#winged army helmets | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

isa-beenme · 30 days ago

Text

Whispers of Secrets and Starlight

Omg but you will shorten the war this much? Yes

Omg but you will cut all of- Yes

Omg but you will- YES

That's not my focus bbs I don't even know how to write a war sorry 😚🫶🏻

Warnings: Use of Y/N, ACOTAR rewrite, female main character, 2,3% book following look at me, mentions of PTSD, character death (more than 1), lots of trauma, war, blood, bit of gore, Tamlin 🤢, Rhysand 😭

Whispers of Secrets and Starlight - Masterlist

Chapter 12: Six Hundred Strike

The battlefield stretched wide before you, the rolling hills of Spring Court now a war camp. The armies of Prythian had gathered, a sight unlike any seen in centuries, warriors from every court, standing side by side.

The Illyrians stood in disciplined ranks, wings tucked close, siphons gleaming in the overcast light. Peregrines from the Day Court waited alongside them, their lighter armor built for speed, their wings flicking in anticipation. Soldiers from Winter, Summer, Autumn, and even the handful from Spring who had abandoned Tamlin’s failures, all waited in formation. Then came the scouts.

A Peregrine landed first, his wings folding as he strode toward Helion. “Hybern is marching.”

An Illyrian warrior, barely seconds behind, knelt before Cassian. “The King is with them. And he has the Cauldron.”

Even with two pieces missing, it was still a force to be reckoned with. A cold weight settled in your chest.

Rhys squeezed your hand once. “We stick to the plan.” He said in your mind. You nodded.

Cassian’s voice rang out, commanding, clear. “Everyone, move into position!”

The army shifted. Prythian’s forces began their descent, moving toward the open valley ahead. The land sloped downward, just enough to disguise their movements, just enough to let them control the battlefield before Hybern fully realized what was happening.

The valley was the perfect trap. And the first step was yours.

Rhysand turned to you, his violet eyes sharp as he opened his hands, power rippling through him. You mirrored him, feeling the raw magic pulse within you, rising, coiling, eager. Together, you misted the battlefield. Hybern’s barriers, carefully crafted shields meant to keep their forces secure, began to break. Like smoke in the wind, they vanished under your power. Holes spread across their formations, gaps in their defense.

Hybern’s army didn’t even realize what was happening at first. Their march continued, blind to the fact that they were now exposed. Until the second wave of magic came crashing down.

"NOW!" Cassian roared.

Prythian’s forces rushed forward. From above, Illyrians and Peregrines launched themselves into the air. From the ground, warriors from every court surged forward, blades drawn, powers crackling. Hybern barely had time to react.

The battle had begun. The battlefield erupted into chaos. Hybern’s forces barely had time to adjust to the sudden breach in their barriers before Prythian’s armies tore through them.

From above, Illyrians and Peregrines dived like shadows and flame, striking with lethal precision. Blades slashed through armor, arrows found gaps in helmets, and magic rained down like a storm.

On the ground, Winter Court warriors fought with icy grace, their swords glowing with frost as they cut through Hybern’s front lines. Summer Court soldiers wielded water like living serpents, drowning foes where they stood.

You didn’t stop moving. With one hand, you misted an approaching commander, his scream barely beginning before he was gone. With the other, you threw out a wall of black fire, forcing back a group of Hybern soldiers who had nearly flanked Vivianne and her fighters. She met your gaze across the battlefield and nodded once before spinning, slashing her twin blades through the next enemy in her path.

Rhys was a storm in the heart of battle. Wherever his shadows passed, Hybern’s forces fell. A general surged toward him, a massive broadsword raised, Rhys merely vanished into the darkness and reappeared behind him, his blade slipping into the man’s spine before he could react.

Cassian and Azriel fought side by side, a deadly whirlwind of steel and magic. Azriel moved like a ghost, his siphons flaring with cobalt light as he cut down three soldiers before they could even lift their weapons. Cassian was a battering ram, using brute force and sheer skill to send Hybern’s warriors crashing to the dirt. He bellowed commands, rallying Illyrian soldiers, dodging a spear at the last second before slamming his blade through the wielder’s gut.

And Hybern was still marching. More soldiers poured into the valley, their sheer numbers pressing forward despite the trap that had been laid for them.

A pulse of power rippled through the battlefield. Not magic from any High Lord. Not a spell from any warrior. No. It was the Cauldron. And whatever the King of Hybern had just done, it was about to change the tide of this war.

The Cauldron’s power struck the battlefield like a hammer. The first time, the shockwave rippled outward, vaporizing Hybern’s own front lines. Screams of confusion and terror erupted from their ranks as soldiers collapsed, their bodies turning to ash. The second time, another pulse, another wave of death. More of Hybern’s forces fell, confusion turning to panic as their king’s magic devoured them. The third time, the air itself seemed to shudder as the Cauldron’s power gathered once more. It took three trials before the king got one right into Prythian’s forces.

But you were already moving. Magic surged through you as you whispered the words, an ancient, bone-deep summons that curled through the fabric of this world and beyond. A shadow deeper than night unfurled in the distance, something ancient and crawling, something that sent a shiver down every spine on that battlefield.

Then, they appeared. The Weaver, standing at the edge of the battlefield, her blood-red cloak billowing, her smile sharp as a blade. The Bone Carver, small and delicate in the boyish form he introduced himself to you — until he wasn’t, until the shadows peeled away, revealing something made of death and prophecy. And Bryaxis, the thing that lived in nightmares, crawled into the world, a shape of pure, shifting terror.

Rhys winnowed to your side immediately.

“What. The fuck. Is this?” His voice was calm, too calm for the situation, his violet eyes wide as he stared at the creatures of legend now standing at your command.

You merely smiled, tilting your head. “I’ve been making friends.”

Rhys blinked. Once. Twice. Then he turned to face you fully.

“How,” he asked, very carefully, “did you even get the Weaver out of her cottage?”

You shrugged. “You gave Feyre free time. I gave her training.”

Rhys made a choked noise. “You are insane.”

You grinned. “Don't worry, I was there the whole time. In case something went wrong, I had an offer to use in exchange for Feyre. Although, I still used it as a sacrifice for Weaver's participation today.”

The Weaver, as if she listened to you, laughed, the sound low and curling like smoke.

Rhys inhaled sharply as if something had just clicked. “Wait. That means—” He stared at you. “Where the hell did Ianthe go when she disappeared a few days ago?”

You just smiled.

Rhys’s eyes narrowed. “No.”

You said nothing.

“Oh, Mother above.” He dragged a hand down his face. “I’m not asking. I don’t want to know.”

You patted his shoulder. “Smart choice.”

Then you turned back to the battlefield, where the Weaver, the Bone Carver, and Bryaxis had begun to move. And Hybern’s army, already broken and bleeding, had nowhere left to run.

The King of Hybern finally stepped forward onto the battlefield. His army lay in ruins, shredded by Prythian’s forces, the Weaver’s hunger, the Bone Carver’s cold blade, and Bryaxis’s living nightmare. He had nothing left.

And yet, he smiled. Because in his hands, he held two girls. Nesta and Elain. Your stomach dropped. But you had to hold your ground.

“Fuck,” you murmured under your breath. “Damned gossiper motherfucker, Tamlin.”

Rhysand winnowed to your side, his hands clenched into fists as he watched your cousins crying while being held by the enemy. Your mate dripped with regret as he looked at the two humans with nowhere to run. Cassian, Azriel, and Morrigan weren’t far behind, their magic and weapons ready to strike. But the King? He just laughed.

“You all seem so confident,” he drawled. “So sure of your victory. So proud of your… what do you call it? Friendship? Loyalty?” He sneered. “You think that makes you strong? It makes you weak. Because while you fight with swords and claws and magic, I have this.”

He raised a hand. And the Cauldron pulsed. You braced yourself for another strike. For another death-filled shockwave. But something moved behind the King. Amren. You saw it, the flicker of silver in her mercurial eyes. The otherness that had always lurked beneath her skin.

The King kept talking, as every villain does in books. At some point of your life you believed they wouldn't lose their time explaining their objectives and plans. A good distraction while you slaughtered soldiers around you and as Amren moved. You thought she would deactivate the Cauldron, like she said she was planning to, but the betrayal barely hit your guts as she threw herself into the Cauldron.

A sharp crack split the air. A wound in reality itself. Magic tore free, something old, raw, and endless surging from within that iron bowl. And the King of Hybern screamed. Amren’s true form rose from the Cauldron, wreathed in silver fire. No longer bound by the shape of a High Fae, no longer restrained by flesh and bone. She spread her wings. The King barely had time to react before she grasped him, her claws curling around his throat, and flung him like a discarded doll, right into the center of the battlefield.

The impact shook your ground. He still had one last hit from the Cauldron. And as he lay there, broken and struggling, he reached for its power once more. A final, desperate strike before Amren sucked all the energy from it. The Cauldron shuddered, and unleashed one last pulse of death. Prythian’s army screamed. The warriors fell in droves. Shields shattered. Magic flickered and failed.

But as the bolt of pure energy cut through the battlefield, focusing on the Prythian’s army. You saw how fast Eris moved, subtly, deliberately. A simple push was all it took from him. Just enough to send his father straight into the path of that deadly strike. And Beron Vanserra, High Lord of Autumn, was gone with a part of his army. Just like that.

You let out a slow breath, eyes meeting Eris’s across the battlefield. He gave you a polite nod and a knowing smile, running as he slowly felt the trembling sensation of the power of a High Lord filling him.

You arched a brow. “Okay,” you muttered to yourself. “I didn’t see that.”

As the battle raged on, the sky split with screams and steel. Blood soaked the earth, turning the battlefield into a graveyard for those foolish enough to stand against them.

Then you saw it the exact moment you remembered the captive girls the king was keeping. A flicker of movement, too deliberate, too familiar.

At the edge of the battlefield, Hybern’s soldiers dragged the two figures of your cousins forward, probably going to reach back to their King, who was trying to keep his ground while soldiers fought him on the battlefield. Nesta. Elain. Your heart stopped.

You turned immediately. Reaching for the small bond between you and the Inner Circle. "Mor."

Morrigan landed beside you, her golden hair wild from the wind as her braid was undoing itself, her sword slick with blood. "I see them."

"You need to get them out of here." Mor’s lips pressed into a thin line. "I mean it," you insisted. "Hybern has too many eyes on him. If he gets desperate, he could—"

"Kill them," Mor finished.

Her knuckles whitened around the hilt of her sword. Mor could move faster than any of you and was the least watched one between them. She was your best chance.

“Honestly I feel like I could sacrifice Nesta, but I think Feyre would be mad at me so…” You shrugged as you held your sword tighter, "Get in, winnow out. Straight to Velaris. Nuala and Cerridwen can watch over them," she ordered.

Mor hesitated for only a second. Then she nodded. Without another word, she vanished into the battlefield.

Nesta had never felt this helpless before. Not when her family lost everything, not when she had stared into the eyes of hunger and accepted the proposal of a cousin she never heard of to help, not even when Hybern’s soldiers had dragged her from her manor hours ago. Elain was trembling beside her, her hand clutching Nesta’s wrist like it was the only thing grounding her to reality while they were being dragged in that place of horrors and blood.

The King of Hybern was saying something. Shouting commands to his guards. She wasn’t listening. Because the air wasn't reaching her lungs, her blood wasn't getting to her hands, she almost felt like she could faint right there and then.

But suddenly, the air shifted. Even if she was just human, she still felt as power rummaged around her. A second later, golden power exploded through the running hill. Mor. Hybern’s soldiers barely had time to react before the Third in Command of the Night Court tore through them.

Nesta’s breath caught. Because Morrigan was a storm. She was blade and vengeance and deadly grace, cutting down three of Hybern’s guards before they even had time to scream.

"Nesta!" Mor’s voice was sharp. “I work with your cousin, I will take you and your sister to a safe place, please trust me!”

Before she could think, Mor’s arms were around her and Elain, and the world twisted, turning to wind and darkness. And then, sudden silence. No more battle screams, no command shouts, no more gut ripping. Just Elain's quiet crying as they saw the world around them. They felt the change in their skin as cold, crisp air reached it.

A safe city extendeda around them. They had made it. And right around the corner, Nesta held her sister's hand as another figure approached them, the blond one that brought them here nodded to the other female and disappeared — back to the battlefield, probably. The other figure kept getting closer, slowly, probably to not scare them. When she appeared in the light Nesta and Elain couldn't contain the sound of pure shock as they saw her. Feyre.

☆

You kept cutting your way trying to reach the king. You were going to lose the opportunity if you couldn't get close enough of him to cut his head off. After you killed another male from Hybern, you barely had time to catch your breath before a flash of golden hair caught your eye. Tamlin. Standing there, just beyond the chaos, trying to run away from battle. Running, as if he hadn’t caused all of this. Running, as if he hadn’t sold out Prythian to Hybern. Running, like a coward.

Something inside you snapped. Before you could even think, you growled, your power surging like a tidal wave, ready to crush him.

