chin. “Seriously. You’ve been pissing me off, so now you're gonna wait. You’ll be fine.”

You go to protest but Wriothesley stops you with a kiss. It’s soft. He knows that if it were rough you’d be finished right then and there.

He kisses you gently through your whines and pleas, forcing you to calm down. When your breathing is much more shallow and controlled, he starts slowly stroking you with his right hand again. Keeping your face close to him using his left.

His kisses become rougher and the strokes are faster this time.

It’s almost too much. You start to beg and plead as your breathing becomes heavier again. Wriothesley doesn't care and keeps going until you’re at the edge again. This time he lets go of you entirely and stands there just staring at you as he palms himself through his own pants.

He watches you as you gasp and try to catch your breath. His eyes scan over every inch of you.

You can’t take it anymore. You take your own hand and try to touch yourself but Wriothesley smacks it out of the way.

“Come over here.” He says as he goes behind you and sits on his chair, pushing it so it’s no longer facing his desk.

You walk over and stand in front of him. Just by looking at him, it’s clear that this is some sort of game

“Take your pants off and get on your knees.”

You sigh and drop your pants. You should’ve guessed that if this happened, he was going to want to mess with you a little.

You drop to your knees in front of him. You decide to not risk messing with him and just start undoing his pants.

“I’m surprised you don’t have something to say. Giving up that easy?”

You roll your eyes as you pull out his cock and gently start stroking it. It’s pretty long, and has a little bit of girth. Just enough that you know it’ll stretch you out a little if it ends up in you.

“No, use your mouth.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

Wriothesley glares at you. “Then I’m not gonna let you finish.”

You sigh. You know he’s entirely serious so you take his cock in your mouth, gently sucking on it. Wriothesley sits and watches you for a second before playing with your hair. You can tell he’s enjoying it, despite how much of an asshole he thinks you are.

He groans when you start teasing him. Planting little kisses on him, only sucking the tip, anything you can think of to mess with him.

It works pretty well. Soon, Wriothesley is grabbing you by the back of your head and shoving you down on him. He doesn't push down all the way. Instead he just starts thrusting into your face over and over, until he eventually cums down the back of your throat.

You swallow his cum down, gasping for air. Wriothesley gives you a good fifteen seconds to recover before pulling you up off the ground. The second you’ve adjusted yourself around him, he picks you up and sits you down on the desk, clearly not caring about the papers.

“Agh!” You groan. "You coulda given me some warning.”

Wriothesley grins and puts his hand on your mouth again. “Seriously. Stop talking. Now put your hands behind your back.”

You roll your eyes. He could’ve easily just told you to stop talking but I guess this works too. You put your hands behind your back, thinking it’s just gonna be another fun game, but Wriothesley lays you down flat on your back.

Crap. I shouldn’t have done that, now he’s never gonna let me-

“Mmmph!” You gasp as Wriothesley lines up and enters you without warning, interrupting your thoughts. He enters you slowly, gasping as he goes.

“Fuck. You feel so good. Shoulda done this sooner.” He breathes as he bottoms out inside you.

You groan as he bottoms out, the stretch remarkable. You stare at him, waiting for him to move.

He does, but it’s agonizingly slow. You would tell him to move faster, but, you know.

Wriothesley moves at the slow pace for what feels like forever. He talks to you the whole time, telling you how he should’ve done this sooner, how annoying you are, but mostly just how good you feel.

It feels so good. You reach down to touch yourself, desperate for release.

“Fine.” Wriothesley groans. “You can cum.”

He speeds up his pace as you touch yourself. Desperate for release now, you go faster.

“Come on. That’s it.” Wriothesley leans in. “There you go, finish yourself off.”

You moan harder into his hand and brace yourself against the table.

Wriothesley makes it easy for you to finish by whispering in your ear the whole time, egging you on. He stops thrusting into you. He doesn't even have to anymore.

You come all over your chest, almost seeing stars from the force of your release.

“Now that you’ve had the attitude fucked out of you, are you gonna be good?”

“No.” You breathe heavily trying to catch your breath, “But you can keep trying, maybe it’ll work one day.”

#smut #damianas #genshin smut #wriothesely genshin #wriothesley genshin smut #uwu please enjoy

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drowsypancake · 5 months ago

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Sellout | Bucky Barnes x Reader

The head of a crime ring specialising in the sale of classified information meets the Winter Soldier three separate times, and is put into an uncomfortable position due to his appearance in her life. The third time serves as a catalyst, setting her on a path that slowly compromises her beliefs until it's no longer clear to her what she really wants.

Warnings: no beta reader; mentions of violence, weapons, and death; some adult language; maybe eventual romance??; annoyance-into-friendship tone for now; appropriate hatred of HYDRA

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: So I just started trying to write, and I have no idea whether I cooked with this or whether I'm going to delete my blog afterwards, but I can leave it as a one-shot or use my ideas for a longer series if I decide to pick it up. Feedback would be appreciated even if it's negative. TL/DR: first fic ever, crucify me for my writing if necessary

———

The first time you met him, you barely got a good look. One second, your meeting was scheduled to begin as they normally did, speaking to overinflated egos lining either side of the long table you sat at the head of. The next, the glass windows shattered as a figure crashed through, your bodyguards immediately standing, drawing their weapons, and covering you. You didn’t stick around long enough that day to see the whole picture, but after some later digging, it would seem that you’d gotten on the radar of the Winter Soldier.

That night, of course, you’d taken your usual actions whenever something of this scale occurred. You made a few calls, contacted your most trusted informants, and naturally took down notes. You gathered that this… incident, you’d call it, was supposed to be a one and done. He’d managed to find your office through the help of his team’s AI. Annoying. You’d have to cover up everything better. The bigger issue, however, was that the Avengers were looking to shut down your information ring. Fortunately for you, you’d kept a low enough profile that the Soldier had stormed in blind to who the real boss was, and had taken the man at the foot of the table instead. That was an honest mistake, and you could sympathize: there really wasn’t a big enough difference to care.

At least you’d gotten away. It would be frustrating to have to build up a new location and group of informants for the next one, but you would try. Your tightest circle didn’t scare easily, which was good as they were the only ones to have seen your face. You didn’t bother doing business in person if you didn’t have to; getting out of bed was annoying. You preferred to either make calls, send emails, letters, threats, etc… Or you would use one of your men as a proxy. It was generally better that way. You wouldn’t deal with misogynistic garbage being spewed your way from men who thought they knew better (and would then shortly find out why messing with you was a bad idea), and your penthouse was nice.

You sent out the message to all of the people in your meeting to lay low as soon as you had left the chaos of the gunfight the Soldier’s appearance had started. Well, those who were left. The man who’d been assumed to be in charge was taken into custody, and unfortunately one had pushed his luck a little too far, and ended up losing his life while fighting back. That was a shame, but not a loss. He’d always been a little too impulsive for your tastes. You’d pick someone else more responsible to fill in.

---

A month later, you saw him for the second time. It wasn’t like you hadn’t been putting in as much effort as you could in trying to avoid being found, but it hadn’t mattered. Even putting your tech team–who you’d rather not admit is just your most code adept contact–on the case hadn’t helped. Stark tech was annoyingly hard to hack into. You couldn’t blame them, really. You’d be working with the best level of encryption too if you were on their side. You just happened to not take sides. You paid a network of people to report everything they could back to you, and then you sold it at a higher price to those who came to you looking for it. It was a good way to make money, actually, in addition to the several other operations you had your hands in. You certainly didn’t live a humble life. A private one, yes, but not a humble one.

This time, you’d changed buildings, and you’d even changed cities. It hadn’t mattered, the Winter Soldier had still found you. This time, there’d been a pause in the destruction for only a moment, a pause that you felt like you were the only one to feel. The window had been broken in a similar fashion to the last time, and while you were immediately flanked and started fleeing for the exit, your eyes met his. Steel blue seemed to stare directly through you, and what must have only been a split second felt like it had lasted hours.

That was all you’d gotten to see before being rushed out of the back entrance. But it had been enough. He’d been caught up in fighting the rest of the people in there who were either brave or stupid enough not to run, but he’d looked directly at you while tearing through your security and associates. He knew you were in charge, and this time, you knew he’d come into the office with the sole intent to bring you in. You were his mission this time, and something that you’d been aware of in the near decade since the S.H.I.E.L.D. and H.Y.D.R.A. were leaked, was that the Winter Soldier always completed his mission.

That was a harrowing thought as you rushed through the underground of the building. Thankfully, you got away, but you knew it wouldn’t be for long. The only reason you hadn’t been caught this time was that you always had multiple exits you could take. You decided not to return to your penthouse that night, instead going to one of the smaller, shittier apartments you had. New York could get expensive, even with your money, so only two of your apartments were luxury. In your eyes, anyway. The other two were probably very nice according to others, but they were average to you. You barely lived in them and so didn’t feel the need to make them feel as at home as the others, so they were worse in your opinion.

You knew at this point that you were being hunted. It was a new experience, feeling like this. Normally you were the one who knew every last move of your opponent, who could effortlessly drive someone into a corner just by using the information available to you. Now, you had to halt operations on multiple fronts, trying to go radio silent in an effort to throw the Avengers off of your trail. It felt insulting. You never directly involved yourself in anything illegal as you had no desire to end up in prison if something failed along the lines, so you knew you were at least partially safe. But to think that you were a big enough threat for them to find you and try to shut you down, but only send one of their operatives… That was almost a blow to your ego. You were a threat, but one they’d rather not waste too much time on. Rude.

You kept out of the way for a while after that, waiting a few more months before directly showing up to anything again. The coast seemed clear, but this was still done with caution. You knew what being a ghost entailed; you knew that the Soldier could very well be stalking your apartment building as well. There were no problems for a little bit, though. You kept an extra eye out and avoided anything that seemed even remotely sketchy, but there was nothing.

---

The third time you saw him was inarguably the worst one. There was no pretense this time, no way to have avoided it. Yes, you had bodyguards and men to act as security, but in your private offices, such as the one in the hotel you owned, you kept to yourself and kept them outside. There’d been a request by a lesser crime lord of the city, one looking for details about a weapons trade, and you only had the files on that in that particular location. It was inconvenient, yes, but you preferred to keep a physical record instead of electronic. It was easier to destroy anything damning that way.

You hadn’t stood a chance, really. Not when you’d excused yourself to go into your office, heavy doors shutting behind you. You’d sat down at your desk, powered on your laptop, and had begun to search through manilla folders in your desk drawer when you caught it.

The clouds had shifted just enough to let the moonlight through, causing it to reflect off of something gold and into your eye. You didn’t keep anything gold, preferring silver, but that wasn’t what had revealed him to you anyway. You’d lifted your gaze before your head, double checking before reacting just to make sure, and to buy yourself a few more seconds. You didn’t need to, though. You already knew what was happening. The Winter Soldier, after you for a third time, and waiting in the shadows of your office. You’d managed to walk right past him without noticing.

As you lifted your head, you tried to meet his gaze but failed in the dark. You could make out the vague outline of his features, but the wind had blown again, shifting the clouds back into place and obscuring most of him.

“You could turn on a light,” you suggested, not exactly friendly but not being rude. You didn’t quite know how to handle yourself at this point, but you’d get through it. You hadn’t built your empire through being meek or easily shaken.

A small chuckle came from that general area, and the room was illuminated with a click. You thought you might be screwed at this point, but you kept calm. There he stood, imposing figure clad in black leather, hair still long, and vibranium arm out on display. He looked every bit as menacing as the days before he’d reclaimed his mind and taken up hero work, and while you didn’t think you were facing assassination tonight, you couldn’t help but feel some adrenaline start to flow.

“I could have,” he agreed, beginning to make his way over to your desk. “But you’re sitting now. Almost cornered. You wouldn’t have sat if the lights were on when you opened the door.”

You sat back, leaning away from your desk and relaxing into your chair. You thought maybe you’d have a better chance of escape if you presented a calm, controlled exterior. That always had helped you unnerve and intimidate your potential adversaries in the past, and it was what had gotten you more money than originally offered on multiple occasions. Despite being the world’s deadliest assassin, he was still just a man, a human being. He’d be difficult to con, but you could make an attempt.

“Smart move,” you condoned, keeping your face carefully neutral. “Clearly, you have something to say, and now I assume I’m supposed to listen?”

You waited a moment for confirmation, but got no response. You took the lack of any verbal or physical clues as your sign to just keep going.

“I’m not as stuck as you think I am, but go ahead, speak. Tell me why I have the pleasure of meeting with the Winter Soldier tonight.”

You picked up on a shift in the atmosphere, an almost imperceptible signal from him that indicated that he wasn’t pleased with the words you used. Still, you gestured to the chair on the other side of your desk anyway, treating this like any other business endeavor. To your surprise, he sat. He was staring at you with the same intense look as when you’d noticed him, but he was sitting across from you with no move to arrest you yet. Actually, did the Avengers arrest people? You had no idea. You thought you’d have to look into what they really did after this was over, other than storming into old H.Y.D.R.A. bases and kill the agents there. That wasn’t something you’d ever judge them for, but what you did didn’t warrant that same level of force.

He continued to stare for a moment longer, not giving any indication of speaking yet. You began to wonder what the point of this was if he wasn’t going to speak, until your thoughts were interrupted by his gruff voice.

“You have an interesting choice in associates. I’m looking for a name.”

You scoffed, holding back a lot of judgment. You would have treated a situation like this with more finesse, tried to be less direct, but you figured this was his style. He looked like he’d be blunt enough to come out and say what he meant. You couldn’t imagine he was used to nonviolent negotiations in his previous missions. Which begged the question of why he was there. Surely someone who relied less on brute force would

“Sorry, but I don’t give away my colleagues so easily. I’d be interested in learning what you’re looking for, however. Maybe I could be the one who assists you?”

A brief flicker in his eyes, almost as if he was expecting your noncompliance. Expecting, but not pleased. You tried to remain professional, at least. Something in your gut told

He looked conflicted, in your opinion, for a few more moments before speaking again, folding his arms on your desk

“You’ve received communications from a certain group looking to overtake a transportation of military-grade weapons next week. We’ve been keeping track of these people for a while, and were tipped off when they contacted you. Alone, they’re dangerous. With your help, they’re worse.”

You took a few seconds to process what he said, wanting to make sure you understood in full. So they were aware of who you were in contact with. You wouldn’t be naive enough to think it was only this “certain group” he mentioned they were monitoring your interactions with.

“I wasn’t aware I was important enough for the Avengers to have my business on their radar,” you said, fishing for just a little more information. It was true: you probably had a few misdemeanors and felonies they could nab you for, but nothing on a terroristic level.

“You’re not.”

Ouch. Didn’t miss a beat with that one.

“Then why are you here, soldier?”

He, again, looked displeased with how you addressed him, but moved forward regardless. “S.H.I.E.L.D. keeps tabs on anyone with the potential to pose a threat. You give the real dangerous criminals the information they need to conduct themselves, which makes you a threat.”

You nodded, conceding a small point. There was no more pretending that you weren’t involved in a lot of shady practices, not when he likely knew about them all. So he was just the unlucky agent assigned to your case, and sent to stop you from making tonight’s couple hundred thousand dollar sale.

“May I ask why it’s suddenly so important to speak with me instead of crashing into my meetings like a bull in a china shop?”

The question, asked with an innocent tone, was anything but. You’d meant to make it clear that you were upset with the past incidents, which had been highly detrimental to your business. It was hard to retain people if they kept getting injured or scared off.

He rolled his eyes–the first sign of emotion you’d seen from him, you were counting that as a slight personal victory.

“You’re in contact with Orion, and they’re H.Y.D.R.A. adjacent. Based on what we know about you and how you operate, there’s a strong feeling back at base that you’ll help us.”

Well… he was right. You had strong feelings about the descendants of the original Nazi science division, and none of them were positive. You hadn’t been aware, even, that they were related. The name wasn’t an acronym, and you were pretty sure that the reference to the hunter was because this group specialized in stealing and selling weaponry. Now you thought that was the laziest name ever. It sounded like they’d just taken a Greek myth and used it for their name to try and emulate H.Y.D.R.A. even more. Still, you didn’t work with supremacists of any kind. Not only were you not a total dirtbag, it alienated other clients to work with those kinds of organizations. You wouldn’t go through with the sale tonight, but you weren’t giving him the name of your Orion contact either.

This might have been one of the hardest things you had to do, but you began to turn him down. Doing further business would hurt you in the long run, but snitching on who it was would be worse and warrant a swift retaliation.

“I hope you can understand that while I would like to work with you, I can’t give away a name.”

He sat back in his seat, looking nonplussed. At least he wasn’t surprised, in fact, he seemed to have been anticipating that answer.

“You don’t have to give away a name... directly. You just have to sell them the information, and tell your contact to be there as well. We’ll have a strike team ready for Orion inside of the convoy instead of any arms, and you get to keep away from the mess.”

You raised an eyebrow. That was an impressive plan, even if it could end very, very poorly. You were mainly just impressed that he had the gall to ask for something for nothing. Of course, you’d still be getting the money, and it wouldn’t look like it was your fault that the deal went sour. And best of all, you would have a plausible reason not to deal with Orion in the future, saying that if it drew the Avengers closer to you, it was too risky.

You thought on it for another moment, having what you considered an important question for him. You’d do it, you knew that already, you just couldn’t make it easy for him. “What happens to me, if I agree?”

He looked smug, as if he’d been expecting that, too. “I don’t care what you do, and I’m pretty sure that no one else on the team does. Our concern lies in stopping H.Y.D.R.A. wannabes from gaining experimental, powerful weapons.”

You bit your lip, weighing your decision again. It was a fair deal, even though you were fairly certain you were being tested, goaded into answering in some way that wasn’t professional. You’d heard him loud and clear, though. You’d be allowed to continue operating if you did this. It made you a little nervous to put yourself under the partial mercy of the Avengers and by extension, S.H.I.E.L.D., but you knew you could avoid more of a headache.

You got up from your desk, manilla folder in hand. You headed over to your fax machine, your preferred way of sending documents to clients, and waited a few moments until your work phone lit up, a message from your Orion contact confirming they’d gotten your files, and a wire transfer for the amount they owed.

