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mischievouslittlecreature · 1 month ago

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Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: Luca continues in working towards his goal of unraveling Lucy both physically and mentally.

Word Count: 6,066

Notes: This chapter is pretty brutal, but I felt that it was important in order to properly understand Lucy's mental state going forward. But if you need to skip or skim it, that it entirely fine! Please take care of your mental health! Warnings for depictions of torture, blood, suicidal thoughts, use of a slur, sexual assault (but not full blown rape) past gang rape, and references to pregnancy and racism.

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Chapter 23: The Mercy Seat

Men always hurt women, to punish other men.

It was something that her Aunt Miri had told her once, when Lucy was visiting her mother’s Romani kin where they lived in the mountains. She had been young, barely even a teenager, when Miri had told her that. At the time, she did not understand.

She understood now.

Drip…drip…drip…

She could feel the blood still oozing slowly down her back, falling in droplets to land in the crimson puddle that had steadily grown below her suspended feet.

Her back felt as though it had been dipped in alcohol and then set ablaze with a flaming match. The skin was so tender, even the simple kiss of cool air against it was agonizing. Without being able to actually see and assess the damage, she could only assume, based on how she’d felt the whip dig into and rip away chunks and layers of skin, that the entire expanse of her back had been slashed to ribbons. If the skin ever got the chance to heal, it would likely be just one mass of pale scars layered on top of one another.

She’d lost count of how many lashes she’d taken. By the end, she already had been drifting in and out of consciousness. And then Luca had poured something over the entirety of her ruined back, and she’d screamed so loud she thought she might bust her vocal cords, and darkness came to claim in her a great rush.

When she woke up, she was still dangling by the ceiling, her back burning and her shoulders screaming from having her entire weight hanging from them for hours.

How long had it been? A few hours? A few days? A week? She couldn’t tell; she’d been teetering in and out of consciousness since the whipping. There was no clock in the room. No windows to tell what time of day it was. No way to know just how much time had passed since Luca had taken her.

Tommy, where are you?

Tears that she tried furiously to try to blink away pricked at her eyes. He’d come for her. He would. Maybe it hadn’t really been as long as she thought…

The last time she had felt so helpless had been that night in the alley, when Matthew,–the man her father had promised her away to–angry over her latest rejection, had cornered her with his friends and gang raped her. And then, after they were done and they thought she was dead, they took her out to an abandoned park and buried her in a shallow grave. A grave that she woke up in, terrified and in agony, and by some miracle managed to dig her way out of.

Those had easily been some of the worst moments of her life. Haunting and tormenting her constantly. Never letting her entirely, fully be free of them.

She’d made a promise to herself to never be that powerless and incapable of defending herself ever again. And yet here she was, completely trapped, with no way to escape, unable to do much more than wait and hope that Tommy would come and save her.

Luca had been by a few times, to pour water down her throat and rake his fingers down the wounds in her back, grinning when she screamed. He fed little bits of bread to her from his fingers, Lucy hating herself even as she gratefully gulped down the tiny morsels offered to help quell the ache of hunger in her stomach. Sometimes he hit her. Once he kicked her in the small of the back before heading out of the room. She’d blacked out from the explosion of pain that action had brought, terrified for a moment he would try to break her back with his boot before the dark swoop of unconsciousness embraced her once more.

But the worst were the words that he spoke. Manipulative, sly hisses in her ear that she knew were not true. And yet it was as if he had crawled inside her ear and lodged himself in her brain, starting to wear away at her, bit by little bit.

He’s not coming.

He never loved you.

You’re alone.

Her fingers tightened against the rope, scratching at it uselessly. Hatred and disappointment towards herself for allowing this to happen providing her with a sudden bout of strength.

But even the tiniest of movements caused pain to slice through her back and shoulders. It almost felt like she was being whipped all over again.

The lock on the door clicked, and the heavy wood swung open. Briefly, she was treated to a glimpse of the world beyond her hellish cell. All she could see was a short hallway that led to a flight of stairs, and a guard standing at attention by the door. And then Luca stepped in, swinging the thick wood shut behind him and locking it.

“I brought you some water,” he said, setting down his briefcase on the table in the corner and removing his hat, going to her and raising a glass to her lips. Lucy gulped down the cool liquid, hating herself the entire time for accepting anything from him, even as it helped to quench her parched, aching throat.

“It’s been a long while, now,” Luca commented once she was done, lowering the glass from her lips and stepping back over to the table, placing it down next to his hat, then shedding his coat to drape it over the back of the chair. “Are you still so certain that he’ll come for you?”

Lucy answered him with a glare. Luca shrugged, unconcerned, snapping open the latches on the briefcase. When he opened it, he angled it in such a way that she could not see what was inside.

“Did you think that Tommy has even noticed that you’re gone, yet?” he looked up to her with that grin she’d grown to hate.

Her throat flexed, jaw clenching while she battled to keep all emotion save for contempt off of her face. It was impossible that Tommy hadn’t noticed. The second that she didn’t show up in time for lunch like she’d promised, he would know something was wrong.

“I know that he knocked up his little whore of a secretary. Maybe he simply doesn’t have much need for you, anymore.” Luca continued on. Lucy felt a lump wedge its way into her throat. “Maybe I’m doing him a favor by getting rid of you,” he chuckled. Lucy tried not to let his words sink into her mind and take root there, but it was already too late. He was already deep inside her head. Tears once again started to well in her eyes.

It felt like a violation. Almost like getting raped all over again. He was in her head and she didn’t want him there, rooting around and planting ideas into the depths of her mind that would only serve to hurt her. To torture her even if she did somehow manage to get out of this cell and away from him.

Luca took a step away from the briefcase, towards her, and Lucy tried to cringe back but couldn’t. He beamed at her obvious discomfort. “Maybe he’s noticed that you’re gone, but doesn’t care at all.”

The tears lingering at her lash line finally started to spill forth, running down her sweaty, tired face in a warm cascade of salty water.

No; Tommy loves me, she tried to argue. But the rest of her exhausted, pain ravaged mind just screamed back, THEN WHERE IS HE!?

Luca’s brow creased in mock concern at the sight of her tears, but his eyes betrayed the elation he felt at managing to get her to crack. Embarrassment and frustration over allowing him to see her break only caused more tears to come, the little sobs in her chest sending shocks of pain up and down her entire torso.

“Shh…” in a handful of long strides, he was directly in front of her, reaching out to swipe her tears away with his thumb. Lucy jerked her head furiously away from his touch, glowering at him through bleary eyes. Luca just shot her a condescendingly amused expression, brushing away the rest of her tears. “I have something for you,” he said it like a parent would to a child regarding a birthday present. “Wait right there.”

A pit of dread opened up inside her stomach, terror slicing through her like a knife. Tremors at the suggestion of having to experience more pain started to wrack through her entire body. Watching as he made his way back over towards the briefcase, to retrieve whatever new instrument of horrors he planned to use on her next.

“I know that anything that I do to you can’t be worse than what’s already been done,” Luca was looking her up and down like one would a particularly scrumptious meal. “So, we’re going to try something else. A little…trip down memory lane, so to speak.”

Lucy’s stomach cinched painfully, eyes widening with a thousand possibilities as to what he could mean by that.

“But first,” he drew from the briefcase a slip of black fabric. “I’m going to blind you. Not literally, though believe me, the thought was tempting,” he strode to stand in front of her, reaching out to stroke the back of his hand down her cheek, ignoring her useless attempts to jerk her face away. “To pluck out those pretty green eyes…put them in a jar to mail to your lover,” he wetted his lips, expression that of a man half aroused. Until he shook his head and the heatedness of his gaze dissipated into only hardened cruelty. “We’ll get to that eventually. But not now. I want you to be able to see my handiwork once I’m done.” Reaching out, he trailed his hands along one of the scars that ran from her collarbone down her chest, disappearing under the rags of the white shirt that barely clung to her body.

“I gave you something new, with those lashes to your back. Now for something old. My mother told me about the stories of what happened to you in London. I’m going to reopen all of your scars from that night.” That serpentine smile was back, stretching his cheeks grotesquely and shimmering in his eyes. “You will close your eyes behind the blindfold, and relive what it felt like to have your skin carved apart. To be raped over and over again,” his voice dropped in pitch to a menacing growl. Lucy felt as though she were about to puke, heart pounding and chest tightening as she fought to control her breathing around the mounting panic inside her.

No, no, no, no, please, not again…

“I considered just letting my men have at you for a few hours. But I’m a selfish man.” Luca reached out with one hand, and pressed his palm to the bottom half of her face, tipping her head back. His hand was large enough that it covered her skin from nose to chin easily. Like a muzzle, nearly crushing her cheekbones under his fingertips. Tears she did not even realize she’d allowed to spill forth dripped onto his knuckles. “I want your pain all to myself. I want to look Tommy Shelby in the eye, and tell him about how it was me who destroyed you.” With one last possessive squeeze to her face, he dropped his hand. His smile faded, and for a moment she saw the true man poised behind the grinning mask; a figure of deep, unending rage and hatred. “Let’s begin.”

“N-no–” she tried to twist her face away, but there was nowhere for her to go. Luca curled the slip of black fabric over her eyes. It was rough, almost like sandpaper against her skin, forcing her to close her eyes. The entire world was plunged into darkness, the sound of her panicked breaths seeming to increase in volume. A few strands of her hair were snagged and ripped from her scalp as he roughly knotted the fabric at the back of her head.

Not being able to see him or anticipate his next move only made the terror worse. Her heart was beating fast as a hummingbird's wings against her ribs. In the dark, her other senses were heightened, the damp smell of the room growing more obvious, the ache in her back and shoulders more pronounced.

When she felt Luca’s hands on her chest, she nearly screamed at the touch alone. To her horror, he plucked away the remains of her shirt and bra, pulling them from her body with one final tear of fabric. The need to cover her bare breasts had her desperately tugging on the restraints holding her arms above her head, momentarily able to ignore the pain in her shoulders. Luca just laughed, hands grasping at her waist to keep her still.