“Go.” Rhysand’s voice slid into your mind. “Go after him. I’ll handle the King.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Tamlin had already started to run, but you were faster. You winnowed, cutting off his path, appearing in front of him before he could flee like the spineless worm he was. His green eyes widened.

"Don't," he panted. "You don’t understand—"

You punched him so hard in the face that he flew back, crashing into the dirt. "I don't understand?" Your voice was deadly quiet. "I don't understand what, Tamlin? That you sided with the very bastard who commanded the female that kidnapped and tortured Feyre? That you let him march into our lands hoping for a pity future where you would be a puppet High King? That you were too much of a coward to fight back?"

He coughed, spitting blood. Good. You walked toward him, slow, deliberate.

"You could have stopped this," you said, voice laced with ice. "You could have fought for Prythian. You could've told us before. But instead, you let your own ego destroy everything. Because you thought you were entitled to this. Entitled to Feyre. Because you thought your love gave you ownership."

Tamlin snarled, dragging himself up. "I did it for her!"

"For her?" You laughed, dark and cruel. "Then where the fuck were you when she was starving in Under the Mountain? Where were you when she was breaking apart in your manor?"

Tamlin launched himself at you, claws out. But you were faster. You sidestepped and slammed your elbow into his ribs. Hard. Something cracked.

He choked on the impact, stumbling back. You winnowed behind him and gripped his throat. Tamlin gasped. You dug your nails into his skin, watching as his eyes widened in pure terror.

"You don't deserve a quick death," you murmured. You pulled him closer, your lips brushing his ear. "You deserve to suffer," you whispered. "Like all the people you abandoned. Like all the people who begged you for help."

Then you slammed him into the ground. Tamlin howled as you broke his arm, twisting it with a sickening snap. You let him crawl, watching as he clutched his shattered limb, gasping.

"Come on, High Lord," you mocked, circling him like a predator. "Where's all that strength now?"

He tried to winnow. You ripped the air apart, blocking him.

"No," you said, a cold smile curling your lips. "You don't get to run this time."

His breaths came in ragged, panicked gasps. "Please—"

You grabbed him by the jaw, forcing him to look at you.

"Begging, Tamlin?" you mused. "How pathetic."

And then you sank your magic into him. It started as a slow burn. A tendril of power coiling into his veins. Tamlin screamed. You just watched as his muscles locked, as his skin heated, as you let him feel the pure agony of everything he had done.

"Does it hurt?" you asked softly.

He thrashed, trying to fight it, but you only tightened your grip.

"Not enough," you murmured. "Not yet."

You willed the magic to go deeper, to rot him from the inside out. Tamlin convulsed, his body shaking violently, his claws tearing at the dirt. He gasped your name, voice raw, broken. You smiled. With one final push of power, you snapped his spine. Tamlin went limp. His body crumpled into the dirt. You stepped back, breathing even, feeling nothing.

Then, you turned away with no second thought. And left him there to rot. As if he didn't have any importance. And he didn't, not anymore.

☆

Rhysand winnowed through the battlefield, dodging blades and blasts of magic, his only focus on the figure standing at the heart of the chaos. The King of Hybern. The bastard stood tall, watching the battle unfold with calculating indifference, gripping a massive black sword, its blade humming with dark magic — Cauldron-forged. The King noticed Rhys approaching and let out a low, amused chuckle.

"Ah, the infamous High Lord of Night," he drawled, turning to face him fully. "Come to beg for your lands? Your people? Or do you just enjoy groveling at the feet of tyrants?"

Rhys’ lips curled back. "You should know, you’ve been groveling at the feet of a dead female for the past fifty years. Amarantha's sister would be sad to see you lose so badly."

Hybern laughed an ugly sound. "And yet, my commander still broke you."

Rhys’ magic flared in response, sealing off the battlefield, creating a barrier of pure night around them, and trapping the King inside. Hybern’s grin faltered. Rhys stepped forward, voice low, deadly.

"For every comrade, every one of my friends that died in the first war," he said, his power thrumming with rage, "all of whom were slaughtered by your hand… I came to get my revenge."

Hybern lunged, swinging that cursed blade straight for his throat. Rhys sidestepped, moving with trained, practiced ease, and in a flurry of precise movements, he disarmed him. The sword clattered to the ground. Instead of striking, Rhys picked up the King's own weapon, turning it in his hands, feeling the power humming within it.

He pointed it at Hybern’s chest. "You're going to call off that battle."

Hybern sneered, blood-stained teeth flashing. "Or what? You can't kill me with that blade."

Rhysand’s smile was razor-sharp. "Oh, I know."

The King’s eyes widened in realization. "Wait—"

Rhys drove the blade into his side. Hybern screamed. The wound didn’t kill him. But the magic of the Cauldron was incomplete. It no longer made him untouchable. He could still feel pain. And Rhys wasn't done.

He ripped the blade free and slashed again. Hybern staggered, gasping. Rhysand took a slow, deliberate step forward.

"How does it feel to be helpless now?" he murmured, dragging the tip of the blade along Hybern’s chest, watching thin red lines bloom across his skin.

Hybern shuddered, clutching his wounds as they healed just fast enough to keep him alive. Rhysand smiled.

"I watched my friends die in horror many times," he said, slashing across his thigh.

Hybern cried out.

"And for the past fifty years, I saw innocents dying under Amarantha's reign. Under your command." Another strike, a deep cut along his ribs. "I heard them crying as they were slain," Rhys pressed on, his voice cold, merciless. A cut along Hybern’s arm. "I heard their final moments. Begging for their gods." Another strike. "Look what you turned me into." The King groaned in agony, body trembling. "Look what we've become."

"Enough," Hybern gasped.

Rhysand ignored him, swinging again. "All of the pain that I've been through—"

"Stop!"

A deep wound across his chest. "Haven't we suffered enough?"

"Stop!" Rhysand’s blade bit into his shoulder, slicing through flesh.

"Amarantha didn't stop when I begged her," Rhys said softly, stepping closer, watching as the King swayed, barely standing. "She told me to close my mind and enjoy."

"You—" Hybern choked.

Rhys drove the blade into his stomach. The King howled. "She said the world was a dark place for those who dream too much."

Hybern sputtered blood, wheezing. "Monster—"

Rhysand tilted his head, mockingly. "Weren't you the one who taught her that ruthlessness is mercy upon our kind?"

Hybern's knees buckled. "Alright," he croaked. "Please..."

Rhys paused. The King breathed raggedly, blood coating his mouth, a broken, mocking smile curling his lips.

"After everything you've done," Hybern wheezed, voice shaking. "How will you sleep at night, High Lord?"

Rhysand pretended to consider the question. And then he smiled. "Next to my mate."

The King’s expression cracked. And then Rhysand lifted the blade and, in one swift, brutal motion, he cut off the King’s head.

Silence rippled across the battlefield as the soldiers from Hybern dropped their swords as if waking up from a trance. The remaining Hybern generals saw it. Saw the King’s final promise before dying. And they began to retreat. They saw Tamlin's corpse, broken and discarded in the dirt. The soldiers, panicked, and frantic, fell to their knees. And they begged for mercy.

Rhysand stood at the center of the battlefield, Hybern's blood still fresh on his hands. His chest rose and fell steadily, but there was no relief in his expression. Only finality. He turned to the gathered High Lords, their faces painted with exhaustion and rage, the stench of war still thick in the air.

"The rest of Hybern’s army," Rhysand said, his voice carrying across the ruined land. "Do with them as you wish."

No one from the Night Court stayed to watch. They had no more business there.

☆

The battlefield was far behind them when Rhysand found you. His mate. His brilliant, talented mate.

You stood at the edge of a ravine, watching the horizon, the distant glow of the burning Hybern banners flickering in your eyes. For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, you turned to him. You both knew. The weight of revenge. The emptiness it left behind. So when Rhysand stepped forward and silently took your hand, you let him.

You had won. But at what cost? You have paid more than enough for the past hundreds of years. This time, the debt of the consequences wouldn't be your value to pay.

Cassian was the first to break the silence when you returned to camp.

"The Night Court forces are already in the healers' tents," he said, his wings tucked close in exhaustion. "We suffered losses, but nothing like Hybern. Or a few other Courts." His hazel eyes flicked to Rhysand. "It was a victory."

A hollow one. Mor appeared next, her golden hair wild from battle, blood still streaking her armor. "Feyre’s sisters are safe." Relief washed through them. "They’re already being taken care of," she added, her voice gentler than before.

Rhysand gave a small, tired nod. And then Azriel approached. His face was carefully blank, but something in his shadows twisted, curling inwards.

Rhysand knew before Azriel even spoke. "We lost Amren." A breath. "She's gone."

The silence was deafening.

Mor staggered back a step, shaking her head. "No. No, she’s— she’s probably fine. Amren always makes it out."

But even she wasn't convinced. Rhysand swallowed. She had thrown herself into the Cauldron. Had given them the only chance to end it. Amren had known. And she had gone willingly.

"She knew what she was doing," Rhysand finally said.

None of them responded. Because this war had stolen too much already. And now, it had stolen Amren, too.

“One day after the other,” you said in a whisper, hair sticking to your forehead, blood and sweat mixing on your body “We live one day after the other now.”

Taglist: @rcarbo1 @raisam @itsinherited @romantic1stories @nebarious @mystirica-18 @willowpains @xelladarlingx @lucilia9teen @lifetobeareader @hjgdhghoe @carmenadkins78 @lreadsstuff @oiolabomdia @jaybbygrl @traiitorjoe

#Spotify #acotar #rhysand x reader #rhys acotar #rhys x reader #rhysand #rhysand acotar #reader insert

61 notes · View notes

sidyashchiy-na-plakhe · 2 months ago

Text

Wings of fire adopts!

And here is a new pack of adopts! They were inspired by Greek mythology.

If you want to buy an adopt then dm me. If you want a full-body reference instead of a headshot, then say so in dms. (example of a full-body reference.) For dragons with many accessories, two references are made: with accessories and without.

General Condor🔥⚔️: (headshot 7$. Full-body 30$) – closed

Arachne 🕷️🕸️: (headshot 7$. Full-body 25$) – closed

Satyr 🌿🎵(headshot 7$. Full-body 20$) – open

More about adopts:

Condor is the general of the skywing army during the War of Sandwing Succession. He is very serious, silent, and stoic. Kite has a young daughter, for whom he is willing to do anything. Despite his menacing appearance and bloodthirstiness during battle, he can be very gentle and shy, especially around his family. He also uses the horn on his helmet as a sword during battle.

Arachne used to have her own business selling fabrics, but after the Tree Wars she lost everything. However, unlike other silkwings, she did not give up, but decided to organize a rebellion, which was quickly suppressed by hivewings. Arachne fled into the depths of Pantala, and there are rumors that she weaves huge webs in which she catches unwary hivewings.

Satyr is a cheerful skywing who travels the world playing his lyre. He is very carefree, free-spirited, flighty and cheerful little guy.

#wof #wings of fire #драконья сага #my art #wof adopts #dragon #wof skywing #wof silkwing #wof oc #digital art

112 notes · View notes

redfoxwritesstuff · 6 months ago

Text

Satin Ribbons (Angel Adam x Sinner Reader)

CW: Smut, Adam typical degradation Rating: Adult Summary: It was once a year that you got to see your angelic lover. A romantic, or perhaps just sexual, tryst you waited all year for. This year, you dressed yourself in something you hoped Adam would think about all year long.

You stood in the bathroom, flickering light casting and banishing shadows as you turned this way and that. Your reflection looked back at you, examining the cloth and ribbon draped over your frame. The outfit you wore was a custom order- so unlike anything else that one would find in hell. It was sweet and not in the corrupted way that so many liked to fetishize. Baby pink covered your curves, shiny satin reflecting the light as it cupped your breasts and fluttered out around your torso, ghosting over your hips and just covering the swell of your ass.

Golden trim and feather accents lined up to trick the eye, exaggerating your figure. Polished golden heels clicked against the worn laminate floors. Golden ribbons wrapped around your neck, tied in a bow. That same golden ribbon made up the strap of the thong you wore and the band of the bubble gum pink stockings on your feet.

You looked sweet, like candy, and you hoped, heavenly.

There was one day a year when you got to see your heavenly lover. Only one day when he could venture down from heaven above and while his army raged battle against the city, he would come to see you. You were safe because he loved you. At least, you hoped he loved you. You knew he loved your body, so close to human and yet the small bat wings on your back made sure he couldn’t forget what you were.

Dirty. Disgusting. Sinner.

For him you wanted to be heavenly.

There was no knock on your door. He simply walked in as if he owned the place.

“Babe- you here?” The general of the heavenly army called into your apartment as he shut the door behind him. The curtains were already closed. A smile spread over your face as you listened to the sound of his helmet thumping down onto the ground. A rustling of fabric followed as he tossed off the bulky robe he wore.

“Coming,” you called, dabbing the excess petal pink lipstick from your lips and then stepping out and into his line of sight.

“Holy fuck,” Adam breathed. “Hot fucking damn. What are you wearing?”

