#oc: tallis

[sleepyfan-blog]

Lestra's Arrival

Author’s Note: This is the second part of the mini-arc involving new Primaris Black Templars arriving in the husbandry AU. FIrst. Next. Other Cedric fics here and here. Thank you to @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan for allowing me to borrow Hura and Zariel

Tagged:  @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34

Warnings: graphic description of wounds, blood, character death, 

Summary: A badly injured Lestra is found by a renegade warband and brought to the clinic for treatment.

The scent of blood was thick and heavy in the air as the wind changed directions. A small frown appeared on Tallis’ face and he signaled to one of the Cousins he was currently traveling with, as he was on point before speaking “Something… Someone is bleeding heavily nearby. Smells like an Astartes. I’m going to go check it out.”

“Careful, sorcerer. The Warp is much harder to reach in this time period.” The Raven Guard Sargeant who was the leader of the little warband that Tallis had been found and semi-adopted by, warned. 

“Yeah, Yeah. I know. I’ll be careful. First sign of trouble, and I’ll vox for help.” The Thousand Son hummed in acknowledgement as he carefully made his way over to where the scent of fresh blood was strongest.

~

It did not take long for Tallis to find the other Space Marine, who was leaning heavily against a tree. The other was naked from the waist up and badly wounded. There were bright red, raised lacerations covering every inch of skin on his back from the neck down. On top of those wounds were fist-sized bruises every four to five inches apart, too regularly placed to be randomly placed. Worse than that, however, was the wounds on his chest, as Tallis carefully turned him over.

Tallis couldn’t tell what color the other marine’s short hair was originally, as it was matted and discolored with blood. Both of his eyes had been scratched out by what looked like lightning claws. He swallowed hard as whoever had used the lightning claws on this poor marine’s eyes had liberally used them on his chest and abdomen as well, having carved words into his chest in a language that he did not recognize, though that might be in part from the amount of blood oozing from his wounds.

“I NEED AN APOTHECARY AT THESE COORDINATES IMMEDIATELY!” Tallis yelled  over vox, making sure that he was using the broadest and longest-range frequency he could as horror settled in his stomach, a heavy leaden weight.

The other marine was breathing, but his chest was rising and falling unevenly, and was more gasping than breathing regularly. He reacted to Tallis’ yelling by curling defensively, a pained whimper leaving him.

Tallis knelt down in front of the other marine, his voice quieter as he aimed for soothing, and landing on frantic “Hey… Hey. Easy. I mean you no harm, oh throne, you have no studs. You’re a scout. Who the kriff did this to a scout? Keep breathing and stay awake as best as you can. I’ve called for an apothecary. I do have some first aid training, and I do have some supplies on me, so I’m going to start treating you as best as I can, alright? Please don’t startle when I touch you. Can you tell me your name, scout?”

The scout whimpered and turned his face towards him, opening his mouth and revealing -

Oh. 

This poor bastard had his tongue ripped out too, did he? Tallis silently wondered if he’d been found and overpowered by a group of Drukhari before being translocated to M3 Terra. “Okay, no talking, for you. That’s okay. I can talk enough for the both of us. So, right now I’m grabbing the wound cleanser I have in my bag and I’m gonna spritz those claw-marks with it. Its’ gonna sting a little, but I know that you can handle it. Here. I’m gonna move one of your hands so that you’re touching my knee, so that you know that I’m here and I’m real.” 

He heard Sargeant Malish crash through the underbrush in his direction at the sound of his shout, the rest of the warband on his heels. But all Tallis could do was to focus on the poor, unfortunate scout in front of him, to try and reassure the lad that he wasn’t alone in a strange place, left to die slowly. 

“Enki, Rao, make us a stretcher. There’s a hospital a ten-minute sprint from here that treats Astartes, and he’s going to need a lot more than whatever first aid we can give him in the middle of this forest. Tallis, you stay with the kid until it’s time to move him. Do you see any signs of neck or spinal damage?” Malish asked, looking the injured marine over critically.