When his fingers started to fumble with the button on her trousers, she began to sob.

“Please, please, please, don’t–” she tried to twist and buck him away from her. In the time she’d been dangling there, she’d tensed her core at intermediate moments, pulling her body up when she did. Breathing through the pain in her back that the contracting of muscles caused, trying to take some of the weight off of her shoulders, if even just for a moment. She did that now, attempting to writhe away from Luca’s icy touch. Her legs soon joined the mix as well, trying to kick him away from her. Tears streamed down her cheeks in rivers, wetting the blindfold. Pleas fell from her lips, her pride entirely forgotten in the name of pure, uninhibited panic.

“Shut up!” he slapped her suddenly across the face, so hard that her teeth rattled in her skull and one of her ears rang. The shock of the sudden action was enough to have her struggles cease for just enough time to allow him to get a firm grip on her. With a vicious movement, he yanked open her trousers and pulled them off along with her knickers, leaving her entirely naked and horrifically exposed.

The need to cover and hide herself was all consuming, amplifying the terror already coursing through her. She could barely breathe, her chest felt so tight, little wheezes puffing from her lips.

Maybe she would pass out before he could actually do anything.

Even the tiniest ghosts of air against her skin was enough to have her flinching, little whimpers sounding in her throat as she braced for the first infliction of pain.

Her fingers curled against each other and the rope holding them in place. She tried to latch onto that. To focus on the bristles of the rope’s fibers and not what Luca was about to do to her. Certainly not on the memories of the last time she’d felt this exposed and vulnerable. They were swimming up from the well in which she’d tried to drown them, crawling towards her on hands and knees with demented smiles, voices that she still sometimes heard in her nightmares beginning to call out to her.

“Hm…” Luca hummed, contemplating. She started to cry even harder when his hands smoothed down her body, starting at the sides of her breasts, skimming down her waist to the swell of her hips, rubbing up and down her thighs. “I can see why Tommy likes you so much,” he whispered into her ear, hot breath fanning across the side of her face.

Without warning, a blade dug into the meat of her outer thigh, perfectly following the path of the scar that ran jaggedly almost down to her knee. Lucy screamed, the blade digging in deeper than she expected, and with her sense of touch more reactive, she swore that she could feel every bit of muscle and skin split apart in its wake.

In her mind, it was raining. She was crying as they swarmed around her, dragging her into the dark, narrow alleyway where no one would hear or see them. The damp cobblestones were slick and cold when they threw her to the ground. They were laughing, their voices layering on top of one another.

Luca started to carve into one of the messy scars on her right side, following the gnarly pattern that had been cut into her years before. She vaguely sensed that he was taking care to puncture her just deep enough to make it hurt, to coax her memories closer to the forefront of her mind, but not so deep that he accidentally punctured anything vital.

The men in the alley had used meager little pocket knives. Not professionally sharpened blades. That was likely the only reason she’d survived the encounter.

They had torn at and pushed up the skirt of her dress–that was back when she still wore dresses–hands groping greedily at her skin. The others held her down when she tried to squirm away, grips so hard she thought that her bones might crunch under their palms.

To keep her body from swinging while he sliced into a scar near her bellybutton, Luca placed a palm on her back, and she howled at the press of his fingers against the tender canvas of open wounds that covered her back.

The percussion of thunder overhead drowned out her screams and pleas for them to stop. Matthew had her first. Ignoring her begs for them to stop, he backhanded her across the face, then seized her cheeks roughly, spitting vile, horrid things into her ear that she squeezed her eyes shut against. As if that would somehow cut off her hearing too.

Try as she might, she had never been able to entirely banish his voice from her head.

This is what you get, you stupid girl. This is what you fucking deserve.

Luca’s blade bit into the flesh of her chest.

You are mine. All mine. Nothing will ever change that.

Lucy sobbed as the tip of the knife scraped along her ribs, following the outline of pale, raised flesh. She would be lucky if her body wasn’t entirely covered in scar tissue once this was over. If it was ever over.

You will never be free of me.

When Matthew was done, he let his friends take turns with her, him and the others holding her down, cutting into her with their knives as they pleased. Laughing. Look at how she bleeds, boys. So bright and red. And here I was thinking that all gypsies had dirty blood.

She could not tell if the way that Luca was touching her was with the genuine purpose to grope, or if he was simply seeking to find the best purchase on her body to keep her still while he carved into her. It didn’t not really matter, she supposed. The result was the same. Her skin felt dirtied from having his hands on her, stomach roiling at once again living through such potent sensations of violation.

“Please, please, stop…” she somehow managed to get the words out of her hyperventilating lungs. In response, Luca dug the blade in deep to get through a particularly thick scar near her hip, and she screamed, voice straining, as she swore that the blade slipped far enough into her skin to scrape bone.

No matter how much she cried, screamed, and begged, he did not stop. Not until all of her scars had been carved back open, blood dripping in rivers down her fair skin. When he was done, Luca did not say a word. He just stood, pulled the blindfold roughly off of her face, collected his things, and left her hanging there, her body ever so slightly swinging from side to side from the ropes binding her hands above her head. Sobbing, shaking, bleeding, and lost to her memories.

∗ ∗ ∗

Tommy stared out the window, watching despondently as the sun set on the third day that Lucy had been missing. By mid-morning tomorrow, it would be seventy-two hours since he’d last seen her. Since she’d smiled at and kissed him before disappearing out the door.

He hadn’t slept. Hadn’t eaten, despite the plates of biscuits and toast that Polly and Ada had left for him on his desk. He’d smoked more cigarettes than what he normally went through in a week. It felt like his head was about to burst, dread building to an unbearable level with every advancing tick of the clock.

She was dead. She had to be. No way that Luca would have kept her alive for this long.

Throat convulsing painfully when he swallowed, he looked away from the treacherous sun.

I don’t want to live without her.

It had been a thought that had started swirling around in his head when they’d officially passed the twenty-four hour mark. And try as he might, he could not push it away.

Amazing, how easy that realization had come. And how quickly he had accepted it. Almost with no thought at all. As if there could never have even been another alternative to consider.

If Lucy was dead, then he would not be far behind her.

Charlie would be fine. Better off, probably, with Ada or Polly. Same went for Lizzie and the baby. The rest of them could finally have the peace they had so long pleaded with him for. There was plenty of money to go around for them all, and more incoming, if they decided to keep things running.

How would he go about it? A blade to the wrists? A noose and a stepstool? A gun to the temple, loaded with a bullet engraved with his own name?

That last one seemed right, for some reason. He could ride out to their spot in the meadow. Under the tree by the lake whose trunk still displayed the scar of their engraved names encircled by a heart.

Yes; if Lucy was dead, so was he. It was as simple as that. After all, he could not live without his heart. And certainly not without half his soul.

Did Luca understand that? Tommy wondered. Did he know that all he had to do to kill Tommy was stop the beating of Lucy’s heart?

Shaking the thoughts away, he adjusted his fingers around the phone he held up to his ear, wetting his lips and taking a deep breath to try to steady himself as he waited for the person he was calling to pick up the phone on the other end.

Despite everything, he’d managed to calm down and pull himself together, at least externally. Worry, fear, and about a thousand other emotions still ravaged within him, but the mask of control was back firmly in place.

His explosion had managed to clear his mind of the paranoia he’d been getting choked by when Lizzie first came in. Once it was over, it actually felt like, for the first time in a few hours, he was able to think somewhat logically again.

Ada had left him alone briefly to go into the kitchen to check in on Lizzie and Polly, and to get him some tea, pointedly ignoring his request for whiskey instead. When she came back, saucer in hand, it was to fill him in on Lizzie’s story of what had happened when Lucy came to visit her. Even though he hadn’t eaten anything all day, his stomach flipped nauseatingly at the description of Luca slamming Lucy’s head into the doorframe and his men dragging her away.

But it was a relief to know that Lizzie hadn’t betrayed them. That, at least, was a thought he no longer had to worry about occupying vital space inside his head.

Since then he remained at the betting shop, coordinating with his men to make additional sweeps. Seated by the phone, always answering it on the first ring, listening with a sinking heart to each report that came up empty handed. They’d started questioning people in the area around Lizzie’s house after the first night, slowly widening the search, and still nothing. And with each failure to turn up any leads, all hope of finding her slipped even further from his grasp.

He squeezed his eyes shut. My girl. My sweet girl. I’m so sorry. I’m trying. I’m doing everything that I can.

He’d gone out with Arthur for a few hours on one of his sweeps, but it only served to make him more frustrated and anxious. The thought that one of the other search parties had found something and called the betting shop while he was out wreaked havoc on his nerves. It made him snappish and even more irritable than he already was. To the point that Arthur demanded he return home because he–in Arthur’s words–‘looked to be about two seconds away from either murder, mutilation, or a nervous breakdown.’

There was a slight crackle on the other end of the line, and then, “‘ello?”

“Alfie,” Tommy said, clearing his throat when he heard just how strained his voice still sounded. “I need a favor.”

“I thought that arranging my nephew to fight that scrawny little son of the man with the ridiculous hair was my favor to you, mate,” Alfie started to grumble. “If you’re going to start asking for more–”

“They took Lucy,” Tommy interrupted. Much as he often enjoyed Alfie’s colorful, at times bordering on nonsensical, rants, he did not have time for one right now.

Shocked silence greeted him from the other end. “They what?”

Tommy nodded, even though Alfie couldn’t see him. “I, uh, I have my men scouring the city here, but I was wondering if you could have some of your boys search around Camden Town in case he decided to take her out of Birmingham.”

“Yes, yes, of course, I’ll have some men sent out.”

Tommy let out a quiet breath of relief at how easy it was to convince him. Then again, Alfie had always had a soft spot for Lucy.