“Do you like it?” you asked timidly, stepping closer to the first man.

“Do I like it?” Adam scoffed, hands reaching out for you as his eyes bounced around. “Fuck, babe. Gonna make me blow my load just from looking at you.”

You laughed lightly, a sound Adam looked forward to hearing every year. “I had it custom made, I wanted-”

“To make me nut?” Adam teased, fingers running over the mesh of your stockings as you drew closer.

“I wanted to be heavenly for you, if only just for today.” A flush settled on your cheeks, darkening your pinkish skin a little more.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard,” Adam promised as he traced the golden trim around the cup covering your breast before tracing the golden feather that was placed so that it was practically hanging from your nipple. Each teasing run of his nail over the sensitive skin drew your nipple into a tighter bud, making the illusion all the more pronounced. “That heaven will hear your screams.”

“Please?” You moaned, arching into his touch.

Adam stood, large rough hands cupping your breast properly as he pulled you tightly to his body. He pulled the tank top off and tossed it aside, moaning at the soft slide of satin against his skin.

“You’re such an angel for me,” Adam whispered as he leaned down, kissing you softly.

“I try,” you sighed as his hand ran down your back, a soft caress between leathery wings. “For you, I try.”

“Good girl,” Adam whispered. “Going to fuck you while you’re wearing my color. Dressed in gold for me.”

Large hands gripped your ass, lifting you from your feet. You wrapped your legs around his waist, golden heels clicking against eachother as he carried you easily to your bed. It wasn’t comfortable, but if you were going to dress up like an angel for him, he’d give you the proper treatment while he dicked you down.

He held you high on his waist as he walked, using one hand to unbuckle his pants and send them falling around his ankles. For a moment, he stumbled over them and your giggle, so musical and pretty, filled his ears again. Then you were kissing him again as he shed his boxers, stepping nude up to the bed.

Your hands ran over his soft skin, greedy for the feel of muscle hidden under the softness that marked him as a real man to you. Soft and strong, unforgiving and kind. He was everything you wanted.

“Fucking leave it all on,” Adam said as he climbed onto the bed with you. “Going to fuck you in this.”

He pulled at the ribbon at your hips, undoing one bow and shoving the fabric aside. Large fingers ran up your newly exposed slit, finding you just as wet as you always were. Having the first man inside you was all you had thought of for the last few days, and you were far more than ready for him,

“Please,” you whimpered as he spread the slick over your folds, gathering it on his fingers. You watched as he coated his thick cock with it. “Please, Adam. I need you.”

“Who do you need?” Adam teased, bracing himself on his arm as he ran the head of his cock up and down your folds.

“Need you,” you whined, wiggling your hips as he slowly inched forward with each title that dropped from your lips until he bottomed out, “Need Adam. Need the first man. Need the dickmaster.”

“Damn right you do,” Adam said as he curled over you, resisting the urge to just pound into you. “Fuckin’ wait all year for me to come fuck you stupid.”

“I do,” you reached up, running a hand over the broad expanse of his chest, feeling the softness that hid powerful muscles that ripped apart your fellow sinners, ending their existences. He would never hurt you though. “I wait every year.”

It was as close as you would ever come to saying you loved him.

Adam looked down at you with soft eyes. His eyes were always soft when he looked at you, even if his words were not. He pulled out of you slowly as your ankles locked together behind his back. Large hands grabbed your thighs, fingers running over the fishnets of your stocking and the silky ribbon as he hiked the circle of your legs higher up his waist. The change of angle had him reaching deeper as he plunged into you.

Each thrust had you panting, spread wide on his thick cock as he slowly increased his pace. Your breasts bounced with each labored breath as his weight pushed into you. Sweat began to gather on his neck and shoulders as his thrusts rocked you, hitting deep inside.

“Fuck,” he whispered, fingers flexing into the dirty blankets on your bed before wrapping around your back as he rolled, pulling you with him. It took a moment for you to gather your legs under you and then you were riding the great angel general.

“Adam,” you moaned his name as you sank deeper down his shaft, feeling his head push up against your cervix.

The first man had the first dick, and it was your opinion that it was expertly crafted, shaped, and formed just for you. Or perhaps you were made for him. It didn’t matter. What mattered was the way his hips rolled up into you.

You rose up, cunt sliding along his length as you looked down at the man below you. Leathery wings fluttered as his fat cock drug along your walls.

“Going to fuckin ride me?” Adam asked as his hands found your hips, gripping you as you hovered, head of his cock just inside. “Fuckin’ ride the first man?”

“Yes,” you moaned as you sank down. “Anything for you.”

“Fuck,” Adam moaned, watching as your pink cunt swallowed his shaft, “Fuckin’ show me how good you can ride me.”

You did as he said, bouncing up and down his cock, pace quickening with the urging of his hands on your hips. Adam looked up at you, so perfectly human as you bounced, his large cock filling you again and again. Brown eyes, so warm, watched you as you threw your head back, pink hair cascading down your back as you bounced.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Adam moaned, watching your tits jiggle with every bounce. Fingers dug into the fat of your hips, urging you to slam down on his cock faster and faster. “Fuckin’ ride my fat cock like the whore you are. Fuckin’ sinner slut. Fuck. Fuck!”

“Fuck,” you moaned, bouncing faster as Adam fucked up into you.

The strap of your top fell off your shoulder, slowly dragging further and further down your arm with each bounce of your tits until the breast on that side bounced free. Leaning back, you planted the palms of your hands on Adam’s thighs, bracing yourself as he fucked into you.

“Fuck yeah,” Adam moaned, reaching out to cup your naked breast, thrust forward as your back arched. “Fuck babe, on display for me. Fuck!”

You squeaked as Adam shot forward, taking your nipple in his mouth in a wet, sloppy kiss that was all tongue as he pushed you back. In a matter of moments, you were on your back, Adam fucking into you from above. He hooked your knees over his shoulders, folding you in half as he thrust harder and harder.

Each thrust had you crying out his name, body slamming into your clit. You were thrust violently toward the edge, not having a chance to even catch your breath as you were flung over. Muscles twitched and bunched, trying to stretch as your orgasm washed over you.

Your cunt clenched and twitched around his cock as he stuffed it inside you again and again. Heavy balls slapped against your ass, splattering the slick that poured from you with each impact.

“Fucking dirty sinner,” Adam groaned out as you looked up at him, eyes unfocused and fucked out as he thrust you through your orgasm. “All you’re fucking good for.”

“Adam,” you moaned, struggling to arch your back, ankles twitching as he fucked through your convulsing walls.

“Going to stuff you with my fuckin cum,” he threatened as he locked eyes with your dazed ones. Large golden wings arched out from his back, shedding feathers as he used them to push his thrusts harder, flapping them in time with his hips. “Fuckin’ breed your dirty sinner cunt. Fuckin’ make you take everything I’ve got.”

“Please,” you whimpered as he fucked yet harder into you. “Please, give it to me.”

“Fuckin’ damn right,” he groaned as he worked into you again and again, thrusts wild and hard. “Stuff you with the first man’s seed. If anyone can breed your sinner cunt, it’ll be me.”

“Want it,” your voice slurred as he refused to stop or slow enough to let the pleasure running through your veins subside. “Want you. Want dickmaster. Want your cum. Need it.”

Adam groaned, hips slapping into you as he reached his end. His wings flapped twice before tensing, standing out from his back in large golden arches. Each twitch of his cock painted your cervix white, giving you the seed you so badly craved.

Thrusts slowed as he let your legs fall to his sides as he melted into you. His cock twitched inside you as you wrapped your arms around him, caressing down ruffled hair and feathers alike.

“Can you stay?” you whispered as he shifted much of his weight off of you. “Just for a little while?”

“Only a little,” Adam whispered back, looking at you in a way that almost made you think he would kiss you in the post orgasm glow.

“I’ll take a little,” you said as he shifted, moving to hold you instead of being held by you.

Your eyes dropped lower with every lazy blink of your eyes. While the angelic army outside your apartment hunted and slew sinners, you dozed off to sleep in the arms of the enemy general.

As long as Adam came to you on extermination days, you would look forward to the chaos and bloodshed eagerly. As long as the man you loved came for you, you would be safe.

#redfoxtober 2024 #redfoxtober2024 #Adam x reader #Adam x you #Adam x y/n #hazbin Adam x reader #hazbin Adam x you #hazbin Adam x y/n #hazbin hotel Adam x reader #hazbin hotel Adam x you #hazbin hotel Adam x y/n #Adam hazbin x reader #Adam hazbin x you #Adam hazbin x y/n

111 notes · View notes

luckyreds · 4 months ago

Text

Cigarettes! smoke them if you got them.

The Improved version. ;)

Aaaaaah, cigarettes, a true staple of soldiering life, practically as common as a helmet or a rifle. Back in the 40s, nearly everyone smoked. Among the working class, about 80% puffed away on a good old cig on the daily, and in the U.S. Army, nearly half of the men were regular smokers. Cigarettes weren’t just a habit; they were a cultural phenomenon and a lifeline, especially on the battlefield.

The Importance of Cigarettes in the Army

Imagine you're a soldier during those days, slogging through mud, dodging enemy fire, dealing with exhaustion, hunger, your nerves getting fried the longer you stay on the front lines, being stretched to the breaking point. What’s the best way to take the edge off? Exactly! A good old cigarette.

Back then smoking wasn’t just a way to relax; it was a coping mechanism. Cigarettes calmed jittery hands, offered a moment of peace, and staved off hunger pangs. (In fact back in the 30s Lucky Strike even marketed itself as a way to "stay in shape,” more on that later.)

A smoke break also became a key social ritual. Sharing a cigarette with a comrade was more than camaraderie, it was currency, connection, and comfort all rolled into one.

How Soldiers Got Their Smokes

Now! Being a soldier in the army meant you weren’t likely to run out of cigarettes. In fact, Uncle Sam made sure of that, As they were seen as an easy and affordable luxury. There were a couple of ways you could get your fix:

1. Rations. Cigarettes were a key part of standard-issue K- and C-rations. Each pack came with a neat little "three-by-three" setup: nine cigarettes, often a mix of one of four brands; Lucky Strike, Camel, Chesterfield, and Old Gold. If you were lucky, your whole pack would be your favourite brand; if not, trading with your buddies became an art form and a favourite pastime of many GIs.

2. PX Stores and USO Canteens. Now, say you smoked your pack or lost it in a bet, you could always head to a PX store or USO canteen (assuming you weren’t on the front lines). They stocked packs of 20 from brands like Pall Mall, Philip Morris, Parliaments, Wings, and Fatima and (in the USO canteens) the USO girls would carry them around on silver platters for the soldiers to buy them.

3. The Red Cross. For the truly desperate (or die-hard fans of Old Gold), the Red Cross was a lifesaver. They handed out free cigarettes to their personnel and they were often willing to sneak a pack or two to any GI looking for a pack.

4. Care Packages from Home. Families back home were eager to send their boys a pack or two, it was in fact promoted to do so! but mail wasn’t exactly speedy. A letter from your mom or wife might arrive weeks late, so unless you had saintly patience, trading or hitting up the USO was your best bet.

5. Barter and Trade. Like I said before, Bartering and trading became one of the favourite pastimes of soldiers. Didn’t get Lucky Strikes in your ration pack? No problem. You would find someone who did, and trade away your Camels or Old Golds. Cigarettes were practically a secondary currency, traded for chocolate, favours, or even a few extra hours off duty. Say you were a non-smoker, trading away those cigarettes could get you a lot of other useful stuff.

Why Lucky Strike Was the King of Smokes

While soldiers had their preferences, Lucky Strike dominated the frontlines. Why? Well, back in the good old roaring twenties, they were sold as a way to loose weight! Yes really! This marketing campaign was so successful, the use of Lucky Strikes exploded across America. then during the 30s, this good old Cigarette became the go-to of many celebrities, (think of Joan Crawford, Gary Cooper, Clark Gable) and by WWII, it had established itself as The King of Cigarettes brands.

Lucky strike green has gone to war!

In 1942, Lucky Strike changed it packaging from its iconic green to white. This clever switch made it the most patriotic cigarette in town. Sure, the green dye wasn’t actually repurposed for the war effort (the company just wanted the packaging to appeal to women), but who cared? People loved the idea, and Lucky Strikes flew off the shelves. Their signature toasted tobacco also had a smoother flavour, and promised a less sore throat after smoking. It quickly became a favourite amongst the soldiers.

Now! If Lucky Strike wasn’t your thing, there were plenty of other options:

Camel: Known for its smooth taste and memorable slogan, “I’d walk a mile for a Camel.” Quickly becoming a new favourite during the war.

Chesterfield: A milder, smooth option, favoured by those who wanted something “classy.” It was also seen as an english cigarette.

Old Gold: Perfect for anyone who liked their cigarettes without a cough (allegedly).

Pall Mall: advertised are longer and more elegant, a “premium” choice for officers or stylish soldiers.

Philip Morris: Another solid pick, with a reputation for luxury. “Call for Philip Morris” their busboy mascot to find out why its the finest cigarette in town!