With that done, you walked back over to the Winter Soldier. You wouldn’t use a name to his face, he wasn’t someone you knew at all, but you handed him the folder with all of the information compiled inside. This would normally be the part where I destroyed the evidence I’d had on the incident, and waited a week or two for the actual event

“I assume you already know the route they’ll be taking, but when I got this, I highlighted the perfect strip in the route to hijack the trucks. Tell your team on the inside that this is where the Orion agents will go after them.”

He took the folder with a smirk, looking all too pleased with himself. “Thanks, sweetheart. That wasn’t so difficult.”

You frowned, and before you could form a cutting enough response for your tastes, he was gone. You collapsed back into your chair with a sigh. You had potentially set the precedent you’d work with “the good guys” in the future, but that wasn’t what bothered you. Someone had coached his speech for negotiating with you in the beginning, that was clear, but you hated the small amount of condescension in his last remark. You didn’t tolerate that from people you didn’t have a personal relationship with, and he’d gone off script. That wasn’t a good personality, in your opinion. Willing to drop professionalism, a little abrasive… you had more reason to dislike Barnes than you had when he cost you two windows and a friend’s life.

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #fanfiction #female reader #no use of y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes

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ssukidesu · 1 year ago

Text

what friends do

Fandom: Fairy Tail

Pairing: Nalu

Rating: T

Nalu Week 2024 - ( @allaboutnalu @thenaluarchive )

Summary: Lucy gets a little too happy and does something (maybe not) regrettable.

Chapter 7: what friends don’t do (yearning)

Read on AO3

Read below the cut

She pulled the bread slices out of the oven and finished throwing together the salad—not that she thought he’d eat any of it.

He was busy setting her small dining table with silverware and napkins. A moment later, they were seated and digging in.

“That really was a good move,” he was saying between bites. “It woulda worked if you found a way to pin at least one of my arms. We can work on that next time.”

Lucy slathered some butter on a piece of bread. “Yeah,” she muttered mournfully. “I’ve been planning that one for a while. You kept getting me with those low sweeps—I wanted to try something that took advantage of that.”

“Not a bad strategy,” he hummed. “If you had your whip, you coulda used it. So at least in a real fight with a real bad guy, you could pull it off.”

Lucy pouted. “You can be a real bad guy when we spar.”

“What?” he cried. “I’m a perfect gentleman.”

“Really?” she drawled. “What about that time you—”

“That doesn’t count,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

They both were referring (or refusing to refer) to the time that Natsu had very indecently (and, he insisted, accidentally) groped her ass while trying to force her to release him from a quite complicated hold.

I didn’t know what I was grabbing! he’d sworn. You’d twisted us into a pretzel!

“Yeah, whatever,” she acquiesced. “Anyways… don’t you think I’m getting better?”

“Loads!” he said cheerfully, swallowing his last bite of fish before licking his fingers. “I don’t know if today counts as a real victory… but you’re getting stronger every time.”

Lucy rolled her eyes, but she appreciated his honesty. He was leaning back in his chair lazily, watching her finish her plate. She felt a little self-conscious—she was wearing her typical t-shirt and pajama shorts, but his eyes seemed to be roaming a little more than normal. At first she wondered if she’d gotten food on her shirt—but upon looking down, nothing seemed out of place.

She stood and gathered their empty plates. She brought them to the sink and turned on the hot water, figuring she’d go ahead and clean them. When the water was warm enough, she doused the sponge with soap and began to scrub.

Is he just gonna watch me do this? she thought after a minute. I wish he’d do something useful, like take out the garbage…

She heard him stand with a grunt, and his bare feet padded quietly on the hardwood as he approached to stand behind her. While she rinsed the plates, she inspected his hazy reflection in the window above the sink: he was looking down at her with drooping eyes and a lazy smile. When his hands came to brace themselves on the bar on either side of her, her attention went from his reflection to the veins on his forearms, the calluses on his fingertips. His breath surprised her when it brushed her ear—but what surprised her more was when he continued to angle his head until his mouth hovered above her cheekbone. His lips brushed her skin lightly, as if testing for something, and then pressed firmly there.

“For the food,” he muttered.

When he didn’t release her from the trap of his arms, she slowly turned her head to meet his eyes from over her shoulder. His were piercing, watchful. His face was slightly red, but not anxiously so.

She swallowed. “I was happy to do it.”

His eyes flicked downward. “Yeah?”

Wrong thing to say, she thought in half panic. But upon second thought, she realized it might have actually been the perfect thing to say. She thought she’d say something else.

“Movie?” she asked, her voice cracking just enough to make her blush even harder.

His lips perked into an easy grin. “Sure.”

She cleared her throat. He released her.

As she changed into pajamas, she willed her heart to slow down and utterly failed. When she returned to the living room, she saw he had found a bag of popcorn and was pouring some into a large bowl. He never used the microwave; he was too impatient, and his magic was perfect for the job.

They settled on the couch, and he handed her the remote. “You pick,” he said, draping his arm over the couch back. She had her legs flung over his; it was a nice way to stay close without being so close that she couldn’t think.

“Really? Anything I want?” she teased, leaning forward to grab a handful of popcorn, which was wedged between his calves.

He curled his lip. “Nothing mushy.”

She giggled. “Thought so.”

Lucy shuffled through the different options that were available and settled on an action flick she’d seen once before. There was a romantic subplot, but she figured there were enough explosions to make up for it.

Thirty seconds in, they both sat up to grab more popcorn, meeting in the middle. Though they had both filled their hands, neither reclined again, favoring instead to remain near over the bowl.

Lucy watched him shove the entire bundle into his mouth in one go. As he licked his buttery fingers, she felt her stomach flip in recollection of his lips on her face mere minutes ago.

She brought a piece of popcorn to her mouth and placed it on her tongue behind her teeth. “Thanks for letting me pick,” she tested.

He fished out another handful, smirking sourly. “You did make dinner, after all.”

Her fingers twitched in her lap as she watched him stare at her absently. “Still…” she said.

She pushed herself up on her knees. Her hand sought balance on his shoulder. He stopped chewing. She moved quick, too afraid to linger in her uncertainty, and pecked him on his cheekbone—right where he had kissed her. The sound it made was sweet, and pronounced. She returned right away to her previous reclined position and filled her mouth with the rest of the popcorn in her hand. Her cheeks flushed, and she turned her head back to the screen.

The movie trudged on. Lucy forced herself to focus on it, no matter how often she felt his gaze burning into the side of her face through the dark room. As his thoughtful silence persisted, she wondered if she had pushed it too far—if he was weirded out by her arbitrary reason for the affection.

She also knew he could definitely hear her heart racing. She wouldn’t be able to play pretend much longer.

But it seemed he was playing the same game. She was visibly red, but during a quieter part of the movie, he surprised her with a question.

“You cold?”

Lucy turned her head toward him, grateful for an excuse to inspect him outright for the first time in a half hour. “Huh?”

“Your feet are cold,” he observed, pushing his toes into the sole of her foot. His gaze was nonchalant.

“Oh. Uh… maybe a little,” she answered, a complete lie.

He sat up from his position leaning against the arm rest. He grabbed the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch and loosened it out of its fold. “Sit up,” he said.

She obeyed, eyes glued to his unreadable face.

Leaning forward to meet her, he flung the blanket around her back and secured it around her frame. She thought that’d be the end of it, but he scooted closer still, his hot fingers collecting her hair from her neck and freeing it from the confines.

He was close enough for her to smell the salt on his breath. “Better?” he breathed.

She nodded, dumbfounded and staring. He didn’t look away. After a moment, Lucy wondered what he was waiting for—that is, until he made a soft noise that was eerily close to a whine, angled his jaw toward her, and nodded his chin in a subtle expectant gesture while flicking his eyes to her mouth.

If her heart was pounding before, it was outright thundering now.

Her throat made a noise upon her sucking in a breath that sounded a lot like a gasp. She knew he heard it, but he still didn’t move. His fingers had left the blanket at some point and were resting lazily against her ankle, which was between them. Slowly, she leaned her face forward toward his, which he did a poor job keeping angled properly. When she was close enough, she had to turn her own head rather sharply to reach around to his cheek. When she made contact with it, she heard him exhale, and his eyes fluttered closed. She lingered for a beat, her nose brushing the skin she had just kissed before she slowly pulled away. He turned his head as she retreated, the breath from his lips ghosting over hers until she was too far for him to follow.

His fingers stayed on her ankle, pressing more firmly now. She didn’t recline fully back, but she did separate enough to regain her own air. The movie kept playing; a car crashed into the side of a brick building, flames breaking out on the screen. The room was dyed red by the television. Their skin flickered as they kept staring. Natsu’s jaw was clenched; hers was slacked.

He spoke again, and she almost didn’t hear over the loud sounds of the film. “Can I have some of your water?”

It took a second for his words to fully hit her, but once they did, she nodded rapidly, angling her body to turn and grab the half-full glass on the end table. He placed the bowl of popcorn on the ground, since all that was left were kernels. She resteadied herself on the cushion and handed it to him with both hands, worried her fingers would tremble.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, securing the glass from her.

She watched his throat bob up and down as he drank, and her throat ran dry. When he finished swallowing and returned it to her, she stole a couple of sips herself, emptying it. She placed it on the floor, not wanting to stretch far from him again, though she couldn’t bring herself to lift her attention from the ground.

He tapped his pointer finger twice on her ankle. He wanted her attention.

Slowly, she lifted her face up again, but she kept her eyes lowered. They were already sitting closer now than they were before, so he didn’t need to lean forward much to reach her. He brought his right hand to brush beneath her chin, tilting her up an inch. She couldn’t meet his eyes now—he was too close for that. His lips were warm on her cheek, and he placed them an inch closer. Closer to where friends would never kiss each other.

He barely pulled back. “Lucy…” he began, and his breath was on her cheek as he spoke. “Tell me... What am I supposed to do if everything you do makes me happy?”

Her heart was in her throat. They were so close now; they were breathing into each other’s necks. Her hands clung to his shirt, holding him there. “You’re exaggerating,” she whispered, clutching for a tone that was somewhat familiar while simultaneously longing for something new. “No way I make you happy all the time.”

His lips were on her ear now, dragging, not kissing. “What do I do?” he asked again.

Lucy kissed the scar on his neck. It was right there—she couldn’t help herself. “Whatever you want, Natsu,” was her faint answer.

He pulled back to look down at her, brows furrowed and lips parted. The television cast him in flickering rays of reds and blues and yellows. His right hand came to her neck, thumb tracing down her throat, then back up again. He brought his lips again to her, a mere inch from her mouth, and kissed her softly. He didn’t pull away. Her eyelids were permanently drooping now, gaze fixed low. She felt her head turning, and she wasn’t sure if she turned it herself or if his hand on her neck had done it.

Another kiss, a centimeter away now. She thought this was getting rather frustrating. “Natsu?” she urged, tilting the final bit to mingle their breaths.

It was timid, tantalizing—the way he brushed his lips over hers without actually kissing her. It was like he was mapping her out before landing. A stupid thing, in her view, and very unlike him. She wished he would barrel right in, just like he did with everything else. But she let him explore. Let the air electrify. And when he finally pressed against her mouth firmly, she whimpered.

His hands were on her face. This was a long, firm kiss. They both inhaled each other like a drug. When this kiss ended with a sweet sound that churned her gut, she was worried he’d pull away—but he didn’t. His mouth came back, lips rough but pliant, stealing every attempt of breath from her mouth. She had no idea kissing would be equally centered around teeth and tongues, alternating between avoiding and seeking them out.

After a minute, he realized all at once that his hands could do other things, too. He released her face and gathered her to his chest, yanking and tugging her close first by her clothes and then by the waist beneath them. He wasn’t content until she was in his lap, her legs wrapped around his hips and his arms secured around her back.

His mouth was steaming hot. Tongue even hotter. It almost burned her own, and she sucked in a relieving breath when he pulled away to lap at her neck, which he could reach easily at this position. Her fingers were in his hair, on his shoulders, at his lower back, clawing the bottom of his shirt until it rolled up and exposed his skin.

Then, she was under him.

He propped his weight on his elbows by her head, her blond locks tangling in his fingers above. She bit his lip, and he found himself wanting to pull her hair, just a little, just to make her gasp. He tucked his hand under the nape of her neck and clenched his fist. When her mouth opened, he dove in again, deeper than before. Their foreheads brushed, and he felt the sweat collecting there.

He tore his mouth away, panting. She was wrecked beneath him, face almost as red as her lips and expression wild and helpless.

“Too hot?” he grunted, quiet but half savage.

Lucy, also panting, nodded her head. She could hardly think words, much less say them.

He peeled his body off of hers and brought her to sit up. He grabbed the empty glass on the ground and tore himself from the couch to fill it up in the kitchen. Lucy instantly shivered by the drop in temperature from his absence. She watched him return with heavy strides. He knelt in front of her on the ground and brought the glass to her lips. She drank until it was empty. As soon as the cup was removed from her lips, his mouth was back on hers for one, two, three firm kisses. But he wouldn’t suffocate her again, no matter the fact that she’d absolutely let him if he tried.

“Natsu?” Lucy squeaked. “I should tell you…”

His gaze was fixed on hers, his breath held. “What?” he urged.

“I lied to you before. About friends kissing each other on the cheek when they were happy.”

She could see his pulse beating through the vein on his neck. Her words made him nervous, she saw, so she chased him for another kiss, placing her arms over his shoulders. He swallowed it whole.

She continued against his lips, “It’s kinda… for people who are more than friends.”

His eyes flicked from her mouth to her brown irises. “We’re more than friends,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

And after the thrill of his words settled into her heart, Lucy laughed. Hard.

“What is it?” he inquired anxiously.

Her forehead rested against his. “Nothing. Just kiss me again,” she said, smiling.

And he did.

#nalu #nalu week #nalu week 2024 #thanks for going on this ride with me!!!!!#love yall #fanfiction #ao3

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northwest-cryptid · 1 year ago

Text

You know what, no I'll go on record and just say that;

Mabinogi hands down IS the best MMORPG.

Now sure, you can immediately call me bias; and I can literally tell you that is an overused argument. Truth is, yes I have a bias, I have a bias as someone who has played literally hundreds of MMOs, and has never found one that can hold a candle to Mabinogi. Yes this includes games like WoW or FFXIV, and even lesser known but still popular titles like Path of Exiles or Warframe or even Tree of Savior.

But why exactly do I say that Mabinogi is the best MMORPG on the market? Well I think a good MMORPG does a few things, firstly I think any game that wants to be an RPG that lets you make a character needs to give you a sense of identity. Second, I believe an MMO needs to create an interesting environment for playing alongside others; whether they're directly in your party or not. Lastly, no good RPG is complete without going on a grand adventure with proper noticeable growth.

Now, before we begin to really dive into this essay of a post, I want to cover something real quick because I think it's important. When I say Mabinogi is the best MMORPG, and I'm saying that I've played games like WoW or FFXIV. I'm not trying to say those games are bad. I will concede that direct translation and definition would suggest I believe they are "worse" than Mabinogi, and yes I do believe that. However I'm not trying to tell you that your favorite MMORPG is bad or garbage or whatever. Please do not take my personal opinion to be slander of your favorite game. For a lot of players, an MMORPG can be special to them, the characters and the world can mean something to them; and I don't want to be some hater when it comes to your favorite place on the internet.

I'm not coming into this as someone who's naive about the world of MMOs, I know the good and the bad of them, not ALL of them; but a good lot of them. However I want to make something clear; if I went into why other games were "worse" than Mabinogi I would immediately be ignored. Let's say you really like FFXIV, that's fine; it's a good game, I play it myself and am excited about the latest expansion coming out in a few days. Now if I tell you that I think it's kind of ridiculous how much they've simplified the game to the point no class feels truly unique mechanically, or how I used to like AST more before they took away our card's uniqueness and such. It's entirely possible you would stick with me and understand that, even if our opinions differ; what I'm saying is true to me even if it's not to you. Sure maybe you hated having RNG in the RNG healer class, maybe you disliked having to decide if you wanted to spread that buff to the whole party, or enhance that buff for one person, or extend the buff. Maybe you like it more now that everything sort of does the same thing. I'm not talking down to you or being sarcastic when I say, that's fine. We just feel differently about it. Thing is, I've very likely lost you; It's unlikely you hear all of that and not think I'm just some FFXIV hater. I'm not, but it's unlikely you think that way after hearing all my gripes with it. I wouldn't blame you for thinking someone who just tore into a game likely dislikes the game, that's a fair assumption.

If at any point I do sort of dig into a game for it's changes, mechanics, or just how it works. I want you to understand I only feel that way because I do enjoy those games and wish they didn't do things that made playing them feel less fun to me. Those last two words are possibly the most important there; this whole post is strictly opinion, it's my opinion. We don't need to share that opinion, but I hope you find what I say to be at least interesting. I don't see much reason to sit through the whole thing otherwise.

Oh... and one more thing, if you follow this link and download the game now it should be done roughly by the time you finish reading this, probably; maybe? <- That's not even an affiliate link; I'm not sponsored to say anything I'm saying here, I wish I was though.

Game Website Link -> Right here, if you need to make an account.

Now without further delay, let's get into my first key point of why Mabinogi is the best MMORPG on the market right now.

The first order of business in any MMORPG will also be the first thing we talk about here, creating a character. You can't step foot into a world of fantasy without having an avatar to represent yourself. If this individual is to be your fantasy self then the game better have enough customization options to really let you be you. Mabinogi has plenty, from skin color, player weight, and even age; to the colors of the garments you wear.

Let's start with that first bit I mentioned in the introductory paragraph, creating an identity. Mabinogi is a game that truly allows for a diverse cast of characters, when you first make a character the system will unfortunately be fairly limited. Yet when you're released into the game proper and complete the tutorial you will soon find that it's extremely open ended. Your character will start at an age between 10 and 17 (but can go to 25 and even further if you wish), which you'll be able to select once per day, or once per week depending on your level. Age has a very slight almost non-existent effect on your stats, but will mostly determine how tall you are. As a quick example, here is my human main at 18 (left) alongside 2 other players. While I cannot see their age, I can tell their race is human; which allows me to at least guess one is roughly 10 - 13 (middle) and the other is likely anywhere between 15 - 16 (right).