“Thank you, Alfie.” There was a soft tap of knuckles against his door. “I have to go. Call me if you find anything, yeah?” he waited for Alfie’s utterance of affirmation and hung up. “Come.”

The door opened slowly, and Lizzie timidly poked her head in. “Can I come in?”

He really would rather she not, but he sighed and beckoned her in, pulling another cigarette from his pocket and lighting it while she sank into the chair in front of him.

They’d seen very little of each other since his outburst towards her. Outside of his brief excursion out with Arthur, he’d spent the past three days holed up in his office. But he often could hear the hum of Ada, Polly, and Lizzie’s voices outside. Ada told him that he didn’t need to worry; they would take care of everything regarding the shop or the company.

Both Polly and Lizzie were giving him a wide berth, however, and it was almost always Ada who came into his office to ask the occasional question, give a short report, or simply drop off a plate of food that they both knew would go untouched.

He knew that he really ought to apologize for screaming at Lizzie, much as the words seem to catch in his throat and not want to budge. His eyes strayed to the ugly, slightly faded purple bruises on her throat.

“Alright, look–”

“It’s fine.” Lizzie cut him off, shaking her head. “You had a right to be suspicious.”

He closed his mouth, considering her carefully. She was so bloody confusing when it came to Lucy. He was beginning to think that he would never entirely understand how she felt towards her. “Are you alright?” he asked finally, because it seemed like the thing he ought to ask, considering how prominent those bruises still were.

Lizzie nodded, hand fluttering to her throat. “Looks worse than it is. Have you got people looking into the gardener? Ada said that she passed along what I told her and Polly about him.”

“Yes. We got the information you gave us out to all of our men. They’ll be looking for him.”

“He seemed like such a sweet old man when I interviewed him…”

Tommy gave her a look. “You hired him without telling me.”

Something in Lizzie’s eyes sharpened. “I didn’t want my entire staff to all be spies reporting my each and every movement back to you.”

“How many more people have you hired that I don’t know about?”

She leaned back into her chair, lips set in a firm line.

“Fire all of them.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“Safety is of the utmost concern. Especially now. Like it or not, you’re a target. Anyone you hire needs to be at minimum background checked by either Lucy or Isiah.”

“Oh, for the love of–”

“Lizzie,” he said, angling his head up, voice stern. “You’re going to be the mother to my child. That means that there will always be a target on your back. I need to keep you both safe.”

“You could do that if you stopped.” Her light eyes were pleading as she leaned forward. “Throw the gun in the canal. Cut free the illegal businesses–”

“You like your new house?” he interrupted, head cocking. A crease appeared between her brows.

“Of course…”

“How do you think I paid for it, Lizzie?”

She went silent, jaw clenching, giving a tiny shake of her head. Scoffing, Tommy leaned away.

“I don’t have time to be talking about this right now.”

“Of course not, it’s always about her.”

“You’re damn fucking right it’s ‘always about her’ when she has been kidnapped and might very well be dead!” Ah, well. So much for keeping his cool with her again. Planting his hands flat on the desk, he leaned towards her. “You realize that they’re likely torturing her? Right now. Right as I sit here, talking to you and doing nothing to help her.” His voice cracked a little on the last word, slamming his shaking lips together before he said anything more.

Lizzie cringed and looked away, slamming her eyes shut. “I didn’t…fuck. I didn’t mean it like that, Tom.”

“Didn’t you?” he spat out, unable to contain the bitterness.

“No,” she looked down at her hands, tracing nonsensical patterns into the wooden armrest. “You’re not doing nothing, Tommy,” she added, after a moment of quiet. “You’re commanding a city-wide search for her. That’s not nothing.”

“It’s not enough.”

She looked back up at him with sad eyes.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. She and I actually had a very good chat before Luca showed up.”

“Is there anything else that you can remember? Any clues or bits of information? Did he say anything that might indicate where they took her?”

“I’ve been wracking my brain. I can’t think of anything else that might be helpful. It all happened so fast.”

He could feel her gaze on him as he rubbed at his eyes to fight back an incoming headache. Weariness and dwindling hope were rampaging inside his mind. It had been so long since Lucy went missing. All the things that Luca could have done to her in that time…

“Tommy, if she’s gone…”

“I don’t want to talk about that right now.”

For a few seconds, it actually seemed like Lizzie might honor his request. “I just thought that then…maybe…you and I–”

His eyes snapped open, jaw going slack at the pure audacity displayed before him. Fucking hell, she was giving him goddamn whiplash with how quickly she was flipping between two diametrically opposed attitudes. One second, she was acting as though she cared for Lucy. The next, near gleefully trying to feel out how long after Lucy’s death would be appropriate to wait before she tried to shove her way into the space Lucy occupied within his heart.

“That’s what you want to talk about? We don’t even know if she’s dead yet, and you’re already wondering how long until you can take her place in my life?”

“After the way that you behaved following your first wife’s death, can you really blame me?”

He stared at her, so shocked that she would throw that back in his face that he found himself momentarily without words. “Get out.”

Lizzie immediately looked apologetic. “Tommy, I’m sorry–”

“I said get out!”

“Tommy, I didn’t–”

“Let me guess, you ‘didn’t mean it?’ That’s what you always fucking say, Lizzie. Right up until you turn around and say the exact same fucking thing again.”

She looked near tears, but stood from the chair and went to the door without a word. Hand on the doorknob, she stopped, turning back to face him.

“I just got battered around too, you know. The baby’s fine, by the way. Glad to know that you care so bloody much.”

He stifled a wince at that, the sharp knife of guilt twisting deeply. With everything else going on, he’d almost forgotten about the baby entirely.

“Polly offered that I could stay with her until this is all over. I was going to take her up on that, but now I think that I’d rather go back home and be away from the whole lot of you.”

She was going to give him a migraine. Or a fucking stress-induced stroke.

“I’ll get some of our best men to watch the house.”

Lizzie’s expression had unfocused, eyes wide and truly afraid where they stared at the wall. “He told me that he’d come for me and the baby once you’re all dead.”

Tommy frowned, and wondered for the first time if part of her recent attempts to wriggle in closer to him were not so much as a result of her trying to push Lucy out to make room for herself, as they were because she was afraid and seeking out security. Gathering up what last little shreds of patience he had remaining, he forced his voice to soften when he spoke to her.

“You stay here until I can sort out protection for you, all right?”

Her expression changed into one of sheepish gratitude, nodding. “I am sorry. I’m trying, I swear. It’s just so hard.”

He opened his mouth to answer, but there was a sudden bang as the door into the shop flew open, and then he heard Arthur shouting his name.

Lizzie opened the door and stepped out of the way to let him through to where his older brother was standing, chest heaving and eyes half wild with excitement and bloodlust.

“We found him. We found the fucking gardener. He was in a pub near the edge of our territory.”

There was a sudden roaring in Tommy’s ears, a rush of hope that he grabbed and clung onto with both hands. “Where is he?”

“Charlie’s yard.” Arthur grinned. “Figured that you’d want to talk to him yourself.”

Tommy nodded. “Right, you stay here with them,” he nodded over to the women in the shop. “Keep our men looking in case they find Lucy before the gardener gives up where they took her. Get ahold of Aberama. Tell him that I want you, him, and Bonnie all ready to move out soon as we know where she is. Then call Finn, Isiah, and Jeremiah. I want them here guarding the shop. Then come join me at the yard.”

“Right,” Arthur moved around him towards the phones. “You think you’ll be able to crack him?”

Tommy didn’t reply, instead just going to pull on his coat. “Come to the yard soon as you can.”

Opening the door, he stepped out into the cool night air. As he tugged his black leather gloves on, his thumb rubbed across the diagonal scar that still marked his palm. Even all these years later, he could still remember the bite of the blade slicing through his flesh, the warmth of his and Lucy’s blood mixing as they pressed their palms together.

A blood bond. As sacred–some said even more so–than marriage.

Just hang on, he thought, closing his eyes, trying to reach out to her through the bond that connected them. Hoping by some miracle that she could hear him. Just hang on, sweetheart. I’m almost there.

I’m coming for you.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #lucy winters #lucy winters x tommy shelby #my ocs #lily writes #my fanfiction #love me where i'm most ruined

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sergeantcowboy · 18 days ago

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Hey I'm gonna pretend like the western worlds decent toward facism isn't a thing and that the already fundamendally flawed democratic system of the US isn't actively collapsing in on itself as we speak, I'm gonna share some oc facts.

(In all seriousness: to all my american followers or whoever happens to see this please stay safe. If you're part of any of the groups trageted by the right wing please keep yourself alive, they want you gone and just being alive is already resistance. I believe in you.)

Wow look at that! OC facts! (Mainly Crow's backstory and family stuff)

TW: parental death

Crow was born in New Jersey to a teen mom who had him at 16. He spent the majority of his childhood being raised by his grandparents.

His mom still lived with them, aside from some of the time in his early childhood where she attended community college for a bit.

She's a very nice woman and did her best but she was mostly clueless about parenting. Even as a small child Crow recognized her insecurity in that area but he still loved her.

His full name is Simon Francis Trevino. At this point he's so used to Crow he actually reacts a millisecond later when someone calls him by his actual name.

He hasn't met his father but at this point he isn't even really interested in the guy. His mom didn't talk about him much either.

Crow got bullied as a kid. He did have some friends in the neighborhood, but not anyone at school. He went to a catholic school that was in a different area, meanwhile his neighborhood friends went to the local public school.

His family is originally from the domican republic, both of his grandparents were born there. His grandfather's family immigrated to the US when he was still a child. His grandmother immigrated to the US as a young adult.

He speaks spanish very poorly, much to his grandparents disappointment.

His grandpa is kinda too into toxic masculinity, he has tried to raise Crow to be "manlier" from day one.

He's also not a fan of the fact that Crow likes other guys but he's not outright disowning him over it. He's just kinda awkward about it.

Same with his grandma, she's leaning on being more accepting though.