Marlboro: For the women out there, “mild as May” Marlboro was the go to! Marketed as a ladies’ cigarette with their signature red coloured filter to hide lipstick stains, Camel and Chesterfields were other favourites, as they were considered more “refined” options due to their smoother taste.

(If none of these brands were available: in France you had the famous Gauloises. Which were associated with the resistance and had a very distinct taste and smell and nobody wanted the English-made cigarettes, as they were so bad according the americans they apoligised when giving them out.)

On cigars:

Cigars were often seen as a luxury item, not something you'd find in your standard rations. They carried an air of importance and were typically associated with officers, high-ranking officials, or soldiers celebrating a victory. If you think of cigars and ww2, you’d think of Winston Churchill, General Douglas MacArthur and later General George S. Patton, puffing away on their cigar celebrating victory.

How Soldiers Got Their Cigars

Care Packages from Home. Families might send cigars to their loved ones overseas as a treat. Though it was often those from the more privileged families, or the officers that could get a box of cigars

2. Special PX Purchases. Post Exchanges and USO canteens sometimes stocked cigars, though they were far less common than cigarettes. They were considered more of a specialty item, so soldiers had to go out of their way to snag one.

3. Barter and Trade. If someone in your unit was lucky enough to score a cigar, you might be able to trade for it—though the price would be steep. Cigars were seen as a rare luxury, so they didn’t come cheap on the frontlines

4. Liberation Spoils. Occasionally, soldiers might come across cigars while liberating towns or raiding enemy supplies. A nice Cuban cigar found in an officer’s stash could turn a miserable day into a pretty good one!

Now there were a couple of brands common in this time:

White Owl: One of the more popular and accessible brands for soldiers, known for its mild flavour.

El Producto: a mid-tier cigar, cheap hand-made nickel cigars but a favourite amongst the ‘Common’ men.

Dutch Masters: not as popular as they were about to become in 50s, but still well-known brand which would’ve been available at the USO.

Havana Cigars: For the Officers and Wealthy. As a common GI, if you get your hands on authentic Cuban cigars via looting, you’d better enjoy it! They were highly prized for their quality.

Now! If cigarettes were the democratic choice of the masses, cigars were the aristocrats of the tobacco world. They weren’t as practical to carry in the field, but they carried a sense of prestige that cigarettes didn’t. If a soldier lit a cigar, you knew something important had happened, or he had connections back home.

How to light it up!

In the army you had two options, the first was a lighter, if Lucky Strikes was King Cig, then the zippo was King Lighter. Made in Bradford, Pennsylvania, Zippos were beloved by soldiers for their durability and reliability. These lighters were windproof, meaning they could stay lit even in harsh conditions like rain or wind, and they were pretty practical! Zippos used refillable lighter fluid (usually naptha which you could taste) and flints. Soldiers could easily find materials to keep them going. Plus, they were customisable and pretty indestructable. they could take a beating and still be in working condition! now, if you lost your lighter, soldiers would improvise. Some created lighters from shell casings, fuel, and flint. These homemade lighters were often rough, but they worked.

the second option was of course matches. they were standard-issue that came in soldiers’ ration kits. These matches were often coated in wax or stored in waterproof containers to ensure they stayed dry. Soldiers relied on these matches not just for lighting cigarettes but for starting fires and other survival needs. other than the standard matches you had matchbooks, which were lightweight and easy to carry, often featuring advertisements or morale-boosting slogans. They were frequently handed out by the USO, Red Cross, or included in care packages from home.

righto! that was it. the new and improved Cigarette information post! hope you enjoyed!

#sal rambles #cigarettes #ww2 #this time with more information and with 10 times more structure #next up prophylatic kits

64 notes · View notes

literaryvein-reblogs · 5 months ago

Text

Writing Notes: Heraldry

Heraldry - is about showing people who you are.

In England, it started in the later 1100s, when knights began to wear helmets, and they couldn't be recognised. So they began to paint unique combinations of colours, shapes and animals, called their 'arms', on their shields and banners. Only one person was allowed to use these arms. When people saw a knight wearing them in a battle or tournament, they could tell who he was.

It is the science and the art that deal with the use, display, and regulation of hereditary symbols employed to distinguish individuals, armies, institutions, and corporations. Those symbols, which originated as identification devices on flags and shields, are called armorial bearings.

Strictly defined, heraldry denotes that which pertains to the office and duty of a herald; that part of his work dealing with armorial bearings is properly termed armory. But in general usage heraldry has come to mean the same as armory.

The Colours of Heraldry

The 5 traditional colours are, with their heraldic names:

Red = Gules

Blue = Azure

Green = Vert

Black = Sable

Purple = Purpure

Plus the two 'metals':

Gold or yellow = Or

Silver or white = Argent

There are also 'furs', the most common being:

Ermine: representing the white winter fur of stoats, with their black tail tips.

Vair: representing squirrel skins, in blue and white.

If something (say a dog or badger) is shown in its natural colours, it's called proper.

Conventional representations of tinctures used when it is not possible to print the actual colors:

Heraldic Ordinaries

Ordinaries - the simple shapes used on heraldic shields, against a colour, metal or fur background. If you are making your own design, choose one of these main ordinaries:

Fess = horizontal stripe across the shield

Pale = vertical stripe down the shield

Bend = diagonal stripe

Chevron = like a house gable, pointing upwards

Cross = a plain cross

Saltire = a 'St. Andrew's cross'

Chief = bar across top edge of shield

Bordure = border round edges of shield

Pile = downward-pointing triangle

You can also divide your shield into two colours, either vertically or horizontally, or into four different-coloured quarters.

You don't have to use an ordinary, but if you do remember to never put a colour on colour or a metal on a metal. Try to remember this heraldic rule: colours don't show up well against colours, or metals against metals. This also applies to charges.

Heraldic Charges

Charges - emblems added to the shield, on the background, the 'ordinary', or both.

There can be one big charge, or several smaller repeated ones. Here are some of the common charges you could use:

Crosses - of many different types

Stars

Rings

Balls

Crescents

Diamonds

Flowers

They can be any colour, but remember never put colour on colour, for example a green star on blue, or metal on metal, for example a white flower on yellow.

Many knights also used animals as charges.

Animal Charges

Any animal - either one big one or several smaller - can be used as a charge. They can be shown in many different ways, for instance:

Rearing up (rampant) - like the lion and the hare in the pictures above

Standing (statant) - like the dog

For birds, with wings outstretched (displayed) - like the eagle

Walking along (passant) - like the other lion

If the animal is looking towards you, it is also guardant or 'on guard'. So the lion in the picture is passant guardant.

The ancient royal arms of England are 3 golden lions, one above the other, walking along on a red shield: or, in heraldic code, gules three lions passant guardant or.

Just to make things more complicated, lions passant guardant are also called leopards - but they don't have spots.

Choosing Your Animal

Animals symbolised different qualities. So for instance:

Lions = bravery

Dogs = faithfulness, reliability

Stags = wisdom and long life

Eagles = power and nobility

Badgers = endurance or 'hanging on'

You could also design your own animal charge.

For instance a cat, horse or other favourite pet.

Or you could choose a fabulous beast...

Fabulous Beasts

Though often used as 'charges', these fabulous beasts never really existed.

But some people believed they did, maybe because they'd heard about them in stories made up by travellers to distant lands, like crusading knights or merchant adventurers. Pictures of them also appeared in 'bestiaries', a popular kind of illustrated medieval story-book.

Here are some you could use:

Dragon: the earliest and most common fabulous beast, also used as a badge by Romans, Anglo-Saxons and Welsh. A brave and cunning defender of treasure.

Griffin: a combination of lion and eagle. Symbolises watchfulness and courage - and also guards treasure.

Cockatrice: a cross between a cockerel and a dragon, supposedly hatched from a cock's egg by a snake or toad. Could kill by looking at you, and symbolised protection.

Manticore or 'man-tiger': a fearsome man-eating creature with a lion's body, man's face, tusks, horns and a deafening trumpet-like voice.

Cadency

Cadency - the use of various devices designed to show a man’s position in a family, with the aforementioned basic aim of reserving the entire arms to the head of the family and to differentiate the arms of the rest, who are the cadets, or younger members.

Heraldic works in the 16th century refer to cadency marks as:

a label for the eldest son during his father’s lifetime;

a crescent for the second son;

a mullet (five-pointed star) for the third;

a martlet (a mythical bird), the fourth;

an annulet (a small ring), the fifth;

a fleur-de-lis, the sixth;

a rose, the seventh; and so forth.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References

#heraldry #writing notes #writeblr #dark academia #spilled ink #literature #writers on tumblr #writing reference #writing prompt #poets on tumblr #poetry #symbols #light academia #writing inspiration #writing ideas #creative writing #lit #fiction #writing resources

89 notes · View notes

ivyblossom · 5 months ago

Note

How did you get the previously mentioned crow army? Any tips on how to get one myself?

Please

It’s easy to befriend crows, they’re very smart. The hardest part is regularly being in close proximity to crows to get started. But if you see a place where you can get to know them, go there and give them crow-friendly snacks when they’re near enough to you. My go-tos are unsalted shelled peanuts (they still have to work to get the peanuts out) and sometimes chopped up boiled eggs. Peanuts are easier to throw. Do this regularly for a week or so and you’ll have some crow friends. They don’t really care about timing as long as it’s during the day. Crows usually sleep in a big group in some central location and probably won’t be around at night.

Crows are very wary. They will jump or fly away when you throw things towards them, but they will get the idea very fast.

My crow friends are very polite. They know what building I live in, and they probably know which unit, but they never bother me at home. They wait for me to come out the front door and out into the open to see them. They may have assigned someone to keep watch for me, because they definitely announce a sighting.

They do not shout at me, though once some of their cousins tried that and I did not reward the behaviour. No one’s done it again.

The lesson they learned about interacting with me is that getting into my eye line is the way, so they often get right in front of me, wings spread open for maximum visibility. When I’m on my scooter going 35 kph that sometimes means flying beside me, inches over my helmet or right in front of me.

I always talk to them. I’m hoping the gift I get from them is a response, so I try to say the same things to them. But often I just talk to them like people (because, hey, they are people! Non-human people, but still people.). They will fly and perch along fences in front of me over and over again when I’m walking somewhere, and will keep that up as long as there’s fence.

It doesn’t matter what you’re wearing. They know what clothes are. They know what a helmet is and they know my scooter is a vehicle. They recognize faces.

Good luck! Tell your new crow friends I say hi!

#how to make crow friends

55 notes · View notes

what-is-love-babey-dont-hurt-me · 8 months ago

Text

Some headcanons I have about King Dedede, Captain Vul, and their species!

Many, many millions of years before the tragedy that befell the dinosaurs, alien researchers tried to study them, and did not plan for their escape from the research facility, and eventual takeover of the planet! Through many years of adaptation to the new planet, you see the feathers and bird-like feathers we know and love in King Dedede and others!

This is related to my OC Sir Meteor, who you can vote for here ! 💫🦖☄️

Transcript + More below the cut below

Vestigial tail + spikes

A far cry from the reptile tails of old, the tails of current day are stubby with little movement, and in a few generations will likely be completely gone.

These guys are descendants of dinosaurs! The tails had been used for mobility, balance, but especially fighting. This connotation created ripples in the culture of what the vestigial tail means for avians, no matter how stubby and useless it is in present day! Since hollow bones had started to emerge in the species, anything that could possibly crush them is considered taboo, including showing off tails freely. A lot of them pretend they don’t exist!

Prehensile feathers

The feathers at the tip of the wings are modified fingers that can grab! If you were to push back the feathers, you would even see vestigial talons that are either too small to be any threat, or kept trip for proper appearance. All of the avians have thumb-like digits as well, but their grip is not a precise as our own.

Avians of high social standing often commission and wear enchanted gloves to aid with their weak grip, and it is why Dedede isn’t seen with his feathers and can use his hammer!

Spines + tail usually covered up

For this study, I focused on just the bodies themselves, but i wanna delve deeper into the culture they have! In particular clothing is important. They usually keep their tail and spines covered up for modesty and cultural norms—the spines are seen as weapons and only shown when living a life of battle! Even Dedede who gets into fights often doesn’t want to show them, but there is exceptions. The gray star warrior having their tail out is due to the position they have in the army. They dedicate their life to a battle. Other factors include needing high mobility! Some avians in gymnastics or on rescue teams, and other professions where mobility is essential are exempt from this rule, but they often have a robe or cover-up when not performing the task.

For Dedede: adapted to be a water-type bird, has flippers and webbed feet, and is unable to fly. His eyes are bigger than normal for the purpose of being able to see in dark waters with barely any light, although the trade off is his long distance vision leaves much to be lacking. His choice of hammer as a weapon is barely any thought to us, but a taboo one in avian society. His distance from any others of his kind is in part due to his refusal to put it down.

For Vul: he is a an avian capable of flight!! This is a rarer trait. He feels at home in the sky, and his eyes even in his old age are unparalleled to anyone else in his crew. Vul, like dedede, normally covers his tail, especially because even though he lives a life of battle, he is rather old fashioned and does not want to admit it, despite being captain to a crew of knights.