When it comes to skin color, Mabinogi is one of the few games that has a great selection. From the realistic to the fantastical; there's almost certainly something for everyone here.

I've seen light skinned characters, dark skinned characters, tanned and red skinned characters. I've partied up with fantasy demons and zombies. I buy my dyes from a player who's literally pure black with blinding white eyes; a small imp-like character who's style I absolutely adore and who's dyes are top quality. While it doesn't even begin to cover the extensive list, I thought I'd take a few screenshots to help show what I mean.

Now I understand a lot of you may feel like your character doesn't truly reflect you as a person unless you can be the right weight for you. Mabinogi has you covered here as well, albeit with a slightly convoluted system. I will openly admit that this game is flawed, it is by no means a perfect game; but I take this as a sort of "better than nothing" approach. Food in Mabinogi will grant slight stat bonuses, but underneath those stat points and flavor text there's a hidden mechanic.

Food provides players with Upper and Lower muscle gain or loss, as well as a Weight gain or loss. While food is not the only method of gaining or losing both weight and muscle, it is the most common, and arguably easiest method. Players have many guides on the internet that explain which foods to eat in which order to gain the body type you want, this even includes the wiki.

It's also important to note that weight does not effect your stats, the food you eat absolutely does give a small temporary bonus. However your character can be as fat or skinny as you'd like without ever effecting your ability to perform any task.

I would be remiss not to mention another feature of creating an identity, and it does feel like this is an appropriate place to do it. Every day, or every week (depending on your level) you can preform something called a Rebirth, your level will return to 1 and you will be allowed to change some things about your character or leave them as they are.

This will unfortunately readjust your weight settings, which is why we see so many guides on how to get the ideal weight you're looking for. Thankfully it is by no means difficult to achieve this weight gain once more and will take no more than a few minutes after rebirthing.

As a quick note I won't spend too much time on, for my fellow genderfluid and NB friends out there; you can actively change your gender whenever you rebirth (though obviously you don't have to be NB or Genderfluid to enjoy this feature) and there is a good amount of items specific for crossdressing if that is something you'd prefer. That list of items is far more than your generic maid outfit for men; including everything from dresses to common skirts, with women getting suits, hoodies, and everything in between. If you switch genders you will even get an achievement specifically titled "Genderfluid" which I genuinely appreciate quite a lot.

Speaking of clothing, Mabinogi allows you to use a Style Tab when putting on gear. Your style tab won't give you any stats, but allows you to use the look of whatever is equip to the selected slot over the actual gear worn under it. The Style Tab is free for all players, so you can look your best no matter what you might be doing. Though I suppose those clothes wouldn't really be your own unless you had some kind of say over how they looked right?

Thankfully Mabinogi features a robust dying system in which you can actually use hex coded colors on just about any part of an outfit. You can also preview these changes directly on your character prior to using a dye.

There's a specific, and short; list of items that can't be dyed. Otherwise it's common for every item in the game to have at least one or two dye slots where you can customize their colors however you'd like.

You can do the same for your weapons, even giving them skins to change how they look; and then dying those skins to look just how you want them. A good weapon should match your best outfit after all, right?

Clothing items additionally come in the form of helmets, gloves, boots, main body, robes/back slot, face accessories, and then two more accessories that typically float to either side or behind you. This means you can mix and match everything you wear. You're not stuck trying to make some minor hat fit the entire rest of your armor that came as one solid piece, and you're certainly not struggling to match colors when only a small part of your armor actually dyes to the color you want.

Your identity in Mabinogi is what you see fit to make it, and while it would make this segment incredibly long, more so than it already is; the customization doesn't even end here. To give you an idea of what I'm talking about, you can actually customize how often and how many times your character will blink. There is no other game on the market that lets you create a character the way Mabinogi does, not while still being an entire world outside of your character for you to explore. Speaking of that world, before we get to exploring just what this game has in store for you on your adventure; I'd like to talk about the characters who aren't you. No I don't mean the NPCs, I mean the other players, and how they impact the game you play even when they're not in your party.

Speaking of other players, to really hit home just how different everyone can look I ran around and took a few pictures of players I found in just this one small town.

You may be wondering how much these other players actually matter, in a lot of MMORPGs other players are merely there to fill out the party for dungeons or assist with world encounters. In Mabinogi they do that as well, however there is a constantly evolving economy both on the player ran Auction House, and for things like the Commerce system. Players can also run their own shops, join you for a jam session to play some music together; and even burn some items for a campfire spirit summoned at a group bonfire.

While the NPCs in this game are fantastic, the players are the lifeblood of the game, as is the case with any good MMORPG. From guilds and parties running content together, to the occasional camp you'll come across while exploring the world. Players populate Mabinogi and their effects are felt whether or not you're actively a part of their game.

One of the features most effected by this is Commerce; a trade system which lets players transport trade goods between major cities and towns. If an item is being traded to a town more than others, it's price will drop and you may find better deals by taking it to far away cities. Though you'll encounter bandits on the road, and due to carrying heavy trade goods you'll be a good bit weaker than you usually find yourself. This makes traveling in groups much easier, with those who use air travel particularly; in need of parties thanks to the dragons who will come after your hoard of trade goods. If a bandit is to steal your loot, you need not worry; as other players can take up the role of bounty hunters and track down these bandits at their hideouts to get your stuff back. Bounty Hunting is an easy way to make some cash and also help out your fellow players who may have been wronged by a poorly placed bandit or two.

What about production? Surely I don't need anyone to assist me with making my goods. Though, a second opinion never hurts; you will actually get a boost to production success rate while in a party with other players who also have production skills. In fact, this is a great way to make some strong gear; as products you make will get bonus stats over those found in stores. This does mean that the player economy is largely populated by products made by other players. If you do a good enough job on the item you're making, you'll even leave a signature behind which can be seen by the individuals who buy and use that gear. This is a minor touch, but it's one I greatly appreciate. Anyone can have a really cool demon sword, but only I have a blade forged specifically by my good friend; in hopes it would aid me in my quest. The connection between myself and my party is ever so slightly more apparent, even when they're not around; I always have a small piece of them with me.

Players attending the banquet, an event held weekly that awards free EXP and a lottery raffle at the Tara Castle; can actually donate their food to the catering tables. This is a great time to hang out with fellow players, get some free levels; and of course eat significantly too much food.

Surely that's all, right? Well no, believe it or not players actually have a hand in many things. If you want to enchant some gear but you don't have the enchanting rank to do it yourself; you can request another player to assist you. Perhaps you're an alchemist needing to create alchemy crystals of special magic skills; another player can cast that magic nearby and let you synthesize it into a crystal. If you're using the Jam Session action other players can join you with their own instruments when you play music; automatically matching whatever song you're playing. There's a fashion contest where the winner is put on display in full costume right in the middle of the major cities for all to see. There's even mechanical changes to things like magic, if you're casting Ice Bolt while I cast Fire Bolt next to you; we instead both gain a charge of Fusion Bolt. This form of magic combines the properties of your Ice Bolt and my Fire Bolt into a more powerful version of our respective magics, all because we happened to cast at the same time nearby each other.

If you enjoy music then you might find yourself reading through the Bard Bulletin Board, where players can post the compositions for their custom music. You can transcribe this music yourself and play it whenever you wish, though you can also use the MabiNovel Bulletin to read books written and published by your fellow players as well. This does in fact mean that you too could become a composer, or even an author and post your works to the respective boards.

Players can also obtain their own small piece of the world via Homesteads. These function as a sort of player owned housing system, and they allow you to do everything from growing farms to hosting your own production stations with boosted success rates. Of course the owner of the Homestead can allow either friends, or anyone; to come and gather from their herb patches, farm animals, and various logging, mining, and production sites. Meaning that other players not only offer you an expanded world to explore, but potentially gathering and production spots that may not otherwise be available at your current location.

While Homesteads start quite small, they're nothing to scoff at when fully upgraded; allowing for even a proper house, pets, and partners; to be placed on the fully customizable property. Some items will even passively grant you bonuses to your stats or provide your gathering and production stations bonuses to gathering and success rates.

Alright great, so you have a character who's uniquely you; you even have a place in the world among other players. However what good is that if you don't have a world worth existing in. You're here to play an MMORPG, if you wanted to simply dress up an avatar and exist in a space with others; you'd play something like VRChat or Second Life, or maybe you'd go download that Sims multiplayer mod. You want an RPG! An adventure! A living world to explore and be a part of!

Well Mabinogi's got you covered there as well believe it or not. Now where you fall in terms of enjoying the story is fairly up in the air; I know some people who love it and others who could take it or leave it. That's entirely fair and I don't blame them for feeling that way. To avoid potential spoilers I will be saying up front that if this has been enough for you and you're willing to trust me that this game is worth your time. Skip ahead to the Q and A if you think you need it, or go download and play the game now if you didn't already do that. Hell you can even add me in game if you want some people to play with who are going to be chill with newbies. If you need a bit more though, then keep reading because you might just like what I have to say about this game's journey.

When you start Mabinogi you'll be told you're this being from the stars, something that cannot die; and therefore has importance here. You may literally be an immortal entity, but you won't feel like it. You'll start with only a handful of skills, and with this game having no real class system it's not so straight forward how to get more of them. You'll stumble upon a few while just exploring the world, but others might require you to actually engage with the world around you. If that sounds exciting, don't worry; we've only just begun to explain the whole system of interacting with NPCs.

See the game of Mabinogi is before all else, the story of you; your character the journey you go on. So it's fitting that you keep notes in a Memo, this Memo is written in the perspective of your character; and will keep tabs on what you've been through. Each entry in the Memo is given a Key Word; and these key words will be given to you as you experience new places and things. Whenever you engage with an NPC you can start a conversation, this allows you to flip through your Memo and select a Key Word to speak about with them. Asking them about their private story will reveal this character's lore and backstory, at least; if they like you enough to share that information with you. NPCs do actually contain a system of trust with the player, and if you befriend an NPC they'll even let you access a secret shop where they sell exclusive items. Other Key Words include things like Nearby Rumors where you can obtain gossip and quests; or perhaps you want to ask about Part Time Jobs. Whether you're working for the town blacksmith to deliver some refined ore, or you're gathering wool to make bandages for the town healer; Part Time Jobs offer you fitting rewards for the work you perform, and allow you to even unlock various skills down the line if you perform well enough. Which brings us to another Key Word, the Skills Key Word. Skills is a Key Word that will ask an NPC if they believe they could teach you anything, if you see a knight you can ask them about Skills and maybe learn a new technique for your swordsmanship. Asking a chef about skills may result in them giving you a quest that has you running out to make flour and bake some bread. These methods are meant to immerse you in the world and teach you how the mechanics behind these skills works, rather than just saying you're level 16 so now you can bake bread.

Some NPCs will even react to your title, thanking you for the deeds you've done or perhaps judging you for why you'd do such a thing. This is because every NPC in the game, no matter how minor; has a story to tell. They all have unique theme music that contains a name referencing something about the character and their story. The more you talk to these NPCs and they open up to you, the more you'll learn about the world you're a part of.

However, small NPC stories don't amount to much in the grand scheme of an epic adventure do they? Well don't worry, now we're getting into the main scenario quests, and the lasting impact they have on you as a character. Have you ever felt like you should have maybe gotten a new power, or been recognized for the deeds you've accomplished after you literally save the world; only to return to business as usual? Well Mabinogi actually considered all of that, not only do you get a title that NPCs might react to, as I mentioned previously; but the Main Scenario Questline actually gives you everything from transformations to special unique items. This is again the last chance to not have spoilers as I will be covering at the very least Generation 2: Paladin and Generation 10: Goddess of Light through Generation 12: Return of the Hero.

Okay now that everyone who doesn't want spoilers is gone, allow me to tell you about just a few of these MSQ rewards; of course jumping right to the good stuff without context makes it meaningless. So let's start with a quick summary of Generation 1 that's roughly spoiler free.

Generation 1: Advent of the Goddess starts with The Goddess asking you for help, then you save her. See I kept it spoiler free! You're given the title "[Player name] Who Saved The Goddess" for doing this which grants you some nice stats, but the real reward is that you get to move on to Generation 2: Paladin. Well wow, that's kind of an underwhelming title isn't it? You just finished Advent of the Goddess and now you're on... Paladin? Huh okay, well this quest line is all about a Paladin of legend. You spend the generation becoming someone worthy of the Paladin's armor, searching for his old armor, and even reliving some old memories of his. All to figure out who he is and solve the grand mystery that sparked this whole generation in the first place. The political drama of a potentially puppeteered prince who may actually be dead from the start... Okay yea listen it's more interesting when you actually play it. The real plot twist of this whole generation however is when you figure out who that old Paladin actually is, and more importantly that they're still alive. In the final dungeon of this generation when you face off against the final encounter he is not the one who saves the day. Rather it is you who gets to don the armor of the legendary Paladin and in a moment I love, you get to save him. This transformation is actually a fairly minor stat boost at first. You're not some overpowered god, you're still you; just powered up. When you complete the generation you will find yourself with a wholly new power available to you, the power to become that very same Paladin; now with it's own skills to rank to make it even stronger than it already was.

Yes, just for clearing Generation 2 you now have an entirely new power unlocked for you. The power to, once a day in game time; transform into your Paladin form. If you're an Elf you transform instead into a Falcon, and Giants transform into a Beast. These new forms come with their own unique skills and properties. However you don't lose access to the skills and abilities you already have. This will be a running theme throughout Mabinogi, you only get more; you don't get locked out from being you. If the Paladin aesthetic isn't your deal, and you want things a little different, don't worry; Generation 3: Dark Knight might be more your style. However, this begs the question; are Dark Knights and Paladins the same thing flavored differently? Nope. Sure they are both the same Transformation at the end of the day, but their inner workings are very different. To give you a quick example of what I mean, Paladins always get the same stats every time, but they have no specialized skill they can use while transform. They're essentially your generic stronger form, with buffed stats and nothing more, dull but reliable. Dark Knights instead roll for their stats every time they transform, meaning sometimes you're going to have much stronger physical defense, and other times a much higher magic damage stat. If you're interested in the specifics, here you go:

Dark Knights also don't get forcibly removed from their transformation when their timer is up, rather they go into a state called "Disarmed" where they will take heavy damage over time, but this can be healed if they wish to power through it and keep fighting in their transformed state. They additionally obtain Control of Darkness which lets them tame an enemy to fight for them for a short time.

The Generation 2 transforms (Paladin, Dark Knight, Falcon, and Beast) all have 4 tiers of their transformation, dependent on the skills rank. Each boasting it's own unique title and appearance that builds on their central aesthetic and motif. This means a player who's max ranked Paladin will transform into a Champion, or for Dark Knights, they'll become an Infra Black. I do enjoy the morals of the game being muddier than to just say Paladin is bright and shiny and good, and Dark Knight is well, dark and edgy and bad. As you go through the game you'll learn a lot about the politics of the gods, and understand their moral values a lot better. Which leads us to our next major upgrade.

In Generation 10: Goddess of Light, we take the fight to the gods, and between Generation 10 and Generation 12, we'll even obtain the Sword of the Gods, a then usable sword weapon which ironically may not even be as powerful as some of our own gear by the time we get it; but more specifically we'll decline godhood and become a Demigod. However it's a bit deeper than that, as you'll find that at the end of Generation 10 you're confronted by your doppelganger. Upon defeating it, you gain the power to assume the form of a Demigod; which yes, you can in fact transform into while also transformed into your Generation 2 state. Not only does this form regen your HP, MP, and Stamina; but it additionally allows the use of special skills that depend on which of the gods you're allied with. Those who are being supported by the Goddess Neamhain will obtain skills such as Spear of Light, and Fury of Light; however if you decide to be supported by the Goddess Morrighan you instead obtain Wings of Eclipse, and Wings of Rage. Of course you won't have a choice right away, when you first obtain the ability to become a Demigod, you'll be defaulted to working with Naemhain's skills. They're not bad, but Morrighan isn't going to just give you her skills so easily so if we want options we'll need to get her to work with us. Once we clear Generation 11: Sword of the Gods; we in fact obtain the Sword of the Gods itself. This is important since we'll need it if we're going to fight the gods. Now in Generation 12 we are asked to fight alongside Morrighan to bring down the King of the Gods, Nuadha. For clearing this generation, you'll obtain the right to be supported by Morrighan; which is kind of funny since if you're a Dark Knight it shows you've actually betrayed her by giving up the path of the Paladin in favor of following Dark Knight. I guess she can overlook that given you just helped her defeat the King of the Gods.

Surely the upgrades stop there right? Well no, actually; but you probably knew that already. See there's actually currently, up to G25, with G26 on an active countdown to release as I make this post. With even more transformations, special skills, and some really incredible upgrades that change even the way we engage with crafting; the generation quests are more than worth your time and leave you feeling more powerful with each completion.

Mabinogi isn't just having you go through these quests to complete the story, it's also actively making you more and more the proper image of this immortal hero of legend. It's giving you a power boost on par with some silly shonen anime. As much as you may cringe to hear me make a stupid joke from the early internet; yes the Milletian could beat Goku. Sorry I had to make the dumb joke after making the shonen anime reference you know? These powers aren't ever restricted from you either; it's not as if you suddenly can't use your Paladin transformation in a dungeon, nor are you locked out from using Demigod to regen some stamina just to pick some flowers. Mabinogi is the story of your character, and it gives you so many upgrades and power scale boosts because it genuinely wants you to feel like a powerful hero going up against powerful enemies.

Now I will admit there's something to be said about the balance in some of the later Generation quests, especially because you can skip over a lot of them. They absolutely do plan for you to have the full arsenal of Generation specific skills by the time you reach Generation 20+ but dare I say, I think that's fair. We actually see this in other games too, it's just more allowed from other games because they do a better job of hiding their barrier to entry.