The scout who had black painted leg and boot armor whimpered and flinched at the sound of the sargent’s yelling, his shaking getting worse.

“I… No? I don’t think so, but we should be careful in how we move him, anyways. He’s in really rough shape, and I think at least one of his lungs have been ruptured, front he way he’s breathing. Easy… Easy, scout. No one’s yelling at you. You’re doing a great job staying awake.” Tallis murmured, gently patting one of the other’s shoulders, trying to get the poor scout to calm down a little. 

The scout whimpered wordlessly, but he seemed to relax a little, which was progress.. It did not take long for Rao and Enki to build a make-shift stretcher that would hold the kid’s weight. “Alright, we’re going to put you up in the stretcher, now. On the count of three, we’re going to lift you up and put you on it. One… Two… Three!” Tallis counted, helping to heave the surprisingly heavy scout up and onto the stretcher. Tallis ran ahead of the four carrying the injured scout, guiding them to the astartes-friendly clinic-hospital.

~

Despite the stench of blood, the slow, agonal gasps of the brother on the operating table, and the chemical scent of cleanser in his nostrils, Part of Cedric silently wondered if htis was a nightmare of some kind.

Lestra was on the operating table, again. Cedric was part of the medical team trying to save his life. Again.

Hopefully Chaplain Petras and Sargeant Brenthom would not come bursting into the roo, half-way through the procedure, with the former bellowing at them to stop all but the most necessary procedures to keep him from dying, as these wounds had been inflicted due to punishments that Lestra had somehow earned.

Quiet, obedient, dutiful Lestra. 

Lestra, who had some of the best scores of any of them when it came to marksmanship and tech-repair outside of the snipers and tech-marines.

Lestra, who murmured the prayers to Him on Terra most fervently, who delighted in aiding the Chaplains in any duties they asked of them, no matter how menial the task.

Lestra, who never questioned orders. Who tended to their weapons and armor with a patient reverence that bordered on nearly obsessive.

Lestra who, despite every effort that Cedric and the other Apothecaries were making, was once again dying, drowning in their own blood, as it filled their lungs faster than could be siphoned away. Whose blood loss was causing a cascade of effects that was shutting down their body. Lestra, whose body was rejecting the blood and fluids that they were trying to pump into them.

Lestra, who coughed wetly and grabbed Cedric with desperate, waning strength,pressingtheir forehead to his for several seconds before going limp, their hearts stopping.

Lestra, whose blood coated Cedric’s hands, arms and chest. Even after it had been washed away by an older Apothecary, when it had become clear that Cedric had locked up, unable to move.

“I failed them… Again.” Cedric muttered as he stared down at Lestra’s still warm body. Two of the Imperial Fist Apothecaries were preparing to open them up, to carve out the necessary organs that could be saved and reused. 

“Sometimes patients die, lad. Even though we do what we can to help them. They were in a bad way, lad. It was unlikely that they were going to survive. Do you know which chapter they belonged to?” One of the Imperial Fists asked, reaching out to try and touch Cedric.

Cedric flinched, stepping a half-step back not-trusting the touch to be painless. “Lestra, Primaris. Black Templars. They were… They were one of the first I -” found badly hurt. Before he… Before he knew what was going on. Before he knew which of his Firstborn brothers was beating them to the point of death. Not that he was fool enough to say that out loud where other firstborns could hear that. “The Bellasarian engine will explode if you try to remove it from their body, causing considerable damage, so leave it in place.”

“Ah… They were one of the first patients you lost? That’s always rough. Come on, lad. You can leave the grisly work of organ harvesting to the others.” Of all people, Captain Ash’val murmured.

Where had the salamander scout captain come from? He was no apothecary.

“But I… They need…” Cedric tried to find the words, his hearts bleeding and lungs seizing up. 