Both still prefer to call him "creative" or "different" if it comes up around extended family or neighbors.

Around the time Crow was 13 he got into a fight with a bully over a stolen diary. The fight got more violent than anticipated and the bully ended up hitting Crow's head on the pavement, resulting in his eyebrow scar.

As per tradition in school, they both got expelled for a week for fighting, despite the fact that the bully had been the one stealing Crow's property. The bully was also clearly the one with the upperhand in the situation. Crow did start the fight... cough

Crow had already been lashing out a bit at some of his classmates for the bullying, and after that incident he was officially branded as a "problem child" by the school.

His grandparents made the decision to send him to bullworth academy, partially to set him straight (not like that) and partially to "toughen up" a bit.

Around the same time they, along with Crow's mom, had been planning that she could take full custody of him and move away to learn more independence and also have a more "conventional family life". So instead of just sending Crow to live in the dorms, he and his mom moved to bullworth where they rented an apartment and his mom went on to work from part-time job to job.

She even worked as a maid for the Harrington household for a bit, before being diagnosed with breast cancer and getting fired so that the Harringtons could avoid having to pay any sick leave.

Her cancer was diagnosed late, so it was already at stage IV, and it was one of the more aggressive forms of breast cancer (triple-negative).

Despite getting help from his grandparents, they could barely afford the treatments. Crow started doing odd jobs around town and eventually started selling stuff at school for some more cash. It proved to be more profitable than he initially thought, he was around 14 years old at the time.

Crow and his mom had already made plans to move back to New Jersey to save more money and to be more around family, but she passed away before that could happen.

Crow went back to New Jersey for a bit, attending her funeral and taking a break from school, but after a month he and his grandparents made the decision to send him back to Bullworth where he'd live in the dorms now.

Crow continued his side business at school mainly because he realized he liked the adrenaline rush of doing something that wasn't allowed, and that was before he was even selling cigarettes and alcohol.

At the age of 15 he started getting into that part of his business as well. He also started spending time in his dorm room learning how to forge signatures just to make counterfeit hall passes and such.

He also started smoking because he got too curious about cigarettes. And, well... he already had some packs to sell, might as well try one.

He doesn't stay at bullworth during christmas, preferring to go to his grandparents house.

Even though he spends a most of his time there doing chores and helping around the house.

And even though he doesn't like dressing up to go church every christmas morning.

He still wants to see his family.

And visit his mother's grave.

#bully oc #crow #yes his middle name is a reference to the husttler kid in recess I thought I'd be funny #bully game #artists on tumblr #oc art

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prythianpages · 9 months ago

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Give 'Em Hell | Part Two

beron's daughter OC x eventually Azriel | Beron Vanserra is a man with many sinful secrets but there is one that desires to punish him. His daughter. His true firstborn and heir to the Autumn Court.

Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Some of the country folk of Autumn are protesting Beron's rule and there is talk of rebellion. The Phoenix. And Beron begins to wonder if the enemy is among his inner circle.

Warnings: bullying, violence, harsh insults thrown oc's way/ brief mentions of sexual assault (groping)

A/N: I'm so sorry this took me forever to update. This has been in my drafts since November omg. I got this idea/motivation to write this at a time where I was at the peak of my female rage lol and now things in my life are better. However, I did always want to write a character who is "evil." Using quotation marks because that's still up to be decided on. For this OC, I'm drawing huge inspiration from Game of Thrones, especially with Daenary's character. Also, I know that birth order does not dictate who inherits the title High Lord but in this fic and probs in canon too, Beron hates the idea of Autumn having a High Lady.

Sometimes memories are the worst form of torture.

Deaths, heartbreaks and traumatic events may pass but the memory lives on, lingering like a haunting and tormenting spirit. The Pryalis family has been threatened to become a distant memory, torturing the remaining patriarch of what was once.

Once a strong and powerful big household, the Pryalis family was now reduced to just one. Edmund Pryalis. Or so he thought.

Among the wreckage of his beloved son’s home, remained a young female. She had been found, a couple of feet away from the house at the edge of the surrounding forest, with signs of struggle etched onto her pale body, bruised and scarred. She had been trembling and terrified when Edmund had approached her, demanding to know who she was and what had happened. He had not been prepared for the words that had broken off from her quivering lips.

She was his son’s bastard daughter. His bastard granddaughter.

Edmund had not questioned it. His son was known for being disloyal to his wife. It was inevitable to not sire a bastard child and if his son’s scandalous endeavors were not enough to convince him, the female strongly resembled his late wife and daughter with her sun-kissed auburn hair, high cheekbones and striking eyes. However, the color of her eyes were not the infamous emerald green the Pryalis family was known for but a chestnut brown instead.

If it weren’t for the deaths of his son and family, his heirs, he would’ve done Prythian a favor and rid it of one more bastard. But he didn’t. He refused to allow the Pryalis name to fade into memory and so now there were two.

“May their ashes rise and flames persist in eternity.”

The air carried the scent of damp earth as the leaves rustled with the wind, whispering their final farewells to the departed souls resting beneath. Edmund pulled his gaze from the tombstone below and to the young weeping female. He gestured for her to follow him and they silently made their way to the entrance of the cemetery, where a carriage awaited them.

As Edmund placed a foot on the carriage step, a sudden realization compelled him to pause. There was one more question he had yet to ask of his bastard granddaughter. “What is your name?”

“Emilia.” The female had replied.

And if Edmund had bothered to turn around, he would’ve caught the flames flickering in her eyes.

“Two will soon become three until there are finally eight but one will not be true to you and only one shall come to be.”

Beron found himself surrounded by the weight of the soothsayer’s prophecies, uttered nearly three centuries past, as he surveyed the grandeur of his Autumn Court's council chamber. There was more truth to the soothsayer’s words than he’d like to admit. To his left, his four eldest sons occupied their appointed seats, a testament to the continuation of his lineage. On his right, the key figures of his advisory council – chief advisor, spymaster, master of coin, and army commander – assumed their positions

His two younger sons were away, honing their skills in the art of war, preparing for a future fraught with uncertainties. And Lucien…

Well, Lucien was doing everything a High Lord’s son probably shouldn’t and Beron couldn’t bring himself to care for it at this moment. There were other pressing matters to attend to.

"Mistwood grows restless," Fenrik, the spymaster, began cautiously. "Whispers of an uprising persist, and while rumors can be as fleeting as the wind, this tale echoes persistently…”

Beron's piercing gaze bore into Fenrik, a silent command for the truth to be unveiled.

“I am uncertain whether it is a person or a group but there's mention of a Phoenix. A harbinger of a brighter tomorrow. Faced with the specter of an impending famine, some villagers may be swayed to rebellion against our presence."

A tense silence falls upon the room as Fenrik’s words hang in the air like a foreboding mist. That is, until Eris, the heir to the Autumn Court, decides to break it.

“Perhaps, we should provide them with enough sustenance to quell their thirst to riot,” Eris suggests, his voice resonating with wisdom beyond his years. Beron should be proud but instead, his eyes narrow as he assesses the situation.

“Gain their trust so they remain loyal to you, High Lord,” Edmund, Beron’s chief advisor, agrees as he waves his hand, beckoning his cupbearer forward.

Eris’s eyes widen ever so slightly, lifting his gaze toward Edmund. It’s the first time the two have ever been in agreement. He then turns his head toward Edmund’s cupbearer, a spark of curiosity flashing in his amber eyes.

As the cupbearer delicately pours a substance, presumably more potent than wine given its acrid scent, Eris can’t help but wonder why Edmund subjects his own granddaughter to a servant role when she is beyond the age of marriage. Granted, Emilia is a bastard. But still his blood nonetheless. His only blood.

Edmund brings his cup to his lips and takes a swig. He sputters almost immediately, throwing his chalice to the floor and drawing everyone’s attention to him. The dark crimson liquid splatters onto the floor, staining the soft fabric of his granddaughter's dress. Emilia shrinks back, fear flashing across her features as Edmund shifts toward her with a scowl.

“This is not what I asked of you!” He seethes with furrowed eyebrows. “I asked for the russet elixir, not this.”

“I’m sorry, grandfather. I thought this was the russet elixir.”

Emilia drops her gaze, a frown tainting her soft features, as she presents the bottle of liquor to him. It is clearly labeled as crimson nectar. “You imbecile. Go back to your station,” Edmund orders hastily, no longer desiring a drink.

“Illiterate bastard,” Hunter mutters under his breath with a chuckle, elbowing Eris.

Eris does not humor his brother. Though his fingers tense around his own chalice, he maintains a stoic silence, his gaze following Emilia. She retreats to her designated place in the council chamber, head bowed low. Her silhouette merges seamlessly with the servants clustered around the table of refreshments.

“Let them starve.”

Eris’s gaze shifts back toward his father and he swears his heart skips a beat.

“But my High Lord–”

“I refuse to feed the mouths of potential traitors,” Beron interrupts his spymaster sharply yet his gaze is focused upon Eris, brown eyes shimmering with disappointment. “The seed for rebellion has already been planted. It does not matter if I send them sustenance or not, they may still revolt. I’ll turn the town of Mistwood into a lesson.”

Beron then rises to his feet, signaling that he will hear no more from his council for today. “Anyone who lends credence to this alleged Phoenix shall be branded as traitors and punished. No exceptions.”

Beron strides out of the room, the council trailing in his wake. Eris, however, lingers, reluctant to vacate his seat. He prods the inside of his cheek with his tongue, stomach filling with dread from the look Beron had given him before leaving. He sits there for what feels like an eternity but given the fact that some of his brothers remain, harassing Edmund’s poor granddaughter, it couldn’t have been for too long.

When Eris rises from his seat, he catches a glimpse of Oliver, his younger brother, trailing a hand a little too low down Emilia’s body. From where Eris stands, he could see Emilia’s every muscle tense under the unwanted touch and harsh words whispered into her ear. Yet, Emilia remains quiet, her gaze fixed forward, even as Oliver finally frees her of his torment.