What I mean is that FFXIV is like Dark Souls 3, it's not going to let me go somewhere I'm not actually ready for, because it knows I won't have any fun getting my ass kicked but it's really linear. While Mabinogi is like Elden Ring, it looks at me saying "I'm ready I'm ready put me in coach!" While facing down against an actual god well before I'm... you know, actually ready. Yet it just says "go get 'em champ!" Only to watch me become a pancake two seconds later and think "yea this balance is garbage." Truth is, if I go back and do the content I'm suppose to do first; I will be more than ready for this content when I reach it. However I might actually be able to clear this content when I'm not supposed to yet, and Mabinogi; much like Elden Ring, lets me try. We see this same type of barrier to entry in how FFXIV says "hey man you can't run this until you're Item Level 280 sorry." That feels boring when you just want to run the thing, you don't want to go back and "grind" for item levels, but in reality it's just stopping you from trying and failing repeatedly. Which makes sense for the type of game FFXIV is, where other players are a requirement, and you don't want to hold them back because you thought you could do it with less.

The other truth is, with Mabinogi; not every path to success is going to look the same. I might spend my time training my combat skills, slowly saving up the small stat gains to get to where my base strength is at 500 and I can deal some nice damage. My friend who doesn't want to touch combat skills can absolutely focus on his cooking, slowly but surely becoming a master chef as I've become a master warrior. Now he can make a catering dish that boosts his strength to 500 all the same. We're not going to be dealing the same damage since things like weapon type, and skill ranks will come into play; but this does mean he could achieve the same goals as me in a totally different way. Personally I'm a huge fan of this, it lets every single character feel unique; you can truly become your own kind of player here.

Whether it's weaving your magic skills into your archery gameplay, or becoming an apothecary bard who uses musical buffs and potions to level the playing field. Perhaps you want to train your Ninja and Chain Blade skills to keep you at a distance, debuff enemies, and set explosive traps. You could even just play the game with life skills, relaxing by the pond as a master fisher; before tailoring a new outfit. All of these methods are entirely valid ways to play the game, they all give the necessary stats to enjoy whatever content you wish to, and yes they all give you levels.

It is for these reasons, and honestly; many others. That I have played this game since it's beta, for literally half my lifetime; and why I believe this is genuinely hands down the best MMORPG on the market right now. I urge you to give this game even 15 or 30 minutes of your time, don't get caught up on the old dated graphics, don't fret if you don't understand everything right away. The game is complex, it has a ton of mechanics that mix and intertwine to create a unique experience. The things you might find troublesome at first are exactly what makes the game so fun and unique when you understand them. Given the average internet speed and size of Mabinogi, should you have downloaded this game at the start of this reading it should be about done by now. If not, you've got the Q and A down there for any potential follow up questions you may have. So go ahead and jump into the world of Erinn, if you stop by Dunbarton on Channel 9 you might catch someone from the Landsbetween guild, feel free to stop and say hi; we're a friendly bunch.

A quick Q&A for things I've been asked frequently and might answer some questions or possible concerns you have about the game.

Q: I see a weird banner with P on it, does that mean I require a premium account to use that skin/hair color? A: No. That symbol signifies that it would cost Pon. A cash shop currency that is given to the player fairly regularly. You in fact get a gift box with about 20 Pon when you reach an early level milestone such as 50 or 100. It costs anywhere between 3 - 5 to change eye, hair, and skin color. Of course it only costs you to change to a color that uses the P banner, if a color you would like doesn't have any symbol (either a P for Pon or a B for a Beauty Coupon) then it's completely free. Q: I see a lot of cool characters, how much of a grind is it; or do I need to pay real money to customize my character? A: You can play Mabinogi entirely free to play, gacha boxes do contain high end loot and good in-game items. However the Auction House easily allows you to buy these items from players using entirely free to play gold when a new gacha comes out. While it might seem intimidating to make 1m at first. You'll quickly learn you can make 1m passively per week + any actual activity you do in this game earns you quite a lot. A single run of a dungeon will net me between 50k - 350k depending on drops and my actual in game luck stat. This is on top of the 160k I can make for free just logging in and doing Fynni Blossoming for the day. Of course, the higher your skills and total level; the easier it will be to make money. Q: I don't want to do a specific part of this game, can I still enjoy the other features? A: Yes. Entirely, in fact; I'm doing a challenge run on a character who's not allowed to rank up any combat or damage skills. I've already completed the first major questline of the game without any problem. I will say that your ability to play the game will directly reflect how much knowledge of the mechanics you have. This isn't to say you should scour the wiki for days on end, unless you're into that. However I would argue that having a few friends to play with, or perhaps actually taking the time to read through skills and practice with what you do enjoy doing; will help you to get by not doing the stuff you don't want to. You really can play this game however you want, it just may require you to have a better understanding of it's inner workings. You're always welcome to ask me about stuff whether that's here on tumblr or in game.

Q: My UI and HUD are this weird plastic blue color and I kinda hate it. Can I fix that or am I stuck with this? A: In the settings menu the game allows you to change the color of the UI and HUD to fit your liking. You can also enable various hotbars and disable others. Additionally you can change the game's resolution, and even pick out which version of the OST you'd like to use of which there are three distinct versions.

Q: Does this game have a meta I should worry about?

A: Yes and no, yes it has a meta; no you shouldn't worry about it. If you're really concerned I recommend picking Giant as your race and Close Combat as your starting Talent. I didn't go over Talents in this essay but they're sort of specializations, not classes. They don't limit anything you can do, but rather give you 2x EXP towards the skills they govern. Giants have a fair bit more strength and HP, they're your standard tanky race. While they may not be as fast on their feet as nimble Elves; they can take a good few more blows, and even have racial skills specific to gathering up enemies. Close Combat doubles down on what Giants are already good at, giving you more HP and Strength. Start out by ranking your essential basics, those being Defense, Smash, Counter, Windmill, and honestly throw Assault Slash in for good measure; since you'll want to often combo these skills together. DO NOT SLEEP ON DEFENSE, it is a heavily overlooked but extremely powerful skill. If you feel like you're struggling in combat, grab a shield and rank your shield mastery; even light armor mastery will be more than enough so long as you have a decent shield and the necessary ranks in the skills. You'll soon feel like a steel wall of defense that not even major storyline bosses can put a dent into.

Q: What are the differences between Elves, Humans, and Giants? Can I change my race after I make my character, since I can change my gender?

A: First off, no; sadly you cannot change your race after making a character. This is become of the racial differences. The major ones are as follows...

Elves can use invisibility to hide themselves, they'll fire 2 arrows as opposed to 1 when using archery; and they obtain a unique poison arrow that spreads to nearby targets when fired. They move faster than other races and have stats better geared towards Magic and Archery; though that won't matter too much. They become a Falcon after Generation 2 letting them use Elven Magic Missile, and cannot use 2 handed weapons nor can they dual wield.

Giants can use stomp which is a fairly week AoE ability, they also get Taunt, Stampede, and Wind Guard as unique skills. They can use two handed weapons in one hand letting them use a shield with them, and can dual wield blunt objects. They have stats geared towards a close combat play style, though again that won't matter too much later on. They become a Beast after Generation 2 letting them use Giant Full Swing, they cannot use bows but have thrown spears instead.

Humans cannot learn the specific racial skills of the other two races. They can dual wield swords; and don't have equipment restrictions outside of not being able to dual wield blunt objects and not being able to use the throwing spears. They have stats geared to an all around play style, which as you know; doesn't really matter much. They become a Paladin after Generation 2, or they can become a Dark Knight which gives them the active skill Control of Darkness which lets them tame an enemy to fight for them.

Q: Is this game Pay to Win?

A: Is any MMORPG not Pay to Win? Alright, real answer; let's break it down. Does Mabinogi have Pay to Win properties? Absolutely it does. Most if not all MMORPGs do. FFXIV has the paid level boosts just like Mabinogi has paid gacha boxes with end game loot. I'm not trying to pick on FFXIV here, it's just what I'm familiar with because I also play it. Truth is, Mabinogi gives you a lot of gold for just doing content, whether you're a crafter who can sell your wares for millions, just doing daily Fynni gems for 1m a week per character, or combat focused and running your Lord missions with boosts for a few million in a couple hours. So while I'd argue that it absolutely is pay to win, not only do you not need those minor boosts from the gear until long into the later generations; you also will have the money to buy it off players long before you actually need it. That's if you need it at all, since you can easily get ahead in this game by just engaging with the many skills and mechanics. If I had to give this a simple yes or no, the answer is yes; but I really don't think it's nearly as bad in Mabinogi as it is in other games. Especially considering how small the PvP scene in this game is. You don't need to pay to win when someone else in your party absolutely did, or maybe you just pay in gold to win. However I'd argue that it's pay to win FASTER than others. Just take it slow and enjoy the journey. Every game is pay to win, Mabinogi handles it better than most.

Q: Is there any reason for me to not like this game?

A: Yea the devs haven't hired me to write articles like this for their marketing. Boycott worthy honestly; they should pay me for this, or at least make me a soul streamer, you know? (┬┬﹏┬┬) ^ This last one is a joke, you know; in case reading comprehension.

#mabinogi #mmorpg #fantasy rpg #rpg #yes I'm putting a bunch of tags I want people to play this game.#Fantasy MMORPG #Okay I lied that's all the tags I can think of actually.#Wait are you actually reading the tags on this? After reading ALL of that?#You're ALSO gonna read the tags? Wow okay hi I guess lol uuuh you're pretty cool if you made it this far #I hope to see you in game :D #I have too many characters so I'm serious when I say just swing by Dunbarton on Ch9 and find the Landsbetween guild #That's the guild my partner and I run #So yea like... that's kinda all I got #Man I didn't even talk about the skill books and stuff #man I love this game so much #Man I Love F-antasy Games like Mabinogi... You thought I was gonna put that tag here?#Nah but I'd probably die if she ever played this game not gonna lie #especially if they did what they did to Ironmouse and stuck her with a Soul Streamer who doesn't care #it was physically painful to watch that guy completely ignore Mouse and she shit she enjoyed about Mabi #like genuinely I could have done better but like I'm not a soul streamer so you know whatever lol #My partner and I watched that whole stream just screaming at that guy like I'm not gonna name names but good lord #He outright ignored her several times despite and then dragged her through high end content as a newbie what the hell man #Regardless I hope YOU reading this come play Mabi because I think you'd really enjoy it #come find our guild and hang out some time #I'll be glad to be your guide through this really bizarre and fun game

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uloelu · 1 year ago

Text

Location: Lykke Center, Windenburg

(transcript under the cut)

Previous (Part 2) | Next

Here's the third and final part! Hope you enjoyed this episode centered around the foster moms. I'd been waiting for the best moment to introduce them to you! You'll see them here and there in the future, and I hope to give them at least one joint episode per season.

Episode 5: Mother, Mother - Part 3

Scene 4 - Leuchtterm Bar und Grille, Lykke Center, Windenburg

[Evening breaks at a restaurant in town…]

Eva Capricciosa (Maître d'): Leuchtterm, how may I help you?

Clara Bjergsen: Björn, for God’s sake, stop sulking.

Patron: ...and then I told her, my daughter does not have bad gas!

Malcolm Landgraab (thinking to himself): This place is a fucking dump. Couldn't we have gone anywhere else?

Geoffrey Landgraab: Have a good day at school, Malcolm?

[Audreyanna sits with her father and his much younger fiancée. All are on their phones; little conversation is being made.]

Lloyd Brookestone: So…a little birdie told me that someone’s living in a full house.

Brylee O’Donnell: Yeah! You’re so odd, Anna. Fostering six teenagers? Is that even legal?

Audreyanna (thinking to herself): God-fucking-damnit

Audreyanna: It’s Audreyanna, thanks. Why am I not surprised that you two stalked me again? Was moving to Germany not a big enough hint?

Lloyd: I have my ways. And hey, I’m still your old man. You could have told me! I would have loved to advise you during the process.

Audreyanna: Like you’ve had experience with the foster system.

Lloyd: Maybe not, but I’ve had experience raising a teenager. Come on, Audreyanna, six kids? Talk about a trial by fire! (pauses) Besides, you’re not the only one expanding the Brookestone family…

Audreyanna (thinking to herself): You’ve got to be kidding me.

[Brylee and Audreyanna stand up so the former can display her slightly pregnant stomach.]

Brylee: Surprise! We wanted to tell you in person. Lloyd and I are going to be parents!

Audreyanna: What the fuck?!

Lloyd: Now, I know this is a bit unexpected…

[Brylee yawns loudly.]

Audreyanna: Unexpected isn’t the word, Dad. You mean to tell me that you got her pregnant? Has her frontal lobe even finished developing? Not to mention, you found out I’m going through something as big as fostering teens for the first time…and you decided to launch your fucking baby the first time we talked about it?

Brylee: Anna, don’t tear his head—

Audreyanna: How many times do I have to tell you that you can’t call me that?

Brylee: Okay, I know that we haven’t been the best of friends, but I thought you’d be happy for me. You know, as a woman.

Audreyanna: As a woman? You’re barely out of college! Shacking up with a 73-year-old man!

Lloyd (thinking to himself): I’ll just stay out of this one.

Brylee: Oh, and you’re so high and mighty, huh? Isn’t Evelyn older than you?

Audreyanna: …what? I mean, yeah, by ten months!

Brylee: There you go. I’m an adult perfectly capable of making my own decisions. I’m not trying to be your stepmom here.

Audreyanna: No, you’re just trying to give birth to a sibling that’s fifty years younger than me!

Brylee: Then ignore their existence! You’re pretty good at that. After all, isn’t what you’ve been doing to us?

Silence.

Lloyd: You’ve always been careful about hiding your life from me, Audreyanna. I don’t understand it, but fine. As long as you respect that we’re making our own life choices, too.

[The waiter arrives.]

Waiter: You guys ready to order?

Audreyanna: Please.

Geoffrey: Malcolm, it’s almost been an hour. The sun’s already set. Can you please just pick something to eat?

Malcolm: How does anyone eat this garbage food? I’ll just get a water.

[Some time later, the waiter reappears with the trio’s food.]

Waiter: Here you go. My, you guys are quiet all of a sudden.

[They dig in.]

Brylee: Gosh, this fake chicken is really delish! A fine testament to the wonders of tofu.

Audreyanna: Tofu, huh? I feel for that baby.

Brylee: If you must know, my doctor says it’s perfectly fine to—

Audreyanna: I don’t care that you’re vegan, Brylee. Just feed that kid greens or something. Anything but tofu.

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ceilingfan5 · 6 months ago

Note

2 8 27 29!!

2. Do you plan each chapter ahead or write as you go? ........................listen. listen.

sssorta? grimaces loudly. it depends on the fic. some have a semi-decent outline. the one i am currently rotating (supers au) has an outline that is. maybe not USELESS but almost entirely unhelpful with regards to, uh, organization, or, foresight, or, connecting point l to m to n to o...... i sort of threw some shit at the wall, then came back and threw entirely different shit at the wall, played pretend with other shit entirely, got distracted, took a long break to return to a different other fic with a WORSE outline (youtube au, which, to make matters worse, is the FIFTH iteration of this idea and was started in 2 0 2 0. i need you to understand i have a degree in teaching with a [minor] in english and i was a writing tutor for years and i am fully capable of a good and proper outline and yet every goddamn time i open a new document it is a CRAP SHOOT to see if i USE THESE CAREFULLY PRACTICED SKILLS to help LITERALLY ONLY MYSELF-

sometimes this outline is so counterproductive i get mad and Don't write bc past me was so unhelpful.

BUT on the flippy dip: i really enjoy kind of. discovering the fic As I Write It. Like, it is as much of a discovery to me how the events pan out as anyone else. and it's so fun, it's a game of pretend with myself. im digging for gold and shit there sure is a lot of dirt and maybe i could have brought or different more tools but i found a garnet and a sapphire and a fossil of a fishie. and also my keys, which i do not remember dropping, and there's something big here, i swear, but i gotta keep going to find out if it's a dinosaur or what this also means i write almost entirely chronologically, because i don't actually know the finer details of things until they come out, and that makes it hard to rearrange bits done out of time?

breaking news: fool gets away with behavior yet again, no change expected. more at ten good thing it's a hobby. don't even get me started on how i name documents. good lord

8. Do you prefer the beginning, middle, or end of a story? truly my favorite part of a fic is livin in it, i love discussing it to pieces with my Friends and daydreaming and playing in the sand and thinking up side bits that may not ever come into play but sure do make the world feel lived in and that rules, that's the best. there is so much, of every fic i have ever written, that i was orbiting around my head, and you may never know, but you feel it in the pulse of the thing 27. What is your most and least favorite part of writing? aaaaauhhhhhhhhhh uh. i love locking into the flow and the wild nonsense and deeep feelings just happening out of my fingers. i love yapping about my ideas and i love when people give me reactions to the words i did and the order i did them in, especially line by line live reactions? there's esp this phenomenon i see where the reader will be picking lines here and there and then Get So Absorbed that they end up at the finish line all disoriented and delighted and have to tell me and I love it. hard parts: starting, especially after a long time. giving myself grace to see if something is shit garbage or im just moody/hungry/need to sleep on it. the moment-hours after posting and fuckin' waiting for the acknowledgement of my efforts, we all know. man. but maybe the worst bit is when you ARE in the flow and do have so many ideas and it's great and THEN you look at the time and it's fucking after your bedtime and you, an adult, employed, must extricate yourself from the ecstasy of fiction and do chores like dental care, and getting in bed and not doing math about your alarms. 29. What’s your revision or editing process like? man i used to have a beta yeeeears ago, but between like. ships passing in the night and all. + the realization that this is a fan thing i am doing for funsies. and like. the passability that comes with crazy amounts of experience and practice. the knowledge that i am not going to be Published and if i reread and see a typo, i can pretend i didn't, or edit it anyway. the forgiveness of mainly doing it for myself.... it doesn't get a lot of strenuous review. probably the most editing happens, once im happy with the order of events, and so on, when i am pasting my goddamn document into ao3, and because i use google docs and want my stupid rich text, i go line by line and reread to keep myself entertained while deleting extra paragraph breaks. which i believe there is a fix for but ironically that is in fact a good way to catch bullshit in the eleventh hour. i do have a few readers, give or take my most devoted minions, who will catch like, major sense making issues, but also do not actually give a shit if i fumbled a word or spelled stupid + are mostly along for the ride playing pretend with me

hopefully this wasn't too honest and you are instead bolstered by the fact that i am just. playing here cause it's fun, it's all made up and the points don't matter. let's go have fun

#ask game #thank you!!!!!!!#i'd give up my kingdom in a heartbeat for thie and noodyl but. they are my kingdom #💕😽

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what-a-weird-rose · 2 years ago

Text

RoseKiller: The Things You Do (Make Me Crazy)

Pairing: Evan Rosier / Barty Crouch Jr.

