#medic would kill him if he ever said that tbh

[chatstf2]

"So doc, whatcha' sayin' is that… ya' can't diagnose me as the skibidi rizzler?!?"

[mad-hunts]

as far as jack could tell, jervis was really out of it; and it made him wonder it was due to something that had happened while he was out with his father, or when they'd gotten here. perhaps both. jack gnawed on his bottom lip, his eyes darting to jervis's hands, which were flexing like he was struggling with something. an eyebrow rose as jack contemplated asking whether he needed some pain medication.

since he didn't receive an answer to his question yet, jack figured he might as well introduce himself. ❝ uhh, well, you don't have to talk to me if you aren't feeling up to it. my sister told me that you fainted in front of her out there — so, i understand if you're still feeling sick. my name is jack, ❞ he scratched at the back of his neck as he continued to observe jervis. whenever the man tried to get up, jack approached him and was about to caution jervis that maybe he shouldn't by lightly touching his shoulder.

but he remembered matilda telling him something about the other really not liking to be touched, so he merely was going to verbally tell him. up until jervis laid back down himself, anyhow. jack couldn't hold himself back from frowning at his poor present state before venturing out of the room with a 'i'll be right back.' and indeed he had been, with two different vials, alongside a few syringes to inject into that IV bag: should jervis want to be medicated. jack figured it'd be easier to just do that rather than forcing him to swallow anything.

he placed those also on the table before tilting his head at the quote jervis had said until it clicked a few seconds later, ❝ that's a quote from through the looking glass, isn't it? and one that the red queen said in the story if i remember correctly. she was basically teaching alice that staying in the same place is falling behind, right? ❞ jack squinted his eyes at that before a thought came to mind. a soft snort left him, but one that was done of an innocent sort of amusement rather than malice. ❝ that is a kind of roundabout way of talking about survival of the fittest. but hey, lewis carroll was all about the whimsy of things, i guess. and its no big deal. ❞

jack pretended not to see the tears that the other shed for jervis's own sake. the blood on his lips was something he couldn't ignore, no matter how hard he tried, though. jack grabbed a washcloth from his pack and held it out towards's jervis's hand. once it was out of his hand was when jack set down that teacup, the slightly too long stripped pants he wore swaying across the ground. ❝ mm, you and dad were both asleep for nearly four hours. sure — i don't think that's silly at all. i keep something on me all the time from when my brother, julien, was still around. ❞ the bracelet he showed the other on his right wrist then seemed to be made up entirely of tiny conch shells.

julien was a big fan of the sea, which jack thought made his death all the more crushing. after seeing the state that the stuffed animal was in, he figured that that bunny must've been really loved; though it didn't really matter by whom it was. the end result was the same, as love changes you. jack knew this well as he'd never wanted anything more than to be embraced by the warmth of it.

he quickly shook that thought off, only to grab the two vials he got from the fridge once more. ❝ eh... the four hours actually went by rather fast. ❞ jack cleared his throat then, ❝ you know, i couldn't help but notice that you aren't looking so hot still, and so i grabbed some meds for you. but i won't force you to take them. i have a pain reliever as well as something that relieves vertigo. are either, or both of these, something you want? ❞

Eigengrau.

A faint hum buzzed in his ears; his mouth was so dry it felt like he’d swallowed a wad of wool.

The thin sheet beneath him brushed his fingertips as Jervis flexed his hands, cracking his eyes open a sliver. The room tilted, everything blurring at the edges. Ah… so he had fainted. Just as he’d suspected. No glasses, then.

"Hey. Ahh, you're awake… That's awesome. How are you feeling?"

The new voice was barely a whisper, young and uncertain—belonging to a boy, maybe sixteen or eighteen by the timber. Was this another of Barton's assistants, a friend of Matilda’s, or perhaps her brother? Jervis couldn’t quite remember; hadn't Barton mentioned something about having more than one child?

He winced, his body feeling heavy, leaden; aching everywhere. Slowly, he exhaled and tried to push himself upright—tried being the keyword. The effort brought only a wave of vertigo, dizzying and blue-hot, making his vision swim.

… ohh, god…

He swallowed thickly, curling into himself. Something wasn’t right. His glasses and gloves weren’t the only thing missing. He was in his socks, jeans, and a now damp charcoal t-shirt, his body slick with cold sweat. His graying auburn curls clung to his neck in tangled ropes. His boots were beside the cot, his messenger bag on a desk across the room. His overcoat and maroon button-down were draped over a chair.

A flicker of discomfort in his right arm. Burning. Tugging.

Jervis glanced down at the source: a plastic tube. A peripheral IV catheter.

"Ah, you know... 'It takes all the running you can do, to stay in the same place,'" he muttered, his voice clipped and hollow; Bermudian accent casual, almost detached. He turned his eyes to the boy; offered him a faint, strained smile. "Keeps things interesting, I suppose... but I appreciate your concern, lad."

He lifted his fingers to his cheek, feeling the moisture trickle down—salt on his lips. Tears, sharp and stinging. Jervis flinched and quickly scrubbed them away with the heels of his hands.

Cold metal pressed into his spine, tight around his neck—the chain with his and Sylvie’s wedding rings twisted against his skin. He must’ve been thrashing in his sleep. There was blood on his lips.

"Forgive me…" His vision swam as he watched the boy set a teacup on the small table beside the cot, just within view. "But I'm afraid I've rather lost my sense of time. How long has it been since I…?" He paused, his voice barely steady. "... if... if you don’t mind, could you please reach into my coat pocket? You'll find a small cuddly toy. A rabbit..." He rubbed his mouth, lowered his eyes. "It sounds foolish, I know... but it... it was my daughter's, you see..."

The boy nodded, moving quickly to retrieve the toy from Jervis’ coat pocket, and placed it on the table beside the teacup. The bunny was missing one of its button eyes, its white fur faded and matted. A pink satin ribbon around its neck was frayed and tattered.

“Thank you,” Jervis said hoarsely. “I must have been out of it for quite a while.”

[malkaviian]

how to realize i've had enough academically speaking today: i started to think about rafael and luca's domestic life, in case they somehow meet and get together after rafael's divorce.

[papil0nglegs]

One small step at a time! 🛸

Tf2 x Juno!reader

A/n: This one’s for all my overwatch babes <33 ik this idea is rlly niche but this was so fun to write I’m so proud of this. Most of these can be interpreted as platonic but read however you’d like, enjoy ✨

Warnings: Scottish people, Drinking, Passing out drunk

Vocab: (p/f) - Parental Figure

Engineer

He has such a father daughter relationship with you

When you first landed on earth he was extremely fascinated by the technology your (p/f) discovered to get to mars, especially your anti-gravity boots

“So these things are just makin’ you float around?”

“Yeah! I’m not really used to earths gravity so my (p/f) sent me off with overboots!.. how do you guys get anything done while stuck on the ground?”

“We just make do with what we can, sugar”

His fav activity with you? Lounging. Doesn’t look like much but his rancho relaxer + you using your jetpack to ‘sit’? Soo cute

You guys would just be chilling in his workshop after doing whatever task it was you were doing <3

“You want a beer, Buttercup?”

“No thank you! I’m not really fond of drinks with alcohol since all we could drink at mars was juice and water”

“shoot, glad I’m not you”

He’s definitely one of the mercs who warmed up to you the fastest, he’s just chill like that.

Medic

Pls don’t tell him your from mars, weird shit is gonna happen

He’s going to treat you like one of his test subjects, at first it starts tame with general check ups but it escalated pretty fast.

When doing his uber surgery on you he decided to explore more things

“..how long was I out, Dr. Ludwig?”

“Oh not long!! Just two.. days”

“What? You said it would only take about 20 minutes!!”

“Vell yes I did say that my Martian friend, however I must say curiosity got the best of me! I simply had to know more about your anatomy”

“Uhm,, ok”

Yeah you’re so scared of him now lol

But of course you two do need to work together to try healing your teammates

He loves it when you heal him, it’s always a pleasant surprise since he never expects to get healed, like ever

“Here! I can help you!!”

“Oo, so vats how it feels..”

Spy

Yeah he doesn’t think your good for the team

Sure it was interesting to meet someone who was born and raised in a completely different planet, however your inexperience with earth was enough for him to neglect you

Once you visited his smoke room to find abundance of books, you being new to earth were excited to see all the knowledge they carried

“Wow! Can I borrow this one? I’d like to learn more about earth and its continents!!”

“Go ahead, I never made use of that thing anyways”

It always catches him off guard how little knowledge you have about earth, especially since your were chosen to go on the mission to earth

Once you randomly found a globe somewhere in the break room and got so fascinated by it

“Earths colors are beautiful, I’d really like to go the that purple one!”

“Y/n, Russia is not purple. And you don’t want to visit there, it is full of trash people.”

“Oh..I see”

He doesn’t guide you to earth like the rest of the mercs, he wants to really straighten your back and push you to your limit

“Would a croissant go well with your meal good sir?”

“Excuse me?”

“You seem like you are from the Western Europeans my (p/f) brought back to mars!! Au revoir madam, please enjoy your tea”

Tbh that moment made his heart melt by just a little bit. Hey, he’s not a monster he can have heartfelt moments.. sometimes

Sniper

You are so fascinated by him, literally just him

For the most part it’s because of his job title ‘assassin’, you’ve never heard of such a job back home.

“Is it true you earn currency to kill specific people?”

“Why of course Sheila, who else would do it?”

“Well, on mars we kinda just let them live even if we don’t like them.. that’s a thing here right??”

You love going on roadtrips with him so he can show you around, just to see get a feel of that New Mexican dirt

You two have a relation where he misses his parents despite always arguing with them, and you miss your (p/f) because you two now live on completely different planets.

On those trips you tend to enjoy chilling in the back of his trailer. You can’t stand spending another second on an uncomfortable leather seat!! So you roam around a lot in what he basically considered his home.

“How was it back there? ‘eard sum ruckus out in the front.”

“Oh right! I am trying to get use to earths gravity so I tried cleaning up here a bit, I hope you don’t mind!!”

He almost cried, you reminded him of his ‘mum’

Whenever you’re curious about any animal you always go to him, we all know Australia a place with weird animals so

“Mr. Mundee, is this spider deadly?”

“I’m not sure, you should probably check in with doc tho. Your face lookin pretty swelled there mate..”

“Oh thank the stars! I was sure this was a lion..”

You passed out from the poison.

It’s good tho, sniper carried you to Medics room like the big brother he is 🧡

Demo-man

YOURE SO SCARED OF HIM

MORE THAN MEDIC

Not only is he obsessed with the drink that you’ve literally never heard of until you arrived in earth, but the way he acts makes it seem like crack

You have so many questions, they almost never get answered because he’s either too drunk or he’ll pass out with medic dragging him out the room

“Is it true that your stomach now declines any normal drinks?”

“Ayouhhh it’s just beerdelicois burp”

“..is he going to be alright?”

“Oh no worries my Martian friend, this happens all the time.. although I can never tell if he’ll live or not”

When on the battlefield he’s always screaming and creaming, sometimes it scares you so much to the point where you ask your fellow teammates to help you

“MR. CONAGHER, I THINK DEMO IS TRYING TO ATTACK ME!!”

“Darlin’, I thinks he’s just tryna get some healing..”

“But why is it yelling.. ☹️”

Now you’re scared of Scottish people, and convinced they probably eat their youth

Soldier

He def plays a father role like engineer, but way less charm and warmth to him

He’s like a dad at a soccer game, he’ll cheer you on but aggressively, to the point where it seems like he’s booing you

In the lobby he’d always do his soldier talk, and it never fails to make you do you best

“NOW, WILL YOU HAND THAT TEAMS ASS AND FEED IT TO HIM, OR AM I GOING TO HAVE TO DRAG YOURS BACK TO MARS TO YOUR MOMMA?”

“No sir!! I’ll feed it to them!”

“THATS RIGHT MAGGOT”

Soldier is always hard on you, sometimes he calls you a ‘space commie’ just for jokes, although his tone definitely sets you off

When you unleashed your orbital ray he started screaming about ‘the commies getting to us’, you had to reassure him several times that it was something you had full control of

Scout

This guy was ecstatic when he found out his new teammate was going to be from space, scout is really into comics (even tho he can’t read) so his imagination went wild when Ms Pauling announced that he’d be fighting alongside what he considered an alien

Once you arrived he was in awe, he thinks you’re the coolest person on the team solely because you’re from another planet.

But he did quickly recognize that you weren’t use to like, anything on earth.

He handed you a cold can of Bonk just for you to look at him confused

“What do I do with this?”

“You drink it?”