For the Star Warrior: a unnamed individual who would turn heads if they walked on their home planet looking like that. Metal armor in of itself is unusual because most avians hate to weight themselves down too much to fly, even if they aren’t a flying type. Under the helmet they have a bright red crest, and for the long legs I based them off of a Sandhill Crane. Their long legs are the best example of another trait I didn’t get to touch on yet: these guys have feathers covering the legs! Where in real life birds usually have scales, these guys have a gene which gives them feathers everywhere but the feet. Similar to silkie chickens or pigeons with muffs!

Most of these guys have some kind of feathered crest above their eyes! It helps keep sun and water out of their face, similar to eyebrows.

Page 2: a doodle comic with the story of how avians were created, along with a visual of them being somewhere between a dinosaur and bird

I have more but MAN this is getting too long

#snappy speaks #my art #snappy's art tag #kirby #king dedede #captain vul #kirby right back at ya #star warrior #I need to name that star warrior if nobody else will #kirby headcanons #aliens #speculative biology

111 notes · View notes

novaursa · 7 months ago

Note

Hello! Would you ever write something for Ser Duncan the Tall?? I don’t have any exact ideas but would love to see something for him ❤️

When the North Calls

- Summary: Duncan and Aegon encounter you in Riverlands, and you unintentionally steal the heart of a knight.

- Pairing: stark!reader/Ser Duncan the Tall

- Note: The plot is purposely changed. Duncan and Egg were not going to join Lord Beron Stark on the Northen coast, and I've also put in how Baelor Breakspear knighted Duncan (I know he didn't) to give a short story more flare.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The journey through the Riverlands had been pleasant enough, the landscape a patchwork of autumnal hues. Duncan found himself enjoying the quiet moments between the clamor of camp and the occasional brush with bandits. Traveling alongside Aegon—Egg, as he preferred to be called—was both a challenge and a comfort. The boy’s sharp wit and hunger for knowledge kept Duncan on his toes. This latest company, led by Ser Hormon Peake, was more dubious than most, but the invitation to attend the wedding of a Frey daughter provided a welcome diversion from the usual hardship.

“Ser Duncan, do you think Lord Frey will have enough food for all the guests?” Egg’s voice broke into his thoughts. The boy was riding close, his helmet askew atop his shaved head, eyes bright with curiosity. “He has so many children already. The expense must be staggering.”

Duncan chuckled, his large hand reaching out to ruffle Egg’s cap. “You’re thinking too much on it. A man with as many children as Lord Frey knows how to manage his coffers. You just worry about your manners.”

Egg wrinkled his nose but said nothing, the tilt of his head suggesting he had more questions. They rode in comfortable silence until the sound of hooves and the glint of steel drew Duncan’s attention. A small company approached from the north, a banner he recognized fluttering in the breeze—the direwolf of House Stark, bordered by a band of silver.

“Starks?” he murmured, brow furrowing. This far south, it could mean anything: messengers, exiles, or an army on the move. But as the group drew closer, he spotted a woman at the head of the party, her cloak a deep grey, her hair dark as a raven’s wing. She rode with an easy confidence, her gaze scanning the road ahead as if searching for something—or someone.

“They’re well armed,” Egg observed. “But they don’t look like they’re spoiling for a fight.”

Duncan nodded. “Aye, but best to be cautious.”

As they closed the distance, the Stark party reined in their horses. The woman’s gaze fell on Duncan, her eyes a striking shade of grey, storm clouds before a snowfall. Duncan shifted in his saddle, his heart thudding with an unfamiliar nervousness. She was beautiful in a way that was fierce and untamed, and he felt his tongue tie itself in knots at the thought of speaking to her.

“Ser Duncan the Tall,” she greeted, her voice carrying the crisp edge of the North. “I am Lady Y/N Stark, sister to Lord Beron. What brings you to these lands?”

“Lady Stark.” Duncan’s voice came out rougher than he intended, and he cleared his throat. “We ride to attend a wedding at the Twins. Ser Hormon Peake invited us to join his company.”

Her eyes flicked to the men behind him, and a small, knowing smile touched her lips. “And you trust Ser Hormon Peake?”

Duncan felt his cheeks warm. “I—ah—thought it best to see for myself.”

She nodded, then gestured to her own party. “I’m gathering men of Riverlands to march north. The Ironborn have struck our coasts again, and my brother needs every sword he can muster.”

“We’re heading the same way,” Egg cut in, his voice eager. “Dunk and I—we’re always looking for ways to help.” He shot Duncan a look that was half-amusement, half-daring.

Duncan shifted uncomfortably, feeling every inch the awkward giant he was. “If it please you, my lady, we’d be honored to ride with you. The North’s need is greater than Lord Frey’s feast.”

Her smile widened, and Duncan’s heart gave an unexpected lurch. “You’re welcome, Ser Duncan. I could use a man of your strength—and your honor.” She glanced at Egg, her expression softening. “And you, boy. You look like you’ve a few tricks up your sleeve.”

Egg grinned, straightening in his saddle. “I try, my lady.”

The decision made, Duncan found himself riding beside Lady Stark, the conversation flowing surprisingly easily. She spoke of her home, of the cold winters and the warm hearths of Winterfell, and Duncan listened, mesmerized by the passion in her voice. He found himself speaking more than he had in a long time, sharing tales of his travels and the places he had seen. Each time she laughed or smiled, he felt a strange thrill, as though he had accomplished something far greater than winning a tourney.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the road, they made camp near a small stream. Duncan busied himself with setting up their tent, but his thoughts kept drifting to Lady Stark, her presence a constant pull at his senses. He was dimly aware of Egg’s gaze, sharp and amused as he watched Duncan fumble with the tent poles.

“You’ve got it bad, Dunk,” Egg teased, his voice low enough not to carry. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you trip over your words like that.”

Duncan shot him a warning look, but the boy only grinned wider.

“She likes you,” Egg continued, unperturbed. “She kept looking at you, like she was trying to figure you out. I bet she’s never met anyone quite like you before.”

“Enough, Egg,” Duncan muttered, feeling his face heat. “She’s a lady, and I’m just a hedge knight.”

“A hedge knight who’s been knighted by Baelor Breakspear and fought in a Trial of Seven,” Egg pointed out. “And one who’s honest and kind. She could do worse.”

Duncan didn’t know what to say to that, so he busied himself with tightening the ropes, his mind whirling. Lady Y/N Stark. He couldn’t stop thinking about her—her fierce eyes, the way she spoke with such determination, the ease with which she commanded her men. She was unlike anyone he had ever met, and he didn’t know what to do with the feelings she stirred in him.

As the camp settled for the night, Duncan found himself glancing her way more than once, his heart aching with a longing he barely understood. She was a Stark of Winterfell, sister to a lord, and he—he was just Duncan, a knight without a home.

But as he watched her laugh with her men, her head thrown back, her eyes bright, he couldn’t help but hope, just a little, that maybe—just maybe—she saw something in him, too.

#duncan the tall #hedge knight #dunk and egg #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf x reader #asoif/got #asoiaf #fire and blood #game of thrones #house of the dragon #duncan the tall x reader #duncan the tall x you #duncan the tall x y/n #house stark #aegon egg targaryen #aegon v targaryen

59 notes · View notes

frostycatblr-fandom-files · 1 year ago

Text

Of Honeysuckle and Haiku [Tech x Fem!Reader]

Warnings and Information: This is my submission for an event hosted by the wonderful @cloneficgiftexchange, written for @apocalyp-tech-a. I hope you enjoy my first Tech x Reader! 2nd Person POV, undescribed Fem!Reader who works as an analyst/researcher for the GAR. Minor AU changes (no missing and/or dead Clones here (but Echo is still part of CF99)!). Prompt sentence/s will be orange to keep in line with the color scheme of the graphics. Tech has a “secret” crush on Reader that she knows about. Flirting is stored in the info-dumping/poetry. Star Wars and real-world swearing is as naughty as it gets. Some Mando’a. Brief references and allusions to injury and other canon-typical violence, and a small flashback where Reader’s senior colleagues are (implied to be) behaving like jerks to Tech, but nothing explicit. Use of stylistic and narrative italics. Fictional flowers.

Prompt: Can't we ever go to a nice place? | Oh, that's what that button does.

Word-count: 8,270

Another Primeday, another pile of notes in your locker.

That's how the weeks always started.

You worked closely with the Grand Army of the Republic as something of an analyst and unofficial bookkeeper, going on for two years now. Colleagues and work-friends would slip scraps of flimsiplast in the ventilation grooves of your locker as a way of non-electronic communication.

The old fashioned way, older department heads joked.

The flimsi stacks contained a mishmash of written comms. Inside jokes. Recipe trades. Reminders to get CT-6922’s helmet serviced for the video feed you needed for Jais in the Reverse-Engineering Department if they're ever going to find out how that new Separatist spider droid worked.

And a poem, written in spidery Aurebesh lettering from your “secret admirer”. Always the top of the pile that collected at the bottom of your locker.

You knew full well who it was after a while, piecing together all the clues he'd strung along for you. Game recognizes game, as they say. It took cracking a complicated cipher in order to-

Nah, who are you kidding?

You got impatient and asked Jais in R.E.D. to help you with scrubbing the security footage for the last person to stop by your locker one morning, finding a haiku waiting for you. A haiku regarding subject matter you had just been discussing with a colleague the other day who had a grueling day of carefully dissecting a Flame Beetle from Kashyyyk ahead of them, and you were slated to assist them.

The shimmering shell That conceals a beetle’s wing Is called elytra - I wish I was a beetle

Mild alarm that someone was messing with you turned to curiosity soon after; it had been Tech of Clone Force 99 who dropped the poem into your locker some weeks ago.

He'd been helping the analysts while he got his leg in working order, having broken both the tibia and fibula of his left leg in a skirmish. (That's about as much as you knew at the time.) Tech would be returning to fieldwork sooner than later; between check-ups and some physical therapy work, the genius and navigator of CF99 kept himself busy here, so he would still feel useful to the GAR while recovering.

Of all the analysts Tech assisted, you seemed to be his favorite given that you actually liked letting him help you, and didn't saddle him with a dull day of deskwork like some of the senior analysts who wanted him out of their hair.

You felt it was incredibly unfair to Tech, but there was nothing you could say to change their minds. You'd tried.

Instead of reading this week's new stack of flimsi notes from your weekend off at your locker, you decide you'll read them at your desk for a change. The smell of Tech’s typical caf blend is particularly inviting this morning. It’s been raining since last week, this morning the hardest yet. Thank the Maker you had a rain repeller in proper working order for the walk to the research center from the speeder cabs.

“Good morning, Tech.”

Sitting down, from around the other side of the desk, you can see he's in a walking boot now. An improvement from when you last saw him just two short days ago.

“Hey, that's a good sign! Think you'll be back with the rest of the Bad Batch soon?”

You take no offense when his eyes do not lift from the screen of his datapad. “Good morning. I suppose, yes…” He doesn't sound entirely enthusiastic like one might've expected, but you have enough of a grasp on his mannerisms by now to know that Tech is eager to return to his brothers in due time.

You've met the rest of his squad on a handful of occasions as they've come to check on him, making sure he's not missing all the action by keeping him up to speed on their exploits.

Smiling, you slide a cup of caf you believe to be Tech’s closer to him as you leaf through the notes from your locker.

“Don't let your caf get cold.”

The datapad drops away. “That is for you,” he explains, “if you desire to try it, that is. I recalled you expressing interest in the last blend of caf I brought in, saying that it smelled good last Taungsday.”

You blink, surprised he remembered those details. Well, not that surprised; you understood Tech had a remarkable memory that allowed him to recall obscure details. It’s saved you from a few headaches, like that same Taungsday when a visiting representative from Glee Anslem insisted upon having the innocuous bouquet of Nabooian Honeysuckles sent off for allergen testing. Whatever it was that provoked the Nautolan’s (thankfully minor) allergic reaction, it was not the flowers, though they were refused return.

Shame… the delicate white, orange and cream blossoms were such a thoughtful gift from Senator Amidala to the visiting representative and now they look so out of place on your desk, still in the elaborate ceramic vase they came in. You’re going to need to find a way to return it to Ms. Amidala once the flowers have shriveled and lost all their silky petals.

Thanking Tech for the thoughtfulness behind brewing you a cup of caf, you give it a careful taste and find the flavor far more robust than the instant mix the breakroom keeps on hand while you read the first of the notes. (Looked to be a heads-up that a commando had some grisly footage to be analyzed because Trandoshan pirates were involved and the credits were on Delta Squad being responsible.)

“Mmm… That’s nice. Thank you again, Tech.”

“You are welcome.” he replies, half-ducking his head back down into the datapad, though his eyes remain on you.