Rating: E

Prompt: Choking

Word Count: 1.4k

There is a long mirror on the wall of his office, stretching from the ceiling to the floor; it was too big to fit anywhere else, not to mention a strange addition to the rustic look of the rest of the bar. Barty liked it, he liked looking through it during the wee hour of the night and seeing his father’s face staring back at him. Perhaps it was strange, his need to see his father in himself when he was half-way high, or drunk, or both. The crazy thing about it was, really, Barty wasn’t sure when it started, all he knows is that from the moment he can remember he reveled in seeing his father’s face on his own, doing terrible things.

Maybe that was the problem with the whole picture, Barty could never let go. His father had quietly disowned him -gave him a good chunk of cash and sent him away- and clearly had no intention of reaching out, but Barty just couldn’t. He loathed the very idea of letting the resentment die because, at the end of the day, the resentment is what kept him going most times; when the dark was too chilling and the loneliness too overbearing, the resentment of his father kept the embers stirred.

Even now, as the night dwindles into very early morning, Barty finds himself lost staring at himself -his father- in the massive mirror.

There is a knock at his office door, he says nothing.

The door opened and Barty makes no effort to look at who decided to ignore the obvious brooding energy in favor of annoying him, not like he doesn’t know already.

Of all his friends -the ones he considers friends and not stepping stones to bigger things- Evan is the one with the least patience for Barty’s moods. Often, he outright ignoring them in favor of doing whatever it was Evan dragged him into on those days.

“Good morning, hot-stuff,” Barty snorts as his swivel-chair is spun around, “brought you breakfast, sexy.”

“Disgusting,” Barty says derisively, digging his hands into the flimsy paper bag Evan holds out.

“You get stuck with Dorky and McKinnon for a day and then tell me how you’re planning to cope with the things you’ve seen.” Evan nods to himself, as if trying to convince his own brain that he’s in the right -he’s is, no one should be subjected to Dorcas and Marlene’s hot-garbage flirting.

“You mean you don’t think I’m really ‘hot-stuff’?” Barty pouts, exaggerated in the motion as he dunks fries into a half-melted milkshake. Evan shakes his head vigorously, though Barty is unsure if its in reference to his comment or his fry-milkshake crime. “Thanks for the food, babygirl.”

“Ew. Never call me that again, toad.” Evan recoils, pulling his feet up to rest on the plush of the chair he must have pulled in from the hall. “They’re so fucking nasty, hot-stuff, I don’t know how they manage it.”

Barty nods, throwing his legs out to rest precariously on Evan’s socked feet. “Who stole your shoes?”

“Nargles.”

“Of course, pesky things.”

Evan stretches out in the chair, shoving Barty’s gross mostly-decayed-but-decent-enough Sketchers’ off him. “Those things are so gross, Barty.” And he laughs, as though Evan can’t see his hot pink socks through the holes.

“But without them, I can’t see in the dark,” Barty whines petulantly, stamping his feet on the ground to demonstrate his point, waving his arms around as the soles flicker to life.

“Get a flashlight ‘fore you give me tetanus.” Barty smiles wide as he stands, lifting his arms up high. “When’re you leaving tonight?”

“Wanna take me home?”

“Better than you going with some crazy with a vendetta.”

“One time, Ev. It was one fucking time.”

Evan watches as Barty moves across the room to stare into that mirror of his. He watches as the muscles in Barty’s back shift as he scoots the thing over to access the safe; he says nothing as Barty unlocks the metal box.

“Pandora wants you to come to breakfast tomor- later this morning,” He can’t see it, but Evan can certainly feel Barty roll his eyes, “don’t blow me off, and don’t blow her off either. They’re getting worried about you.”

“Panda send you then? Wanted to make sure ickle Barty was staying out of trouble?” Evan feels the moment Barty stiffens, as if prepared for a fight.

“Either you meet them somewhere they choose, make niceties, and convince them you’re fine, or I tell them your half-homeless and living mostly out of your boss’ office.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Fucking test me, Crouch, see how close to wouldn’t I’ll get.”

Evan’s hands are warm and soft around his neck, holding tight around his airways- Barty feels high.

Evan licks the side of his face, moving one of his hands from Barty’s neck to his arm, where he pulls one hand up and toward his face. He bites and licks Barty’s inner wrist before setting the hand in his hair.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” Evan says, like last time, and every time before that.

“Take me somewhere nice, Ev.”

Evan tightens his grasp over Barty’s neck, shifting his body if only to get more leverage. He pushes backwards into the wall until there is even less no where for Barty to go- not that he’d want to.

Evan kisses his jaw, scraping his teeth along the skin as far as he can get before he runs out of space to mark on Barty’s face. His hand loosens, moving off of Barty’s neck entirely to join his other to pin Barty’s wrists against the wall. Evan’s mouth works quickly, licking stripes of sweaty skin and kissing the crevices between Barty’s jaw, neck, and shoulders.

Barty throws his head back, whining loudly as Evan licks along his collarbones.

“Fuck you, make me cum.”

“Shut up, Barty, no one wants to hear you whine.”

Evan releases his hands and spins him around speedily, before grasping at Barty’s neck once again and sending him back into that quiet submission they both seemed so fond of.

Evan takes the opportunity to bite into the back of Barty’s neck, sucking the skin into his mouth enough to definitely leave a mark. Good, he thinks as his free hand unbuckles Barty’s cheap belt.

Barty jerks his hips forward in some half-hearted attempt at getting friction against the wall; Evan gives his bare ass one good slap in retaliation.

“What have they done to you to make you so fucking impatient.”

“They don’t dally around with foreplay, that’s what.”

Evan rolls his eyes, feeling around Barty’s ass until he finds that puckering hole.

Barty whines louder than before as Evan’s index finger drags along the sensitive skin.

“Fuck me, whore.”

“Shut up, slut.” Evan grips hard on Barty’s neck, and deeply enjoys feeling the way Barty’s gasps around it, trying desperately to get something, with such little luck.

Evan reaches out toward the bag Barty brought in with him, scrambling around inside it until he finds the little bottle of cheap lube.

He squirts the clear gel on the plump of Barty’s ass before smearing it onto his fingers.

“Have you been good, pretty?” He feels as Barty desperately tries to nod, or speak, or anything, and revels in how little he manages. “That’s right, you haven’t, shame that. But I suppose, since I’m so nice, I’ll give you a treat anyways.”

He gives no other warnings before shoving three fingers into Barty’s ass, confident enough in the other’s innate ability to be stretched at all times.

Barty cries, though its choked and scratchy sounding.

Evan soothes him by nuzzling in his hair, though they both know its more patronizing than anything else.

He pumps his fingers in and out, splaying they out at random intervals before calling it a day. Evan scoops more lube off Barty’s ass before stroking his cock, setting up the angle, and shoving in all the way at once.

Barty thinks he might really cry at that.

Evan makes quick work of configuring the angles, setting the pace rough and quick, finding his now-free hand loss in Barty’s hair, tugging and petting.

Barty moans and grunts and groans, though all sound decrepit and pitiful from behind Evan’s large hand.

Evan’s pace is relentless, setting them up for a quick end regardless of anything Barty does. And as they always seem to do at the end, Barty cums first, fast and hard and all-consuming, right before Evan follows, quieter and more deliberate as he fills Barty’s hole.

“Ugh, now I have to sit in your car with cum in my ass.”

“Sucks to suck, cuntface.”

#(smutty) tales from the hogwarts broom closets #tales from the hogwarts broom closests #marauders #young marauders #the marauders #marauders era #dead gay wizards #mwpp #mwpp era #rosekiller #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #smut

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rosebloodcat · 2 years ago

Text

Ramshackle Fits A Little Too Well

(Or, Crewel learns what can happen to a dorm when there is no one taking care of it for 50-some years)

AN: I started writing this one on a lark, but I really liked it so I figured, why not post it? There are a lot of little background things that I haven't gotten into in this story but I may get to them in a later chapter. But I'm down to explain if people ask, so go ahead if you want to know what's up.

I mostly wanted to get into the horrors of a house that's been abandoned for years at a time in this chapter, and I'm quite pleased with them so far.

Maybe I'll get to the rest of the cool things later. XD

AO3 Link!

Crewel wasn't a fan of the Ramshackle Dorm. As far as he was concerned, it was an eyesore on the esteemed Night Raven College's campus. He'd never understood why the Headmage hadn't had the place torn down and replaced with something more useful to the school after the dorm had been shut down.

Although, at the moment, he supposed it was a good thing that he hadn't done that. Since it gave them a place for the magic-less puppy to stay after the school carriages accidentally snatched him.

(They needed to have that checked out. The carriages picking up people who weren't even students was a problem.)

He was uncouth and unrefined, but at least he seemed to be sensible.

The puppy had taken time to approach each teacher after class and warn them that some of his assignments may be turned in late throughout the year, as he had to do repairs to the dorm he was staying in along with the work he needed to meet the school's criteria. And the unspoken fact that he would be doing all that by hand on his own, as the barely tolerated familiar staying with him would be all-but-useless for such a task.

Crewel did have to give the puppy credit. He wasn't afraid of hard work or getting his hands dirty.

But he had begun to wonder if, perhaps, such a task would be too much for a single student to manage alone.

The buckled floor he'd found when the student led him to the mostly cleaned sitting room certainly suggested it. (Sort of cleaned? It seemed cleaner than the great of the place at the moment. The whole place was still repulsive.) It was the first of many clues as to the house’s state.

Though he couldn't help raising a brow at the chairs lying on their sides near a very large garbage bag. And with the windows wide open as well, the curtains he knew had once been there were gone.

Upon closer inspection of the heaps, he could see rubber gloves and a rather sharp-looking knife lying there as well. The puppy caught the look and let out a huff.

“Yeah, you’re gonna want to sit on the plain wood chairs in here, Prof. Anythin’ with cloth on it is a giant mold patch now thanks to the leaky roof and the cracked windows. I’m carving as much of it off as I can to throw it out.” He rocked back on his heels, nodding to the garbage bag. Well, that explained that. “Might be able to salvage the wood parts, but the cushions are goners. Grim is outside with Ace studying because this shi- er, stuff was making him sick. I’ve been tying a rag that I got from the school store over my face to keep from feeling the same.”

Ah, mold. Yes, that made sense for how old the dorm was and how long it’s been since anyone was staying there. Of course, there would be- Wait.

“Leaking roof?” he asked, a trickle of alarm in the back of his mind. Water leaks could do a lot of damage, but when it froze and melted during the winters…

“Oh yeah, the roof’s got a lot of them. Found out during the storm a couple days ago. Had to dig through every closet I could find to get enough buckets for ‘em.” He let out a gusty sigh, scratching at his still-growing mustache. He glanced upward with a grimace. “I’m dreading when I finally get to clearin’ out the top floors of this place. Which is why I wanted to ask you about stuff for clearing out mold.”

He pointed to a door further down the hall, his jaw setting.

“Especially for the bathroom down there. I think one of the old students forgot some medicine in the cabinet when they left the dorm. I wouldn’t be surprised if it could get up and walk by now if it felt like it, so I need something strong to get rid of it. Even if I can’t use the bathrooms very much right now.”

“And what makes you say that?” Crewel asked. Surely the bathrooms weren’t that disgusting.

“Cause the pipes might blow if do.”

What.

“The pipes have probably frozen over multiple times over the years. So it’s probably messed them up a lot.” He continued, not even noticing the way his new teacher had frozen. “If you send pipes into full use after something like that, it can cause the weakened seals to burst, and you can’t just patch ‘em or else you might end up breakin’ them up in your hands. I’d love to hire a pro to take a look at ‘em and see how much can be safely patched and how much would be better off replaced but…”

He shrugged helplessly at Crewel. He didn’t need to finish the sentence.

Because of his arrival, he had nothing but the clothes on his back. And he certainly had no money to do all the repairs and refurbishing that Ramshackle needed to be inhabitable for a student. Surely the headmage was allowing some form of budget to cover the boy’s efforts to restore the dorm? He wasn’t expecting the boy to do it all out of his own pocket by working at the school store, was he?

The boy certainly couldn’t ask his parents to help pay for it all…

“And how much of this is our esteemed headmage helping cover?” The puppy tilted his head in confusion. He felt his heart sinking. “The headmage has given you a budget for this work, hasn’t he?”

“No? He hasn’t really said anything about helping cover the repair costs for this place. Ace, uh, one of the Heartsyble guys, has been helping with food ever since he got booted from his dorm for eating a tart from the communal fridge without asking first. Most of it’s dry stock but… Yeah.” He looked a bit uncomfortable, glancing back toward the kitchen.

(By the Seven, he didn’t even want to think about the state of the kitchen if the rest of the building was anything to go by.)

Crewel was rapidly re-evaluating the knowledge he’d had about the dorm, the skills of his student, and the stupidity of the headmage for just dumping a student there without even considering the health and safety risks of them staying there.

He took in a breath, held it, and then slowly let it out.

“We will make a list. Of the essentials needed for this building to be comfortable, and safe to live in for however long you’re going to be here. I will call the needed people to get price evaluations and speak with the headmage about setting a repair budget for your work.” He looked down at the student in front of him, who stilled at the sharpened edge of his gaze. “If you are going to be doing the work restoring this building yourself, then you need the funds to do it right. Now, show me the rooms you’ve been looking at using and we can start building up the basics.”

This was going to be far more work than he had been ready for, never mind a lone, magicless student that had been abducted and left to (practically) fend for themselves. (The dorm barely counted as a safe place to stay in its current state.)

And Crewel fully planned to make Crowly share in the misery as well, until he put in the work to fix it.

(Crowly was not ready for the list of extreme hazards that their student was facing being thrown on his desk by the furious Crewel. But it took very little persuading to set a budget to rebuild the dorm. They could justify why the abandoned dorm needed this much work to the school board later. For now, they needed to ensure their student wasn’t poisoned by airborne mold spores or worse while they were stuck at the school.)

(Cab was just happy when Crewel told him that both a plumber and a handyman had been booked to come by in a few days to take a look at the bathrooms and Kitchen.)

#disney twisted wonderland #dtw #divus crewel #cookie run kingdom #crk #captain caviar cookie #reflections in soda water #risw #risw cab sturge #twst #twisted wonderland

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bluejay-writes · 2 years ago

Text

The Raccoon Problem

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Characters: Halsin/Saoirse (Mimi's Druid Tav!) Wordcount: 3630

Notes: This is a secret santa gift for @lavellvn!

You can also read/collect this over on AO3!

“Hey! Get out of that garbage! Don’t make me call The Watch.”

Regin froze mid-rummage, and looked up at the man silhouetted there against the back door of the tavern in the lantern light, but didn’t say anything in response. Having The Watch looking for him was the most terrifying thing he’d experienced in all of his seven years and he wasn’t interested in having it happen again, thanks. He backed away from the garbage, into the darkness of the alleyway, tying the cloth around the spoils of his trash adventure.

“Damn urchin.” the man muttered, unaware how his voice carried in the silence of the night. “If it were a girl, they’d at least take it off my hands for some coin.”

When he returned to the literal hole in a wall he was currently sleeping in, Regin looked over the food he’d managed to gather. A very burned bread roll, a few bones that hadn’t been picked quite clean though he didn’t know what the meat was, and some rinds from cheese that only had a little mold on them. It would get him through to tomorrow night, at least. But that tavern was the last place that he’d been able to visit, everywhere else had chased him away, and now they were on the lookout for him as well. He might have to brave one of the older places again. Or figure out how to hide better so they didn’t shoo him away. If only he was a girl, like the tavern keep had said. He didn’t know why girls were better, or who they were that would want a girl, but at least he wouldn’t be cold and hungry.

Maybe he could try foraging as a dog, not just sleeping. But dogs tended to draw attention, that’s why he was only a dog when he was in his hiding place, to stay warm for sleeping. Maybe he could try being one of those stripey-whatsits that he saw in the trash sometimes. They had good hands for digging through the trash, and people tended to avoid them. Yeah. That’s what he’d do.

“So, tell me again why you’re looking for help from Druids?” Halsin asked the bartender. His tavern was well-kept, and as far as Halsin could tell, it didn’t even have the usual vermin problem, thanks most likely to the two cats laying in the last rays of sunlight coming through the front window. The tavernkeep’s eyes often strayed to his partner, Saoirse, who was entertaining herself chatting with said cats. Her usual attire tended to draw attention wherever they went, not that he would ever find fault with her choices. She looked stunning no matter what form or coverings she chose.

“We’ve got a raccoon problem. Thing’s a real menace. It’s in our trash every night and it’s gotten smart enough to avoid the traps and even the dogs we’ve tried to set on it. Only thing else I can think of to do to get rid of it at this point is a bigger predator, but I’ll be damned before I bring in a wild bear or wolf just to get rid of a clever raccoon. Figured a druid would be able to talk to the thing or scare it away by sleeping in the yard as something bigger.”

Halsin nodded, and turned to consult with Saoirse.

“My heart, what do you think about this? Any insight from your feline friends?”

Saoirse hummed in thought. “They say the raccoon smells wrong. Not like other raccoons.”

“Cursed, perhaps?” Halsin thought, and Saoirse shrugged. “Well, would you like to spend some time here, dearest? Solve a little raccoon puzzle before we head on?”

Saoirse chuckled. “Who would I be if I passed up both the chance to understand a creature of Faerûn and a chance to have a bear nap with my beloved?”

Halsin turned and addressed the man behind the bar once again. “We’ll handle your raccoon problem.”

“Good, you have two days, as we’ve a wedding here in four and if you can’t do it we gotta have a day to try… something else.”

“What something else?” Halsin asked, half-growled as though he knew already what the man was going to say.

“Poison, obviously. I don’t want to do it, else I never would have put a call out for druid adventurers, but if I want to keep the noble wedding contract, I gotta get rid of the raccoon.”

Halsin sighed. “Don’t even consider the poison. Children rummage through the trash and anything that can hurt a raccoon can kill a child in no time flat, let alone the harm it could do to local pets.” Or the destitute in the area. He didn’t add that last bit. Most people saw the poor as a blight anyway and would happily be rid of them just as much as they would pests. “We’ll handle your raccoon, one way or another.”