“..um I don’t think you’re supposed to drink ‘atomic punch’, that sounds like it hurts 0-0”

He had to teach you how to drink stuff that wasn’t in an aluminum bag, you didn’t take a liking to it but you got used to it

Scout offered you to sleep on the top bunk because he wanted to be nice and all, huge mistake.

The next morning you completely forgot you were on a different planet, so you rolled and fell 9 feet from the bed to the floor.

“Jesus y/n!! what the hell happened?”

“I think I.. fell? Falling feels weird..”

Gets so hype when you two are on the same team, he’s so ready to clock the enemy team with orbital ray

“Scout! My orbital ray is ready!! ^^”

“Whooo! Let’s go then E.T what are we waitin’ for??”

For the most part he’s the one who shows you everything you need to know about earth, baseball is his favorite thing to teach cuz obviously

When you joined him to watch a baseball match you were so excited yet so lost

“What happens if they win? Is this a war?”

“No? Toots it’s just a game”

“Hm, intresting.. then I must try this ‘game’ too!”

[paintyoureyeswithavividmind]

close to home | chapter sixty three

close to home | chapter sixty three

plot: the reader and Daryl reconnect in a treehouse

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 3,499 Warnings: violence, blood, typical twd, alcohol use, tipsy sex (the best kind tbh) no plot just smut so ya'll are welcome A/N: thank you for reading!!

By nightfall, a fire was going, Daryl returned from a quick and successful hunt, and you unpacked all your supplies. He’d grabbed mattress pads and blankets, pillows, food, water, candles, and a bottle of wine. Jerry must’ve snuck in one of his cobblers because a small one was sitting in one of the bags. There were also tarps that you didn’t know what for--until Daryl got back and nailed them to cover the windows. 

It was dark in the treehouse except for the fire and a few candles. You had already eaten what Daryl brought back--rabbit--and were eating the cobbler straight out of the container with the open bottle of wine. 

“I gotta have Jerry tell me how he makes these.” You mumbled through your food. “I could eat one every day of my life. 

Daryl smiled at you but didn’t say anything. He’d been quiet since he came back from hunting--which was only about thirty minutes anyway. He was happy, you could tell, and you knew he was at peace, which is why he was quiet. 

You grabbed the wine bottle by its neck and took a few sips. “Where did you get this?”

“Stole it from Ezekiel.”

You chuckled and took another sip, feeling it bubble in your chest. “He’s gonna kill you.”

He grabbed the bottle from you and drank from it. “He ain’ ever gonna know.” 

You smiled at Daryl and lifted the fork up to his mouth. He rolled his eyes but ate off it anyway.

“Tell me about you from before,” Daryl said, turning around to lay back with his head in your lap. 

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

You smiled and sat your hand on his upper chest as you thought about his request. You weren’t even sure where to begin, honestly. You decided to first start with your family: your two sisters and mother and father. You told him about growing up on a farm, all the crap that came with it, and all the trouble you got up to.

You told him funny stories about you in high school and the friends you had. About all the silly fights you got into with your sisters and even your cousins. About when you ran away from home, but your mom caught you right before you skipped town. 

“College was nice. I made a lot of friends and had so much fun,” You said, putting the wine bottle down. You were definitely buzzed, and you knew Daryl was too from how he laughed freely along with you. 

You reached down and unbuttoned his shirt's first couple of buttons to gently run your fingers against his chest. “When I got accepted into medical school, me and my sisters got so drunk at the bar that the sheriff had to give us a ride home.”

“I woulda loved ya back then if we ever met,” Daryl said, looking up at you. 

“You wouldn’t have even looked twice. I was a farm-raised nobody.” 

He shook his head. “I woulda loved ya. Woulda saw you on the street and been a goner.”

You smiled and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “You’re crazy, that’s what you are.” You rubbed your hand against his upper chest; his skin was smooth other than old scars. With your other hand you grabbed the bottle and took a long sip. It was almost done. 

“Tell me about you from before.”

“Ya don’ wanna know about that. Probably would walk right on outta here.”

“I wouldn’t,” You cupped his cheeks and stared down at him. “It’s too cold outside for me to leave. I’d have to at least stay here until the sun was up.”

Daryl swatted your hands away and then begrudgingly told you about him. You already knew more than just the basics, such as how his mother and father died--and you knew how Merle died already. So he told you about his years in high school and how he was always either ditching or suspended for ditching. Which didn’t surprise you. 

He’d had a few friends that Merle didn’t fuck up for him, but after they graduated, they went off to college, and he stayed home.

“I was a piece shit, honestly, didn’ do nothin’ good for myself.” Daryl told you. 

“That’s not true,” You said, although you partially agreed with him. Not about the piece of shit part, but the old Daryl didn’t seem to make the best decisions and resembled nothing of the man you’d married. “Besides, you’re one of the strongest, bravest, smartest, and sexiest men I know.”

“One of ‘em? Who are the others?”

You laughed at his joke. “You know what I mean, old man.”

“It’s been a while since ya called me that. Didn’ realize till now just how much I missed it.” Daryl sat up and spun around. He grabbed you by the legs and pulled you closer, and you set your legs on his upper thighs, and his were outstretched behind you. 

You set your hands on either of his cheeks as your head swooned a little bit. You and him were definitely wine tipsy; enough to take the edges and awkwardness off. But you felt safe up in the treehouse, and you felt protected. You played with the scruff on his chin as he stared at you. 

“Do ya believe me?”

You nodded and pressed your forehead against his lips, getting a few soft kisses. You set your hands on his chest and unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way so you could see his skin. You kissed his collarbone and wrapped your arms around his lower waist. His muscles were taunted under your fingertips, and you could feel him tensing each time you kissed him. 

Daryl mumbled your name, and his body relaxed against your touch. You scooted closer and moved your lips up his neck. You pushed his shirt off and ran your hands down his biceps; he was so muscular, so strong, even when relaxed. You couldn’t stop yourself from running your fingernails along the lengths of his arm, which left goosebumps in their wake. 

You moved your hand down his abdomen and to his jeans, fumbling with the button and zipper for a second while running your tongue up the length of his neck. 

“Jesus Christ,” Daryl grunted. 

You smiled against his skin before pushing your hand between his jeans and briefs and palming his growing erection. You sucked gently on one of the spots on his neck you knew he loved, and you felt him grow even harder. 

One of Daryl’s hands reached up to pull out your braid, and your hair fell over your shoulders, tickling his skin, and he fisted his hand through your hair at the base of your head. You moaned as you sucked on his skin, dipping your hand into his briefs and running it along his velvety smooth skin. 

“You’re so hard, honey, is everything okay?” You whispered in his ear. 

His chest was moving up and down rapidly as he nodded. You squeezed him before wiping your thumb across his leaking precum tip. 

“So fuckin’ sexy.”

“Tell me what you want, old man.” You leaned back to look at his beautiful eyes. “Tell me how you want me.”

“On your knees.”

Not even a minute later, you were naked with your legs spread out, ass in the air, and Daryl was thrusting into you hard from behind. The position had him reaching parts inside of you you didn’t think were possible, and you struggled not to cry from how good it felt. 

Daryl’s hands held your hips tight as he slammed into you repeatedly. 

Then one of those hands wrapped around your hair, and he pulled you upwards. The pain from it was nothing compared to how good it felt being dominated like that, and you moaned loudly and closed your eyes. One hand wrapped around your middle, with a hand palming your breast, while the other gripped your hip. 

“Ya like that?” His breath was hot in your ear, sending chills down your body. “Ya gotta use ya words, pretty girl.”

“Yes, yes,” You were desperate. His hoarse voice in your ear and his grunts and moans were too much for you. “Daryl, I’m going to-.” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before you were coming. You clenched around him as you moaned and pleaded his name louder than ever. 

“Such a good girl,” Daryl said. His thrusts were like torture through your orgasm, and you could hear how wet you were. 

“Daryl,” You moaned. You couldn’t believe this side of him; it had to have been the alcohol. He was never this talkative. 

“Ya want more, baby girl? Tell me what ya want.”

You couldn’t even think straight, and then when you felt his lips clamp down around your neck, your eyes rolled back, and you were speechless. But you thanked God Daryl wasn’t. 

“Ya so fuckin’ wet for me.”

“I missed this little pussy so bad, gorgeous.”

“Fuck, (Y/N)...”

“Suck on these for me, will ya, darlin’?”

Without even hesitating, you opened your mouth and sucked harshly on his fingers before they were ripped away from you, and within seconds you felt them rub against your clit in time with his thrusts. 

“Daryl…” You nearly yelled and leaned your head back against your shoulder. 

“Ya know how good ya taste, baby girl?” He asked before bringing his fingers up to his mouth. You turned to watch him; his cheeks hollowed as he sucked you off his fingers. Then he returned them to your clit for a few seconds before showing them in your mouth. 

You moaned against his fingers, licking and sucking until he was satisfied. His fingers were only on you for a few seconds before you nearly started yelling when you came again. 

“That’s right, baby girl,” He grunted, thrusting through your orgasm. “Tell me how much you like it?”

“Oh God, Daryl, so much.” You moaned loudly. “I need more of you.”

Your back hit the mattress pad, and he was slamming into you before you could blink. Your legs were jelly, and you couldn’t bring them up to wrap around his waist, so they went slack as he fucked you hard. You couldn’t fathom how much stamina he had tonight, nor all his dirty talk. 

“Daryl…” You whined as he repeatedly hit the same spot again and again, winding you up all over again. 

“I know, baby girl, I know.” His voice was so deep and hoarse in your ear, and you ran your fingernails along his back, making him groan. “‘M gonna fuckin’ cum inside of ya, fill ya up so good. Make ya mine.”

“I already am,” You whimpered at a particularly hard thrust, and you could feel yourself starting to get sore. Tears leaked from your eyes at how good it felt, and he paused for a second and looked at you, wiping them away. 

“Feel good?” He asked you under his breath. 

You nodded. “Keep going, hard.”

Daryl fucked you like he did the night that he asked you to marry him; hard, with his hands, mouth, tongue, and teeth everywhere he could touch. You were sure you left scratches bleeding down his back as you came one more time before he did, filling you so much so you could feel it leaking out before he even finished. 

You winced when he pulled out of you before letting your sweaty body relax into the mattress bad. 

“Fuck,” Daryl muttered. “Darlin’, ya bleedin’.”

“Hmm?”

“I made ya bleed, I- I am so sorry.” 

You sat up partially and saw little blood on him. “It’s okay. It’s been a really long time since I had it like that. I’m just sore, it doesn’t hurt.”

“Are ya sure?”

You nodded, “Just get something to clean me off.”

He chuckled, gave you a yes, ma’am, and was gone for a second before he was back, taking care of you like he always did. Then he brought you into his arms, and you sighed with content against his chest. 

“We should drink like that more often. You were…”

“Don’ remind me.”

You smiled and looked up at him. “I loved it. Why haven’t you said anything like that before?”

“Just kept it up in my head, I guess.”

You snuggled closer to him under the warm blanket. “Well, I except to be called baby girl much more often, old man.”

“Ain’ an old man.”

***

The following day, you woke up to an erection digging into your back so hard you were sure it left it bruise, and you woke Daryl to give his body what it clearly wanted. The two of you made slow, tender love to each other for nearly an hour before your stomach grumbled too hard, and Daryl went to fetch you something to eat from the supplies you brought. 

After eating, you got dressed and went outside. The sun was shining again, and about a foot of beautiful, crystal snow had partially frozen over. Your boots crunched over it as you and Daryl worked to clear the platform and the parts of the roof you could reach. 

“I wanna walk around. I need to stretch my legs.” You told him as you grabbed your weapons. Your machete went to its usual home, but you left the bow behind. 

Daryl followed you down the rope ladder, and you both took a few seconds to look around the area before walking. Flurries were floating around from the branches above you and the wind, so when you looked at Daryl, his hair was coated in them. You knew yours must match. 

“You wanna know what I love most about you, Dixon.” You asked him. 

“What, Dixon?”

You smiled, your heart fluttering. “That you’re not what I expected you to be. When we first met.”

“What did you expect?”

You shrugged. “Some macho, manly man who didn’t have a care about anything in the world.”

“Ya sayin’ I ain’ manly?”

Laughing loudly, you looped your arm around his. “I’m not saying you aren’t. I’m just saying that you’re the sweetest guy I’ve ever known. Both before and after. And I just really admire you for it.” Daryl blushed and shook his head, and you stood on your toes to kiss his red cheek. “Just as I said, sweet.”

Daryl grunted in response and said he was going to check the snares. You watched as he walked away, admiring him in his shawl and how he carried his crossbow. He was a perfect figure against snow blankets, and you bit your lip as you watched him. 