Silver lines her dull brown eyes and Eris can’t help but pity the female. He knows the look on her face all too well. It's a reflection of the emotions he often carries within himself. Hatred. Fear. Anger.

The room is quiet, save for the measured cadence of Eris’s footsteps. They come to a stop right before Emilia, causing her brown eyes to widen in surprise. Still, she remains steadfast in avoiding eye contact with Eris.

“Lord Eris,” she addresses him, her voice a masterclass in practiced restraint, as though she has honed it over centuries of servitude.

“We should arrange for someone to teach you how to read.”

Emilia blinks, caught off guard and for a fleeting moment, vulnerability flickers in her dark eyes. It’s not the first time Eris has been kind yet she still can’t comprehend why he continues to express concern for her. She hesitates before regaining her composure and slowly lowers her gaze.

“Grandfather says reading will only taint the female’s mind and that I do not need to know how to read in order to fulfill my duty.”

“And what duty is that exactly?”

“I’m the last Pyralis female. I’m sure you can take a guess, my lord.”

Eris exhales heavily, as if he too was wearied by the harshness of her world. “Suit yourself then.”

For centuries, the Pyralis family stood as a formidable force, characterized by its size and strength. Even amidst the transformative shift in magical favor that propelled the Vanserra family to High Lordship, the Pyralis clan endured without faltering. True to their name, they rose from the ashes, mirroring the resilience of the Phoenix they were named after. They maintained their high status in politics, taking on the role as the Vanserra’s chief advisors. Speculation lingered that the only force capable of bringing down the Pyralis family was the family itself.

The Pyralis family's decline began long before Eris’s birth. Still, he couldn't help but reflect on the strange sight of witnessing such a once-mighty and expansive lineage reduced to a mere two living members.

It made him worry if the same grim fate would befall upon his own family.

“Mother’s tits, what happened to you?”

“Your brothers,” is all Emilia says followed by a huff, the small gust of frustration sending the dark red fringe framing her face tumbling forward like a curtain of shadows. Weariness etches across her features, shoulders slumping, allowing a glimpse beyond the facade she meticulously maintains.

Lucien furrows his brow in concern and gently reaches out to tuck the loose strand behind her ear. “You look like you’re in need of a pick me up,” he remarks, his russet eyes lighting up at the idea. “A little trip to Thornwood might lift your spirits.”

Emilia pauses, narrowing her eyes slightly. “I’m sure it’ll lift other things too.”

Lucien laughs, his lips twitching upwards into a grin. Though Thornwood sounds like a good idea, given the hard day she had, she recognizes why Lucien is more than eager to go. She knows him too well. As they step out of the forest house, he hooks his arm through hers and winnows them both to Thornwood before she could even question if it was safe to do so, given the current volatile state of the neighboring town, Mistwood.

Thornwood is a breath of fresh air.

Both Lucien and Emilia feel a sense of comfort as they fall into step beside each other. Lush orchards and vineyards surround the small town nestled in the countryside of Autumn, their branches heavy with golden and crimson fruits. They walk along the cobblestone pathways, leading to a central square where various vendors are selling goods. Residents, adorned in cozy layers to protect from the autumn winds, go about their daily routines with a sense of unhurried contentment.

An elderly female rests against the weathered water well, rattling a worn cup that holds a few gold marks toward any passersby. As Emilia walks by, the female’s eyes follow her and with a sudden urgency, she rattles her cup harsher.

“Something wicked this way comes,” she mutters, the words slipping from her cracked lips like an ominous whisper carried by the wind. “Something wicked this way comes…”

With a glare directed at the older female, Lucien steps around Emilia, shielding her from the female’s sharp gaze.

“Em!”

Emilia's head whips around, her guarded expression softening as her gaze fixes on a blonde figure drawing nearer with each passing second. Before she knows it, strong arms envelop her. Emilia finds herself wrapped in a comforting hug and returns the gesture.

"Hey, Jes," Emilia greets, the corners of her lips hinting at a rare smile.

"You haven’t come to visit in awhile. I was getting worried," Jesminda remarks, pulling away from the hug with a concern-laden expression.

Lucien, feeling neglected, huffs in mock offense. "What am I? Chopped liver?"

Jesminda giggles, but she redirects her attention to Lucien, throwing her arms around him. He responds with equal enthusiasm, pulling her close and twirling her around, evoking a delighted squeal that he silences with an affectionate kiss.

“Gross,” Emilia comments, a slight grimace crossing her features.

Jesminda, despite Lucien's protest, untangles herself from his embrace. "Never been in love before?"

Emilia's gaze shifts to where Lucien and Jesminda now hold hands. "No, and I don’t plan on it." She pauses, her eyes lingering on the intertwined couple before she adds, "It’s not worth the price.”

“You say that now–”

"Yeah, yeah," Emilia cuts off Lucien before he delves into the cliché notion of finding the right person to fall in love with. Blah, blah, blah. She slips her hand into her pockets, withdrawing a handful of goldmarks and tossing them toward Lucien, who effortlessly catches them. "Go fetch us some apple cider, please?"

Once Lucien is out of earshot, Emilia turns to Jesminda with a cautious look. "This is a dangerous game you're playing."

"I'm not scared," Jesminda replies, her eyes scanning the town square before she leans in closer to her friend. "Just like I'm not scared to stand with Saoirse."

Something flickers in Emilia's eyes, and with a soft smile, Jesminda adds, "I love him."

“He’s the High Lord’s son,” Emilia whispers a bit too harshly for even her own liking yet Jesminda remains unfazed by the reminder.

“One of many,” Jesminda simply points out. “I’m sure he could spare one.”

Emilia sighs. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I won’t,” Jesminda promises and then winks at Emilia. “I’m good at sneaking around.”

Emilia watches Jesminda's determined expression, a mixture of worry and reluctant acceptance in her own gaze. It’s not that Emilia doubts Jesminda. Lucien and Jesminda have kept their relationship secret for many years. Albeit, they often used Emilia as the perfect excuse to venture off together such as Lucien planned to do so tonight.

But, for Emilia, it's the haunting memory of past losses that casts a shadow over her protective instincts. She can't help but feel an innate need to protect her cherished friend, especially given the fact that she was the one who introduced Lucien to her. If something happened to Jesminda, it would be her fault.

Before Emilia discovered the truth of her heritage and was taken in by her father, it was Jesminda's family who she lived with. They plucked her from the harsh streets and took her in as if she was one of their own. A stark contrast to the way her blood family welcomed her. She wasn’t allowed to visit them after she moved into her father’s estate but now that she lived in the Forest house with her grandfather, it was easier to sneak off to visit them.

Lucien reappears, bearing three mugs of hot apple cider that smell like heaven. Emilia happily takes hers, savoring the steaming warmth that envelops her as she takes a measured sip.

“I’m going to find Brienne,” Emilia says and then she flashes the two a pointed look, dark eyes lingering on Lucien for a moment longer. “We can’t stay out too late tonight unless we want to raise concern.”

Beron's eyes were deep pools of darkness, simmering with a livid intensity that mirrored the turmoil within the realm. His hands were clasped behind his back. He stood by the window, an emblem of brooding power, his gaze following the departure of his best men on horseback toward Mistwood.

"There's a mole in this court," Beron declares, his voice cutting through the silence, and he turns abruptly to face Edmund. “And I won’t rest until I have their head on a spike.”

Edmund leans forward, concern etching lines onto his wearied features. "Do you have any suspects?"

"I have a few," Beron responds, his gaze piercing into the very soul of his chief advisor.

Edmund's eyes widen in disbelief and he shifts forward in his seat. "Are you accusing me, my High Lord?"

"Given your family history, I'd be a fool not to suspect you. The phoenix is your family's sigil."

"I have no desire for a coup d'état," Edmund retorts, a humorless laugh escaping him as he averts his gaze. His laugh morphs into a cough, eyebrows furrowing in pain as he brings a handkerchief to his mouth. Slowly, he lifts his eyes to meet Beron's. "What must I do to prove my loyalty to you?"

Before Beron could answer, the door to Edmund’s room opens. Emilia slips in and at the sight of the High Lord, a visible shiver runs through her, causing her to instinctively shrink back. With a harsh swallow, she bows her head in respect and then turns to address the older male.

“You called for me, grandfather?”

“You were out late last night,” Edmund glares at the younger female. “Again.”

“Let’s finish our conversation later this afternoon in my study.” Beron says and without acknowledging Emilia’s presence, he gracefully exits the room.

“I’m sorry, I was–”

“You went to go visit them, didn’t you?” Edmund interrupts sharply and when Emilia lowers her head, he rises from his seat. “I am your family. Your only family.”

“You are forbidden to go to Thornwood from now on.”

“But grandfather–”

“Have you not heard?” Edmund raises his voice. “The High Lord has sent his best guards to Mistwood to obliterate the growing threats and Thornwood is sure to follow.” His voice falters as he falls into another fit of coughing.

“You will stay here, where you are safe,” he manages to wheeze as he slumps back into his seat.

“Are you alright?” Emilia gasps out in horror.

She rushes to her grandfather, falling to her knees beside him. He brings his handkerchief once more to cover his cough. “I’m fine,” he huffs out breathlessly.

When his hand drops to his side and head falls back in exhaustion, Emilia notices the dark red stain on the light fabric. The sight pleases her more than it should and with his eyes closed, Emilia allows her mask to fall.

A faint smirk taints her lips and once again, there's that flicker of fiery malevolence in her eyes. Edmund Pyralis is not fine.

He's dying...and the Vanserras are next.

A couple of weeks later...

Mistwood is now nothing but ash.

Though the townspeople fought with heart and might, they were no match for the High Lord’s soldiers who had trained for centuries. Beron gave strict orders for no survivors to be left behind as he’s done so many times before. It’s not the first time there’s been uprisings and rebellions and it certainly won’t be the last. Those disloyal to him may win battles here and there but Beron will always win the war.