The tavernkeeper nodded, and Halsin was calmed to notice the relief in their face. They weren’t lying about being reluctant to use fatal methods, at least.

“You gonna be warm enough out there or should I get you some firewood? It can get a mite chilly now that it’s started snowing.”

“We’ll be fine.” Saiorse purred, pulling Halsin out through the kitchen into the Tavern’s yard. She’d had enough of this conversation, and wanted to get started, thanks.

Regin sniffed the air as he approached his usual tavern hunting ground. Okay, okay, it was the trash, but he was hunting for dinner so it counted. He paused for a moment when he smelled something unusual. He crept slower and more carefully towards the tavern only to see large furry lumps in the yard. Was that… bears?! Regin had only ever seen a bear from a distance before. These two looked cozy, all curled up together in the snow. Regin was jealous. He wished he had someone to curl up with on the snowy nights. It was too cold these days, even when he was a dog. Maybe if he was one of those fluffy dogs? He hadn’t gotten a good enough look at one of those to be one before, and even though he could see the bears real close, he knew being a bear would get him in way more trouble than a small dog would, even if it were warmer.

The bears didn’t seem to react to him arriving, so Regin decided to risk digging through the trash even though there were bears. They didn’t look like they wanted to attack him when he appeared, so maybe they would just let him dig through the trash. Besides, he knew the way up to the rooftops between here and his hole, so he was sure he could outrun a bear no problem, even if they were angry.

As he dug through the trash, setting aside the most edible looking pieces of refuse, he could feel the eyes of the larger bear following his movements. The smaller bear seemed to be asleep, right up until the point where it stood and lunged at the trash bins, all in a matter of seconds.

Regin didn’t know why the bear was coming after him but he did know that he definitely didn’t want to die. He especially didn’t want to get eaten by a bear! Abandoning his haul, little cloth bag and all, he skittered away down the alley and up to the rooftops, dropping his stripey-whatsit form just as soon as he was clear of the bear so that it wouldn’t be able to follow him by scent. Sure, getting back off of the roofs as a little boy was dangerous, but a whole lot less dangerous than being eaten by a bear!

Saoirse cursed as she lost track of the raccoon across the rooftops. Little thing was wicked fast, and the cats were right. It didn’t smell like a raccoon at all. She shifted into a shrew and skittered her way up to the rooftop, sniffing as she went. Unfortunately, the trail stopped dead just two roofs away, and the roof itself was awash in so much scent that her little nose got confused, and she was forced to head back to Halsin empty-handed.

“Nothing.” She said, as she stopped next to where Halsin was staring into the trash bin. “It got away.”

“It’s definitely more than just a normal raccoon.” Halsin rumbled quietly, and showed Saoirse the cloth bag that the raccoon had been carrying, sewn together with rough but intentional stitches. “I don’t think it’s a curse, unless that curse burdens it with a humanoid level of intelligence.”

“Were-Raccoon?” Saoirse suggested, though even she was hesitant to believe it.

“Possible. Or a Doppleganger trying to stay under the radar while it gathers intelligence. There are any number of things it could be, up to and including a fellow druid. Though, a fellow druid should have recognized our nature and spoken to us rather than running.”

“What if it’s a child, Halsin?” Saoirse said, leaning against his shoulder. “Would a child know druidic norms and expectations? If they aren’t yet part of a circle, they may not even be able to tell the difference between one of us and a standard bear.”

“It would explain the level of moxie this one had, to rummage in the garbage even with us both laying there. A normal raccoon wouldn’t have gotten anywhere near that close the moment it smelled us.”

“Well, whatever it is, it’ll be back for this bag. it’s a clearly well loved and cared for object, after all.” Saoirse said, running her finger along the rough seam. “Shall we adjourn once more to rest?”

“Aye, we shall. I would have you take a flighted form though, my heart. If it comes back, i do not want to lose sight of it again.”

Saoirse nodded, and as Halsin settled back to rest as a bear, she shifted to nighthawk and settled on his flank to keep watch for the raccoon’s return.

Regin shivered in his hole. Even his dog form wasn’t keeping him warm in this weather, and with no food in his belly he was feeling especially bad. With winter setting in, fewer people were traveling so there was less edible waste at the inn, so he was even thinner than usual. Eventually, he knew he had to go back and try again, at least to retrieve his bag. The bears couldn’t be there forever, and if he could at least grab his bag he’d be able to scrounge food from somewhere else tonight. Something, anything to keep him going one more day.

Without changing form, Regin loped out of his hole and back down the alleys towards the inn. He could at least see if the bears were still there before spending the energy to shift into his striped trash-dweller self.

Sure enough, the larger of the two bears was there, eyes closed in apparent rest. The small bear had yet to return, and Regin wondered if it was still trying to get up the building to chase after the stripey-whatsit he used to be. He walked around the inn’s area a few times, and then turned to go back to his home. One bear was there, but it was sleeping. That would probably give him the time to grab his bag and get out if he was lucky. He didn’t really have a choice, though. He needed his bag if he was going to carry enough food to keep himself alive.

“You seeing this?” Halsin rumbled, and Saoirse chuckled.

“That scrawny pup? It’s circled three times, each time checking you out, and the trash, and the building the raccoon disappeared on. If it comes again, I’m going to wing up and follow it and see if I can’t find its home.” Saoirse moved from his flank to the rooftop, to make it easier to tail the dog that did in fact reappear moments later, before turning and leaving.

She followed it, until it tucked itself into a literal hole in one of the town’s outer walls, before curling up. She started to reach out to Halsin to tell him what she’d learned, only to interrupt herself mid sentence.

Well, the dog seems to be holed up in— Nature’s Bounty, Halsin!! You were right! It is a little druid boy. He’s heading back your way as a raccoon, I can only assume to retrieve his bag.

Heard. was the only response Halsin gave, and Saoirse waited until the boy was well and truly gone before she shifted back to herself and investigated the den to try and understand him better. There was nothing here to identify the owner as anything more than a scraggly little dog. Bones, the inedible parts of cheese rinds (though these too were gnawed on) and some tattered bits of blanket were all that were here. The den smelled of dog, and of raccoon, and of boy, all of them seeming slightly off somehow. This boy had been doing nothing more than surviving, and that just barely. Saoirse felt herself flare with protective anger, but before she could say a word, Halsin reached her with another message.

I have him. Come back to me, my heart, we have much to discuss with this young one.

Regin shivered in fear, the large bear’s paw pinning him to the ground.

“Promise me you won’t run, child, and I will let you up.” The bear spoke.

Bears can talk?! Regin thought, confused and very very afraid. He just nodded. He didn’t know if stripey-whatsits normally nodded, but he knew that bears probably couldn’t normally speak common, so maybe it was okay if he nodded.

The bear paw lifted off of him, and Regin felt blessed to be alive. He wasn’t even hurt, the bear had been very scary, but careful, which was weird because the bear definitely should have wanted to eat him because bears totally ate things like him in the wild, and…

Regin’s eyes blew wide as the bear in front of him turned into a man. Still big. Still scary. Still very bear-like. But definitely a person now. Did that mean the littler bear was also a person!? Where was it now? Oh no, was it okay? Had it gotten hurt chasing him? That would be the worst, he never wanted anyone to get hurt because of him. Not like mama. Not again.

“You’re safe here, little one.” He rumbled, and Regin shook his head. How could he be safe, there was a big scary bear that was also a man and somewhere there was a smaller bear that was probably also a person that had gotten hurt because of him, and now he was going to be in trouble and…

“You’re scaring him, dear.” a voice said, as a bird landed on the fence near him and then… became a lady? Oh. They were… like him, then. People that could be animals. The lady wasn’t wearing much, just vines, it looked like, even in the snow. She crouched down next to him and reached out slowly, tentatively, before touching his nose, and saying ‘boop.’

Regin couldn’t help but laugh at that, the sound awkward and stilted coming from a stripey-whatsit. He let go then, and went back to being a little boy. Hopefully it was okay with them, then, that he was a little boy who could also be a stripy-whatsit, and not a little girl like the tavernkeep said.

“There you are, little one.” the bear-man said, crouching down next to him. “I am Halsin, and she is Saoirse. Do you have a name?”

Regin nodded. “Mama called me Regin. Nobody else calls me anything though, so I must be Regin.”

Bear-man, no Halsin, seemed to be smiling. “I will call you Regin, then. Are you hungry?” He pulled some trail bread from a pouch and held it out towards Regin, who shook his head. He didn’t dare take anything from someone, that was the last thing he could possibly do.

“Mister Halsin, am I in trouble?” He looked between the two adults in front of him, still tense. He was still sure that he was going to be in real trouble, like with The Watch and everything. The Watch… he… really didn’t want to be handed over to The Watch.

“That depends.” Halsin said, not mincing words despite the youth in front of him. “Have you done something bad?”

“I stole from the trash.” Regin said. They knew he’d done it, there was no reason to pretend he was innocent. “I… I know stealing is wrong, always. But I was hungry, and it was the trash so that meant they didn’t want it anymore, and…”

“Shh.” Saoirse said, and Regin stopped talking immediately. “It’s not stealing if they threw it away, little one.”

“B-but I was also there when they didn’t want me there, I just didn’t have nowhere else to go so I kept using their trash even after they told me to leave, even though I had to learn to be a stripey-whatsit to do it.”

“A raccoon.” Halsin said, and Regin nodded.

“Yeah, a stripey-whatsit.”

“Who taught you how to be a raccoon?” Saoirse asked, now sitting casually in the snow next to him.

“Nobody. I just saw them and thought it was good that they had little hands and no one seemed to mind them being in or around trash.” Regin shrugged. “Dogs don’t have hands, so.”

“Did anyone teach you to be a dog?” Saoirse asked, then, and he shook his head.

“No, but lots of people called mama a dog so I thought maybe if I was a dog…” Regin didn’t want to finish that sentence, so he didn’t.

“Can you tell me anything more about your mother?” Saoirse asked, sharing a look with the man that Regin didn’t understand.

“She dressed a lot like you, well, kindof. Yours looks like plants, but mama mostly wore soft cloth, just… about as much as you wear I guess? It was red, always red. She was real pretty, her hair was real long, it went all the way to her hips! I want to have hair that long someday, but mine keeps breaking.” Regin reached up and played idly with the ends of his brown-black hair, shrugging.

“Where’s your mama now, Regin?” Halsin asked, softly.

“Oh. She’s dead.” Regin said, the relative nonchalance of his tone startling the adults. “I’ve been on my own for three winters now.”

Halsin eyed him carefully. “How old are you, child?”

“Seven, as of last summer.”

“And how did your mother die, if you can tell me?”

Regin shivered, but it wasn’t just from the cold. “The Watch killed her, Mister Halsin. She told me if The Watch ever took her that I had to run away and never go back home, and she’d find me, but… I couldn’t stay away. I knew I could get her back away from The Watch. They were looking for something she was hiding, like a pet, but she just swore she wasn’t hiding anything. She didn’t have a pet or nothin, just me. We couldn’t really take care of a pet, there was really only enough food for the two of us. But they kept saying they knew she was carrying it, and she told them she lost it, so it must have been something real important, cause the head of The Watch himself was there and he was so so mad. When she refused to tell him anything, he… he…” Regin’s eyes welled up with tears. He hadn’t cried over his mother since the day it had happened, why was he crying now? He almost didn’t flinch when the lady pulled him into her lap and hugged him. No one had hugged him like this since Mama.

“What happened to her?” Halsin asked, quietly.

“He shot her. With a crossbow. She fell down and never got up. I think she was gone right away. I.. I just ran and ran, like she told me to.”

Regin’s tears picked up then, and he sobbed into Saoirse’s chest until he was so exhausted he simply fell asleep.

Halsin and Saoirse took the boy into the room they had at the inn - they weren’t planning on solely sleeping outside, after all.

Once Saoirse had tucked the boy in, she sat down at the table with Halsin and sighed.

“So, the raccoon problem is a talented child druid.” She said, and Halsin nodded.

“Whose mother was likely a sex worker of some variety, hiding the fact that she’d had a child.”

“A child of some import, if The Watch was willing to go so far as to kill her over it.”

“Said child has spent three years fending for himself on the streets and not a single soul cared enough to take him in.” Halsin tried to tamp down the growl in his tone, but was generally unsuccessful. “I will not leave him to weather a fourth.”

“He wouldn’t be likely to survive it.” Saoirse said, sighing. “I have always wanted a son. Do you think… he would be willing to travel with us? Leave this place?”

“If he is willing, I will take him, lineage be damned.” Halsin said, reaching out to wrap Saoirse’s hands in his. “And I will teach him the proper names for animals. No more stripey-whatsits.”

“I want to feed him until he’s plump and happy like a young boy should be. I do not want to be able to count his ribs at a glance.”

“And make sure he can grow his hair long, like his mother.” Halsin said, the smile evident in his tone.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #halsin

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weregreatatcrime · 2 years ago

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In the Two Daughters AU, what do the Turtles and company do for Christmas and/or New Years, if anything? Happy Holidays, BTW!

Happy Holidays! This got very, very long sjfbskbfkshfjf

The family is awkward, but happy to try and fit Karai and Miwa into their holiday celebrations. The Hamatos all have a small get together for Christmas, exchanging presents they've mostly handmade or scavenged. This year is better because they have April and Casey to help them get stuff directly from stores without stealing

Miwa is absolutely showered in baby gifts of clothes and toys and everything a baby could ever want. Have you ever seen a new parent in Christmas? Everything is baby stuff. Depending on if he's in on the family yet I think Kirby would help out by both getting new stuff and donating a lot of April's old baby stuff if he still has it! You also never get rid of baby stuff, for the sheer fact that everyone gives you way too much and you know someone else will eventually come around for YOU to gift it to. I think it'd be extra sweet if Casey brings his little sister's baby stuff too. His dad was just gonna toss it all out or give it to Goodwill anyways, may as well

It's for all intents and purposes Miwa’s first Christmas at home. Splinter doesn't want to put her down. For once, Karai doesn't try to wheedle him into letting her hold her familiar more often. Splinter is... very emotional. Karai is a little allergic to all the feelings and spends more time than probably necessary hiding in the ceiling

Thing is, it's also KARAI’S first Christmas with the Hamatos. They try to be careful and ask if changelings celebrate it. Karai laughs in their faces and then disappears for a few hours. They do celebrate it, when they have the time, when they have the energy. At least the changelings who actually have some fondness for humanity do. Karai hasn't ever celebrated it as a changeling. She's celebrated it as Oroku Karai, clan heir and doted on only daughter, with presents of nice expensive shiny things and tools and weapons. She's not sure how to feel about it all now that she'll no longer receive a room full of presents, 90% of which will be useless or shallow things she didn't even care for.

....it's nicer, actually, to have Mikey gifting her all kinds of weird bits and bobs he's picked up from junkyards that he thinks she might like to eat. The look on Donnie's face when she bites into an old iPod like a candy bar is hilarious. Mikey also gifts her a paper under her door that says he'll save his kitchen scraps for her whenever she wants and he won't say anything to the others, so she doesn't have to dig in the garbage when she wants them, just let him know and he'll tuck them away just for her. Maybe it's the least generous gift, but to Karai it's one of the most meaningful because she's spent centuries starving. Mikey, without even being told, knows and has taken it as a personal affront.

Donnie has a new hip brace for her, tougher and more flexible. He also gives her so many little toys and dangerous things that he wouldn't Dare gift his brothers who are a lot more fragile and prone to accidental arson than Karai. At least when she burns things down it's intentional. Karai recognizes the trust and awareness this costs- Donatello is more aware than his brothers how dangerous Karai is, and to put weapons in her hands with a promise to explain what everything does later? It surprises her.

Leo offers her a matching dagger and sword. Forged himself. Karai doesn't know how to react when she sees the crooked edges and odd spikes. His best attempt at a troll inspired set, from what he's seen of her ridiculously varied arsenal. They aren't the toughest of her toys - human metalworking is inherently weaker than troll work - but they're up at the top of her favorites, with the red and white wrappings around the hilts. They become her favorite weapons to use against human enemies. Leo struggled to create something jagged and vicious, a blade that rips flesh as much as slices it cleanly, and that struggle means all the more to it.

Raph’s gift is interesting. She gets a few basic gifts later, some knives and books, but the biggest is when he knocks on her door ridiculously early Christmas morning with a box full of chalk and offers to do her patterns for her. Karai’s been having fun being able to use chalk for actually interesting designs rather than just blending in, but she's not very artistic. She remembers bits and pieces of what culture changelings have. She can't give herself carvings, and she doesn't consider herself old enough to have those age markers anyways, but she directs Raph in the patterns in chalk and feels a little more real. He even has some sort of setting spray to keep the chalk from smearing into cloudy blurs. Karai looks in the mirror and sees a changeling, covered in red markings and important symbols that she would never get to have actually carved on her body. Raph is pleased and covered in chalk smudges by the time they exit her room to the rest of the family puttering about waiting on them. Karai actually stops him, before the door is open, to press her forehead to the top of his head and rumble under her breath. She doesn't need to say anything- him and Mikey both are best with physical language and Raph just shoves his head into her with a satisfied hum.

April and Casey even give her some things, though she's completely thrown off by it. She's pretty sure April doesn't even like her. But April gifts her some clothes and a sewing kit to modify them for her extra arms and tail. Kirby pitches in with a cropped jacket that rests just above her secondary arms and she might not even have to trim it. Casey gifts her eyeliner and nail polish and she would be a little offended but the blood red makes her remember the eyeliner pen she used as her Key and the colors are nice. She's not even sure if the eyeliner will stick on this form.

Splinter doesn't need to give her anything. He's given her everything the past few months, letting her into his family and taking care of her Heart. He's even personally helped her heal bit by bit and exhausting himself on the regular to do so. Karai is shocked when he offers her a beautiful kimono. It's dark and sturdier than she expects. When she sniffs the fabric she can smell that it's made of something tougher than typical. It's a battle kimono, that won't tear and wear away as easily on her stone flesh. It's been a battle trying to explain to the Hamatos why she doesn't wear much clothing if at all - human clothes are usually so thin and her rough surface scrapes them to threads faster than she wants to bother replacing them. But this will last her a while. Furthermore, it smells old. Splinter smiles at her warmly and Karai doesn't ask whose it used to be, just mentally promises to sand herself down before she ever wears it, to smooth her rough stone at least a bit to prolong its life.