There was still lingering anxiety as you looked at him. You believed that he wouldn’t let what happened happen again. But you weren’t quite sure about it. He didn’t know the future. You didn’t. And it killed you to think that it could happen again. You weren’t sure if you could survive it. You barely survived it the first time--if you had, you wouldn’t have fallen into him again so quickly. You would’ve been able to let him walk out of your room at the kingdom and be content with never seeing him again. 

You sighed to yourself and crossed your arms. It was freezing but the fresh air felt nice against your rosy cheeks. And the surrounding area was so peacefully quiet that you wanted to bask in it. 

Something hit the back of your head, and you felt snow fall into the back of your jacket. You scoffed and turned again. “Did you really just throw a snowball at me, Dixon?” 

He had another one in his hand, about five yards from you. He tossed it into the air and caught it. “I did.”

“What are you, ten years old?” You asked but bent down to pick up snow in your own hand. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him about to throw another one at you, and you quickly jumped behind a tree. 

“Can’ hide from me, foreve’,” 

You smiled widely and leaned against the tree. You could hear the crunch of his footsteps, and when he was close enough, you ducked around the tree and jumped on his back. You shoved the snow into his face and laughed loudly. 

“I let ya do that,” Daryl said as he wiped snow off his nose.

Your boots hit the ground, and then Daryl grabbed you, pinning you against the tree before you even realized it. “You did not. You must be losing your touch in your golden years,” You said. 

“That ain’ what ya said last night.” Daryl dipped his head and whispered in your ear. “Think ya was tellin’ me how much ya need me.” His voice was deep, and you felt your stomach flip. 

You looked up at him as flashbacks of the night before and then this morning when he was buried deep inside you. You felt heat run straight through you, grabbed him by his shawl, and brought his lips to yours. You could still hear those words ringing in your head. 

Daryl pushed you against the tree with his body, and you reached down to palm him over his jeans. His lips moved quickly over yours, and his hands couldn’t find a spot to settle. 

“Gotta get ya back to the treehouse, huh?” He mumbled against your lips. 

You shook your head and unzipped his jeans. “Here.”

“It’s freezin’ out,”

“I don’t fucking care,” You said, kissing him again. 

Daryl groaned against your lips before stepping away and taking off his shawl. You were instantly touching him again, trying to reconnect your lips when he had you lie down on the shawl, and he worked at taking off your sweats. You could feel the cold from the snow as soon as your pants were off, but you ignored it. 

Your cold fingers worked at lowering his pants enough to get his cock out, and you had only just started moving your hand up and down when he swatted your hand away to spread your legs for him. You bit your lip at seeing him lining up to fuck you. 

His fingers were as cold as ice when he rubbed them against your clit and teased your opening. Your eyes screwed shut, and you moaned softly. “Don’t tease me.”

He didn’t say anything as he thrust hard into you, which had you nearly yelling in arousal. Your fingers locked around his neck as he fucked you. You could feel snow everywhere, and your legs tingled with cold, but it was exhilarating. Having him fuck you outside like this. 

“Fuck, ya so wet, baby girl,” Daryl grunted in your ear. “All for me.”

***

You and Daryl arrived at Alexandria four days later, hand in hand. Eugene was manning the gate, and he was happy to see the two of you. There were a few other people on watch. Some of them Daryl hadn’t met you, so you introduced them. The streets were slushy, and you kept slipping next to him as you walked toward your house. 

"(Y/N)!”

You smiled as soon as you heard Judith yelling for you, and when you saw her running as fast as she could, you dropped Daryl’s hand to meet her halfway. You scooped her up and spun her around before putting her back on the ground and cupping her cheeks. “I missed you so much, Jude.” You said. 

“You missed the first snow,” She whined. “We didn’t get to have our annual snowball fight. And you were gone longer than you said you’d be.”

“I know, sweetie. I’m sorry. I came as soon as Adam cleared me.”

“Can I see your scar?” She asked with excitement. 

You laughed and nodded. “Later. Look who’s with me.”

Judith looked around you and smiled wide when she saw her uncle. “Daryl!”

You smiled as she threw herself into his arms, and then the door opened, and Michonne walked out in her pajamas. She was thrown off when she saw you but quickly came over to hug you. “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon. I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I wanted to surprise the kids.” You said, adjusting the bow on your shoulder. You lowered your voice and looked at your best friend, who kept glancing back at Daryl. “We want to work things out. I want to work things out. I love him.”

She slowly smiled and nodded. “I’m happy to see it. Is he moving back in?”

“Yeah, but we can move into one of the emptier houses.”

“No, I want you with me,” Michonne told you. “And it would break Judith and RJ's heart if you did.”

[agentdilf]

Hi :)

I saw your request for TF2 was open. So here’s my idea for an ask:

The mercs are having a bad day. How can their s/o cheer them up?

If not all mercs, then please Sniper, Engineer and Soldier :)

WE'RE SO BACK!!!! apologies for any typos, im gonna proof read but ive hardly slept 🥹 also im newgen mb if these are ooc. WAAAHHH WAIT DON'T KILL ME IM NEWGEN IM NEWGEN

Sniper

Man needs space if angry, or silence if he's sad. He doesn't want to say anything stupid if he's angry, and honestly, if he's sad, he'd just want to stand and hold you for a bit in silence. Even though he's not a touchy man.

Engineer

I don't see him as a man that gets angry too easily, but if he does, watch the fuck out. I think he'd like it if you sat with him while he tinkered with something in silence if he's angry, or just let him bear hug you if he's sad.

Soldier

Doesn't matter if he's angry or sad, do something batshit crazy with him. Or just something physical, like working out, rock climbing, something like that. You being there would make him feel a lot better.

Scout

Back rubs, and just letting him rant. If he's angry, just let him rant, but if he's sad or something, just rub his back and let him cry it out. Like a WIMP!! (i hate him hes my pookie wookie)((i don't actually hate him))

Pyro

Hugs, physical affection. Pop a disney movie in, and give him the biggest bear hugs. He's my little man :(

Heavy

If he's sad, let him lay his head in your lap. If he's angry, just give him space. Like Sniper, he doesn't want to say something potentially hurtful. Since its canon in the comics that he's a family man, it's obvious to me, at least, he wouldnt EVER lay a hand on you so dw.

Medic

He overworks himself when he's upset, so just bring him a coffee and leave him alone with some paperwork and he'll feel fine sooner or later. My friend (ty said friend for ruining my life with tf2) said he's not very touchy unless you initiate it, and I agree. Maybe just rub his back a bit when him comes to bed, alright?

Demoman

I don't know what to tell you, this man uses alcohol to cope. Maybe if he's sad, hug him, rub his back, but he'll usually rely on alcohol. When he's mad, I think he'd just need someone to rant to.

Spy

Sit with him in his room, while he smokes in silence. I feel as if he blocks out sadness (as much as he can) because he's a spy, and talking whilst being angry probably will make him angrier.

MB THIS TOOK SO LONG D: i ran out of ideas at pyro tbh

[jils-things]

over all thoughts i suppose? (spoilers, and knowing the kind of genre that mout.hwashing offers, these warnings can apply here. i tried not to say it so bluntly but do keep in mind if you're sensitive to it)

ITS SO LONG IM SORRY

this might come off as very rushed because its 12am and i have school sooo wkakdkks but but man. might not word stuff correctly and im sorry in advance but here goes

this game is one of those stories which really emphasizes on the fact that no one is really truly a winner or hero. one of the reasons why i love dark content such as this, is cuz of how people can go from being the kindest person, to the worst person alive and its all because of an event that is uncontrollable. man vs nature kind of plot device. the way they eventually get peeled off of their humanity just to protect themselves is... just something to stare in awe at. makes you think. tbh this line is most applicable to jimmy. hes a fuckin beast that i am afraid of

ive said this before, but this game really reminds me of lisa the pa.inful. the characters are forced into an uncontrollable situation, has this one consumable that is always present in the story (the mouthwash/the joy pill) and dealing with other people who cope with the situation differently. some are positive, some are neutral, or even worse

before i continue - i Do Not Like Jimmy. I do not respect him and I don't want to ever put him in a good light. so keep that in mind as i ponder about this.

jimmy is an incredibly complex character, i just wanna applaud the way he was written here - he's utterly detestable and flawed and yet he thinks he's doing the right thing. i hate to say it but he really helped make the story so. toe curling and unnerving. its insane. i really don't know where to start with this man but he clearly wants to be someone he's not. he's jealous of curly for being the superior leader, the one everyone relies on. the one in control. something he wishes he had. so when he actually does assume the role of captain, he starts to get so upset that he's failing to be their captain even if he wanted it. its so. its so petty like it seriously says a lot about him. he just wants to be feared YET he jumps the gun on everything AND doesn't want to be held accountable on what he does and blames it on everyone else. he just wants his hands to be clean. too bad. you are FLAWED everywhere. he's such a manipulator too, and i bet you that's why he wants to be in control. to let people do his bidding and if they fail, its their fault. not his. eeugg. i still will not forget his gaslighting towards daisuke on the vent scene. because of this, daisuke hurt himself SO bad. as if that wasnt it. fucking jimmy thought it was a good idea to THROW MOUTHWASH on DAISUKE'S BODY hoping it would act like some DISINFECTANT when even ANYA, THE MEDICAL STUDENT said that this is not a GOOD DISINFECTANT SUBSTITUTE. again. dude jumped the gun and just fucked around and found out. what happens? swansea is forced to mercy kill him. because of JIMMY'S DUMBASS. incredible fuckin work dude. /SARC.

as much as i am upset over daisuke's death, i dont think he had any chance after that disinfectant. he was practically burning alive and I wouldn't want him to suffer like that. its terrible. its sad even because i think swansea had a little familial bond with him and it probably really hurt him to do him like that. they remind me of hank and connor from dbh. hank was initially distant and mean to connor but through connor's kindheartedness and general innocence, hank couldn't be mean forever. the same can be said for swansea and daisuke. that's how i see it. i also wanna throw my 2 cents here, i feel that swansea is very regretful for not being the most... successful man. especially as a father. i feel that him being with daisuke is his second chance to be a good father figure to someone since he has already failed his own family and wanted to make up for it by teaching daisuke how to be a mechanic (again, reminds me of lisa the p.ainful. brad and buddy. if u know, u know)

i remember somewhere during my gameplay, jim was so angry when anya asked him to do the pill duty on curly. like hello? as captain aren't you supposed to understand your crewmates? why so dismissive? aren't they your responsibility and it's your job to also check on their morale??? why do you think the sweetener is only within captain's restriction? to ensure that everyone's mentally okay! hours go by, i see curly and he says his chad line "as captain, you are all my responsibility" AND I WAS LIKE OKAY THIS MAN GETS IT. HATE HOW THE GOOD ONES GO TOO SOON. CLEARLY JIM IS WAY OUT OF HIS LEAGUE he doesn't deserve that spot its insane he was provided that role. (i am aware of their. friendship :\)

ok ok i know you're gonna say "jil curly isnt that perfect either" YES that's why i said earlier "nobody is truly a hero" we all know that scene when anya confessed what happened to her and what did he do? idk he just says. "ill talk to him" sorry what akdjfhdhd i don't think talking is enough. he needs to be held accountable for that.... oopsie! nopee! jim already fails at being responsible soooo!!!! im sure i can say more for curly but atm ill just. stop there because i would prefer to do a round 2 of the game and then provide more insight

anya is... is a tragedy to me. a girl who had to retake her medical classes only for none of it to be successful, so she's left feeling unconfident knowing shes not really... well versed. but she really is trying her best and it has to be appreciated. the mere fact that curly is still alive is definitely because of her and i think she did amazing. she is a very sweet, and smart woman. i just hate how agaiiin ooh fuckenn jimmy has the gall to see her less of a person and devalue her worth its so djfbfbhdjdjd UGH it must be so overwhelming for her too, as the only woman in the ship it can be really scary. she's lucky to have swansea, daisuke and curly treat her right. except for Him. truly sickening. the fact that he didn't react so much to her ... demise is so ://// arent you at least, perhaps, feeling guilty? (no he's not) (the only nightmare he has of her is the fact she has ... a baby because of Him. yet again. displaying his need to have a perfect record. to have no dirt on himself. but he really does.) i truly feel sorry for her, she didn't want her unsuccessful classes define her capabilities, so she always tries her best to be informed. about the ship, her medical work, and curly of course. i remember when she said "our worst moments doesnt have to define us as monsters" or however it went. i like to think she was also saying this to herself, that even if she's just a nurse and not a doctor, she can still be of help. and it doesn't make her any less credible. i really want to hug her. i noticed she became so nervous and antsy after that subtext had been implied, i feel sorry for her.