His soldiers did not return this time. Instead, Beron ordered them to disperse into neighboring towns along the countryside and act as peacekeepers. However, they ushered in anything but tranquility to the towns they’ve forcefully settled into.

All was well. There was no longer talk about protests or potential uprisings. No more whispers about the Phoenix. What a foolish hope that had been.

Beron sighs as he enters his bath chambers. The anticipation of relief courses through him as he closes his eyes, immersing himself in the cocoon of steaming warmth that envelops the air. His tired muscles, worn from the weight of responsibility, already yearn for the comforting touch of the hot water against his skin.

Upon opening his eyes, however, the tranquility he sought is shattered. Tension grips his muscles even tighter as his gaze falls upon an unsettling sight. There, floating ominously in the bathwater, is a single red chrysanthemum. The vibrant hue seems to mock him, triggering a surge of pain that stabs sharply through his chest. He doesn’t dare think of her name, forcing images of her back into the corner of his mind he had shoved her into.

He plucks the flower out and flames lick at his fingertips. They burn through the flower with ease, reducing it to a small pile of ashes onto the floor. He uses his magic to dispose of it. He shakes off the unsettling feeling threatening to seep in and settles into the bath instead. He’d deal with the servants who prepared his bath first thing tomorrow.

The following morning, just as he’s about to call for his servants, he’s met with an even more appalling sight.

His eyes widen as he steps out onto his balcony. There’s a sea of red chrysanthemums blanketing the palace grounds, their vibrant petals ablaze in the early light. A small piece of paper floats above him, calling his name in a sinister whisper. He reluctantly takes it, unfolding it.

Burn us and we shall simply rise again from the ashes.

-The Phoenix

It's instinctive. The way he sets the paper ablaze in his grasp. As the last ember of paper dissipates, the sea of red flowers catches fire as if on cue. Beron watches in astonishment as the flowers transform into ashes, only to burst into flames once more. The flames intensify, swirling together in mesmerizing patterns, shaping an unmistakable silhouette. A phoenix.

A shiver races down his spine.

There’s only one person he knew who loved red chrysanthemums. Desperate for an answer, he reaches out to the threads of fate that he had severed. They hang loosely but they’re still there. Only this time, he feels nothing. Absolutely nothing.

A profound emptiness washes over him, rendering him numb. She’s dead. He should not be surprised. Afterall, he had ordered it.

It’s as if the Cauldron, offended by his defiance of its predestined connection, has forsaken him upon opening his side of the bond. The bond he denied and closed off for centuries. His body weakens, forcing him to fall onto his knees.

Silver lines his brown eyes. His eyes that were once dull are now lively with pure grief and heartache. His hands grasp at his chest as if they could close the gaping hole she left behind. It’s useless.

The memories of her, his mate, begin to rise just as the ashes of the red chrysanthemums did. He can see her smiling at him in a way he does not deserve. He can hear her calling his name in a hushed whisper that burns into his skin. More and more memories of her infiltrate his mind, tormenting him in the worst ways imaginable.

“Beron.”

“Beron,” the voice repeats again and it takes him a while to register that the voice is not his mate’s but his wife’s. “What is going on?”

Beron is surprised at the concern laced into her tone. He grasps onto this feeling, pulling himself out of the depth of the own hell he created. The bond in his chest slowly closes once more. His breath begins to steady and though shaky, he rises to his feet again.

“I need to find her,” is all he says as he walks past his wife.

Lady Aurelia blinks, eyebrows knitting together. “Find who?”

Beron does not answer her. He strides further into their room and toward the area where he keeps his sword. He secures it to his waistband, determined to never go out without it from now on.

Not when his daughter, thought to be lost to the shadows, was alive. Not when she is the one who stands at the helm of the rebellions that echo through the Autumn Court. And for the first time in centuries, a spark of fear ignites within him.

How is he supposed to fight an enemy that prospers when burned to the ground?

a/n: I feel like I suck at writing about politics/conflict that isn't romance related so I hope this came out okay and not confusing. More will info will be given in the next parts.

It feels like I've read ACOTAR ages ago so I've forgotten some details and am going off of what I find on reddit/ACOTAR wiki so if I happen to make a mistake in terms of canon things, let me know. Also, I was too lazy to find new names for some of Eris's brothers so I'm reusing the ones I used in my Like An Angel series. I honestly can't wait until Az shows up but it will be 2-3 parts until then. For now, you get a lot of foreshadowing (:

tagging: @mybestfriendmademe @waytoomanyteenagefeels @janebirkln, @acourtofbatboydreams

(it's been awhile since I updated so I tagged some of y'all, just in case y'all were interested in reading more. Please let me know if you'd like to remain on the tag list, no worries if not (: Or if you'd like to be added)

#acotar imagine #acotar fanfiction #acotar x oc #acotar fanfic #azriel x oc #vanserra oc #eris vanserra x oc #gem

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disgruntleddemon · 4 months ago

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working on my werewolf oc story! i think i'm gonna call it The Wolf of RIverclan. here's the main dude, Lambstar!

he's a laidback guy, who's a bit too trusting that everything in his life will work out. he hasn't experienced many hardships, and he's a pretty young leader. he's helpful, and wants to make life better for other cats, which is how he got the deputy position in the first place. the only thing that causes him any real stress, is his secret relationship with the clan's medicine cat (who's name is still a wip)

one of the things i'm still trying to figure out, whether or not to keep the the full moon transformation, or change it to a different moon (probably claw moon). i want Lambstar to get a few moons of transformations before he's caught, but, especially with him being leader, it'd be found out super fast at the gathering.

anyway, he's either attacked while on his way back from the gathering, or while sitting watch one night. he's mortally wounded, and looses a life. that's where he gets his scars.

after that night, he's started noticing something is definitely wrong with him...

i would say size wise, Lambstar's werewolf form is somewhere between fox and coyote. he's definitely not full wolf size. his claws are still retractable in that form, and he keeps a very cat like tail. he's also a lot more agile than a fox or coyote would be.

i love horror, specifically creature features, so i really wanna lean into that here. The Wolf of Riverclan felt like a typical werewolf movie name, and works as a reference to the werewolf of london. Lambstar's name is both a wolf in sheep's clothing reference, and a reference to the slaughtered lamb from american werewolf in london.

#my art #the wolf of riverclan #Lambstar #warrior cats

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n0tamused · 9 months ago

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"Amoris"

A/N: I miss my husband y'all. Made this as an oc x canon thing but I took out any names or descriptions so it can be read as x reader. We all deserve soft Nanami

Content: blind reader, female reader, post Shibuya - Nanami lives, they're enjoying their time in Malaysia now, soft Nanami

Word count: 978

Warnings: Scars? Besides that, nothing.

Long arms of midnight blue embrace the once azure skies, taking them into their slumbering hold. A soft light emanates from the young moon hanging overhead, drawing and calming the breathing waves that swallow up the beaches lick by lick.

The sight is one of its kind, and one the two dreamed off for years beforehand. They could only dream about how refreshing the salty air would be, and how the sound of the sea would lull them to sleep every night, how the summer rains will water the plants hanging from their windows and how lovely it would be to hold hands through all of it.

Nanami’s calloused hands draw the long curtains over the window after catching one final glimpse of the view outside, humming along with the tune that plays on the phone radio. When he turned to face the bed he saw her sitting comfortably against the headrest, a young little tabby kitten taking much interest, and taste, in her fingers as it let out playful yowls and meows, nibbling at her digits. His beloved giggled, her eyes pointed downward but staring at nothing, the small little scars that sprawled around her eyes had faded, but they were still there, and proof of what hardships she faced. Long lashes flutter shut as she gives up on trying to get the kitten off of her hand, simply letting one fingertip stay lodged between its small pointy teeth, feeling how he tried to chew and bite. “Kenntoo” she called into the air, hearing him move about, his humming following him along. He always seemed to make it a point to do his activities a bit louder than he needed to, simply to let his presence be known to her so she knew he was still there.

“Yes, my dear?”

“It’s time to go to sleep, I hardly got hold of you the entire day today” says (Y/N), breathing in deeply and letting her sigh fall heavy from her lips, as if to make a point. The kitten in her hands lets out a meow that sounded more like a squeal instead, making him turn his head to the two on the bed. “See? Even he agrees, he’s calling you over- Na Na Miiiii” she teases, barely hiding a smile from her lips as she feels the kitten's body, turning it around to face away and lifting it up into the air. Her smile widens as she feels Kento’s big hands take the kitten from her, inevitably touching her own hands. “You both seem so needy today, I can’t have been absent for that long, right?” The bed dips beneath his weight as he takes a seat beside her stretched legs, and the kitten is promptly placed into his lap for a short while. Big strokes over the little furry head and body leaving the kitten purring loudly. She nudges his hip with her foot when she finds it, asking for more attention to be cast to her.

“We had a perfect chance to sleep in this morning, yet you got up so early. And for what?” she points her words at him, curling her knees to her chest before scooting closer to where she felt him, one hand stretching out and landing on his bicep first. Then the hand crawled up to his shoulder, holding herself there. “Besides the kitten surprise, what else do you have going on?” she asked with a soft sigh, squeezing his shoulder as if that would squeeze and answer out of him. He chuckles, letting the kitten jump to the floor before he turns his body towards her, taking her hands in his. “What could I have going on? I can’t keep anything from you, even the cat was hardly any surprise” “Only because he was meowing from his box” “Pfft”

“But no, seriously. You’ve been working a lot.. and I miss you, Ken” Her voice had mellowed out, and with his guidance she made his lap her seat, her hands climbing up his chest before cupping his cheeks. The feeling has her smiling bigger, her heart catching up in her throat. One hand can feel the scarred skin from the burns he had sustained, and the other is met with smoother skin, both equally warm to the touch, both his cheeks lead up to the brows she mapped out with her fingertips before moving to his temples. He falls silent, holding his words on the tip of his tongue as he lets her touch his face.