There's other clothing he offers her, most of it sturdy and practical to her pleasure. He's modified much of it already to fit her and promises to tailor the rest whenever she'd like. He understands the difficulty of wearing pants with a tail, at least. But the kimono is special. It's a blue so deep it's almost black, with black vines trailing the hems and almost blending into the blue. It looks stunning next to her cream colored stone and red slashes. She wonders if Raphael would mind helping her put those vines on her skin in chalk, when she eventuslly wears it.

Karai didn't expect to be given so much. She'd expected some kindness, by now she understood the Hamatos' generosity was endless, but she didn't expect all THIS. She's quietly befuddled by the time presents have been mostly unwrapped for the whole family. Everyone is happy to exist around her while she sits and crunches on old Tupperware lids that taste like old grease. Mikey even drew on them with markers to look like Christmas cookies.

Karai expected their generosity but she wasn't sure yet if she should reciprocate, until Christmas morning when she's showered with the same love the family is giving to each other. Karai will figure something out for April and Casey later, Kirby as well- ESPECIALLY for the toys and clothes Miwa is giggling amidst. She's got a pair of daggers for Leo. They're one of the nicer pairs she has, plus they're actually sturdy enough to hurt a troll and they're made for strange fingered hands. He's a bit in awe when he holds daggers that fit in his hands

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weyrwolfen · 1 year ago

Text

Eidola: Chapter 19 - CT-91-2496 Riff

Rating: T

Characters: Gen, Clone Trooper OCs, Captain Rex, Ahsoka Tano, and other canon members of the 501st/332nd and the Bad Batch

Warnings: canon-typical violence; references to self-harm, injuries, and substance abuse; PTSD; it’s post-Order 66 and nobody is having a good time (but they’re all working on it)

Summary: The mission was never to bring down the Empire. Not really. The mission was to save every single one of their chipped brothers. But if doing do helped break the Empire’s stranglehold on the galaxy? Well, that was just a bonus.

The galley’s waste disposal unit made a horrendous, grinding sound when Riff tossed in his fruit rind and hit the cycle button. He quickly shut it back off, grimacing.

Normally he wouldn’t give a kriff – the ship was destined for a chop shop, after all – but their buyer had already used every excuse in the manual to slice their finders’ fee down to the bone. Riff wasn’t about to give the buyer additional ammunition to short them even more.

Riff sent Faze a ping from his wrist comm unit.

He didn’t have long to wait.

“Yeah?” his brother said, the audio crackling a little even over that short distance.

Cheap civilian garbage.

“The galley’s waste system is doing its best impression of a dying clanker,” Riff said, trying to ignore how awkward the words felt, just a little too slow and a little too slurred, even after all these months working with Aughts and Sling. He eyed the device in question. “Do I have time to attempt a repair before we need to move?”

“No idea. I’m still waiting for clearance,” Faze replied, sounding unutterably bored.

Right. Riff wondered what the hang-up was. They’d been sitting up here for a while, waiting for permission to take off.

“I’m taking a look,” Riff said. “Let me know if anything changes.”

“Roger, roger,” Faze said dryly and cut the connection.

The cover-panel had hidden fasteners holding the pearlescent material in place. Force karking forbid that anything so much as a visible fastener break up the aesthetic flow of this kriffing pleasure yacht. As if the previous, unlamented owner had ever stooped to preparing his own food. Karking slaver chakaar.

It took some careful probing with his boot knife, awkward and clumsy enough to make Riff curse his hands at least as much as the galley’s designer, but he did eventually manage to pry the cover off the disposal system. He was rewarded for his efforts with a face full of putrid, rotten food stench.

Riff and his brothers had only been onboard for maybe a quarter of a standard rotation, so no way had anything they’d generated had time to go this bad. It had to be something left over from back before the Raiders had taken the craft.

Kark it all.

At least the insides of the device seemed a little more galactic standard, but he was going to need more tools than his knife if he wanted to make any further progress.

It wasn’t a long walk to reach the opulent staterooms Riff, Faze, and Bevel had claimed for this mission. None of them were about to pass up the opportunity to sleep in that level of objective decadence, even if Vash and his team had stripped the rooms of most of their furnishings. Sure, his rucksack looked decidedly out of place on the plush carpeting, but Riff was going to spread his bedroll on that enormous mattress and sleep like a kriffing duke once they got into hyperspace.

Riff’s repair kit was near the very bottom of his rucksack, so it took some digging to get to it. But soon enough he was on his way back to the galley, tools in hand.

The smell had miraculously gotten even worse by the time he got back to the room.

There was a flexible light stick inside the kit, the kind that could be twisted around into all sorts of inconvenient shipboard nooks and crannies. Once Riff had bent the thing where he could easily insert it partway into the chute, he leaned against the wall to try to get at an angle where he could see inside. If he was lucky, something was just jammed in the thing’s shredding rollers. Anything else was going to involve pulling the karking thing apart one piece at a time. He tried breathing through his mouth to avoid the smell, but it only helped a little. He swore he could taste the fumes coming out of the processor. But he did manage to spot a glimmer of something shiny in the chunky, putrid globs of weeks-old food scraps. So, that was one single, solitary piece of potentially good news.

Riff took off his wrist comm, rolled up both of his sleeves past his elbows, and then started releasing the straps that kept his arm brace in place. It didn’t react well to water, so he’d need it out of the way for the clean up afterwards. The loss of the extra support and neural amplification made his hand cramp, and he flexed it awkwardly, fingers responding a little slowly and unevenly. Kix was going to have his head for not keeping up on his exercises, but they all felt so futile. It wasn’t like his hand was ever going to get better. Just like his leg. Just like the whole karking right side of his body.

And obsessing about it wasn’t going to fix his hand either, much less the kriffing waste disposal system.

Riff reached down into the chute with his left hand. It didn’t take much feeling around to find the problem – thank the Force – but whatever it was seemed to be good and stuck. It also wasn’t a piece of flatware or a plate, which was weird. It felt blocky and oddly-shaped for anything he would have expected in a ship’s galley. It took some awkward tugging and a fair amount of cursing to free whatever-it-was from the toothed rollers; and when it popped free, the slick, slime-covered thing rotated out of his awkward grip and attached itself to the interior wall of the chute.

Because it was apparently… Wait, what was the word?

Magnetic.

Right, the mystery blockage was magnetic.

What the kriff?

At least that was easy enough to handle. Riff just slid the thing up the interior wall of the chute until it cleared the lip of the opening and then levered it free without too much effort.

It looked like a box of some kind, hexagonal around the narrowest dimension and about as long as his hand.

So, that was kriffing weird.

Riff put the memento from the yacht’s previous owners in the galley’s small sink, taking care not to drip anything too disgusting on the floor, and set to washing both it and his hands with a vengeance.

His right hand made the entire endeavor more than a little awkward, but luckily, the thing seemed to be sturdily constructed the one time he fumbled it. It was definitely a box of some kind, there was a hinge running down one side. The seam in between the halves looked like it was sealed with some kind of gasket, which hopefully meant the half-rotten food waste hadn’t managed to seep inside.

Once Riff had gotten the outside of the box, and his hands, scrubbed clean, he reached over and pressed the button to activate the waste disposal. It creaked and gurgled ominously for a second, but it eventually settled into the expected low, steady hum as the food waste was rendered down and drained away to the ship’s incinerator. Given how much gunk had been inside, he decided to let it run for a minute longer while he took a closer look at the mystery container.

It was made of some kind of sturdy, silver-colored metal. The outside surface was only a little scratched from the disposer’s rollers. There weren’t any words or decorations on the outside either, nor did it have an obvious port or keyhole, which might end up being a problem. It also looked very utilitarian, unlike most of the ornate stuff which had been left on board. Given the magnetic stripping, not to mention where he’d found the thing, Riff assumed it was meant to hide something.

So, what kind of thing did karking slaver perverts hide inside a waste disposal unit?

Riff’s wrist comm beeped from its spot on the polished stone countertop, derailing that line of thought.

He set aside the box, switched off the waste disposal system, and poked the ‘accept’ button. “Riff here.”

“We just got clearance,” Faze said. “You almost done down there?”

“Yeah,” Riff replied, wiping his wet hands on his bodysuit to dry them. “Give me just a minute, and I’ll be right up.”

The cover panel popped back into place with far more ease than it had taken to remove it. Getting his brace back onto his right hand was another story. Riff gritted his teeth and forced his uncooperative fingers to obey him, but once the neural stimulators were back in contact with his skin, he could move his hand almost like normal.

Almost… but not quite.

Riff found his brothers already in the ship’s cockpit, buckled into their flight seats and waiting for him.

“You figure out what the problem was?” Faze asked, as Riff slid into the rear observer seat.

“Yeah,” Riff answered, reaching forward to tap Faze on the shoulder with the box itself. Faze took it, helmet canting in obvious question. “Found that caught in the rollers.”

“What is it?” Bevel asked, and Faze handed it over to be inspected.

“Kriff if I know,” Riff replied, stowing his toolkit and buckling himself into place. “Some kind of hide box. It’s magnetic. Must have gotten jostled out of place.”

A modified Nebula-class freighter appeared in their line of sight, pulling into view around the natural, rocky curve of the Draboon VIII base.

“We have received your coordinates, Silver Angel,” Faze said, obviously responding to something on his internal comms.

Bevel reached the box back over his shoulder and Riff took it, freeing up their copilot to lean forward and start his own pre-flight sequence.

Riff rolled the elongate box over and over in his hands as his brothers lifted off and guided their prize through the treacherous debris field which made up Draboon VIII’s rings.

What are you?

When it was his turn to cycle off watch, Riff did, in fact, spread out his bedroll on the stupidly oversized, if bare, mattress in his cabin. He’d never felt anything so soft. It probably cost more than his entire training. He wanted to luxuriate in the sensation, burrow into it and soak it in.

Except it also kind of felt like the mattress was slowly eating him, like one of those carnivorous plants on Felucia. Like if he fell asleep, the avian-down padding would close in over his head and smother him.

After tossing and turning for far too long, he finally stood up, nudged aside his tool kit and his mysterious box to clear a little extra space, and moved his bedroll to the floor. The thick carpet was still softer than his bunk on the Tribunal had been. After that, he slept like a tubie.

The Martezes’ contact seemed happy enough with the pleasure craft. It was a little hard to tell. The big Besalisk kept doing something with his wattle, inflating it and then immediately deflating it. Riff thought he’d read somewhere that Besalisks puffed up their throat pouches as some kind of threat display, when they were excited or scared or angry, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember where.

This guy didn’t look angry. Or scared, for that matter.

He also managed to look nothing like Krell, despite their shared species. He was the wrong color, the wrong build. He didn’t carry himself the same way. After the shock of the initial meeting, Riff had been able to mostly set aside that suite of unpleasant memories.

It also helped that he hadn’t really had to interact with their buyer much. Riff had been tasked with guarding the ship and keeping an eye on the droids who were topping off the Silver Angel’s fuel tanks. The Martezes might trust their contact, but all three clones had felt better with at least one set of eyes on the droids, if only to make sure they weren’t karking around with anything they shouldn’t be.

Bevel and Faze had been trailing around behind the Besalisk and Rafa Martez while she showed their buyer around the ship. Now, they were hanging back while Rafa exchanged a few seemingly cordial words as well as a pouch of something with the Besalisk. Probably datachips or credit chits. Whatever it was, they both seemed pleased with the development, so that had to be a good sign. Their buyer tucked away the bag with a short, wary glance over his shoulder at Riff’s brothers.

The clones had exactly two jobs on this leg of the mission – look intimidating and get the Martezes out safely if things went sideways – and the Besalisk’s flashes of reserved caution suggested they were accomplishing their first objective perfectly.

Buckler’s team had intentionally designed them all new gear that looked less like clone armor and more like some of the styles favored by high-end private security and bounty hunters. Riff liked his set well enough. It didn’t quite provide the same coverage as his old plate, but it fit over his braces and the HUD programming was at least familiar. Even if he still preferred his old kit, he had to admit that he, Faze, and Bevel looked pretty slick, all decked out in textured, black plastoid and synthleather.

They all looked like more trouble than a small-time criminal should tangle with, which meant the situation probably was less likely to turn violent. And that would be the ideal outcome for everybody.

Riff was… okay with his left hand. But only okay. They were all trained with both hands, even though most clones were right-hand dominant. He had gotten used to wearing his blaster on his off-side, but there was a reason why he was on droid detail while his brothers shadowed the real threat. In a firefight, Riff knew he’d be a liability. The knowledge chaffed him. He kept trying to remind himself that ‘okay’ for a clone trooper was still a kark-load better than your average natborn civilian, but facts were facts.

He hadn’t been brought in on this mission for his ability to shoot his blaster. He’d been recruited because he could keep the rust buckets the Raiders kept shooting to pieces flying.

He could still be useful.

The droids were closing up the fuel ports, presumably done with their task. Riff punched a quick status report into his wrist comm and sent it off to his brothers as well as Trace Martez, who was keeping an ear on the comms from the freighter’s cockpit.

Maybe a minute later, Faze holstered his blaster and started entering something into his own wrist comm. No message appeared in Riff’s HUD, so all he could do was wait.

And wait.

And wait some more as his brother continued typing and pausing, typing and pausing, clearly having a conversation with someone.

Finally, Rafa reached out her hand, apparently looking to seal their deal with a final handshake. The Besalisk returned the gesture gingerly, his huge hand engulfing the woman’s smaller one up past her wrist, but he was also wearing a wide, toothy grin. That was good. Great, actually.

A comm request from Faze popped up in Riff’s HUD, which Riff immediately accepted.

“Status?” he asked.

“We’re done here,” Faze replied, sounding utterly unbothered. That was also great. Some of the knots of tension between Riff’s shoulders loosened. “Pack it up, Rex wants us to head to the Abainya system.”

Abainya? The joint raid with the Mandalorians must have gone well.

Trace didn’t want anyone else working on her ship.

It wasn’t personal. Or, at least Riff didn’t think it was personal. He certainly wasn’t about to take it that way, especially not when it freed up his time to dedicate to his mystery box while they were cooling their heels in hyperspace.

External scans revealed a variety of different metals, consistent with a small amount of circuitry and blended alloy casing. No obvious explosives, no organics. Given all that, Riff could feel reasonably sure he wasn’t about to set off some kind of booby trap opening the thing. Faze and Bevel agreed, as curious as Riff was to see what was inside.

Riff suspected that the box had an internal, electronic locking system. Without knowing the correct signal to release it, much less the frequency used, he was concentrating his efforts on the exposed hinge instead. His laser cutter could slice away small slivers at a time without overheating the metal and potentially damaging the contents of the container, but the process was slow, made even slower by his unsteady hands.

But Riff could be patient. He’d had to learn to be patient after his injury.

Synching the music holorecordings he’d stored on his personal datapad with his helmet’s internal speakers helped. Maybe he didn’t have the dexterity to play much of anything anymore, but he could kriffing well listen to someone else do it.

He’d made it through Oran Lyella’s latest release and started in on some new musicians Bevel had recommended when he finally shaved through enough of the box’s hinge to pry it apart.

Inside was a datastick.

Riff wasn’t much of a slicer, but he also wasn’t stupid. He gingerly plugged the thing into a spare, un-networked datapad and ran every diagnostic he could think of on it before he tried to open it.

It didn’t immediately attempt to upload any viruses or tracking software onto his system, which was good.

And it didn’t explode. Also good.

It was, however, encrypted to within an inch of its life, which was less good.

“Kriff me,” Riff muttered under his breath as they walked past the wreckage of several downed ships in the base’s courtyard. Two were Kom’rks, one so gutted out by fire that it took him a moment to place the design. The other was Jesse’s Scythe, and sticking out of its side was… “Is that a kriffing spear?” Seriously, what even was the right name for that thing? He didn’t think he was just forgetting words again.

The brother who’d been leading Riff into the base, Course, glanced at the ship and snorted. “It’s some kind of massively oversized ballista bolt,” he replied easily, as if that statement wasn’t patently insane. “The Reapers want to keep it for some Force-cursed reason, or else we would have cut the shaft away first thing.”

That was crazy. Anyone who volunteered for the Reapers was crazy. All of them.

“You’re not cutting the panel off, are you?” Riff asked, severely unimpressed. Times weren’t like they were back in the G.A.R., even with the recent improvements to their situation. They couldn’t just send a parts request up through the quartermaster and expect to receive a replacement at their next restock. And he had no idea if they had the right gear in this osik-hole of a firebombed-out pirates’ base to perform major welds that could stand up to vacuum.

Not that any of that was his problem. Unless it was. Kriff, was he supposed to help get these ships back up in the air? That might explain why he’d been shuttled back down to the surface while Bevel, Faze, and both Martezes had stayed on the Silver Angel, up in orbit with Commander Tano, Jesse, and the Mandalorian command ship…

No. Kark, no. Not unless he received direct orders to wade into that mess. Kriff.

“Have a little faith in me,” Course was saying, sounding more amused than annoyed. “I’m making Jesse’s idiots shimmy the panel up the bolt shaft and pull it off the end with one of the gimbal droids we managed to salvage from the hanger.”

Oh. Well, that sounded at least a little more reasonable.

“Did it hit the power couplings?” Riff asked as they passed the Scythe, curious in spite of himself.

“So eager to pitch in…” Course drawled, and then chuckled at the sour face Riff pulled. “No, thank kriff, but it’s jammed in the shield generator’s magnetic coil, so that’s all going to have to come out before we can really assess the extent of the damage.”

It wasn’t Riff’s worst-case scenario. Worst-case scenario, the spear had actually ruptured the shield generator’s core, in which case the whole thing could go up at the slightest jostling.

But again, not his problem.

So, what was his problem? Why was he down here?

“Any idea why they called us in?” Riff asked.

Course shrugged. “The Captain’s got a kriff-ton of freed natborns who want to ship out to Alderaan. Pretty sure that’s why he wanted the Martezes. No way is he sending any brothers that deep into the Core.”