daisuke is probably last person to have committed something so serious (iirc) and he was in fact, the victim of something worse. though it doesnt make him the perfect character either because he's just some guy who didnt have a good future ahead of him and just got there because his parents wanted him to be worthy. he was quite insecure about not being useful. (jim exploited that.)

yes daisuke may be irritating to them, but he really means good and he tries not to fight with others. im sure this is also his way of respecting everyone else as he's just an intern and they all collectively know better than his rookie self. he's quite obedient.

i wish i could say more because i really really loved this tragedy from start to finish and I could pinpoint every small detail but... ill just hold myself there hehe

i dont wanna start any arguments or debates abt the charas, i just wanna express how i understand them so far. dont take these for granted since this is all based from my first play and i'd definitely be more informed and well versed if i replayed/took time to read the intricate details

i'm very happy to have checked this game out. i was first exposed to this by jack's video and i immediately put it on watch later, not knowing it would get super popular lolol but im glad to catch up now

[evilkitten3]

But listen, if Izuna had said yes to Hashirama's help after he was injured and he still died, would Madara rampage like in canon? Would he still chase the infinite tsukyomi?

the thing is, hashirama never offered to help izuna. i'm actually not sure he could have - the hiraishingiri pretty much cut through him like butter. moreover, while madara himself lauds hashirama's medical prowess, we actually know very little about his capabilities with medical ninjutsu. he could heal wounds without any hand seals, that's mostly all we know.

here are hashirama's words immediately after izuna is injured:

「マダラ・・・お前はオレには勝てない・・・もう・・・終わりにしよう・・・忍最強のうちはと千手が組めば・・・国も我々と見合う他の忍一族を見つけられなくなる・・・いずれ争いも沈静化していく」

"madara... you can't beat me... let's end it already. if the strongest shinobi, the uchiha and the senju, form an alliance... the country won't be able to find another shinobi clan able to counterbalance us... the conflict will eventually calm down"

he doesn't acknowledge izuna at all. whether he intended an offer of medical aid to be implied or not, it's never addressed. a bunch of people have claimed that this makes hashirama a jerk, and while i definitely get that viewpoint, i do think offering to help izuna without being absolutely certain he was capable of doing so would've been a terrible move, politically speaking. madara might have known that hashirama isn't the sort of man who would do something like this, but the rest of the uchiha clan would have no reason not to assume that hashirama didn't just take advantage of madara's kindness/trust/desperation/whatever to ensure that izuna died while potentially leaving room for madara to feel indebted to him for trying in spite of all the reasons he had not to bother.

hell, the clan might even come to the conclusion that madara intended for izuna to die so he could get his eyes, given what ended up happening in canon, so his fallout with them might actually happen even faster (and without the uchiha ever joining konoha at all, although without madara around to counter hashirama, i have no idea if/how the uchiha would manage against the senju from there)

all that aside, if hashirama had indeed offered help and izuna had agreed to take the risk and died anyway and the uchiha clan trusted that that was what had actually happened, i think pretty much everything else would've proceeded according to canon.

there's definitely plenty of fun possibilities to play around with concerning madara's path in life, but tbh i personally believe that without a massive deviation from canon, he would've eventually become who he became. hashirama definitely fucked up here and there, but i honestly don't think there was anything he could've personally done alone that would've changed madara's fate short of killing him back when they were kids, which he was never going to do. he was always doomed.

[stellernorth]

[dashboard simulator of a world without the ghostfacers effect where the true supernatural show is perceived]

🫀waityourrturn Follow

spot the difference stick figure violence and samruby moments

(1 note)

🟪 sparklezzstiel Follow

if i was the mall cop who got kid sam in trouble for stealing nail polish i would have instead helped him steal more nail polish. also i wouldn’t be a cop

(184 notes)

🧪dogsogdog4 Follow

hey i’m finally watched lazarus rising and i cannot see anything when “castiel” enters its just fully white and the static noise is kind of painful tbh lol. is this a my computer problem or what

(7 notes)

🎉 rowenapublicindecancy Follow

(52 notes)

🫐 numberfff000 Follow

you all aren’t taking like medical advice from supernatural right??? the medical advice that has resulted in canonically [checks notes] one (1) instance of blindness due to ingesting rubbing alcohol, two (2) toe amputations and one (1) case of SEPSIS?!

🎪 kevinscriminalrecord Follow

no we aren’t doing that

🌠 mixtapesextape Follow

Sounds like someone hasn't heard about the kitchen accident diy stitches girl from LiveJournal. So weird that the fandom today doesn't know about her, back in the day it was everywhere.

🎪 kevinscriminalrecord Follow

huh???

🧔‍♀️ heritagepostsof-spn Follow

Heritage Post.

(1943 notes)

🥬 fishhooklove Follow

day 1 of asking john winchester to put his cigs out on me

🤟hannahgirl Follow

could you stop

🥬 fishhooklove Follow

oh here come the buzzkills. i bet you thought it was hot when bela did it to dean. but i’m not allowed to express my interests i guess.

(218 notes)

⛸️ mangojuicecas Follow

Um Guys i had this guy i’m seeing over and we were taking. about watching a movie. and. im the most embarrassed i’ve ever been i can barely type this. and i opened my computer and clicked to the netflix tab. and it was paused mid crypt scene blowjob kill meeeee 😭😭😭

🩶 charlierowena2024 Follow

why would you ever stop halfway through. that's like looking at half of starry night then closing your eyes and leaving the museum

(78 notes)

🧑🏻‍🦳s6monster Follow

Uquiz - Which Supernatural scars are you?

I GOT RUBY’S ARM SCARS WAAAH

(3 notes)

👩‍🦰 cleopatralumineersrowena Follow

depeche mode master and servant spn bdsm and fight scene compilation amv we're really in it now

#using lyrics as censor bars is the innovation of the century

(59 notes)

🌂 kansaslawrence Follow

for everyone who said dean slamming his hand in the impala door when he was drunk wouldn't do that to his fingernails i did a similar thing (accidentally, before the show aired) #deancoded loll and it looked basically the same. here are pics of my and his hands afterwards side by side for reference

(482 notes)

🍄 0nth3h34d0f4p1n Follow

Another reason samruby is queercoded is how her spitting blood into his mouth parallels the champagne scene in my beautiful laundrette

(38 notes)

🎃 sammmyspooks Follow

2.16 "this disease pumping through my veins and i can't rip it out or scrub it clean--i've tried; i'm a whole new level of freak" and 8.21 "you used to read to me when i was little i mean really little" etc we all remember sir galahad speech. sooooo how young do you think sam was when he first tried

(739 notes)

🪼 ccoldfridge Follow

just remembered how dean tried his best to ask cas to take a female vessel so they could fuck heterosexually in ftbyam and i nearly passed out in the post office . castielllllll he was saying he wanted to fuck youuu

(63 notes)

🤵 a1waysenduphere Follow

comparing the endverse sam arc to the classic structure of a shakespearean tragedy

part 1: aloneness and exposition

keep reading

(382 notes)

👩 isolationnatural Follow

the way people #coquette #lanadelrey #femaleangst -ify claire's s12 shoplifting eating disorder getting into fights self medicating situation is so so weird and fucked up. we saw stanford era dean do literally exactly all the same shit but with him it's ohhh classic beautiful americana what a tragic figure i understand his emotions have depth and complexity THEY DID ALL THE SAME STUFF maybe think about why you see the situations differently

(294 notes)

🔵 butchruby4femanna Follow

why did i have to see dean naked that many times. just wondering again

(2 notes)

⚡ cassandrasam Follow

ok spn 5x20. so sam's kissing the demon possessing brady out of nostalgia and grief for his dead boyfriend, the demon's kissing back because he knows it will make sam more likely to listen to him, imagine if dean had walked in in that moment

❗greendean Follow

or crowley

(158 notes)

🍇 notgoodnatural Follow

hey everyone. wjsh i could have seen dean naked more times.

(10 notes)

[friendlyengie]

Heyo thought I’d drop some random tf2 hcs and stuff cause of ur post :D

- scout and Pyro get along really well and scout will draw for pyro. Scout likes them cause he seems to actually listen to scout talk

- Engineer is pretty oblivious when it comes to people having feelings for him and hes (kinda accidentally) decent at flirting tho

- Engineer is like a father figure to scout and it makes spy really jealous lol

- Demo is really good at karaoke

- Since spy is good at finding this out about people based on body language etc. he knows exactly who has crushes on who in the base and he thinks it’s SO OBVIOUS but it’s not to the rest of them and he’s really close to just screaming at everyone that they’re blind and to just kiss already. He’s just forced to watch all these pining idiots dance around each other and he hates it

- Heavy and Medic have a book club that is just the two of them

- Scout would be a good dad later in life if he had a kid

ohohhoho interesting. Cracks my knuckles.

-scout and pyro friendship truther until I DIE. I find the idea of scout going from being terrified of this weird “thing” to just being besties with Pyro kind of hilarious. I think they can both do art pretty well actually! I like to think they run around towns and do graffiti together.

-Nodding at this. I also think it helps that (to me) hes naturally very friendly and polite because of how he was raised and like half of the people on his team havent heard anything nice from another human being since they were actual children (if that.) Is he good at flirting or are your standards dangerously low? Is it both? Great question!

-Ive always seen engineer as more of a low-maintenance uncle figure to scout If That. They’re just kind of a pretty standard close older dude with a lot of life experience and younger dude with fuck all going on friendship to me. and tbh ive never. Really been able to get behind the idea of spy being “jealous” of any sort of relationship Scout has with other mercs. Whether it’s him being weirded out by father standins or judgemental of potential partners. I don’t think he doesn’t have a weird relationship with seeing scout bond with the other mercs but i feel like it’s just sort of. Idk. A little more of a unique issue for him.

-Accepted. Though i think “good” for him ranges from “genuinely good singing” to “loud, overconfident, and having a great time getting half of the lyrics wrong.”

-As much as I think it would be fun if spy was surprisingly emotionally dense, i cant deny his canonical skills in that sort of field. That’s like. His whole game. I think his approach to trying to help anyone with romance is “he wont unless youre prepared to basically just inflate his ego for the sake of a few tips.” A la expiration date.

-no doubt in my mind that heavy and medic dont agree with a single thing that the other gleams from reading books. Said with love. They will argue about meanings and subtext and the value of interpretation until it sounds like someone’s about to file for divorce and then end with “so same time next week ^_^?”

-I will be so honest with you. I do not know if i could ever see scout being a father, much less a good one NDGSKHJDKNJJ.

Actually . Hm. Thinking about it. I could. SEE it in a sense. I think he would have some good steps to go off of because of his Mom. Unsure of how good his ma’s parenting was but she at least was very caring toward her kids. He’d have that. But i think he’d have to be a lot more emotionally mature to be able to process how his own current issues with dads and fatherhood would healthily translate into being a dad himself. I could see him being really laid back and maybe a little too “im not just your parent, im your friend,” and any hypothetical kid he has would Not take his ass seriously. I think having to parent a teenager would kill him.

[therisingdarkness]

Fortunate Son

So this is a Ghoul fic in his pre-Ghoul days, written for @cloned-eyes. It's very dark, deals with war trauma, gore, and medical trauma, death, etc. I wouldn't call it Dead Dove, but it comes close I suppose. There is nothing happy about it tbh. But I LOVE writing this stuff and I love disintegrating my friends by tormenting their OCs. This is pure, indulgent Ghoul Whump, and also the introduction of three of our shared babies.

If you read, I hope you enjoy!

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

 The world was black.

That was fine though. Jenot didn’t want to open his eyes. He was so tired of the blinding white lights of the medbay, so tired of the way the longnecks and medical droids swarmed him the instant they knew he was awake, poking him and prodding him with needles and scanners, asking him questions he didn’t have answers for—How does your prosthetic feel? Is it too heavy? How is the movement? Can you see? Look at this chart. Look over here. Open your mouth. Wider. Wider. 

It had been easier when he couldn’t hear. Deafness had been a blessing at the time, but long fingers had pulled at the ragged remains of his ears, measuring and sticking things in the canal until they wedged something hard and foreign inside each one. There was a ringing noise, a piercing buzz that felt like it lived inside his brain, and then he could hear the low murmur of voices all around him, followed by the incessant beep and hum of medical machinery. More stimulation that he had been better off without, but how was he supposed to follow orders when he couldn't hear? 

The crook of his arm ached from the thick needle feeding fluids into his veins. It was the only thing he could feel, the only thing he had to remind him he was still alive. They had only spared him so many painkillers before deciding it'd be more efficient to simply fry his nerve endings. Back-to-back surgeries, countless hours spent edging in and out of consciousness, sometimes aware of a tube fed down the remains of his throat as they pieced him back together, and other times so disoriented he thought he was back on the battlefield. 