Her fingers go to his hairline, carding through the golden locks before dropping to his earlobe, and with a fingertip on each side she traces the high cheekbone up to the base of his nose, and then a single finger goes to his lips, and he swears he can feel his heart leave him completely. It escapes his chest and runs to her embrace. Finally, he moves, taking hold of her wrist to keep it still while he kisses her fingertip, and gently he turns her hand over to show her palm so he could place kisses onto it. “I missed you too, so much” Kento replied, taking the other hand to and making her cup his cheeks again while he turned his head and kissed this hand and then the other, maneuvering them how he saw fit, showing love to each hand that held him so delicately, much delicately than he believed he deserved.

Nanami pulls her closer in his lap, and before he could initiate it, he already felt her soft lips find a corner of his own. Both of them burst into a quick chuckle that gets muffled by a proper kiss, now landing on his lips and it quells their feelings of yearning.

“Mm, let’s get to bed now, hm? And I can tell you what I was up to today, alright?”

I didn't write in a while, so I hope this is alright <3

#nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x yn #nanami kento x you #nanami kento imagine #kento nanami #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento drabble #jujutsu kaisen x yn #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x reader #nanami kento x fem!reader #fluff #jujutsu kaisen x female reader #female reader

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artxeevee · 3 months ago

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So! I’ve been quietly working on another Kirby oc that I have from last year, but I never gotten to making a proper reference sheet for her. Now I finally finished and her name is Moxie! Also a lil Moxie with an artist ability as a bonus!

I’ll even have some background info under the cut, lmao!

Background

Born close by to a planet forming disk that has excesses of water vapor for the tear star to absorb alongside the accumulation of wishes to those who are lonely and the magical residue of the universe, she was born as she ended up crash-landed into the ocean where a couple on their boat ride made a wish for a child, as they ended up saving her from drowning. She then lived on a planet named Coral Core, where it was originally a refugee hotspot for people to hide from the events of Void Termina, as it eventually became the sort of vacation planet with few islands populated of different species and the likes. This all took place after with the Void Termina situation and eventually pre-Nightmare war as another event.

However due to the makeup to her biology, she’s able to breathe underwater as an infant and to an adult currently to this day. But neither the couple (which soon became her parents) didn’t know this nor did she, so it’s a fun surprise to the all of them.

Having a peaceful life on the planet, eventually when she has gotten to in her early young adult stage, she did joined the GSA which needed star warriors and those who cared to stoping Nightmare causing destruction to other planets and or turning the innocents into monsters.

During that time, eventually Meta Knight came along on joining the GSA, thanks to her mentor (who come to be another father figure to her) saved him from Nightmare. Being told from her mentor that she needs to gain his trust because of the hostility he has over the members of the GSA, she complied to being his first friend, even through… those first few times did started out difficult. What came afterwards did became more than breaks and spars, it eventually turned to them steadily opening up to each other and eventually falling in love as a couple. It did got to the point where they got married hence why she has the ring. She didn’t pushed him as she was patient. She was there when he was in his vulnerable moments and in turn, it was the same for her when she lost their mentor. She loved everything about him from all of his perfections and imperfections, even that she knows more than well enough, that he is not a monster to her eyes. So, stars help her if anyone says otherwise about him that she will absolutely be enraged.

However, when the war during Nightmare gotten worse, she fought as much as she can against the opposing enemies, but she eventually fell in battle when she gotten fatally stabbed by the opposing monster (hence the cracks on her mask and the scar she has). In the last of her strength, she took the opposing enemy with her to stab her with her bow to plunge it at them to kill them off. Though… “fell” is one way to put it. A certain butterfly came along to say that it wasn’t her time yet to get a second chance in life, in which she ended up waking up in one of the few GSA bases off planet. Shock and confused, the first thing she asked was, “where’s Meta? Where’s Stardust?” (Stardust is a nickname that she affectionately calls him exclusively). Only to find out that they couldn’t find them and it might be chalked off to him being “dead” and it devastated her.

Many years have passed and the GSA are in hiding in order to rebuild their strengths and steadily grow their numbers in secret through missions of any other survivors who fled and thought the army is gone, Moxie was assigned to stop by to the planet named Popstar as she gotten reports of two Star warriors are in Dreamland as she would head to there. But what she didn’t expect is that Meta was there on patrol when she landed and came out of her starship.

And boy, did they really took a moment to reunite through tight embrace, loving hand in loving hand to not wanting to let each other go in fear it’s all a dream… and quiet words spoke they both thought one another is gone. But they’re together again and now, she’s apart of a found family consisted of not only her husband but also Kirby, Sword and Blade Knight.

Personality

Her personality is caring and energetic puffball, even sometimes flirtatious! By being flirtatious on getting a rise at someone (also at enemies to agitate them)c which can make her smug about it too. She is eager to make friends and will absolutely make teases and jests when she’s close with them. This also includes on fun and special nicknames on what she can think of for them by symbolism or abbreviations. She is also starting to be a mom-friend thanks to Kirby.

She is also calculative (so think Penelope of the particular Odyssey or Epic the musical), as she would be level-headed to think of plans on helping others to safety or what sort of fakeout tactic she makes to throw her enemies off guard. She can even tell on the actual message of what someone is saying. As for example, if someone wants to talk to her about their problems by disguising as wanting to hang out for some grub, she will acknowledge it on agreeing and taking them to a spot where it’s only between them so they’re free to talk what’s been troubling them.

She likes to be productive as she still wants to keep herself active! Even though, residents of Popstar are notoriously lazy, she does her job on patrolling around the castle. It’s not a bad thing on being lazy though as she does have hobbies which are, she sometimes chill with a book to read, fishing, swimming/diving, bird watching to look into different birds for fun (she will be also eager to hear on bird facts, lmao!), and or paint as she actually come to love as a child (even if it’s from a funny prank experience put on her to be chaotic).

Behind all the sweetness from the knight, she can be ruthless if someone were to hurt the people she loves and cares about. Even a little bit aggressive that she can be a menacing powerhouse whether it’s through magic and or weapons she has in her experienced disposal. She does not take much hesitation on causing payback if it meant her loved ones are safe.

Powers/Abilities

She has three abilities as she is within the puffball species! Mainly it’s water ability that she has grown used to over time alongside with Wing and Archer! It’s kind of basically water-bending at this point as she can make tidal waves, vortexes, make a game of turning orbs (heh) of water into flying fishes, and conjures swords out of water for it. If she is near by bodies of water, she will take advantage of her surroundings to use it to attack someone.

Funny thing about the Archer ability, she ended up being soul bonded to the weapon when she was diving in her home planet as a child. She came across an ancient underwater temple and got curious to taking a look, which resulted to obtaining the bow in the first place when she showed her parents what she found. Now she can be able to summoned it at will and combined it with her water ability to create arrows out of water, when she pulls on the string.

As for Wing ability, she can be able to use her feathers to pluck them out to use as ammo for her bow, based on what the reference sheet says! That or she can use them as a knife because they are surprisingly sharp if plucked out but soft when touching her wings. Her wings can regenerate a bit of a faster rate, but it still can be annoying sometimes for her

She does have a sword though, thanks to her training from the GSA as well as her mentor from the GSA. She has it in tow with her, in case she were to get exhausted from her magic usage or can’t summoned her bow to fight someone. So during her focused training on specifically with the sword, she does have enough of the skills from her mentor to be taught how to make sword beams and the likes.

If you got this far to the end, thank you for reading me yap about her. There is still more, but this is the condense version of Moxie I can say. XD She has been on my mind for some time now and I was kind of hesitant, because this is the first time that there is an OC x canon aspect on her backstory’s, but also it was relevant to her reference sheet. At the same time, I also just wanted to share her to the world, so Moxie is my beloved orb bean that rotate rent free.

#Rookie’s art #digital art #kirby #kirby series #kirby right back at ya #kirby oc #ocs #my ocs #oc art #((also in tags))#((to any of y’all out there in this fandom; I am so sorry for the text wall XD for the life of me; this is a condensed version))#((still though; it was a fun two week process on designing her to think about this))

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dododrawsstuff · 6 months ago

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IkePri OC Ruri

I think I got possessed yesterday at the con, I wrote most of her story and sketched her. Meet Ruri, my beloved, I just want to hug and squish her.

OC Taglist: @olivermorningstar @keithsandwich @bicayaya (let me know if you want to be part of the taglist or removed)

(@aquagirl1978 I'll tag you because I definetly think she and Charlotte would be friends and she would ask her so many questions about Clavis, let me know if you want me to remove you from this post)

More about her under the cut

Name: Ruri

Age: 25

Nationality: Lazullian

Titles: First Princess of Lazullia, The Fake Prince (some people from her country created that ‘title’ to mock her, though she has some supporters)

Story: She is a princess from Lazullia, a very military oriented country. Being an only child and the heir to the throne, a lot of pressure was put on her. She had to excel in studies, manners, fighting since a young age.

Her father always made it clear she was a burden and it would be better if she was born a boy instead. That's the reason she always dress in male clothing when attending social events.

Ruri’s the best fighter in her country, but not because she is a genius or enjoy it, she was made into a weapon. Her body is covered in scars from training and combat. She’s a very competent strategist, and observant. It’s still not enough to prove her worth to her father.

Ruri has a much better relationship with her mother, she’s the one who named her, since her father didn't even want to help her mother choose one.

Her first trip to Rhodolite is when the foreign princes visit it, when Emma’s just assigned as Belle. Her father thinks it’ll be a good way to get closer to other countries. Since Lazullia is a small country, poor in resources and fairly new on the international political scene, he is mostly after an alliance with Obsidian, despite her voicing her concerns to him.