“The others will handle the organ removal. After that, Ramiel can guide their final rights, and you and the others can give them a final goodbye. Losing a patient is rough… Especially you’re first one, and I can’t imagine what losing your first patient twice must feel like.” Ash’val murmured, wrapping one arm around Cedric’s shoulders and steering him out of the operating room.

“But… But I was able to save Olivar… Why wasn’t I able to save Lestra? It’s not… It’s not fair!” Cedric managed out, trembling violently, though he did not resist Ash’val’s touch, nor his orders.

“Olivar’s wounds were less severe, and he was closer to treatment than LEstra. These things happen. You did your best, lad. That’s all we can ask of you.”

Cedric crumbled into Ash’val’s steady body, weeping until he passed out.

~

“Did you discover anything during the Autopsy, Zariel?” Ash’val, asked, his voice quiet, so as to not wake up the distraught young apothecary passed out in his arms, hours later.

“The lash-markings on Lestra’s body are consistent with the ones found on Ramiel and Olivar, when they were first brought in for treatment. As is the lichtenberg scarring and the way that the lightning claw wounds were on Ramiel’s and Lestra’s bodies. It’s likely that whoever went after our two surviving Primaris Black Templars was the one who killed Lestra.” Zariel dutifully reported to the Salamander.

Hura offered “Cedric was equally unsurprised to see the wounds upon Lestra, as he was on Olivar and Ramiel as well, which means he was likely one of the apothecaries who tended to the three of them in M42 before he and they were all brought here to Ancient Terra.” He was frowning as he watched the young apothecary in training sleep. “When I brought young Ramiel to view Lestra’s body, he was understandably distraught, but not surprised that they died, despite all efforts to save them.”

“You know… For as bad as they are at lying, they sure do seem to be keeping dark secrets and deep sorrows hidden in the deepest corners of their hearts.” Zariel murmured with a small frown.

“They correctly guessed the colors of your armor within weeks of living here. A feat most of the rest of the base has yet to discern.” Ash’val pointed out. “They may be young, but they are clever.”

Zariel huffed at that, looking away. “Point taken.”

“We should go, before Cedric awakens. Our presence will only confuse and worry him, given his recent trial.” Hura remarked, standing up a moment later and dragging Zariel out of his chair.

“Hey! I can walk on my own. Let me go, you giant bastard.” Zariel grumbled reluctantly allowing the Death Guard to manhandle him. 

[olgipolgi]

Tallis - Guardian of Aranea 💟

[jeliwyre]

love shot !

[orlart]

i’m your man (mitski)

[trekkerac]

haven't had an oc art post in a while...

[kyettoes]

🌊🌴🌈 Happy 12th Anniversary of 12.12.12

[magnificentmicrowave]

songtember day 9: Tally Hall - Banana Man

[choco-dawn]

New obsession just dropped >:D my friend recommended me a wonderful IF called Shepherds of Haven and i just had to get had to get my grubby drawing hands on this and try to draw every character in my style (Ignoring the last girl thats my just my MC I added her to make it even- i love her tho) alongside a bunch of other silly doodles cause i love the writing!!! and these characters!!!! i love the found family!!!!!!!!!!!! go read it!!!!!!!

[deadwooddross]

answering this one oldschool style: I was watching westworld with my friends so this iteration of all of them is western themed, but I cant recall if anything specific from that was part of the inspo? Polly has always been the quiet freaky one to pair with Castors chattier self. They're both usually mercs/bounty hunters/hunting dogs that "answer to" Croc The polly pictured here is the Silent Sniper sort, their poncho is all fabric cut from targets clothes stitched together and with nicely embroidered/embellished bullet holes. Trophy! Here's another pic of them that I apparently never posted here?? More nicely done up

[this-should-do]

new guy dropped

[sleepyfan-blog]

Author’s Note: this is the second part of mer-Tallis fic! Previous. Next

Tagged: @the-pure-angel @egrets-not-regrets @whorety-k @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

Warnings: none? Ask me to tag anything if it bothers you

Summary: you find that the astartes you serve has had an accident of the magical kind.