He didn't have the strength to fight. Those first nights were filled with pain, with blood, with darkness and the dying screams of the few unlucky brothers pulled from the muck and the mire. It had almost given him hope to know he wasn't the only one who had been saved…but that hope had lasted only so long as he was blind. 

They did something to him, scraped out the ruined, gelatinous mess of his eyes and replaced them with cybernetic implants that allowed him to see better than he ever had before…and the first thing he saw, after opening his eyes and turning his head to the berths next to his were the other survivors of his unit. 

The sight of them made him want to tear his implants back out.

His brothers laid there, pale and still, eyes open and glassy, their bodies wrapped in a network of thin hoses. Jenot didn't have to crane his neck too far to see that those hoses were also hooked up to him. 

Blood.

They were using his brothers…as living blood transfusions, killing them slowly by bleeding them dry. He watched the life drain out of one of them—he couldn’t remember his name, couldn’t even remember his CT number—listened to his last rattling gasps of breath and saw the tears leaking out of his eyes as the light in them dimmed. Jenot wished there was something he could have said to them, something that would have let them know that he was there, he saw them and was with them. They weren’t alone…he wasn’t going to let them die alone….

But it didn’t matter.

They still died.

They died for him—a choice they hadn’t been allowed to make, but a fate decided for them by the longnecks. He couldn’t stop it from happening, couldn’t protect them or offer them any words of comfort in their last moments. All he could do was just…lie there, hooked up to a dozen machines, and watch his brothers fade away.

“No point in trying to save these units,” he overheard one of the longnecks whisper to their colleague. “They’re too far gone as it is. Salvage what you can from them to ensure the commander pulls through, then dispose of the remains. They’re expendable.”

“The commander is worse off than the other ones we managed to retrieve…why is priority given to him?”

“Orders came through from higher up. I don’t intend to question them. Besides, it gives us the opportunity to…experiment.”

“True. I’ve been meaning to run a few tests. It’ll be easier to use these units as subjects. Less paperwork.”

Resistance was futile. Jenot wasn’t even sure he had it in him to struggle, not when his limbs felt like they were filled with lead. He couldn't even speak to tell them 'no'...the prosthetic jaw and tongue felt too strange. He couldn't get it to work the way he wanted, couldn't feel anything to indicate things moved the way they were supposed to. The few words he had been able to grate out on their demand to make an attempt didn't sound anything like the usual smooth cadence of his voice. 

It was all too much.

It was too much.

He couldn't cry, couldn't scream or shout the way he wanted to. His chest felt tight, filled with some emotion that buried itself beneath his ribs, taking hold like thorny vines, choking his lungs until he felt like he couldn't breathe, ensnaring his heart until everything went numb, until the only thing he could feel was the slow crawl of time ticking by, driving him crazy. 

He didn't want to die…but was this any better?

What existence he had been forced into…it was a mistake. He wasn't meant to be there, alive, broken and scarred but on the mend, tended to like he was somehow more worthy of being saved than his brethren just because of his rank—the same rank he had been so proud to receive alongside Wolffe and Fox, the same rank he had celebrated at 79's, partying like the world was ending the next day and getting so drunk it was a miracle they had made it back to base unscathed…now the same rank he cursed for drawing an arbitrary line between himself and his men, marking him as somehow better than them.

He couldn't unsee their eyes, unblinking and tear-filled as they exhaled their last, the subtle movements of their pale, chapped lips as they begged not to die, for someone to save them. 

“Hurts,” one of them had whispered. “It hurts, Commander.”

Jenot closed his eyes, trying to forget.

“They got us good, didn’t they,” the trooper had kept on, delirious, his voice raspy. “I wish…I wish we coulda died out there…on the battlefield. Bombs on our heads an’ kark…better than…than wasting away here. I don’t…I don’t feel any better.”

Because they hadn’t been trying to make him better…not that Jenot could have told him. The prosthetic jaw and tongue had been too new, and he had been so weak, so tired—all he could have done was lie there, listening to his brother’s voice grow fainter and fainter.

“Commander…I don’t feel good. Th–they gave me somethin’, didn’t they. M’ skin’s burnin’.... Feels hot. I don’t…I don’t think….”

He never got to finish his sentence. His next exhale was his last, his breath tapering off into a thin whine as his lungs deflated for the last time. Jenot couldn’t turn his head, but he had felt tears in his eyes, slipping down the sides of his head as he squeezed them tight, wishing he could have blocked out the sound—and what a shameful wish it was. The least he could do for them was bear witness to their last moments. 

That was his duty, as Commander. They had looked up to him, followed him with the trust and loyalty that was baked into them from birth. Every decision he made they had followed, blindly, because he had never steered them wrong before and they had no reason to believe this time would be any different. 

…and they had been wrong.

Jenot forced his eyes open again, gasping like he had been punched in the gut. There was no escaping what he had done…what had been done to them.

Even with his eyes closed he could see them, their bright faces and their roguish, familiar smiles. He hadn’t deserved them…he couldn’t save them, not a single karkin’ one of them. 

Outside, a storm raged and waves hundreds of meters high crashed against the massive pillars supporting Tipoca City. The structures were secure, the noise muted through many layers of durasteel…but he knew the sound of the storm. It brought a strange sort of comfort amidst everything. The wind, rain, even the waves…all were constant, steady. His earliest memories as a cadet were filled with warmth, packed into a room with the rest of his batchmates, curled up in his bunk and listening to the roar of the sea outside.

He wished he could go back to that time, when his future was still undecided. Maybe…maybe there was something he could have done differently, some choice he could have made that would have changed things. Maybe if he hadn’t been a commander…maybe if he had been anyone else this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe his unit would still be alive and he wouldn’t be left reeling with guilt over being the only man to survive the Massacre of Toydaria.

With a groan, Jenot pushed himself into a sitting position. The aches and pains he expected were so dull they may as well have not been there. What should have been a blessing was only another annoyance; he didn’t like not being able to feel. With some effort, he managed to swing his legs over the side of the medical bed and felt around until he felt the solid floor beneath his feet. Pins and needles slid under his soles and toes, but the sensation was as fleeting as it was sharp. He didn’t even have time to cling to it.

He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, gathering his wits and summoning the strength to stand. His body felt so heavy; the weight of his new prosthetic arm dragged his shoulder down until he felt lopsided. It wasn’t hooked up all the way—the longnecks had mentioned something about needing more time to integrate all the nerve endings. His other hand, swathed in thick bandages, was missing fingers, but at least the prosthetics they had grafted onto his hand actually worked; he couldn’t remember how it happened, couldn’t feel anything anyway. They moved when he wanted them to and that was the only bit of silver lining.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. They’ll keep putting you back together. 

Inhaling deeply, he forced himself to stand, swaying in place before grabbing hold of the IV stand he was still hooked up to. He thought about finding a way to rip the needles out of his arm, but…maybe it was better not to push his luck.

The medical wing was fully dark; a chronometer on the wall put the time at a little bit past 2am. Right between the shift change, if he remembered correctly. He only had a small window of time to escape before he’d be missed. They’d find him eventually, drag him back, threaten to strap him down…but it was worth the risk.

The halls were longer than he remembered as he dragged himself and the stand along, its wheels squeaking in protest as he leaned on it for support. Even if he couldn’t feel anything, his body knew that he was injured, knew that he needed rest. Labored breathing escaped through his mouth, hot breath moistening the tongue that he was still trying to figure out how to use. He knew he shouldn't push himself, but the medbay was too quiet and its ghosts too loud. He needed relief that drugs couldn't give him.

Step by step Jenot followed the familiar corridors and passageways until he reached one of the observation decks, where the windows, made of the same thick glass as ship cockpits, stretched from floor to ceiling. Hurricane strength winds lashed against them, hurling rain and waves over and over, but the glass held firm. Jenot stood in the entryway, watching tiredly before shuffling over to one of the windows; he leaned against it almost immediately, hoping to feel the chill from outside…but there was nothing.

Just the sound.

The noise.

His new hearing aids crackled with the low rumble of thunder and he winced as a loud whine shot through his skull. He could scarcely feel anything else, but he sure as hell felt that. With some effort, he managed to sit down, putting his back against the steel wall and sliding until he felt the floor beneath his ass. The hoses attached to the needle in his arm pulled taut, bidding him to tug the IV stand close. It was a relief to be off his feet; the walk, while not far from the medbay, had taken its toll on him. He wanted nothing more than to lean his head against the glass, close his eyes and let the familiar sounds of the storm lull him to sleep.

“Go talk to him.”

“No, you go talk to him, you’re th’ one who wanted to!”

“Then why’d you two follow, huh?”

“‘Cause you’re gonna get in trouble!”

“Don’t be dumb, everyone’s asleep.”

“So? Go talk to him.”

Jenot cracked open an eye and moved slowly, turning his head toward the sound of barely disguised whispering emanating from the entryway. He knew the sound of disobedient cadets when he heard them, having snuck out of his bunk with Wolffe and Fox enough times to understand the allure of defying curfew. There were three of them, he realized as his cybernetic eyes automatically compensated for the low light, enhancing his sight until he could see just as clearly as if it were fully lit.

Three sets of brown eyes stared back at him, continuously shuffling to push one cadet to the forefront of their trio. Shock registered on their faces, still rounded with baby fat they wouldn’t outgrow for another two years or so, before they slowly filtered into the room, hands tucked behind their backs and eyes cast down to the floor like they expected to be reprimanded. 

Why should I? 

In another time and place…yeah, he might’ve given them a good scolding and sent them back to their bunks on the wings of a light-hearted threat…but why bother? What good did it do him? 

I shouldn’t be responsible for anyone else…look where it got me.

Guilt stabbed into his chest, but he was tired—too tired to pull himself off the ground to deal with the cadets, who now stood close enough to reach out and touch, if he had wanted to. One of them, missing one of his front teeth and sporting a little stain on the front of his sleepwear, took a step forward and kept his head bowed.

“Sorry,” he mumbled to his socked feet. “We didn’t mean t’ disturb you or nothin’...we couldn’t sleep.”

“That’s your fault,” one of the other cadets said. “You always keep us up!”

“Shhhh!” hissed the third, shoving at his batchmates. “Not so loud!”

Jenot watched them with waning disinterest. They were trying not to stare at him and failing miserably. Their big brown eyes kept darting up and down, fixating on his face before shifting elsewhere. They weren't subtle about it either, but cadets didn't know any better. Not this young, at any rate.

He knew why they were looking.

The edges of his neck and jaw stretched tight against the prosthetic, skin red and raw where blood crusted against the seam. It would be slow to heal, slow to integrate, they had told him. He was lucky, they said, that he had been brought back to the facility. Who knows what would have become of him had a battlefield medic gotten his hands on him.

The black carbon metal stood in stark relief against his skin, ugly and frightening. Unnatural. He didn't like catching his reflection anymore. It was surreal, to see the metal and silicone in place of where he once proudly wore a mustache and beard (because he looked good with it, and because it set him apart from his brothers, most of whom chose to remain 

clean shaven).

So yeah, he knew why they stared…and though he didn't blame them, it rankled something inside of him, inspiring a special brand of annoyance that curdled into something deeper, darker. It hit him, suddenly, the striking desire to reach out and tap the three of them against the top of their heads, flick their noses, hurt them in a way that would make them stop.

Make them leave.

It faded as soon as it came, leaving him with more guilt—he would never hurt his brothers, not on purpose.

But…they wouldn't stop staring.

"Th' hell d'you want?" Jenot rasped, finally focusing enough to force the prosthetics to work. He couldn't feel them, but the medical droids had coached him to just…move by instinct. Just don't think about it. Talk like you were whole.

Good advice…but easier said than done.

The three cadets flinched as though he had snapped at them, even though his voice amounted to little more than an aggressive whisper. For some reason their fear registered as cowardice—ugly and pathetic, what were they fuckin’ teaching the cadets these days, where was their fuckin’ spine—and Jenot sneered to himself. He would have given anything for a pack of smokes, anything to quell the irritation quickly rising inside of him.

On some level he knew it wasn't normal, feeling the way he did; he had never snapped at cadets before, had never given himself over to the minor annoyances they caused. It was just bad timing…he had wanted to be left alone, just for a moment, just long enough to gather his thoughts and wrestle his emotions back under control. He had just wanted some peace and quiet…and he couldn't even get that.

It wasn't their fault, though. 

They were…fuck, they were just kids. 

They won't be kids for long, a mean little voice whispered inside his head, distinct from the other tumultuous thoughts running rampant. A few more years and they'll be grown, kitted up and on their way to die on some backwater planet for a cause they don't really believe in. 