Framed by the yellow lenses of the black-strapped goggles he wears, there is an observative nature to those brown eyes. The phenotypic eye color for all Clones is brown, he explained to you once. Though yes, there were a few aberrations in physical traits among his brothers in the GAR, just not quite to the same scale as the experimental squadron that Echo from the 501st Legion (once thought to be dead) joined not long ago. Echo still keeps in contact with the 501st, Captain Rex and a brother named Fives the closest of all. You figure what he must have been reading off his tablet before he came in this morning were more messages from his brothers.

Setting aside notes as you read them, you’re careful to keep the scrap of poetry for last as always. Wonder what it’ll be today. A sonnet? Free-verse? Acrostic or maybe a limerick? Another haiku? Tech seemed to love leaving you haikus most of all.

Still finding his eyes upon you, you lay aside the last note about keeping an eye out for a missing label-maker and delicately clear your throat. “Yes, Tech?” You’re careful to offer him a friendly smile, a quiet measure of assurance that you’re not annoyed or disturbed by his watchfulness.

“Senator Amidala sent a letter of apology to the center regarding the honeysuckles and vase,” he begins, explaining the letter was forwarded to everyone who worked in the analysis department, “and since she feels terrible about the situation inadvertently caused for both her guest and the center, she suggested someone is welcome to keep both, if they wish.”

“Well that’s very kind of the senator.” you reply, giving the flowers on your desk a look of consideration, one that prompts a strange expression out of the genius you generously share your desk with.

You ask what the matter is with another swig of caf.

“I hope you don’t mind too terribly that I… accepted on your behalf.” Tech confesses, aware he’s more than likely crossed a line by doing so. You and Tech do not know each other all that well, but he’s strung together enough clues to have some idea of what you like. He’s noticed what you give the most attention to, and you had secretly been admiring the Nabooian bouquet for some time on Taungsday…

Cautiously, Tech adds, “You could always give them to a friend.”

Casting a third glance over the tri-colored flowers, Tech is assured that won’t be necessary, and he’d been correct in his assessment all along. “I don’t mind at all; thanks for saving me the trouble. I was secretly hoping to take these home, I’ve been obsessed with Naboo for a while now…” you admit, dropping your voice into a near-conspiratorial whisper.

There was an often sunny windowsill back home with plenty of space for the vase and flowers that would make for the perfect spot to show both off. Maybe it’d inspire you to finally take that trip to Naboo you always wanted. Naboo sounded like a nice place, nestled in the Chrommell system of the Outer Rim Territories.

Idyllic, picturesque, it was often described.

All this analyst-work had you in a position to see the glorious, the gory, and everything in-between in the adventures of the Grand Army day in and day out. Compiling reports near and far was beginning to instill a sense of longing for adventure in you; nothing grand was necessary, just something different. Something beyond the walls of the GAR research center here among the Core Worlds.

I’ll be satisfied with a taste of adventure. Just one bite. Just one, I promise.

The yellow-lensed goggles are adjusted. “What fascinates you so much about Naboo?” Tech asks, curiosity burning at him.

“Oh… I dunno,” you say with a shrug, smiling, “it’s hard to put it all into words.” And you wouldn’t exactly have the time, either, with your shift due to start soon. While you’ve still got the time, you should finish as much of the caf as you can before it grows cold, and finally get around to this new poem Tech’s left for you. Maybe he can already guess that you know these are from him, but a part of you finds it fun in some way to pretend you don’t.

Fixing an errant strand of hair back in place, you unfold the note and read. Another haiku, today, lamenting the dreary weather.

To simpler splendors Like summer's gentle breezes and honey most sweet - When will the rain stop?

You find it curious and strange - this possible complaint - given you know Clones come from the storm-cloaked world of Kamino. Surely this weather feels just like home for him; familiar, maybe even comforting. But maybe it’s not his complaint, it could have been your own off-handed remark from some time ago that he’s echoing back to you now.

Tech’s level of observation was truly incredible, sometimes. You already felt yourself missing his knowledgeable presence once he was healed up and returned to the Bad Batch. That wouldn’t happen until he was rid of the walking boot and cleared for active duty, which was mildly comforting to you, selfishly speaking. Logically you know this arrangement is temporary, and you will not always have your willing assistant.

A willing assistant who has given his attention to closing off communications with Wrecker, from the sound of things as CF99’s genius reads the messages under his breath. Tech is trying very hard to appear like he’s not taken notice that you’ve read his latest haiku.

You set the poetry aside along with the other locker notes, and pick up your clipboard full of the day’s tasks. “Take your time, Tech.” you promise, chuckling warmly as he flashes the famous pointer finger in your direction, requesting just an extra moment. “I know Wrecker misses having his big brother around.”

Tech says nothing in response to your teasing quip, only offering an appreciative if distracted smile before he’s ready to help you with your tasks for the day.

On Primedays, the first item of business on the list is often the most nerve-wracking of all your assignments, today no exception.

“Dammit, I grabbed the wrong screwdriver… Would you mind handing me the… the, uh…?” Tech takes the incorrect screwdriver from your fingers and replaces it with what you need while you struggle to think of the name for the correct type, much to your relief. “Oh, thank you Tech. Will you need this back when I’m done?”

Tech nods, a silent promise it was no trouble. “I will not. I’m finished with what I needed it for. Feel free to use it as long as you need.” He does not need to remind you to go slowly.

Your first research assignment of the morning involves dismantled bombs, and the additional Clone tucked in one corner of the room clad in the bright orange of ordnance specialists serves as an eye-catching distraction rather than a precautionary measure. Nicknamed Reddy, this Clone trooper is only doing his job, of course; he’s supposed to be here as part of the protocol. This facility has gone one thousand and twenty-seven days without an explosive incident, which is a comforting number, but there is no room for complacency. In the unlikely event a bomb somehow reactivates, Red Wire is here to snuff it out for good.

(Or tell everyone to evacuate and seek shelter if he somehow can’t.)

Helmet clipped to his utility belt, Reddy is reading the printed report, bobbing his head in time to some jaunty tune he’s got stuck in his head. “Disarmed and partially dismantled by… CT-9903. That’s your squadmate Wrecker, right?”

“Correct.” Tech replies tersely, hoping not to prove himself distracting to you. He’s only standing as close as he is to give or take tools as you need them.

Reddy nods his head in approval of the work scattered over the examination table. “He did a good job. Definitely has the gentle touch needed for bomb disposal.” Yes… Wrecker certainly had steadier nerves than yourself right now. You would prefer not to have shaking hands, no matter how incapable this bomb is… should be… of going off.

“Reddy…”

He catches the warning. “Sorry, ma’am.”

You just need to pull off a particular durasteel plate, and take detailed pictures of a unique section of wiring to enter it into the GAR database of known bomb constructs and find close or exact matches. Then Reddy has the pleasure of disposing of the remnants for you. Fewer distractions while you remove notoriously fiddly screws, the better.

So why are your hands still shaking now that you should be able to focus again?

“... dammit…” You’ve worked yourself up about the unsteady nature of your hands now. Stress will only worsen it, prolonging the tremble. Setting the screwdriver aside is the best course of action until you can find your nerve.

Rational thoughts, you remind yourself, everyone has had this happen to them at one time or another.

“May I?” Tech offers, voice softer than you ever remember it being before now.

He is careful in offering to help without immediately trying to take over your work. Tech recognizes you are capable in all the various aspects of your job, and he does not wish to undermine or blow off your expertise. He understands from experience how that can be frustrating, even disrespectful.

And Tech aims to be very respectful of you. He's been very careful in how he's hinted his interest in you thus far. (Maybe too careful.) The haikus in your locker had been because he heard you liked poetry, and he proactively accepted the honeysuckles Senator Amidala offered for the trouble because he thought you might like them. Sharing his favorite blend of caf was a decision more premeditated than the other two.

You step to the side, accepting the offer.

“Thank you, Tech...” you say, gesturing to the tools in an unspoken measure of please, by all means. Tech takes position where you previously stood, and begins to work on the dismantled explosive. Long, dexterous fingers make the process of loosening and extracting the remaining screws look deceptively easy.

“You’ll want your datapad soon,” Tech suggests helpfully, soon down to just two more corner screws to remove.

“Oh, yes…!”

Scooping the tablet off of the examination table, you habitually skip your fingers across the reactive transparisteel and pull up the camera function, priming everything to capture the colorful chaos of wiring and circuitry inside once Tech has removed the panel. Once it is lifted out of the way, Tech side-steps to allow you in front of the bomb once more so that you can capture records for the GAR database.

However, the camera will not focus.

“Strange…” You tap the center of the screen, hoping perhaps the datapad will behave like your modern comlink and auto-focus, but it does not give you the result you hoped for. You chuckle somewhat bashfully. “Sorry, it’s… been a while since I’ve used this old datapad for taking pictures.”

“Press the red, center button on the top row twice.”

Taking the advice of the bespectacled Clone beside you, the image on the screen comes into crisp focus, not a detail lost. “Oh, that’s what that button does.” This tablet is an older generation, but the facility keeps it because it's sturdy and reliable. No sense in replacing perfectly good technology so long as it continues to work.

“Been using these tablets for ages and I never knew that. How'd you know that?” Reddy asks from the corner, safely voicing his curiosity now that the hard part is behind you. “Just real tech-savvy, I take it. That how you get your name?”

Tech smiles knowingly. “Learning the ins and outs of each machine I use is crucial to my effectiveness in service of the Republic. Much in the same way you're here to assist the researchers, analysts and reverse engineers in bomb identification, in some cases.” The second question goes unanswered, you notice, but Reddy seems to let it go.

“Hah, can't argue with that comparison!” he says agreeably, his smile sunny. You’ve always liked that about this particular member of the bomb squad; Red Wire has an optimistic disposition and general attitude despite the nerve-rattling nature of his job. He’s not terribly jaded or gruff like some of the other Clones on rotation at this facility.

Once you've collected all your necessary pictures, you are promised that he'll take it from here. “Good work as ever ma'am. I'll clean up while you get started on the search.”

“Thank you, I appreciate the help as always from both you and Tech.” you say, patting him on the shoulder before you follow after Tech, who’s already making his way back to your desk, neck craned over his datapad. Stepping past the blast doors to catch up to Tech, you breathe a sigh of relief while Red Wire begins the disposal process, the hardest task of the morning behind you.

“Glad that’s over,” you say, finally feeling your quickened pulse slowing at last, “Thank you for the help once again, Tech.” You’re certain he heard the first thank you, but extra gratitude never killed anyone.

Tech’s deliberate stride slows to match with yours. “It was no trouble. I thought you might want the help.” A polite smile breaks the veneer of the usual expression of thoughtfulness and concentration you’ve become accustomed to in the time Tech’s been here.

You’re very familiar with how he appears when he’s concentrated: the furrowed brow, his shoulders rolled forward, the subconscious setting and unsetting of his jaw as he mulls over a million thoughts. Wowing your colleagues with how he could extrapolate info from separate, complex datasets within multiple windows on the screen of his datapad without error.

The way his brown eyes, deep and dark, looked like honey when framed behind his goggles…

Sitting down at your desk where you fire up the database you’ll be working with, already you see the slight furrow of his brow as Tech takes his seat on the other side, trading messages with his squadmates while he elevates his leg to alleviate the pressure of the walking boot. Tech misses being out there in the field more and more with every passing day.

“Tell ‘em I said hi.” you request with a soft chuckle before allowing him to concentrate on keeping himself in the loop. You just have to hope his handsome face painted in deep concentration doesn’t prove too distracting for you as you cross-reference your wire samples. The squad leader of the Bad Batch, Sergeant Hunter, had teased Tech once a few weeks ago, when he dropped by with Echo, on the depths of Tech’s concentration. That’s when you’d truly taken notice of it for the first time.

Tech, utterly embroiled in some “little” project he’d created for himself here at the research center, was staying long after your scheduled hours, repeatedly promising that you really don’t have to stay here.

You turn another page in your holomag. “I’ll be fine staying here a little longer. I want to make sure none of the senior analysts bother you. Again.” It was a slow Zhellday afternoon you had no other plans for, and a couple of people a little further up the chain of command really had a bug up their ass about Tech’s presence here today in particular, continually complaining about an incident with his crutches.

Someone hadn’t been looking where they were going and bumped into the mobility aids propped against a wall, knocking them over this morning. Unfortunately, there had been a tray of glass instruments set aside nearby that did not survive the crutches’ sudden descent. The senior analysts, most of them much older than you, wanted him thrown out of the facility and have the agreement with the GAR that Tech would be here until his broken leg healed nullified.

“He’s got a broken leg! Is he supposed to just hobble around the lab without his crutches? It was an accident, but I’m starting to suspect you’re looking for excuses to get rid of him because you’re feeling threatened by his intellect!”

Clone Force 99’s second-in-command hums shortly in delayed response, a frown marring his otherwise concentrated expression. Tech adjusts his goggles as he pours over some reference. The man with partial skull iconography inked across his similarly tanned face next to Tech carefully nudges him with his elbow.

“Tech, this is when you’re supposed to tell the nice lady thank you.” Hunter warns him, teasingly of course. He’s gotten back from a long deployment, and rather than going to the nearest mess hall with Wrecker and Crosshair, he’s come to check up on Tech, finding that he’s still at the GAR research center. He’s too tired to give any kind of reprimand just for the sake of appearances.