You had never once dreamed of getting the honor of becoming a serf to one of the mysterious but generally well loved and revered Legiones Astartes. Not even after Lord Tallis had rescued you from the warp storm that had obliterated the ship that you'd served since you’d been born. Not until he'd asked if you wished to stay with him and work alongside him sometimes you were still in just as much awe and uncertainty of the giant, graceful mer you diligently served as the first day that the two of you had met

Other times… Like now, for example, as you silently made your way over to your lord, you wondered internally how he had managed to survive for so long without assistance.

You'd found him in his ritual chamber, spellbook open to some half-finished incantation, laying partially across the runic circle etched into the floor and filled with gold ceramite. The Lord Astartes whom you served directly was clearly passed out as well.

You'd briefly panicked and rushed over to his side, realizing that he was - from tip to tail - half the length of your open palm. You could see the steady rise and fall of his chest as you swiftly knelt down at his side, relief sweeping through you before another wave of concern hit you hard. You called out to him “Lord Tallis, will you permit me to pick you up and take you to the nearest Apothecary?”

You had no idea how he had managed to shrink himself into such a small form - nor why he'd done it. You weren't sure if you wanted to believe that the shrinking had been an accident or unfortunate side effect, or he'd done this to himself on-purpose. Any of those scenarios were equally likely, as you had learned in the time that you had spent serving Lord Tallis.

The thousand son stirred from where he lay prone on the floor, a groan leaving his lips as he used his hands to push himself upright, looking around and then up at you, blinking on confusion and mild alarm “How have you gotten so large? I told my brothers not to cast any spells on you without informing me first and asking you if you'd agree to such a thing. How are you feeling? Amy headaches, hunger, dizziness? How is your sense of balance adjusting to your change in height and mass?”

You suppress the urge to sigh - or grin - and answer “I’m not the one who's changed size, my lord. You are, and I can only guess this happened by magic somehow. I think I need to get you to an Apothecary, to check you over while you try and figure out how this happened.”

He floats up and settles comfortably in your hands, despite the sullen expression that flits across his handsome face. “I'm… Not Entirely sure why I shrunk down to this size. the effect I was trying to create on an inanimate object was to increase its size, not make it smaller.”

You hum in acknowledgement, holding him carefully as you make your way to the infirmary you weren't the only serf assisting the thousand Son they served to the medbay either. One of the astartes was a violent shade of green. Another was hiccupping a steady stream of multi-colored bubbles out of his mouth, nose and ears. A third had somehow caused his fins to change shape and size constantly.

Sorcery was a tricky art to master, especially When practiced within the warp. The fortress world you'd been brought to within the warp was heavily guarded against the larger predators that lurked in the chaotic currents. The Thousand Sons were much more free to practice their sorceries here, rather than put in normal space where the uninformed and terrified hunted them as witches and heretics for using and learning about abilities they were born with.

You were keenly aware of the risks and dangers of warp magic, having seen all sorts of strange and terrifying things. Lord Tallis had offered to drop you off at a relatively stable Imperial Planet of your choice… But he had saved you from certain death or far, far worse. You’d pledged to be in his service until either you died or he was tired of your presence at his side… A boon which he had generously granted. You’d genuinely come to care for Tallis in the months you’d spent dutifully serving him and delighted in the person he was beneath the imposing armor of a space marine.

You waited patiently in the triage line, humming to yourself as you held Tallis close to your chest. At this size, he was cool to the touch, which concerned you as Tallis had always been warm to the touch before this latest magical mishap.