Jenot closed his eyes, but in the darkness he saw the mutilated faces of his brothers, bloodied and broken, eyes wide and pale as they stared back at him, waiting for him to give their next orders.

“Are you okay?” one of the cadets asked. There was a slight pressure on his shoulder, barely perceptible, and when he looked the cadet gasped and yanked back his hand, his eyes just as wide as those of Jenot's dead troops. Bile rose to the back of his throat and he forced himself to swallow it back down, forced himself to look away, back out at the storm raging just outside the window.

His translucent reflection stared back at him, his new cybernetic eyes glowing faintly. They had shaved his head to attach electrodes to monitor his brain activity while he had been in a medically induced coma prior to and following the extensive surgery required to clean up his jaw and throat and attach the prosthetic. Sticky residue clung to his skin where some of the patches had been.

He felt…different.

He looked different.

He…he wasn't okay. 

He wasn’t okay and he was never gonna be okay ever again.

“Either tell me what you want,” Jenot growled, “or get lost.”

The cadets huddled together closer, two of them clinging to the brassy one Jenot mentally labeled as the ringleader of their little trio. He gulped, throat working hard to swallow past the ball of nerves stopping his words, before stammering out a small apology.

“We just w-wanted t’ know what it's like….out there….”

Jenot made a noise that wasn't a laugh, but wasn't really anything else. 

“Out there?” he asked, nodding toward the window. “Or you mean th’ war.”

Silence, but three pairs of big eyes watching him closely gave him the answer he was looking for.

“Eager t’ get out there and’ show th’ world what you're made of?”

“Y-yessir. We wanna do our part.”

Do our part.

It struck him, suddenly and with a clarity that bordered on blinding, that there was a madness to this war that he had overlooked until now.

Or maybe…maybe that was just the way he had been brought up, trained—conditioned—the way all of them were taught not to question things. Regardless, the idea that they had any ‘part’ in the war beyond the fact that they were, quite literally, made for it, was laughable. 

The Republic he and so many others were so proud to serve remained just out of reach. As clones they had no birth certificates, no citizenship, nothing beyond their CT numbers cataloging their decanter dates. What identities they forged among themselves held tenuous, at the mercy of sympathetic Jedi and the odd senator who referred to them by chosen name rather than number; there was always the sense, deep down, that despite the courtesy they were sometimes shown, they were still just tools of war.

Their ‘part’ was in their existence. Their ‘part’ was the armor on their backs and the blasters in their hands, their blood on the ground as they pushed back against the Separatist armies, fighting a war for a government they had no part in, fighting for worlds they'd never belong to.

“Careful what you wish for,” Jenot said, looking back out the window. “It's not th’ honor you think it is.”

“But…the Republic needs us,” the biggest cadet spoke up. His hair was a little wild and his teeth looked a little too big for his mouth. Despite his size he stood firmly behind the ringleader, hand fisted up in the other’s tunic. Jenot stared at him and watched as the kid dropped his eyes to the floor, unable to meet his intense gaze. 

“You think they need you?” Jenot asked, unable to stop himself from sneering. “Like it just won’t end without you? Like you’re special?”

Uncertainty crossed his face, because why wouldn’t it? They were taught to respect their superiors, both those who came before them and outranked them. Jenot knew their natural instinct would be to believe every word he said, regardless of how treasonous it sounded. Funny…not even a month ago he had always made sure to watch what came out of his mouth. The longnecks had impressed upon him and others that they had a responsibility to the cadets, to set good examples for the kind of soldiers they were meant to be. 

Now though…he just couldn’t think of a good reason why he should bother.

What was he supposed to do while sitting there, looking like a freak? 

“You’re not special,” he said before the cadets could protest. “Not a single one of you. You’re nothing more than numbers t’ them. All th’ kark they feed you during’ training sessions doesn’t mean a thing. Not a damn thing.”

“You’re a liar,” the third cadet finally spoke up, his eyebrows drawing together angrily as he bravely scowled. “Suda Mo says we’ve all got potential. We could become Arc Troopers if we train hard!”

“‘Course they want you t’ train—th’ harder you work th’ better you make them look. You die out there in th’ field they gotta start all over from scratch. But they don’t care, that’s why…that’s….”

They’ll just make more of us, Commander. 

Jenot shook his head, trying to rid himself of the ghostly whispers of his dead comrades. His stomach twisted with every word he said, like something inside of him was still decent and unspoiled by all he had seen…all that had happened. That part of him that kept fighting was the part he wished would just give up and die. He didn’t want to owe the Republic for saving him. Hell, he hadn’t asked to be saved and still didn’t know why, out of all his brothers, he was the one they thought worth the effort with half his body blown away.

You know why.

You know exactly why.

No…stop…don’t think about it.

“I used t’ think th’ same,” he growled, forcing to speak in the hope it would drown out his thoughts. “I used t’ be like you, daydreaming how I’d make a difference if only I could get out there sooner. You see what that kinda thinking got me?”

He gestured roughly to his jaw with his bandaged hand. The cadets flinched, but couldn’t stop themselves from staring in the face of an open invitation.

“What…what happened?” the ringleader asked, taking a step closer. He tilted his head to the side and wrinkled his nose, unable to hide what had to be…it was disgust, wasn’t it?

“Bad orders,” Jenot said. “Intel was wrong. You’ll be surprised how often it is. But we were arrogant. We had Jedi with us an’ thought nothing could go so wrong that we couldn’t make it out alive. We were wrong.”

“You were ambushed?”

“Slaughtered. Like animals. It wasn’t even a fair fight. Not even th’ fuckin’ Jedi could save us.”

“That’s…that’s kark.”

The other two cadets gasped as their fearless little leader cursed back, clinging harder to him like they had half a mind to drag him off. He stood there, anger radiating off of him with his hands balled up into fists as he stared at Jenot, his expression openly defiant.

It was a good look. Maybe he should have just let the kid impress him a little and been the bigger person. He could have just let it go because at the end of the day, they were still snot-nosed cadets who knew nothing about anything and especially not about the world beyond the safety of Tipoca City. All they had to go on was rumor and simulations.

“Say that again?” Jenot hissed, leaning close. He didn’t care about being the bigger person. His heart was pounding, blood rushing through his ears at the thrill of going against everything he had ever been taught. The longnecks would send him straight to reconditioning if they could hear the way he was talking, and he didn’t give a damn. He wasn’t going to keep their precious secrets. He wasn’t going to protect their ‘investments’ any longer. He owed them nothing. He never asked to be born and he didn’t ask to be saved. They had gone and made a monster out of him so that was how he was going to act—monstrous, until someone came to shut him up for good.

“I said you’re full of k-kark!”

“2020, shut up!”

“Man, you’re gonna get us in trouble!”

“Yeah, Cadet 2020,” Jenot jeered, “you should listen t’ your friends. Would hate for your precious caretakers t’ find you wanderin’ out of bed so late.”

“Y-You’re out of bed too!” the one called 2020 shot back. “You won’t say nothin’ ‘cause you’ll get in trouble!”

He had guts to talk back like that. His peers weren’t cowering either, though they weren’t exactly backing him up. At least they had the good sense to keep their traps shut. As much as he wished he could rip them a new one and send them back to their bunks, he didn’t want to run the risk of attracting attention himself; not only would he have to listen to their inane lectures, they’d probably sedate him again. He was so tired of the drugs.

Jenot reached out and snagged the front of 2020’s tunic, dragging him close; the others, hanging on for dear life, stumbled forward as well.

“You got a lotta nerve telling me I don’t know what I’m talking about,” he said, his voice eerily soft and calm. “You think th’ Republic’s so great? You think th’ Jedi are so powerful? Look at me. They wouldn’t let me die.”

2020 blinked hard and fast, leaning away but not quite resisting, still trapped in his training that forbade him from disobeying a direct order, or fighting back against his superiors, who’d only ever try to better him. Stupid, naive little fools, all three of them.

“Y-You should be grateful they s-saved you! They’re only tryin’ to help!”

Something inside Jenot went numb with that—whatever had been burning inside him, keeping him from diving too deeply into territory he’d come to regret, was suddenly snuffed out. 

“Grateful?” he seethed, ignoring the burning numbness in his hand as he dragged 2020 closer, til they were almost nose to nose. “You think I should be grateful? For making me look like a monster? I can’t feel anything anymore! I had t’ lay there an’ listen…listen t’ them kill my brothers!”

“Th-they wouldn’t do that!” 2020 insisted, pushing back finally. “They wouldn’t! The Jedi wouldn’t allow it!”

“SHE’S TH’ ONE WHO GAVE TH’ FUCKIN’ ORDER!!”

He hadn’t meant to yell—rather, he hadn’t been able to control himself. His voice echoed off the arched ceiling of the observation room and back down the hallway leading back to the medbay. The cadets were practically cowering, but he didn’t have it in him to care, not when they had the gall to act so condescending to him. 

Jenot had spent days slipping in and out of consciousness. Before they had fitted him with hearing aids his world had been dark. Sleep was the only escape he had, yet he could only pretend for so long before the murmur of voices woke him.

He couldn’t unhear the things whispered between the doctors and aides. Had they known he was listening in, perhaps they would have taken their gossip elsewhere, but what better place to trade secrets than a ward of death? It was there he heard them admit the only reason he was alive was because the Jedi who had accompanied his unit—even the thought of her name made him want to retch; what good were they if they couldn’t keep his men safe—the one who had kept him alive through the mystical powers of ‘the Force’ or whatever, had ordered the longnecks to do everything in their power to make sure he pulled through. 

She was the reason he was still alive, but she was also the reason he had to lie on a bed surrounded by his dying brethren, listening to their tearful pleas for the pain to stop, listening as they slowly lost their minds to the agony wracking their bodies after being denied painkillers, or the drugs pumped into them when the ‘doctors’ decided they were no longer worth keeping alive even as experiments. The moment they lost their worth was the moment they became nothing more than faulty products.

Jenot stood up, ignoring the protest his body made. 

He couldn’t stand it, couldn’t fucking stand the way these brats thought they knew better, because they couldn’t comprehend a world in which the shiny reputations of the Jedi were so tarnished. They were still too young to fully understand what they were, that the Kaminoans didn’t regard them with fondness or affection. They sat in their bunks, warm and dry and well-fed, complaining about the minor aches and pains of training, with no idea of the horrors they would face on the outside.

“You wanna know th’ truth?” he asked, releasing 2020 to grab hold of his IV stand. “Follow me. I’ll show you…since you think I’m a liar.”

“2020, no,” the small one whispered fiercely. “We hafta get back to the bunks! Suda Mo is gonna do his rounds soon….”

“Yeah, forget about ‘im, he’s just a mean ol’ clone mad ‘cause he lost a fight!”

“No,” 2020 said firmly, “I wanna see for myself. I don’t believe anything he says, so I hafta go. If he’s wrong, then I’ll know.”

“And if he’s right?”

“...then I guess I’ll know that too.”

To their credit, the other two refused to leave their batchmate’s side. They kept close, creeping along the wall in complete silence as Jenot dragged himself back to the medbay. He kept imagining he heard footsteps behind them, the gentle swish of fabric and the slow breathing of their ‘keepers’. He knew shouting would bring security down on their heads sooner rather than later, but rage filled the void left behind by propriety and he didn’t give a flying kark who had heard. They were bound to get caught eventually, but he wasn’t gonna let those brats go without teaching them a lesson the only way he knew how.

The corridor grew darker the closer they got; staff turned the lights off in order to make the patients more ‘comfortable’, but he was beginning to think it was probably to conserve energy. It’s not like they actually cared. Jenot paused to listen, but the only sound was his own labored breathing and the sniffing from one of the cadets—just a little further, however, he picked up the faint beeping of medical equipment.

“We’re not supposed to be here,” the smallest cadet whispered, squeezed as tight as he could possibly be to the larger one, who was shivering in place. 2020 swallowed nervously and Jenot noticed the way he glanced up, but said nothing.

“No one’s gonna know,” he said raspily, just as the doors slid open.

He stepped inside, dread washing over him as the unfortunate familiarity of the room caught up to him. Behind him, the trio hesitated. They couldn’t see inside from where they were standing…which, if he was still the kind of man who wanted to protect the younger clones from the harsh realities of the world for a while longer, he might have stopped them there, told them he was only kidding and they should head back to their room now.

But he was angry, and they had hurt him with their accusations, sharpened their words into little blades and stuck them deep, into the soft parts of him that were still vulnerable and fragile. The parts of himself he’d have to kill before he ever let anyone else use them against him in this way.

“What’s th’ matter?” he asked. “Too scared?”

“I-I don’t wanna go in,” the big one stammered. “I’m good.”