“Especially after this morning… Don’t make me do the nat-born thing, vod.”

Tech sort of scoffs, the threat of referring to him by his CT number, like a misbehaving natural-born child hearing the use of their middle name, by his brother having little effect.

“No thanks necessary, honestly.” You turn the page to your holomag, skimming the article to see if it’s worth an in-depth read, then meet Hunter’s eye. “It was honestly a bit cathartic to have a go at those jerks.” Decrying them as jerks to the squad leader of the Bad Batch was putting it real mildly given your true thoughts of them right about now.

Echo gives you a knowing nod. The sergeant smirks, and this is what gets Tech to break his silence.

“Don’t, Hunter.”

“Glad you made a friend, Tech.” Hunter says it with complete sincerity, so far as you can tell. Leaning back in the borrowed lab chair, Hunter kicks his feet up for a moment on a corner of the desk to adjust some parts of his armor. “Wrecker might get jealous.”

“I think we all would.” Echo says with a kind chuckle.

“Plenty of me to go around,” you promised the three of them, “I love making friends with the GAR.”

A few hours later, now four items deep into your checklist for the day with the wire cross-referencing behind you, you lean back in your chair and stretch your arms above your head, feeling something pop with great satisfaction. “Mmm! That felt good. Hey, Tech?” He nods to show he hears you, at which point you continue. “I’m thinking of running home real quick during lunch to take the honeysuckles home so I’m not wrestling with those on top of everything else I’ll have to take with me tonight. You gonna be okay on your own for a bit?”

“I will be fine.” he assures you, sliding the clipboard from “your” side of the desk over to his. “I may need the password to your desk-mounted computer terminal, however.”

“It’s ‘naboofields’. All one word, no capitals, special characters or letters.”

You root around your desk for one of the seemingly innumerable sticky-flim pads you possess, scribbling down the password - just in case - as neatly as you can before removing the top flimsi-note and hand it over to him. Honeyed eyes blink once in mild surprise after he inspects your handwriting.

“Not very secure, I know.” you laugh bashfully, straightening a few sheafs of flimsiplast before gathering up the stack of locker notes to tuck them in your pocket. Busywork to avoid any kind of lecturing look. But when you meet his eyes for the moment before wondering how best to pick up the ceramic vase full of beautiful tri-colored honeysuckle, you find no disappointment. Only more curiosity.

“Have you ever been to Naboo?” Tech asks. He’s noticed this particular topic has been cropping up a lot between the idle doodles on flimsi scraps of the bulbous Shaak grazing through lush emerald fields and little reminders you’ve written to yourself scattered across your desk lately. Ticket prices. Best time of year to go. Popular festivals. Fashion. You were weaving a curious pattern.

Tech doesn’t do this very often, but he hazards a guess. Could you perhaps be… homesick?

“Were you born there?”

You shake your head. “I wasn’t born there, and I’ve never visited before. Naboo’s just some… silly dream of mine lately.”

“Why do you say ‘silly’?” The question is earnest and sincere, and Tech sits forward off the backrest of the lab chair, posture straightening out. “Has someone said something unkind about your desire to see Naboo?” He couldn’t imagine why someone would disparage this; many galactic citizens express some level of desire to visit this planet in the Chrommell sector at least once in their lifespan.

He’s assured there’s no one being unkind to you when you wave him off, sliding the vase across your desk carefully. “No one other than me, I guess. I dunno when I’d ever have a chance to go visit between the work I do for the GAR, plus being in the middle of the Clone Wars for stars’ sake…” You’re considering if it would be worth telling him about your developing case of wanderlust, your craving for a taste of adventure. (Just a taste… just a taste!)

What Tech was supposed to do with that revelation, you weren’t sure. Did you want his help planning this whimsical trip? Or did you just need to confide in him with this harmless little secret?

“Would it be impolite to presume you don’t have many vacation days accrued in order to enjoy a short holiday?” Tech assumes you’re well aware of labor laws the GAR has to comply with for civilian staffing, like yourself, but he has no means of knowing how much PTO you have stored up without rooting into the system.

“Karabast, I- I hadn’t even thought of…” Your thoughts trail off as you look out one of the rain-spattered panes of transparisteel and determine you need to stop by your locker to gather your weather wear and rain repeller. When was the last time you had some extended leave from work that wasn’t a sick day, anyways? “I have some PTO I’m owed, but I try to be smart and save it for emergencies… I, uh, think I have more than two week’s worth.” Truthfully it’s been some time you looked at the amount of PTO you’ve accrued. It very well could be less than you remember, or more than you imagine.

Tech makes a quiet murmur of agreement that saving the time off for emergencies is rather smart, shrugging after a stretch of clearly contemplative silence. “I was merely curious.” The statement makes it tempting to tease him in return, say something like aren’t you always? but he has something more to say before you work up the nerve, gesturing to the clipboard. “May I watch the helmet footage for you while you take the Nabooian Honeysuckles home?”

“I was warned it was grisly.” you caution him out of kindness, thinking back to one of the locker notes. “So, as long as you don’t mind or won’t be bothered, I suppose you can look at the footage for me… Credits are on it being sent from Delta Squad.”

Scrutinizing the datadisc, Tech finds RC-1207 etched into it. Commando Sev, he tells you, went missing on Kashyyyk for a month early in the war… (Thank the Maker, his pod brothers had been fortunate in finding him.) Sev has never spoken of the experience.

“This should prove to be fascinating, in some regard.” Tech speculates, slotting the disc into an external inspection device to set everything up to complete this in your absence. Goggles are adjusted every so slightly, changing the way they are seated on his face. “I’ll leave the notes for you on your desk by the time you return.” he promises.

You make sure you’ve gathered the last of your things, saying that you better get going now that everything’s agreed upon. Carefully cradling the vase in the crook of your arm, you arrange the bouquet slightly with your free hand to avoid bruising any of the velveteen petals as you carry it.

Turning on your heel, you head for your locker to collect your rain repeller. “Appreciate it, Tech, thank you. I’ll catch you later.”

“Watch out for the deeper puddles, don’t slip.” Tech calls after you.

He’s overheard many of your colleagues using this phrase the last couple of days to warn one another; the longer the rain’s gone on, the deeper the areas of rain retention have become since the water table is oversaturated. There has been no break in the weather, but the end is in sight.

‘When will the rain stop?’ Soon. Maybe even tomorrow.

Habitually, you call back that you’ll be careful and another farewell, flashing him a sunny smile as you head out the door for the speeder cabs, the honeysuckles in one hand, repeller in the other. You don’t expect to be gone long.

Taking the vase full of honeysuckle home is your highest priority, right along with making sure the flimsiplast scraps in your pocket remain dry. Flimsi, while conveniently reusable, was hair-thin, had a slight transparency to it, and dissolved in water. (Why some disposable gowns for med centers were made out of the acrylic material when it was kriffing semi-transparent you had yet to figure out.) If you were careful of the shifting winds before you got to a speeder cab, Tech’s poems would stay safe and dry in your pockets, joining the others in a box of precious keepsakes at home.

Maybe you could put them all in a scrapbook one day, able to read and admire them all at leisure, or whenever you miss having new haikus show up in your locker once Tech’s broken leg is fully healed and he rejoins his brothers. Tech’s been careful not to voice how much he’s come to miss his brothers - else he risks sounding ungrateful for the research center agreeing to let him assist there after much back and forth - but you know he’s getting somewhat impatient.

“If I had known a second BX droid was around the boulder, I wouldn’t have tried to kick the first over the precipice…”

“That’s how you broke your leg?”

“Had it broken for me when the commando droid grabbed me, more accurately. Better me than Echo…”

He’d return to his brothers in time with the whole of hyperspace at his fingertips. Hunter would get his second-in-command back. The Havoc Marauder will have both of her pilots and it won’t be Echo spending time alone in the cockpit. Wrecker and Crosshair will once again have their brother to parse through factitious scenarios and the complicated mathematics necessary to pull it off relating to their enhancements to help one another in staving off hyperspace hypnosis.

And you’d go back to dreading Primedays and dreaming of clover covered plains on Naboo between every string of data you analyze for the GAR once Tech left. You’d miss the extra pair of capable hands and his talented, dare you say exceptional, mind. You’d miss the presence of yellow-lensed goggles and the steady, red light of the cylindrical camera attached to them that sometimes followed you around the analyst lab, that were as much a part of Tech’s face as the rest of his features.

You’d miss him and the harmless little crush Jais teases you over since helping you find out who your secret admirer was.

“Swing by your locker lately?”

“You have better eyesight than a Mynock but all the subtlety of a Reek, Jais. Yes I saw he left me another haiku.”

“What do they say?”

So much by using so little.

Tech has just seventeen syllables to work with, but boy does he make them work.

They will last far longer than any tender blossom, tucked carefully on the windowsill and lovingly arranged to fill in the gaps in the bouquet during transport. Home only for a short time, you settle for tucking the new haikus and other notes on the low table in the living room to sort through later tonight while eating dinner.

Come to think of it, maybe you should invite Tech over for dinner sometime, while he’s still here. (While there’s still time to leave things behind in order to remember him by.) He’s been staying in temporary accommodations in the unofficial research district since the nearest GAR barracks are an hour away, and the district isn’t too far from your place. You’re not sure what the protocol on this is (or if there’s any), and he’s more than welcome to turn you down, but-

This harmless crush has gone beyond only going one way.

You’re going to miss Tech when he leaves, not just because it means you'll lose an eager assistant who shares what he learns while you work. You've grown to like him in ways you haven't devoted proper time to exploring why with the nature of your work, but you like Tech too. And you don’t want just a vase full of honeysuckle that will one day wither and a smattering of haikus to remember him by.

You want something more. Something meaningful before he goes back to making mayhem for the Separatists.

And maybe it can start today, if you're clever enough.

It's time to stop daydreaming.

When you return to the research center, you first put your rain repeller away in your locker and collect the few notes that appeared while you were out. No new poems, only warnings that one of the senior analysts had a bug up their ass the size of a mynock (scratch that, a bantha) again over something minor, and it's best to stay out of their way until they cooled off.

“Hey, Tech, I'm back.” You announce your return from the lockers to avoid potentially startling him, finding him fiddling with a part of his vambrace. “Got some cryptic notes in my locker. Feel like I missed some excitement while I was away.”

“Yes… You certainly did.” One of the analysts lost their temper with the ‘newfangled’ caf-pot in the break room, Tech explains. Nothing newfangled about it in truth, it just wasn't working because it had been unplugged for cleaning and someone just forgot to leave a note.

“Speaking of notes,” he says as an aside, procuring a printed message from Lieutenant Waxer of Ghost Company in the 212th, “This came in just before you arrived while I was at the copier.”

Giving the lieutenant’s request a once-over, you find a general greeting after the Grand Army of the Republic’s letterhead, asking if someone would mind helping him locate the origin of a particular word in the language of the Twi’leks. Printed requests are deemed non-urgent, but it’s simple enough that you don’t mind adding his query to the bottom of your daily checklist, on which you find only the helmet footage crossed off.

“Thought you’d have gotten more done than this.” you say, chuckling as you take a seat at your desk.

Tech adjusts his goggles and meets your eye. “Felt it would be impolite to take your work from you when we had an agreement for just the footage.” He returns to fiddling around with his vambrace and his datapad, perhaps trying to sync something up.

His concern of taking further work from you without asking is very kind, and rather touching. You feel warmth in your face disproportionate to the heating system warming the labs on this rainy day. “Oh. Well, I wouldn’t have minded too much, but thank you. What’d you do instead until I got back?” You figure it didn’t take all too long to study the commando’s footage, finding the notes Tech’s took for you pinned underneath the datadisc the feed was stored on. Lifting the high-tech paperweight, you give the notes a glance.

It’s the same thin lettering as the haikus.

Tech tuts in thought while snapping a part of his vambrace back where it belongs. “General research. Nothing important.” He does not immediately elaborate on what he had researched, thinking you may want to take a moment to mentally prep yourself for returning to work and start on the next task at hand.

They were not concerns he (often) had to keep in mind with Hunter, Echo, Wrecker and Crosshair because he knew them so well compared to other people, compared to you. They spent the most time together and could give him a playful ribbing for overstepping boundaries, or starting detailed explanations when it wasn’t the best time. No one cares! was often said in-the-moment, and apologized for in ways that did not involve the words I’m sorry - and that was normal with his brothers.

So when you break into a big, friendly smile and draw out the word “Liiiike…?” while you continue to settle in, Tech knows it’s okay to elaborate. That you seem interested in what he has to say.

“It was the origin of halliksets. I became distracted when I learned they were quite popular on Naboo, and spent some time looking into that instead.” As he expected, you perk up with the mention of Naboo, interest piqued. “They’re made with seven strings, and the ore commonly used to make them comes from Kreeling, a mining planet also within the Chrommell sector.” The ore seems to be used to decorate the rounded body of the instrument, from what he had been reading. Ornamentation rather than function.