Alderaan. Kriff. None of them had dared go that far back into the Core since… Well, since the end of the war. At least he and his brothers wouldn’t be tagging along on that mission, but they’d be risking some of their few natborn allies, ones who had the right trade permits and flight transponders to move around the Empire at will. It seemed like one haran of a gamble to send them in at all, much less without some clones to watch their backs.

It was also a little weird. Usually they’d end up bouncing all over, dropping off one natborn here, another two there, whenever the Raiders ended up rescuing a big batch of sentients.

Course nodded at the two Mandalorians who were standing a rather lackadaisical guard on either side of the base’s main doors. They just nodded back and waved them through, unconcerned.

Captain Rex would have Riff’s head if he’d ever been that unprofessional about a guard assignment, but that wasn’t his problem either.

“Why Alderaan?” Riff asked, once they were inside the base and out of earshot of the two natborns. What he really meant was, ‘Why are they all going to one place?’

He wasn’t expecting the annoyed expression that question earned. “One of the pirates’ hostages turned out to be a higher up from one of the refugee resettlement organizations. She’s been making things… complicated,” Course said quietly, not that there was anyone in the hallways to overhear. “And she’s talked basically all of the natborns to returning with her, so they can go through ‘proper channels.’”

That sounded spectacularly bad, and also way, way above Riff’s pay grade.

Not his problem, not his problem. He wasn’t responsible for fixing everything, just his ships.

At least that explained why they’d all received some very cryptic orders from Captain Rex to mind their words once they got dirtside. It sounded like they needed to sell their ‘Empire special forces’ story even more convincingly than usual.

But that also didn’t actually answer the question he’d been angling for originally. He’d been about to ask why he, specifically, was down here and not up with the rest of his team, when Course pushed open a final set of double doors and revealed an enormous space, kriffing filled with brothers and natborns.

Riff clammed up in a hurry, because while most of the natborns were wearing Mandalorian armor, a whole bunch of them weren’t.

It looked like some kind of a mess hall, but the round tables scattered all over the room had clearly been co-opted for a whole lot more than eating. Riff spotted Captain Rex, who was head down in a pile of datapads along with Quad and a couple Mandalorians on the far side of the room. Lady Kryze was over near the… bar? This base had a bar? Lucky shabuire. Anyway, Lady Kryze was over near the bar, arms crossed over her cuirass, having what looked to be an argument with two of her people, a man and a woman whose armor was painted in blues and grays.

Course herded Riff along, further into the space. He spotted Rasp and Mimic, Kix and Agar, and a whole bunch of other familiar faces, but it rapidly became obvious that they were headed towards Ridge, who was camped out at a table on the far side of the room with Psy and Mirror.

Ridge waved them over and gestured towards two of the empty chairs across from him. “Heard you found a mystery datastick on that yacht,” he said without any other preamble.

Was that what this was all about? Faze must have reported something back when he’d checked in with command. “Uh, yes sir,” he said, fumbling the thing out of one of the pouches on his belt. He eyed Psy and Mirror, two brothers he knew for a fact had slicing training, and felt compelled to add, “It’s encrypted something fierce though.”

Psy smiled, small and crooked. Mirror just eyed the datastick like a starving strill.

Ridge reached over, took the thing, and immediately passed it to the two slicers. Mirror plugged it into his datapad and started tapping furiously at the screen. Psy leaned over, offering quiet commentary.

Riff had to squash down a little flare of disappointment. The datastick was his find, his little mystery to solve, but in all fairness, he didn’t have the skills to slice it. Maybe Mirror and Psy did.

He also wasn’t sure what the big deal was, but if that was all Ridge wanted, “Will that be all, sir?”

The Reaper team leader cracked a thin smile of his own. “Ah, not exactly,” he said dryly. “Apparently we could use some extra help, getting our ships space-worthy again. That’s why Jesse routed you down to us.”

Riff glanced at Course out of the corner of his eye. His brother was wearing the most perfect expression of innocence Riff had ever seen. Kriffing traitor. “Right,” he said, trying to keep his tone strictly professional and failing miserably. “I mean, yes, sir.”

“What do you know about ballista bolts?” Ridge asked.

“How’s she looking?” a brother’s voice called out behind Riff.

He didn’t knock his head against the inside of the Scythe’s port-side shield generator housing, but it was a close thing.

Course, who was wedged in right next to Riff, asked, “You got this for a second?”

Riff just grunted and kept twisting the replacement coil into place.

Course slithered out feet-first, leaving Riff to his work.

“Getting there,” Course said, once he’d made it all the way out and onto the scaffolding they’d built up next to the downed ship.

“Buckler’s working on a replacement panel, if we can just limp her back to Wadj,” a brother said, and the intonation of his voice pegged him as Jesse.

Riff tried to tune the conversation out. He was getting tired, both physically and mentally. If he could just get the replacement coil they’d dug out of one of the pirates’ trashed ships installed, he wouldn’t feel quite so guilty ducking out for a meal break. At least Course wasn’t in here with him anymore, side-eyeing the way his right hand was starting to tremble.

Two more grinding twists, some choice words of ‘encouragement’ in both Huttese and Mando’a, and the coil finally shifted into place with a heavy thunk.

Course must have heard it too, because he knocked his knuckles against Riff’s ankle, an obvious request to come join the conversation if there ever was one.

Riff backed out slowly. He was only wearing a set of blacks over his braces, and they tended to get caught on anything and everything unless he was careful. He was a little unsteady, getting back up on his feet, but he managed well enough, thank you very much.

Course clearly didn’t think so, if the worried expression on his face was any indication.

Neither did Jesse, who cocked his head to one side, eyeing Riff critically.

“When was your last break?” he asked, tone about as neutral as an ARC trained in spycraft could manage.

Riff scowled, seeing right through his ranking brother’s attempt at diplomacy. He didn’t need a karking mother nuna up his shebs. He was perfectly capable taking care of himself. “A while ago,” he said, being intentionally vague. He’d stopped for a ration bar that morning, right after the Silver Angel had shipped back out with six Mandalorian guards and basically all of the freed natborns.

Which, okay, was several hours ago. He’d left his chrono with the rest of his armor in the temporary bunk he’d been assigned. So kriffing what?

“Go on,” Course said. “I took a break for midmeal an hour ago, you’re beyond past due.”

Riff grumbled several uncomplimentary things at his fellow mechanic, but he did climb back down the short ladder to ground.

Jesse didn’t say anything when Riff’s right foot almost slid off the second to last rung, stiff and awkward after so long folded up in the guts of a busted ship.

They walked in awkward silence for a few minutes before Jesse casually said, “Psy and Mirror finally managed to decrypt your datastick.” He was clearly trying to draw Riff into conversation, get him to let down his guard a little.

“Oh?” Riff asked, curious enough to rise to the bait.

“Apparently someone on that ship was collecting blackmail material on their clients and business partners,” Jesse replied with a sharp, vindictive smile. “It’s got banking codes, video records, just all sorts of dirty little secrets.”

Well, that was interesting. “Anything we can use?”

“Oh, I would think so,” Jesse said. “Psy’s working on figuring out how to drain all of those accounts. The real trick will be making it look like someone else did it.”

Once, Riff would have whistled, low and heartfelt. Now, he couldn’t quite manage, the muscles of his face wouldn’t cooperate fully, so he just let out a long breath. “Kriff,” he whispered.

“Rex is talking about looping Echo and Tech in on the project,” Jesse said, taking a left at a fork in the hall where Riff really thought they should have gone right. “We’re not sure how high we can safely target when picking our patsy.”

Kriffing haran, the possibilities ran through Riff’s mind, each more outlandish than the last. A Hutt? A senator? Tarkin?

Karking Vader?

Yeah, that was probably way too ambitious. Better to let the Captain sort that out. But still. Kriffing Force, that had been a lucky find.

Also, this hallway definitely wasn’t leading towards the mess hall, which is where he had assumed they’d been heading. In fact…

Riff’s steps slowed to a stop. Jesse kept going a couple more steps, but he paused, clearly realizing he’d lost his audience. He turned to look at Riff, expression guarded again.

“Kix wants to check in on you,” he admitted, tone aggressively bland.

Riff’s hands clenched involuntarily at his sides.

Jesse’s helmet was tucked under one arm, leaving his face bare to show the path his eyebrow took, crinkling up one side of his Republic cog tattoo. The look said, ‘I’ll make it an order, if you force me to.’

Riff was tempted to.

He seriously considered testing the limits of the whole, ‘We’re not really soldiers anymore. You can walk away whenever you want,’ line all of the officers kept repeating. Just turn around and walk away, refuse to comply.

He didn’t though.

He started walking again, even if his steps had become a slow, unwilling trudge.

Force of habit, probably. Good soldiers follow orders. Story of his kriffing life.

The base’s infirmary was both more and less than he’d been expecting. The space was larger than he thought it would be, excruciatingly neat, and exactingly well-organized. It was also clearly understocked, with bare shelves and mostly-empty cabinets everywhere. Some part of Riff wondered if it had always been this stripped down, or if they’d packed up a bunch of their supplies to send back with the natborns on the Silver Angel.

The rest of his attention was focused on Kix and the pale-skinned, four-armed sentient standing at the medic’s side.

A hand, Jesse’s hand, landed on Riff’s shoulder. “Just an updated scan,” he said, sounding like he was talking to a spooked animal. Maybe he was. “And a conversation.”

Riff didn’t want to be here.

He’d done a lot of things he didn’t want to, for as long as he could remember.

At least letting himself be led over to one of the cots presented no physical or ethical challenges.

The pale-skinned natborn, with too many limbs and eyes like a Kaminoan, was apparently named Mel. They introduced themselves politely, asked for permission to proceed.

He nodded, resigned, and allowed them to sweep a handheld medical scanner over his scalp and the side of his face.

The machine beeped.

“Still all karked up, I assume?” he muttered bitterly, and Kix flinched.

Riff wanted to claw the words back. He didn’t blame Kix for what had happened. He didn’t. But kriff, if his whole situation wasn’t a bitter pill to swallow.

“How did this damage occur?” the natborn, Mel, asked softly.

Riff didn’t answer for a minute, not sure if the question was directed at him or at Kix. Not sure if he should even answer them. He glanced at Jesse, not even sure how to frame the question in front of a natborn witness.

“Mel is planning to return with us to Wadj,” Jesse said calmly, but he’d taken up a defensive position at Riff’s side. “They’ve been read in on the situation.”

Oh.

That was standing procedure, for any stray natborns they’d vetted and allowed to come back to base with them. They had to know the general outline of the situation, at least, and living amongst the freed clones would fill them in the rest quickly enough.

So, they knew that Riff and his brothers weren’t with the Empire anymore. They knew about the chips, about why.

And Kix apparently trusted this natborn with his brothers, which was one haran of a vote of confidence, but he still wasn’t speaking.

Neither was Riff, so Jesse cut in. “Right after, well…” he paused awkwardly, gesturing towards the faint scar on the side of his own shaved, tattooed head. “After the chip went off, our ship went down hard. Riff was knocked out under a collapsed bulkhead for several hours.”

Mel just nodded. Their expression was encouraging, in a placid sort of way that didn’t seem to reach their solid black eyes.

Jesse’s highly abbreviated retelling of the story was true, at least as far as Riff knew. He’d been unconscious after the Tribunal had gone down. He’d heard this story many times before, repeated every time another medic was read in on his file. He’d grown sick of hearing it months and months ago.

Instead of listening to it again, he distracted himself by fiddling with his brace, where it ran down the back of his hand, jointed sections mimicking the pattern of the bones in his wrist, his palm, his fingers. He hadn’t worn his gloves to work on the Scythe, they would have only caught on the parts and gotten in the way. He found himself regretting that now. He felt uncomfortably exposed.

“Our Commander found me, stunned me, and she and Captain Rex got my chip out,” Kix said, finally finding his voice. He sounded flat, almost like a droid. Not like himself at all. It set Riff’s teeth on edge. “After that, I performed the rest of the surgeries. What happened was my call.”

“Kix–” Jesse tried to interrupt, but Kix cut him off with a sharp look.

“It was my call,” he said harshly, and then, to Mel, “Only one surgical pod had survived the crash, but it was running on a damaged backup energy system. I decided to prioritize removing the chips, above treating other injuries first.”

Kix didn’t try to defend himself. It had been the right call, Riff knew that.

What Riff didn’t know was if his long-term problem was because of the blow to his head and the slow, prolonged bleed into his brain which had followed, or if it had more to do with the emergency removal of his chip using a damaged, glitching surgical pod.

And Kix didn’t know either.

It had been his call as acting CMO, and it had been the right one. There’d been no time for more caution. If Riff had woken up with his chip still active, he probably would have attacked Kix or his recovering brothers. Really, anyone and anything who got between him and executing Commander Tano. Given his condition, he’d probably have just ended up injuring himself further.

At least he’d survived the procedure, unlike Twig or Swirls.

Kix hadn’t forgiven himself for any of it. Not that he ever said anything, but Riff could tell. Everyone from the 332nd could tell. He’d been killing himself by centimeters ever since, trying to make up for everyone he hadn’t been able to save on that Force-cursed moon.

Riff wasn’t a particularly forgiving personality. Well, not after. He’d been a whole lot more forgiving before. But even though he cursed the Emperor, and the Kaminoans, and the indifferent Force for what had happened to him, he’d never blamed Kix. Osik happened, in war. That was just the way of the galaxy, especially for a clone.

Didn’t make this interaction any less awkward though. Riff and Kix had been avoiding each other whenever possible for months. Technically years, at this point.

“Why did you rule out implants?” Mel asked, and there was something gentle and cautious in their expression.

“No access,” Kix answered, still avoiding looking directly at Riff. And kark, but those two words covered a galaxy’s worth of sins.

That knowledge had been the hardest part to try to accept. Not the injury itself, but the bitter unfairness of what had come after. Maybe if Riff had had access to one of the fancy, Core hospitals, then something more could have been done for his condition, but, well… He was just a fugitive clone, hardly worth the credits it would have taken to fix up this kind of damage, even before he’d gone AWOL. It had been no different under the Republic, and it was doubly true now, on the run from the Empire.

Mel’s huge, black eyes blinked slowly once, then again, and then she dropped her gaze in an apologetic nod that encompassed both Kix and Riff. “I see,” she said, and maybe she did. There were burn marks around her neck, the kind a sentient got from being on the receiving end of an electrified slave collar. The kind which would have healed overnight, if they’d been treated with even a little bacta. Bacta, like in the tubes Riff saw stacked on one the half-empty shelves.

Riff just shrugged, staring down at his hands. In his peripheral vision, he saw Jesse try to edge closer to Kix, probably trying to offer support. Kix didn’t respond.

“It is my understanding that there is a small hospital on the planet where you make your base,” Mel finally said, sounding like she was picking her words very carefully. “It is my intention to seek employment there, assuming I can obtain some facsimile of my previous licensure. I can make no promises, but if you wish it, I will look into obtaining the implants and equipment needed to attempt the procedure.”

Riff looked up. He… couldn’t have heard that correctly.

“What?” he said stupidly. His voice was barely a whisper.

Mel folded their primary and secondary sets of hands together low across their torso. “If you consent, I should be able to access the materials needed to attempt a surgical repair to the damaged portion of your brain. I cannot promise success, only the attempt.”

Riff’s memory issues weren’t usually much worse than his other de-chipped brothers, but he sometimes forgot words, or jumbled them up. It had been worse, back at the beginning. It had taken months, practicing and working with the medics, to get to the point where most sentients, even most brothers, wouldn’t immediately notice that something was wrong, whenever he spoke. He still had lapses though, maybe that was what was happening now.

He didn’t think that was happening now.

He wanted to ask them why, but the words just weren’t coming.

Something must have shown on his face though, because the natborn, Mel, just nodded and said, “I studied medicine to help ease suffering, but I was forced to serve sentients who profited from it instead.” Their folded hands wound together more tightly, and they pulled them up to press against the part of their chest above, if human anatomy was any analogy, their heart. It was an odd gesture, maybe it emphasized a plea or sealed a vow. “Your brothers released me from that and helped me release others. I will help you.”

Riff still didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything. Kix was in much the same boat. After a while, Riff just nodded and allowed Jesse to gently nudge him through a slightly more thorough scan and then return Riff to his bunk.

No one was there, and Riff wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do.

He should probably go back to the courtyard, to help Course with the Scythe.

He absolutely couldn’t bring himself to do that, just then.

Finally, without stopping to let himself really consider what he was doing, he sat down on the floor, opened his footlocker, and started to dig through his carefully packed armor and other gear. Bevel and Faze had hauled it out of the Silver Angel, when they’d been clearing their stuff out to make way for the base’s freed natborns. Riff finally found what he was looking for, wrapped up in an old, torn towel at the very bottom of the crate.

A Kowian san-pipe.

He’d been drunk off his shebs when he’d won it at 79’s. He didn’t even remember the game, but he’d kept the small, metal pipe afterwards and taught himself to play it between missions, much to the consternation of his bunkmates. He’d gotten pretty good too, after a while.

He hadn’t been in any state to go looking for his own belongings, in the wreckage of the Tribunal. He wasn’t sure which of his brothers had fished the pipe out of the Venator’s destroyed barracks.

He didn’t know how this stupid, cheap instrument, some mass-produced garbage probably made for natborn children, had survived the crash, when so many of his brothers had not.

He didn’t know why he’d kept it, especially after it became obvious that his hand, his brain, wasn’t going to just go back to normal.

Now, he stared at it, resting in his semi-functional hand, and he started to laugh.

Maybe it didn’t sound much like laughter. Maybe it sounded ragged, and gasping, and a little bit desperate, but nobody else was there to hear or to judge.

And the next morning, when Kix dropped a familiar squeeze-spring and hard, rubber ball next to his cup of caf and bowl of sweetened grains with a caustic order to, “Do your karking exercises,” he readily agreed, without complaint.

AN: Previous chapters are available here.

Dividers by @freesia-writes using helmets by @lornaka. More designs available here.

#eidola tcw fanfic #star wars #tcw #clone wars #the clone wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars fanfic #tcw fancif #clone wars fanfic #the clone wars fanfic #clone troopers #the clones deserved better #original clone trooper #oc clone trooper

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