[edynieaf]

4: “The Hypothetical Moon Dance”

[jeliwyre]

R A T K I N G

[crystallizsch]

(this has been on my mind for a while)

[krist3a]

Come back again to make things stand, with no disrespect to the "&". (Click for quality! 🤎)

[afreakingdork]

Writing Request: Reader x Donnie College Meet-Cute 💜

We got an anonymous request callers! Inspired by Stress Test, I got a request to do the college edition of a reader x Donnie meeting! Since the meeting in Stress Test is pretty indistinct as they're practically strangers, I'm going to write an original college meet-up!

From now until the poll closes, if you can prove to me that you voted Hassan/Mikey in this poll then I will write any short 100-400 word request like below or draw you a doodle of your choosing!

ᴰᶦˢᶜˡᵃᶦᵐᵉʳ: ᴵ ᵃᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶦⁿ ᵃⁿʸʷᵃʸ ᵃˢˢᵒᶜᶦᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵒʳ ᵉⁿᵈᵒʳˢᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵉᵗᶦᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᵒʳ ᶦᵗˢ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉˢᵗᵃⁿᵗˢ.

All ages fluff below the cut!

New semester, new classes.

You weren't, however, new to the college so you knew where to go. There was no freshman fumbling around as you cruised down the hallway. Your class was in this wing and you had the number. You just had to locate it and there were vague enough signs on the walls. You followed the arrows and, after counting down, found your door.

You were just early enough that you had a nice selection of seats to choose from.

The front you would skip as it was too close to the roving eyes of the teacher. You weren't sure of their style just yet, but you weren't particularly interested in hiding in the back. Thus you were left with the cent which seemed like the safest choice.

As you gazed over those choices, a dead center seat jumped out at you. The seating was broken up into two sections with a complimentary center row. One such aisle seat was plump for picking and you headed toward it. It would mean sitting right down next to a student in the adjacent seat.

Usual courtesy dictated you would leave a buffer seat for them, but you had seen the roster when you were checking your class schedule. This class was full and you'd soon be packing in anyway. The person seemed alright enough as they were buried in their hoodie and poured over a book. That read to you that they wanted to keep to themselves and you had no problem allowing it.

You took your seat and were careful not to jostle the table. Your seat mate continued to read on as if you were never there and that satisfied you. You took your time in getting your notebook ready for first day notes and settling in. You hadn't been too early, so soon students were filing in. You watched them come in with a tilt of your head toward the door and in your periphery you saw the book the student next to you was reading.

You recognized it instantly; it was the graphic novel version of a movie you had just watched.

The one none of your friends particularly cared for, but you loved.

You lit up.

"Is it good!?" The words came out of your mouth before you could stop them. "I was thinking of reading that!"

For a second, you were caught in stasis.

The silence went on just long enough that it seemed like your table mate hadn't heard you.

They could have had headphones in, you realized then.

They could just be ignoring you.

They could be enraptured in reading.

They eventually did move.

It was with a creak and just enough of a glance out of the depths of their hoodie.

They seemed to check if you were talking to them before looking down. "Yes. I've been enjoying it."

The response was cold, but something about it didn't completely deter you. "Sorry... I didn't mean to interrupt."

"It's fine." They put a bookmark that was another property you recognized, but you kept quiet about it.

Your professor walked in and class commenced. You took your notes, got your copy of the syllabus, and as these things usually went, your first day of class was over just as it started. You were dismissed and in the time it took you to close your notebook, you found the student next to you had disappeared.

On your schedule, you were back in class a day later, but you were running late. Experience taught you that while there were no assigned seats in college, there were stakes claimed. These were rocking in the first few classes as everyone adjusted to their needs which meant you perfect, middle-of-the-road seat, was in danger.

It had been a great vantage point and its proximity to the aisle meant you could leave without disturbing others.

It was the perfect seat and you were going to lose it.

Until you shot through the door and your professor glanced up at you with a snide comment.

There was a messenger back on the desk you used two days ago.

A black and purple one that matched a particular hoodie.

One that reached up and removed the bag as soon they noticed you looking.