“Y-yeah, me neither. I-I’ll believe anything he says.”

One of the machines kicked off, buzzing as an EKG monitor spat out a printout of one of its patients’ heart rate from the past hour. The cadets gasped as a single unit and jumped in place, looking for all the world like they were ready to bolt back down the hall. The only thing keeping them there was 2020, who stared with wide eyes at Jenot, his face pale and drawn and his expression one of pure, childish regret.

“Coward,” Jenot hissed. “And you think th’ Republic needs a big hero like you?”

His taunting did the trick.

2020 took a deep breath and took hold of his brothers by each of their hands.

“C’mon, I’ll protect you,” he whispered, meant only for their ears; Jenot heard everything though, heard the smaller one’s little whimper and the way the big one swallowed. He grinned, though it didn’t feel like the right kind of smile. The prosthetic was still too stiff, didn’t let his lips move the way he wanted them to. He watched, waiting patiently as the kids took their first few tentative steps past the threshold of the medbay and into the dimly lit room.

“Over here,” he said, gesturing as he released his IV stand to let it trail after him, holding fast by the hoses still attached to his arm. They pulled again but he didn’t feel it and so didn’t care. The berth he led the cadets to was still occupied, one of his men clinging to life with the help of machines.

Fetch, Jenot remembered, so named because of how eager he was to help, so willing to run and fetch anything anyone asked for. 

“Hu-who’s that?” 2020 asked as he crept closer. 

“One of mine,” Jenot said. “One of th’ ones who wasn’t so far gone he couldn’t be of use.”

“What d’you mean?”

He should have just let Fetch die with dignity. He should never have brought the kids into the medbay, and maybe later he’d regret his actions…but in the moment, Jenot pulled back the thin sheet covering his squad mate, revealing the extent of the carnage underneath. 

The ‘wound’, if it could be called that, had been cauterized and sterilized in the field—ropes of intestine laid across the bottom half of the berth, resting over the remains of his hips and legs. Melted armor fused with blackened skin and bone, skeletonizing his lower half and the only sign of life was the shallow rise and fall of Fetch’s chest; just inside the cavity of of his torso his lungs inflated and deflated with the help of the surgically attached ventilator. They hadn’t bothered closing him up, declaring he was too far gone upon arrival…but that hadn’t stopped them from bringing him back anyway at the first sign of life. He still had something to give after all.

The cadets screamed and scrambled back, or tried until Jenot snatched 2020 by his arm and shoved him closer, forcing him against the edge of the bed.

“Take a good long look,” Jenot snarled. “This is what they do t’ you when they’re not ready for you to die. Th’ only thing keeping him alive right now is that machine, an’ it’s doing’ all th’ work. Th’ second they take him off th’ oxygen, he’ll die.”

2020 thrashed in his hold, but even injured Jenot was bigger and stronger, and filled with so much righteous fury that he didn’t think there was any way any of the kids could have stopped him. He had a point to prove after all.

“Let me go!” 2020 yelled, digging his fingers into the bandages wrapped around Jenot’s forearm. “What’s wrong with you?! Let me go!”

“You wanted proof,” Jenot snapped, shoving him against the bed even further, his hand on the back of 2020’s neck, practically rubbing his face into the bare skin of Fetch’s chest. “Here’s your karkin’ proof. They won’t let him die ‘til they’re done with him. They won’t stop ‘til they’ve bled him dry of every resource they can scavenge. How else do you think they keep th’ rest of us alive when we fuck up?”

2020 screamed again—it would have been a little funny if Jenot hadn’t been so furious. He didn’t notice how the other cadets fled, abandoning 2020 to his fate. He didn’t notice anything at all until he looked up at Fetch’s face and saw the skin around his eyes, wet from something—tears? Was it possible for a man to be aware when he was so far gone? Was he scared of dying? Did it hurt? 

He looked down at 2020, still struggling against his hold and crying hysterically, begging now to be released.

“I’m sorryI’msorry’msorryplease–pleaseplease lemme go I’m sorry,” the boy sobbed, twisting and squirming. 

In that moment he looked…he looked so young. So vulnerable. He was…he was just a child.

What am I doing?

The lights came on and Jenot looked up, blinking as two of the medical droids floated over, followed by the on-duty aide. She looked him up and down, making him feel so very small and worthless, before reaching for 2020. He released the cadet immediately, and watched as the kid flew into aide’s legs, hugging her tightly and wailing into her skirt.

“What…is going on here?” she asked calmly, resting a long fingered hand on top of 2020’s head.

Jenot opened his mouth, but his words had dried up. Anything he could have said in his defense would have only incriminated him more. He never should have left the medbay, never should have engaged with the cadets, and he certainly shouldn’t have allowed his petty rage to take over in bringing them back. He stood there, silent, blood pounding through his head and in his ears in a way he didn’t need his hearing aids to be able to hear. It was an ache that transcended pain, but at least it was something he could feel.

“He brought us here!” one of the other cadets yelled from the medbay entrance, peeking around the corner with tears running down his cheeks. “He said he had somethin’ ta show us!”

“Is this true, CC-1313?”

His number hit him like a sledgehammer to the gut. What wind he had left in his sails was stripped away, leaving him feeling weak. Blindly he reached back for the railing on his bed, set up next to Fetch’s, and sat down heavily on the edge of the thin mattress.

“Y…yes,” he said, staring at the floor. 

“I see. There is no excuse for this behavior. You are expected to set an example for the cadets. I will be speaking with the prime minister about this ghoulish incident.”

“I understand,” Jenot said robotically. 

The medical droids fussed, one of them carefully rearranging the sheets to cover Fetch back up while the other hovered around the electrodes still attached to Jenot’s chest and head, taking measurements with its instruments. He sat there and let it happen, wishing there was a way he could have just…ended it, out there in the field. He…he didn’t want this life, didn’t want to share a room with Fetch, watching him die slowly. He didn’t want to face his reflection in the mirror everyday, knowing he looked like…like that. He didn’t want to face her again, knowing she had survived Toydaria as well.

But he would.

He didn’t have a choice. 

They’d make him.

[cursed-princess-club]

cpc characters and how i think they would play the hit game team fortress 2 (the most necessary post i've ever made)

abbi: i definitely feel like she would come from overwatch because i can see her really liking the overwatch characters. sadly i dont know a lot about overwatch but YOU SEE WHERE I'M COMING FROM. she plays demoman and is really good at landing pills :) also DEFINITELY goes all out on her loadout. probably spends a lot on hats. speaking of hats

monika: she likes the hats and ABSOLUTELY collects then... the pocket pyro she would totally have... but would reasonably get too scared of playing in public servers, i too would be afraid of the sweats yelling at me. when she does play i'd see her on mann vs machine with the club! otherwise i feel like she'd play sniper because she avoids more people that way lmao

prez: she's a spy main. enough said. she's just... so spy vibes. watch any jontohil spy video and tell me that isnt prez... she loves overthinking spy gameplay and getting into the enemies minds and stuff. uses stock loadout primarily but would definitely experiment in the other weapons because she is a spy sweat. i cannot emphasize this enough but she's literally that one spy in each game that everybody hates. dominates the leaderboard probably. has a really simple loadout, maybe like a single hat or something. she keeps it simple

syrah: plays any class in the most annoying way possible, needs no further elaboration (she's the scout that dies a lot)

saffron: honestly... pyro. saffron on pyro. let him set shit on fire. i feel like he'd play the defense classes tbh!

frederick: ENGIEEEE!! ENGINEER!!!! he starts playing engineer because of the lack of people who play him. engine being the underrated backbone of the team. uncle dane's descriptions of engineer would vibe with frederick i think. playing engineer is like playing those restaurant managing games, and when you go engineer... it's like you're in your own little world during games, managing teleporters and dispensers and stuff. Frederick

whitney: medic once he figures out how the game works. he just likes supporting his team. also really hard to kill for some reason and it probably annoys the other team a lot. let him play battle medic even

jolie: heavy weapons guy...idk why... but what if... she likes the cosmetics heavy has and has the pajamas one (i have the pajamas one :3)

aurelia: plays any class in the most toxic way possible. she loves it. definitely shit talks on vc

renee (with accent): I THINK SHE'D LIKE SCOUT... she loves picking out cosmetics and dressing up her character like a doll. truly this is the spirit of tf2

prez again: SHE'D TOTALLY BE A SOLDIER EXPERT TOO ACTUALLY

thermidora: she doesnt play but i think she would like medic because he is a funny little guy :)

nell: scout lowkey. the hit and run playstyle, just zippin in n outta there. maybe she'd like it

curtis: the one who taught prez how to play spy. the tfclassic player, the og.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Finally responding, and augh I really want to know about Mushi's past as well, especially with that line about his father, yeah... I love his goofy personality, but he definitely strikes me (similar to all you said in the last post) as the type that was lonely as a kid and didn't have many friends to share his interests with, so he tried to mask said loneliness with his eternal pompous, cocky, tsundere attitude. But anyone who knows him intimately, like Yokomizo did, knows that he's actually a very kind and sentimental person deep down :' ) which is what makes me so emotional about him, how deeply he seems to care despite how much he tries to hide it, and how he probably doesn't see himself as much of a good person, even prior to killing Yokomizo... I know canon pretty much implies that the whole plan was carried out long before Yokomizo's illness started seriously affecting him, but I am a lover of angst and hurt/comfort lmao so I really love to imagine Mushitarou taking care of him (and this is what I want to write about)... He just seems so caring and gentle and, again, sentimental, so I'm sure he was very good at that and that it brought both of them even closer together before Yokomizo's inevitable death (and so I headcanon that Mushi has some medical knowledge from having to deal with all of that... ). He really did so much for Yokomizo, despite how damaging it was to himself, cause I get the sense that they were pretty much all each other had 💔 Anyone would be lucky to have Mushi as a friend (which is why it hurts so much when Poe says he looks like someone who doesn't have many friends 😭 Of course, that's changed now 🥹) 💔 He and Ango really are similar to me, beyond just the obvious "dead best friend and guilt over causing said death" angle, and I love them for similar reasons; they both appear so uptight and strict on the outside, but are really just incredibly soft and sentimental and are stuck in the past, unable to move on yet trying to hide from their immense grief over what they once had, that is now forever lost. I'm really happy Asagiri put them together because it just makes SO much sense, they're so alike in so many ways, and I really need both of them to come back because I need to see more of their dynamic together and see how they help each other grow. Ango is one of my other favorite characters (the buraiha as a whole tbh, of course) and it's so meaningful to me that Mushi is the one who prompted that scene with him reminiscing about Dazai and Oda 😭🥹💖💔 augh... it's just so good, it gives me so many feelings. Asagiri, bring Mushi back!! Bring both of them back!!

Hey again! Always nice to hear your thoughts; they're really fun to read.

Mm, I'm super intrigued by Ranpo's seiyuu commenting on Mushitaro and his arc in the latest interview. The implication that things may not have gone the same way if he was less clumsy and a little more honest with himself... does that refer to his ultimate defeat by Ranpo? Or are we also talking about events that happened earlier?

I kind of always interpreted the situation with Yokomizo as "there was no other way this could've gone". That's why, to me, it's such a tragedy. But I'm intrigued by the notion that things might've been a little different if Mushitaro had been more honest.

All those times that he talked about killing him, all the arguing and the derision towards mysteries... it must've been fairly obvious to Yokomizo, but did Mushitaro ever actually say that he cared aloud to anyone other than the ghost of his friend? Really, would that have changed anything at all? I don't know if it would've, in the end. I think it was always going to end the same way.

You know, to be quite honest, I still don't know how to feel about Yokomizo's request of his friend. On the one hand, I think it's quite a selfish thing to ask. After all, it is not Yokomizo who will have to live with that grief, and I daresay, knowing Mushitaro's character, he was quite assured that he would follow through with it. On the other, I think you're right in saying they were all the other had. There was no one else who could've done it, and to die without regret is certainly the dream. It's a bit... screwed up, ultimately, but you also can't deny they were fond of each other. Then again, this is BSD, the story in which many dynamics are a little screwed up but there is also genuine care between them.

Yeah, I think Mushitaro is a good friend, honestly, or he can be. He's a bit... pathetic, and he's not exactly brave in any sense, but you can't deny he's very loyal to the people he cares for. Which is funny, because that's not the way he comes across at all at the beginning! He initially seems like the kind of person who would sell you to satan for one corn chip. Still, he has some serious issues with expressing anything genuine, though I think he's on his way, and I think Poe, at least, kind of gets it without him having to say anything.