Ruri meets Clavis before the ball, when she almost falls in a trap, he was nearby hoping it was Yves who walked by, Ruri thought it was an legit attack so she threw him on the ground, straddling and locking both of his arms with her legs in the process while pointing a sword to his throat. ( Clavis fell for her right then and there)

Once Clavis clears it up he wasn't trying to harm her, that it was just a prank, she gets off of him much to his disappointment. They meet next on the ball, where he asks her to dance with him.

Personality: Has a very stoic persona, since she was not allowed to express her feelings as a child. The only moments she alllows herself to show her emotions and relieve all the pent up stress are when she is training, alone. Ruri is very socially awkward in casual situations and doesn't have many friends because she was always busy studying or training.

She is loyal to those she considers close to her, and is ready to die for those people (her father included, even if he doesn't care about her).

She says her biggest dream is to earn her father’s respect and become a good ruler to her country and people, but her actual dream is to be able to live like a ‘normal’ girl, fall in love, and live peacefully, because he hates war. But it’s not something she’s willing to admit, because she has a very strong sense of duty.

Pair: Clavis

Ruri is drawn to him at first because of his outgoing persona, she admires how he is able to express himself and smile and have fun despite hardship.

As she grows closer to him, she admires him more because she can relate to him in a lot of ways, feeling like he is not good enough, having to work a lot harder because of that, always being compared to someone else.

Random headcanons:

She can spar with Chevalier on pretty equal ground and she has earned his respect because of that, so much that he remembers her name (because I can do that)

She loves sweets, even if she doesn't eat it that often

Love is such a distant concept for her, she is sure she will marry out of obligation

She has always wanted to wear pretty dresses, and live like a “true princess” at least once

Ruri is a weapon expert, she trained a variety of different weapons, but she is better in melee combat

Has a bit of pudge, despite training a lot (because I can)

Her mother is from Ruby ( I won’t elaborate too much because I have basically no knowledge about the new countries)

As always, I'll keep editing this as I develop her more.

#ikemen prince #ikepri #dodo ocs #oc Ruri #ikemen prince oc #ikepri oc #I haven't thought a lot about Lazullia and I'm sorry if there is already a country named that let me know and I'll change it #but I want to develp it more #it's so much fun to think about these things ajshdasjd #I already adore her #I want to draw her meeting Clavis #And her wearing a dress #my girl deserves it #I'm done creating new ocs for now #I'll develop the ones I have now

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anonymouspuzzler · 1 year ago

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do davey minnie and buck have favorite video games? or just favorite genre of video game?

buck, brain already discarding all facts about the video game that aren't the car: oh shit is that a car

[Image ID/transcript under the cut!]

[Image 1 ID: The first panel of a black-and-white digital ink comic featuring Puzz's OCs Buck, Davey, and Minnie. Buck is a middle-aged white man with a barrel-chested build, large bushy mustache, and balding hairstyle with a single tuft of hair; he is wearing a t-shirt with rolled-up sleeves and leaning on the back of a couch with his head resting on his hairy forearms. Davey is a middle-aged black man with a lanky build, amputated right arm, diagonal scar across his face, thin mustache, large ears and long curly hair in a ponytail; he is wearing baggy shorts and a loose tank top and sitting casually on the couch, hand resting on one knee. Minnie is a young girl with a stocky build, freckles, button nose and long braided pigtails; she is wearing a long spaghetti-strap dress over a simple blouse and ankle-length socks, and is sitting slouched on the couch holding a video game controller.

Davey, leaning back and looking at the "viewer", says, "Oh, I'm fully a fighting games guy. I grew up on stuff like street fighter." Minnie, also looking casually at the "viewer", adds, "Oh, yeah, those are pretty fun, turns out. I used to just play, like, stuff on my phone or laptop, but now that Davey lets me use his consoles I'm trying all kinds of old-ass games he has. I've been liking this one where you're an orange robot thing in a space maze?" Davey clarifies, "She is talking about Super Metroid." End ID.]

[Image 2 ID: The second panel of a black-and-white digital ink comic. It is a close up on Buck, leaning on the back of the couch, and Davey, sitting on it and leaning back to look up at him. Buck, looking off to the side, says, "I don't really play, so..." Davey interrupts, "You watch us, though. Got a fave to watch?" End ID.]

[Image 3 ID: The third panel of a black-and-white digital ink comic. The shot is the same, but with Buck now lifting a hand to his chin in thought, saying, "Uhh... hm." Davey waits with a patient smile. End ID.]

[Image 4 ID: The fourth and final panel of a black-and-white digital ink comic. The shot is the same, but Buck is now looking at Davey with mild confusion and gesturing with both hands, saying, "What's that one with-- you know. The cars?" Davey, turning to look at him while laughing incredulously, responds, "Do you have any idea how little that narrows it down??" End ID.]

#anonymous puzzler answers #villain coded comic #anonymous puzzler originals #long post #i still wanna draw a comic about davey and minnie playing street fighter 6 but the only thing i know about that game is marisa LOL

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thivell · 6 months ago

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Sharing Some OCs

Hi hey! I have uhh… a Jedi and a handful of half baked clone sketches I did when I was bored (there’s a few more but post is already long)

also this is a real long post and I apologize

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Jedi OC

Dunno how effective his pole staff works but hey it’s cool and does exist canonically -

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Clones - most of my sillies are clones rn. Currently I’m working out a battalion that’ll be my little clone collection but I also have an oddball squad that’s a little mix of canonical characters and ocs

451st Battalion Clones

not all my babes are drawn out but a few are- they are incredibly rough though and we’re drawn when I was just finishing up the clone wars show

Commander Delgado/ CC-8933

Captain Maverick/ CT-4751

First Lieutenant Makeshift / CT-9663

Second Lieutenant Krypt / CT-5769

That’s it for my boys rn, but I’ll slowly start making my way through the rest of them- with my stuff still being fidgeted around I’ll most likely change the 451st boys into being 176th and go under my Jedi OC.

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Marines

I have two marines Port/CT-3742 and Starboard/CT-5065. They got their names because of the directions of the numbers (Port’s are all facing left and Star’s are mostly facing right). But what’s silly about them is they’re always on opposite sides with Starboard seen on the left of Port and vice versa especially when they walk. Why is that you ask? Well it’s because while most clones are ambidextrous they still have preferred hands; for Port that’s his right and for Starboard it’s his left. They’re both little shits that when combined make one half of a braincell and that’s all they got and they definitely gaslight the shinies into thinking they have port and starboard mixed up. They were based off of two orcas with the same names.

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Oddball Squad Clones

so the oddballs are essentially clones that look too different or are deformed due to genetic degradation, you can think of them as being like 99 but being the precursors to the bad batch. As stated earlier it’s a mix between canon and non canon clones. As of right now there are

Two canon clones - Captain Vaughn and Commander Blackout

I have not drawn Commander Blackout but he has aniridia which is an eye condition where there is little to no pupil in the iris, causing vision issues. For him it’s not too severe, he needs some corrective measures in his helmet but can see even without them, but he does have light sensitivity and often gets migraines due to fluctuating pressure changes behind his eyes. He also has incredibly dark eyes and blackout styled tattoos that start from his upper back then go down to his pecs and down his arms, also has some on his calves.

Vaughn I have drawn- he has vitiligo that in the photo mainly collects on his face with multiple different layers of different skin pigmentation showing, but it is a full body thing (it even goes to his hair). But it’s one of the main reasons he keeps his helmet it on for long periods of time

There’s 4 non canon clones right now: Whiteout, Zombie, Caid, and Discovery. Both Whiteout and Zombie have sketches but Discovery and Caid don’t.

Caid (Kade)

Caid’s thing is that he is completely mute due to the fact that his larynx never developed. He’s got some skin warping and scarring over his throat from it. He has quite of a few scars over his face and notably knuckles because he throws himself into every battle. He’s a little spicy and sassy. you can think of him as Bumblebee from the transformer series if you’ve seen that. Right now his backstory is a little wobbly but everyone in the oddball squad usually has multiple facets of training if they can. Caid mainly works as a nursery care taker and watching over the tubies and the other very young clones but he also goes on high stake reconnaissance missions to gather intel. The way he communicates is mainly though GHS (Galactic Hand Signing- my SW version of an international sign language) and he also has short field commands embedded into the com device in his vambrace (he usually has a data pad on him too to type out anything he needs).

Discovery

Discovery has two major deformities that affect his arms; his left arm barely ever developed and ends mid bicep and his right arm stops just after his elbow for a few inches. For this he was given cybernetic replacements but he’s mostly used as a lab rat for testing, he doesn’t like it but it hardly squashes his never ending child like curiosity with the world he’s been exposed to. Usually getting him in trouble with Vaughn and frequently visiting Whiteout, the medic.

Whiteout/ CT-8651

Whiteout has full albinism, from his skin to his eyes, and while they aren’t true twins- he and blackout consider themselves ones as they have been in the squadron the longest. Whiteout specializes in being a medic but also does pretty well with a sniper. He’s incredibly soft spoken and sweet and occasionally gets a stutter but he’s trying his best. Especially with Zombie watching over him now he feels safer to stand up for himself.

Zombie

now .. the zombie explanation has to be a little lighter for the sake of ages and tumblr. I cant sugar coat this exactly but I won’t go into the nasty details.. Zombie got his name dude to the fact he was put back together with parts that belonged to other squad members. It was a suicide mission and none of them came back alive but they were used in an experiment by one of Nala Se’s apprentices. He got his name zombie 1) from his lack of talking 2) his usually stone cold or mildly agitated exterior and 3) from the fact his scarring show off how he was literally stitched back together.

He wasn’t originally part of the oddball squad since on his original body his only odd thing was the fact he and green eyes but after he comes back he very quickly gets pulled into it. He has an absolute soft spot for Whiteout and is the equivalent to scary attack dogs with separation anxiety

Whiteout and Zombie as of right now will eventually be tagged on to 104th with Wolffe and Caid might be going into 212th or works mostly under them for missions.

that’s all for now lovelies, thank you for reading!💕

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