They saved your seat.

Your heart shot straight into your throat and that was it. You spent the rest of your semester prioritizing getting to class early enough. No matter how much room you made in your schedule, he was somehow already there. Within the first few classes you found out her was a mutant and you equated that with his stoic attitude. You assumed he was nervous about judgment though you had none of your own.

What you really wanted from him was someone to talk to. It seemed like every time you brought up an interest, he had some opinion on it. It meant you could lob yours at him and he'd, in his limited capacity, would reciprocate. It pegged you has strange because his eyes betrayed everything else about him. By sitting right next to him, you'd see fires lit if you ever disagreed with one of his takes, but out of his mouth came lines that seemed per-recorded.

It only furthered your interest to the point where you could no longer tell if he actually care for your companionship or not. He was more of a fixture. A dimly lit lamp to read by as there was always a book in front of him. You were the one who came in stubbornly everyday and tried to change the switch.

All until he didn't show up one day.

The moment you walked through the door, his empty seat felt like a beacon.

There was a withdrawal deadline about to pass.

One that kept a class from impacting GPA.

Was that it?

Had he not been learning.

You sort of remembered him taking notes.

Really you had been looking at his hands.

How his two fingers twisted his pen between his thumb.

it was an agility you couldn't comprehend matching.

Remembering helped as class wore on. The presence beside you was one you hadn't realized you relied to heavily on. You rarely talked during class, but just knowing he was there felt like something you could count on. Even when time was up and he scurried off as he did, you day didn't feel complete until he gave that little bob of his head to acknowledge he would see you again.

You only realized then how bad your crush was.

It wasn't petty interest or a like mind for media.

You liked him.

You liked the way he smiled to himself during lectures.

You liked that you could chart his progress through how far his bookmark moved.

You liked how you had fallen for the old hoodie trick when in reality it was painfully obvious that he was a lovely shade of green.

"He's out sick."

You blinked up to find most of your class had already left.

"Donatello." The teacher spoke as he adjusted something at the podium. "Got an email, though it doesn't seem like he's going to get any notes from you."

You had a retort.

"You're quite the pair."

You swear you did.

"Do not separate." He chuckled. "Print that and slap it on your seats."

All you did was mumble a a thank you before finally packing up.

Perspective was now beating you down.

All those weeks.

All those classes.

Could you have been anymore obvious?

Was Donnie saving your feelings?

You called him Donnie without even asking if that nickname was alright.

it just popped out one day and he didn't correct you.

You were going down a hallway.

You need a break.

A diversion.

All these little cupid Donnie's were flying around your head.

When?

When?

The question pounded your ears as you ran toward the library.

Other students were moving at a similar speed.

Everything was moving faster.

There was running.

There was yelling.

You stopped for no particular reason.

Your shoes etched the ground and it was as if you landed on the activation point of a land mine.

The wall in front of you exploded out and you watched several students who had been in front of you get blasted away.

Not you.

You had perfectly and accidentally stopped just shy of the damage.

"There! You know the maneuver!"

You knew that voice.

Rubble moved and pulled your eye to where the debris had gone.

Out of the wrecked reeled the squishy body of a frog mutant who looked up with a paralyzing amount of spite from where he had come from.

You were slow to look back.

In the hole, perfectly arranged were four brightly colored turtles.

The purple of which you zeroed in on and, again, on your command he spoke.

"You all have the maps. I told you enrolling to scout was a good idea!" His head tipped nothing, but cocky.

It was Donatello.

You knew despite everything oozing from this person was not your person.

"Nerd alert!" Another turtle chirped.

"Just admit you wanted to break into school again!"

"Gasp!" Donnie swung a hand up to his chest. "I would never! I applied and got in, clearly."

"He tried to jar the science lab air."

"The science lab was where this mutant and the three others were being forcefully mutated by that student!!" Donnie hissed.

A rock then rocketed at the group and took the orange one back through the hole.