The concept of the perfect murder trio as a friend group is so funny to me, because absolutely all of them are off in their own weird little worlds. Mushitaro probably thinks he is the normal one in the group but he is... very much not that. Except maybe when Ranpo and Poe are completely in sync with their deductions and he's just left standing there like :/

Having said that, I do think he brings a fun balance to the group. He's their resident reluctant tag-along, and he's got a pretty good grasp on mystery techniques from association with Yokomizo. And I think it's really sweet in a way how Ranpo seems to genuinely like him after such a short time, and I suspect Poe understands him a little better than most. A show in the style of Buzzfeed Unsolved with these three would be an absolute riot. I want a spinoff.

About Ango: I think you're right in the similarity, but I think there are some important differences worth noting between them too!

For one, Ango is actually genuinely threatening at times. He is described as a little bit scary when he needs to be, and I believe he often comes across as intimidating to the rest of the Special Division. (I hope they do the bit where he tracks down Atsushi, Kyouka and Mushitaro justice in the anime, because that scene definitely showcased that aspect of his reputation to me!) Suffice to say, I would not want Ango mad at me. Mushitaro, on the other hand... I really cannot stress enough how non-threatening this guy is. He's more creepy than anything else, and that's not even his real personality - that's when he's acting out the role of perfect murderer.

Secondly, Ango is actually more open about his feelings than Mushitaro ever was. Not to most people, but to his friends - he doesn't have much issue with expressing how he wishes they could all come back to Bar Lupin one day, and while he tended to roll his eyes at Dazai's antics and Odasaku's lack of reaction, he never really made it a secret that he was fond of them. Mushitaro, by contrast, was in denial about his conflicted feelings until he couldn't deny that he missed him any longer.

Finally, and related to the above point, they both deal with their emotions differently. Ango is able to suppress his emotions so he is cold and stoic for whatever his mission requires of him. (Interestingly enough, this capacity for cold-heartedness is something he sees as a weakness according to the guidebook - though I got this info from the wiki, so I don't know how reputable this info is. Still, it's interesting to consider the implications of that.) Mushitaro isn't really able to suppress, so he represses them instead under easier emotions and dramatic outbursts.

It's these contrasts that intrigue me a lot. There's room for development and growth, I think, with contrast.

Thank you again! I never get tired of talking about them! :D

[mickmundy]

If we didn't want to hear you talk about stuff we wouldn't be following you!!! augh all the vamp/hunter stuff is so good.

Question though.

Does Medic ever actually (consensually) feed on Sniper or is it all through the wolves?

UWAAAA REALLY ;___; THANK YOU MY FRIEND i just feel like i'm kind of always really annoying so it means a lot to me when people want to hear my thoughts on stuff!! ;-; <3333

and tbh the short answer is yes absolutely but the long answer is definitely not at first. sniper knows his way around beasts and knows how cunning vampires can be (and comes to know just how Capable of Cruelty medic himself is!) so he plays his cards very close to his vest and doesn't Ever even think about the possibility of letting a vampire do that to him! until............ he and medic start getting closer........ heh... >://) I DON'T WANT TO SPOIL ANYTHING FOR MY FIC but what the hell. it'll be a long while before i write it anyway. but i think once they're together sniper really wants medic to bite him, wants to have that "oh, feed on me, please!" moment like in the movies ykwim., heh.,., but medic... doesn't want to. like he does more than literally anything god he wants it wants it wants it but.,., biting someone who you don't intend to turn..... feeding on someone you don't intend to kill.... well.... medic hasn't done that in a very long time.... not since he turned [sound of a train going by and blowing its horn].. HEH!

as far as my "lore" for this, vampire bites that aren't "Bite To Kill" connects the vampire with the blood of the human they've bitten. if a vampire samples blood from a human without either draining them or turning them, it awards the vampire with the ability to track them, feel their emotions (to an extent) and more. that's kind of a big commitment! so it's not something that a lot of vampires... do. what supernatural creature would want to be saddled with human emotions! pah! and most vampires are good enough trackers that they don't need to drink a human's blood to find them. especially, as another vampire (hehe.. >:)) so kindly reminds medic, if said vampire keeps a sharp eye on his playthings!

conversely, if a human ingests vampire blood, the human could be rewarded with any variety of traits that stem from the vampire whose blood they drank; some could grant temporary invisibility (heh), some become resistant to/immune to otherwise fatal physical damage (hmm)... buuut the most common side effect is increased appetite and libido.. heh.... the abilities like the ones above ^ are rare and might require a large amount of blood to be consumed on the off chance it could happen.. but that would involve sampling lots of other kinds of vampire blood, and despite vampire's love for human blood, they're not actually too keen on sharing their own with humans! HEHE

[weregreatatcrime]

I'm sick and rereading Two Halves and I know I leave a lot (A LOT) of stuff in the end notes but there's actually lots of stuff I still never mention or talk about so here's a long sick (no longer at 4am) ramble about things I didn't get the chance to talk about but wanted to (in somewhat of an order reminded by rereading) or at least just some lines I particularly enjoyed

On to Chapter 4

"Feelings, plans, goals, even injuries are just tools to manipulate for your own benefit. Karai is not afraid to use her own pain as a tool." This is part of the chapter summary, not in the actual fic, but I still love it for how great it points out how little Karai cares about herself beyond basic survival

Karai didn't PLAN on coming across the turtles today so she was all for 4v1ing them until they provided prime manipulation fodder

It's funny to me that Leo understands Karai's loyalty to Shredder despite his crappy morals more than Raph, who is THE most loyal to the family. Then again Raph puts his family on a different level than anyone else too

I think this is where I made Raph’s favorite word "bastard" without meaning to hsvdhwgf

Karai was intentionally letting them see clues about her injury, but Mikey was the one who noticed first, yes to that one reviewer, as he is the most empathetic of the lot. He also made Several leaps in logic to get to the Shredder hurting her, but he hit the nail on the head. In all honesty even if she HAD been hiding it, it's possible Mikey might've sussed her out anyways

Karai is so twitchy (stabby) being the center of attention like this and Leo notices so makes everyone back off hfsvhfhe

I literally spent paragraphs in fic with Donnie and Mikey talking about the extent of her injury, I REALLY don't need to ramble about it here too, but lord am I tempted. I'm a huge medical and anatomy nerd if my constant First Aid rants in he end notes hasn't clued yall in yet lol

Karai acknowledged Leo saying nobody would do this to someone they cared about. She does in fact agree, because the only person she cares about here is Miwa. But she doesn't honestly believe that's normal (and tbh, it's not, their connection makes her kind of utterly obsessed) so she doesn't wanna talk about what humans consider caring about each other

The running joke of Donnie giving Karai ice packs, whether he knows it's her or not

The small funny of them all looking away when she pulls her suit off the shoulder, because Splinter raised some fucking gentlemen, even if he never expected his boys to ever actually meet girls before.

Karai’s angry rant was triggered by being called Miwa, but was shut down when she almost said something about her cover. She came reeeeal close to saying some shit that could've gotten her killed for revealing

"All it would take was one soft gooey lie and he would lead the worst of enemies right into his home." <- shout out to Canon where he did just that lol

Karai stocked the place with a lot of basic supplies, including real food (or at least, frozen and non-perishables) but Stockman doesn't know or care to know how to cook so. Lots of it ended up either going to waste or Karai ate it. Stockman watched her eat bags of frozen solid food and nearly vomited, especially when she ate raw chicken that was still frozen in the package. It's crunchy!

Karai sad she didn't keep the chemical ice pack because she could've eaten it later

A LOT of Karai’s thoughts actually revolve around food, tbh. She survived a long time on the knifes edge of starvation. She is Always thinking of food

Stockman, while scared of Karai, isn't afraid of her *presence* so he lost all formality with her after he saw her chewing on a broken phone casing like it was a chocolate bar. He's pretty irreverent with her, unless she's actively intimidating, in which case he obligingly shows that yes, he's still very very scared of you Karai, don't worry!

This is peak changeling behavior. She has accidentally gotten him into using changeling behavioral tactics. Holy fuck

I totally just "Yes, and" my whole way through Stockman’s tech and I'm glad it apparently sold well

Stockman trying very hard not to scream when Karai keeps literally mauling herself in front of him. He did not sign up for this. What the fuck

Karai actually DID make a major miscalculation here. She's never been injured for very long. If she was in changeling form, her changeling trainers had someone magically skilled on staff to heal her. If she was in human form, she had the best doctors (and again, healers, to subtly boost her healing to get her back in shape so she didn't go mad from being stuck in one form) She was NOT prepared for the magical ramifications of shapeshifting with a decent injury

Unstated but I think the way she triggers her transformed is she reaches out towards Miwa and it feels like wrapping herself in a "hug"

Karai considers any cost to herself worth it to get Miwa back. Don't worry, that'll get fixed eventually (mostly)

I love making a running gag of Karai fucking with Leo's vision, even if it's on accident. This time was very on purpose lol

I winced writing Raph hitting her. Not because her shoulder or because she slammed into a wall, but because he kicked her in the chest, and chest armor or no, tit hits are awful. Splinter has not had reason to teach them that that's a "dirty move" on women, yet

Raph: *feeling guilty for hurting her injuries worse*

Karai: don't fucking look at me like I'm WEAK

(At least one or two of her soldiers were DEFINITELY killed for "letting her" be so injured, to Karai’s complete annoyance)

Changeling Karai is a lot more "respectful soldier" than Canon Karai, which does please Shredder greatly. She thinks this is normal. Honey...

Shredder used to be very obsessed with making sure Karai didn't "ruin" her mother's beauty with scars, so any wounds she got, were very carefully tended to to minimize scarring or pain. This is definitely weird creepy projecting he did thinking of her more as an extension of Tang Shen than actual concern. Now he's just too bonkers to care

I found a typo hdvdjwgfje something autocorrected "contrite expression" to "contrite excision" and I'm mad about it shfvshdg

The people around her serving as caretakers are very aware that Shredder isn't doing a good job at being a father, whop. But they're too scared of Karai and her twitchy (stabby) ways to try and fill any of that gap

[yuridovewing]

Okay a general Emeryverse change is that I want to save some of the kittens that get killed off really young because, and I know this sounds weird, I have noticed that they REALLY love to have a litter where its one boy and one or two girls, and the girls will die. It happens with five different characters at the top of my head. (Tigerstar, Brokenstar, Thunderstar, Jagged Peak, and Birchfall) and I know theres a bunch more for like background characters. And god damn it I want more girlies in there.

I'm gonna leave Birchfall's siblings as is because Birchfall being a sole survivor of his litter is something I want to play with.

Brokenstar and Thunderstar are probably gonna be single kitten litters because I don't really see a need for them to have dead siblings. I guess if you want to go with the idea that StarClan cursed Yellowfang's litter as punishment, but I don't really like that. And idk, I like Brokenstar at least being an only child and nothing really changes without his sisters.

Buuuut I might make them Brokenstar's daughters instead. Because Hopekit and Wishkit are REALLY cute names and I want to keep them. No idea what their fate would be, my vision is that Brokenstar sired a litter cause All Of Our Child Soldiers Are Dying For Some Reason, resulting in kids. They're born soon after he's exiled, and their mother named them Hopekit and Wishkit in an effort to give them good fortune despite their heritage. (I also imagine that she never told anyone who the dad was. But some can probably tell, they have the flat faces.)

In that case, I'd name them Hopeshine and Wishsong ^^ Hopeshine becomes a permanent nursery queen and Wishsong is a warrior, they both stick around til oots.

Fluttering Bird lives but she decides to stay with their mom. I... don't really know what she's doing tbh. I kinda want to axe the entire time travel "full circle" plot and I'm also considering axing the tribe altogether or having a totally different group take their place. I have no clue what to do with dotc and I kinda don't care. Whatever though she's alive.

Tigerstar's sisters live! They're all close as apprentices before Thistleclaw gets into Tigerpaw's head. Mistpaw becomes a medic apprentice and becomes Mistnose (she and Spotty train at the same time) and is in a trio with Featherwhisker and Spottedleaf... until she decides she wants to follow in her father's pawsteps and leaves to become a kittypet after seeing a dark vision of her brother terrorizing the forest. Her kittypet name is Angela. She is gone shortly before the events of Into the Wild and Tigerstar refuses to acknowledge that she ever existed.

Nightpaw becomes a warrior named Nightdapple and works as a scribe for the clan (note: this is a position dedicating to recording clan history. She's also in charge of educating the apprentices and kits on said history). She's on good terms with Spottedleaf even after her sister leaves and actually had a bit of a crush on her, but never said anything so as to not put any pressure on her. (Note: Spottedleaf is Rosetail's child here, not Swiftbreeze's. They are not related here.) She's on better-ish terms with Tigerclaw, but is horrified with his actions and refuses to leave with him in his exile.