"Enough gabbing!" The red turtle readied his fist. "We got the campus layout! They can't hide so let's smash 'em!"

You stood deathly still as they attacked the frog.

A white mouse soon joined the fray.

The orange turtle returned.

A starfish disrupted the turtles victory and its chopped limbs regenerated more suckered creatures.

You heard phrases tossed around like silverfish and several students tried to coax you away.

You couldn't.

Donnie was there.

Donnie was unlike anything you'd ever seen.

Images of his meek existence were obliterated one by one.

You didn't know this man.

You knew some guy in your class and idealized a book he probably kept as cover.

You still swore the bookmark moved with steady progress.

Wasn't that enough proof that at least something was real?

If that was, what else was?

Caught between that and the literal battle going on around you, you were stuck.

Until a brick whizzed by your face, but the pain came on a delay afterward.

You reached up like something out of a show and touched your cheek.

It came away with blood.

It darkened on your fingertips way faster than it should have oxidized.

You looked up in time and saw an entire slab bench was heading towards you and casting a shadow.

So this was it, you allowed your final thought to be just as anticlimactic.

Something else struck you from the side first.

It had the force of a rocket and your air was sucked from you at the speed.

It also hadn't hurt.

It was warm, if anything.

Momentum slowed and you were soon sat on your feet, though arms securely had your waist.

"Are you okay?! Your cheek! I have skin adhesive that I was using to lift key cards. Long story, but..." Donnie held you with one arm and searched his person with the other.

You stared.

He had the same face, but this was the first time you had seen all of it.

Or part of it with his purple bandana and what looked like a shoddy pair of modified welding goggles on his head.

His hand shot up with a pinched bandage slip "A-one dressing that is both repositionable and inhibits bacterial growth! Perfect for..."

He took great care in applying it to your cheek.

His hand lingered there and its warmth seeped through your skin.

"Who are you...?" You found yourself asking.

His expression shifted from something tender to something tinged with sorrow. "I'm still me..."

Your brows came together with knit distress.

"The Donatello that attended your classes was but a cover, but our interactions-!"

You watched him cut himself off.

"-are ones that evidentially appear... as part of said ruse."

You nodded.

His lips parted for a few false starts.

There was a distant crash and some cackling that could have come from either side.

Donnie glanced in that direction.

"You should go..." You told him.

Duty or whatever he was up to caught him and he straightened up.

You stepped out of his arms.

He said your name with clear intention.

For your time, you offered him what you thought would be a last look.

"I could really use your notes today."

You blinked a single time.

"I'm not... Well, I should say I have no intention of dropping out. Imagine the blemish on my academic record! They say it's not counted, but we all know that's not true. Besides, the material is child's play compared to my doctorates, however..."

You felt your mouth gape.

He only smiled. "Now that we, and I mean my dumb-dumb brothers who I am going to have woefully blind faith in that they've taken care of this mess, caught the rogue mutator I can finally take my studies seriously."

You stunted a hopeful breath.

"As in a study group, of course! Multiple students and not just us! Ah! Alone! Can you imagine!?" He quacked with flushed flesh.

Your heart shot straight into your throat.

"And I can trade you for the notes. My graphic novel. The first one that you wanted to read. We can call it collateral... until I show you that I can be trusted... If you were..."

"I didn't take any notes!"

It was his turn to stare.

"I... I was too distracted that you were gone."

"You...?" He pointed to himself.

You nodded.

"Me...?" He pointed to you.

Your head bobbed at a faster pace.

"Then we must catch up!"

"For class!" You added.

"Donnie!!" A voice called. "Gonna need that sticky stuff you got!!"

"You should-"

"I should-"

You both gave bashful grins.

"Wednesday."

"Wednesday. After class?"

"Consider my calendar cleared!" He lifted into the air before you like a vision and you thought you could get used to that as he rocketed back toward where one of his brothers was waving.