“Huh,” you say politely with a smile to match, “I had no idea. That’s really neat.”

You thank him for sharing before agreeing that perhaps you should get started on some of your work when he warns you that he can hear someone from another department coming, and it may be wise to appear busy.

For the next fifteen or so minutes, you and Tech are careful to appear focused on tasks from the clipboard. Something about figuring out why a standard caustic compound utilized by the GAR didn’t work. Tech casts a subtle glance over his shoulder while you muse over the specs, wondering just like you why someone from another department is taking their sweet time to leaf through all the disposable pipettes in the storage cabinet of all things. Trying to eavesdrop? Just really particular about their lab supplies? Who karking knows.

While looking into the humidity record on Felucia the day of the recorded equipment failure, you take a moment to open the system you submit your time-off requests to and look at the amount of paid time off accrued. Two and a half weeks. That’s not bad.

“Good to know….”

“What is it?” Tech asks.

“Oh, just poking into weather records,” you hum, hiding the portal, “Seems the caustic compound failed because of higher than average humidity that day. It was under six months old, so I don’t think it was a product age failure.” From the flashpoint of the Clone Wars on Geonosis, much of the equipment utilized barely sits on a shelf any longer than six standard months after its production and purchase for the Grand Army.

Clones were clever. Well trained. They knew how to account for things like planetary climate, weather conditions and equipment age out in the field, but you’ll always have the occasional fluke. Things beyond your control, beyond what you trained for. (Some things you could never train for.) But the Grand Army of the Republic could be trusted to give it their all, no matter the occasion, no matter the challenge.

You trusted men like Red Wire with your life here in the labs when you had to work with disarmed bombs, never doubting his ordnance training for a second. The same goes for the man sitting on the other side of your desk from you now, the injured leg in the walking boot propped up in a spare chair. You trust Tech too.

When the personnel from another department finally leaves, they’re grumbling something venomously about the missing label-maker under their breath, the word “di’kut!” loudest of all.

You recognize the Mando’a. Pronunciation DEE-koot. Multiple meanings. Idiot. Useless. Waste of space. (More accurately a waste of their time… Pretty sure someone already said the label-maker wasn’t in there.) You wonder where they know the word from.

Speaking for yourself, you’ve picked up a smidgen of the language from working as a researcher and analyst, and you’ve added a few more words to your repertoire from Tech’s uninterrupted correspondence with the Bad Batch that he’s allowed you to see some of.

And speaking of them… Now that you and Tech are alone, this might be a good time to try putting your plan in motion knowing how much PTO you have to work with now. You want to go to Naboo, and you want to see if there’s any way you can convince Tech to go with you. Maybe even meet you there with the rest of Clone Force 99. Make bumping into them look like a coincidence.

“Hey Tech, when you return to your brothers, any plans or ideas on where you’ll go first?”

A pad of sticky flimsi-notes is pulled from one of the many drawers of your desk, and you root around for a working pen while you wait on an answer. Calling upon courage from the very heart of the cosmos, you hope you can pull this off.

Tech answers the break in relative silence with a quirk of his eyebrow. “None that I’m aware of, but I suspect we’ll be going wherever we are needed.” There is a long contemplative pause, eyes flicking to his trusty tablet more than once as a few new messages from Wrecker come in.

“Is there some reason you’re asking?” He pushes the datapad aside now, giving you more of his attention, which is appreciated.

Shoulders bounce. “What if I said I was just curious?” You don’t expect him to buy that, he’s too clever. But you need a moment of quiet contemplation on his part to count out the syllables without messing up. Once you’re certain you have five, then seven syllables, you flash him an easygoing smile. “Being curious isn’t a crime, is it?”

“On some planets it is. Some rather… ridgid, often self-isolated cultures across the galaxy view curiosity as a sign of an idle mind and fear it will inspire mischief. Free thinking. Rebellion.”

The question had been rhetorical, and you don’t mind that he answered, but you find the fact quite sad. You also don’t want to begin to imagine how that sort of “crime” is punished. Curiosity is a natural part of life to all, to criminalize it is… frankly ridiculous.

“Well good thing we’re not in one of those isolated cultures.” you say, now thinking how you’ll finish penning this poem. Should you add your reasoning for why you wrote this at the bottom? (Would you even have room?) Maybe you should just tell him after he’s read your poem instead.

“Agreed.” Another message comes in from Echo this time, but Tech ignores it, continuing to hold eye contact with you; almost like he’s performing an inspection. “So I hope it does not feel like an accusation when I say I don’t believe you are ‘just curious’.”

“I did have an idea…” you admit, fiddling with the pen in your hand for the moment, “Since I heard Clone Force 99 isn’t keen on following every little order…” This is when you choose to slide the haiku you were working on over to “his” side of the desk, waiting in nervous silence as brown eyes scrutinize every Aurebesh letter laid bare before them.

Can't we ever go to a nice place, verdant fields of spring eternal? - Feel like breaking a few rules?

Tech’s eyes lift from the flimsiplast note, looking surprised. He didn’t take you for the sort of person who’d encourage breaking certain GAR protocols, let alone… Your name falls from his lips, asking what this is about in the same tender tone.

“I thought about what you asked regarding how much time off I have, and I found out I have two and a half weeks…” You explain, fiddling with the pen some more to occupy your nervous hands while he continues to monitor you. “I thought… Maybe once your leg heals up, and you’re cleared to return to active duty, you could find an excuse to spend some time on Naboo. Get to know each other better, perhaps?” He clearly has some kind of feelings for you that are in the earlier stages of reciprocation, and if you’re away from the lab, and he finds the time or the excuse to nip down to the Chrommell sector and meet up with you on Naboo, then neither one of you have to worry about behaving quite so professionally.

Looking down at the haiku once again, Tech takes in your explanation, your invitation, and offers a mild chuckle at long last.

“You know what my brothers will say if I tell them about this?”

You swallow nervously. “W-what?”

“That it almost sounds like you’re asking me on a date.”

You do what you can to keep your jaw from dropping, but there’s little to be done about the fiery feeling building in the apple of your cheeks that suggests there may be color blooming there. If you’re blushing, Tech certainly does a splendid job of politely pretending he sees no such thing while he gives your poem another look.

You do the same in kind when additional color builds in his own face and crawls up his neck from under the top of the body suit. “I take it you figured out who was secretly leaving you the haikus.” His smile is timid, but not quite as nervous as your own.

“I did. A while ago, actually.” you confess, confirming his suspicions. “I had help checking the cameras to see where the first one came from. I didn’t see a reason to say anything, or stop you.” You add that you’ve kept every single one, too, to some surprise of the computer and weapons specialist sitting across from you.

He sits forward now, carefully easing the walking boot to the floor. “You really want to spend time with me on Naboo?” Your earnest nod surprises him further. You do. Out of millions of Clones in the galaxy, you’re asking Tech (and his brothers by proxy) to join you in visiting the idyllic planet.

You carefully carve out a little portion of your PTO and submit the request as the very first step in the planning process, and while you await approval you and Tech will continue to work together as normal. You still have to behave professionally in the meantime.

Well, as professionally as possible when Tech decides he can now confess he has a backlog of haikus for you, enough so you could have one waiting for you in your locker every day until he’s cleared to return to fieldwork in a few weeks, in theory.

“Poetry every Primeday, honeysuckles today, and now you’re offering daily haikus? Maybe I will be asking you out on a date if you continue to spoil me like that.” you warn him, chuckling. Of course now you get the feeling Tech will make sure the weeks leading up to your time-off would consist of honeysuckle and haiku to ensure that you would.

And those were going to become some of your best weeks working as a researcher and analyst for the GAR, whether you got that time off or not, because it would be spent making precious memories with Tech.

That was what mattered most.

First time I've ever participated in one of these events, and I don't think I did too badly, considering I completely restarted this at one point! (Apologies for how long this ended up being, too, haha.) I hope you liked it, Tech-a! 🩷

Fic taglist: @msmeredithrose @lonely-day3636 @dukeoftheblackstar @dystopicjumpsuit

[Masterlist] [TBB Masterlist] [Taglist] [Requests: Open]

96 notes · View notes

skaluli · 11 months ago

Text

half ass tuefort because i want to draw backgrounds but i cant draw backgrounds

solider doodle that i was then gonna make a """finish piece""" out of but when i started doing the thinner/"cleaner" lineart it looked worse so i didnt even attempt finish/colour/etc it. i just wanted to draw a bunch of stickers and junk on his helmet.

more mlp x tf2 i still need to do refs of everyone i cant remember if i posted my big sketch of all of them so uhhh have some very old and rough shit

and me somewhat explaining my ideas for each concept

this was my draft reply to someone asking about it on instagram. yes i have to draft my long replies/responses so i can re read it a million times before sending it a day later because i forgot im not talking to myself in a void.

i just realised now, did i never upload my demoman kirin here??

shits one of my favourites my bad people. drawn back at the start of feb.

also third image with the single balloon pyro whats next to it is an idea i had for a pyro oc

a lot of stickers, a lot of sparkles the colours still need work so thats probably why i stopped doing it

more pony, dragon pyro with clipped wings. also the idea instead of solider having his normal army helmet he has the armor from the crystal pony king sombra war

i love how i say i have nothing to post only to realise i technically do, i just dont share it with anyone lmao

i cant be bother to find all the dates in which i drew these. just know that theyre old by a few months to like the start of the year(??)

#artluli #tf2 #mlp #okay i realise if i keep adding images this post is gonna get too long #gonna just have to massive dump sketches in a 3rd one #probably wont be able to dicuss them as in much depth though #tf2 soldier #tf2 scout #tf2 sniper #tf2 pyro #tf2 engineer #tf2 demoman #tf2 oc

132 notes · View notes

kenobi-general · 10 months ago

Text

trust you | anakin skywalker: episode VIII

Summary: Anakin gets dragged into a mission with Poe Dameron, while something unexpected happens at the Jedi Temple, where you and the others face the incoming threat. (don't forget I use characters from different timelines)

Warnings: mentions of blood, vulgar language

Word count: 3.2k

previous chapter | read on Wattpad

Anakin:

I was on a mission with freaking Poe Dameron. I would like to think I haven't lowered my standards when it comes to the assignments I usually do, because this one sure fucking isn't it. But I was literally dragged to do this with him, it wasn't the first time either, so I know what he was on about. I didn't have a choice matter-of-factly, because I refused too many times the past two days, but he just made me come with him saying he needed my assistance. He also made me wear a stupid helmet, but I reassured my decision and disagreed.

He works with the fucking Resistance, what does he need me for? He flies a T-70 X-wing starfighter, which is high key superior to my Eta-2 Actis-class. He knows many attack techniques, and he also has an entire group with him flying around.

Poe was using his comlink to communicate with his partners as we reached closer to find the First Order's headquarters. It reminded me badly of the Emperor, but I tried to suck up the feeling of rage inside of me. It's been years already, what is done is done.

While the man next to me focused on his own mission, I thought back to two days ago, when I met (Y/N) in the coffee room. I honestly didn't expect to meet anyone there, hence why I decided to get a drink in the middle of the night. It caught me off guard seeing her after what had happened the last time we were together, which made me feel completely flimsy being close to her.

And it pissed me off that she thought it would be a good idea to bring his lightsaber up after everything he had done before he left me behind. I didn't regret breaking that stupid piece of shit of grip, I should've done that the first time I came across it when she had it in her hands. It drives me insane the way she just trusts everyone she meets, without even realizing how much they can harm people. And worse than that, trusting Obi-Wan fucking Kenobi.

I can't trust anyone after everything I've been through, after I've been left behind from my former Master. Most importantly, I trusted Palpatine's words that he could help me save Padmé, and he betrayed me as well. My issues all lie around the ones I devoted my life to.

Dameron snaps me out of my distraction when he finally speaks up to me, handing me a blaster gun. I rolled my eyes, thinking he definitely believes I would need a blaster gun when I have my lightsaber.

"We're moving forward to attack them, assault their army and gather intel" He removes his helmet, which has features of the Resistance's symbol mixed with a red and black design.

"Jesus, Dameron. You guys know what you're dealing with, right?" I try to stand on my ground and not stick my nose where it wasn't my issue. Obviously, my body was probably going to boil from all the control I'm holding back.

"Yes, Sherlock? We've been here before, but we couldn't find them" Poe moves his head to the sides, looking for a hidden place to land, which was pretty nonexistent.

Why the fuck did he call me Sherlock?

"You couldn't find them" I laughed in disbelief. He truly believes it's that easy to fight against the First Order. "Can you imagine what they're capable of if they find us first?"

He seemed to ponder for a moment, but gave me a reassuring smirk before unbuckling his belt. I did nothing but huff in annoyance over his shitty idea. I was going to help him and his trope, but only because he made me come, and I owe him as well.

"I've led attacks and been to many before, and they were all terrible people. This is no different" Poe tried to convince me he would make it out of here. Again, my trust issues aren't really helping me here.

"Yeah, but they weren't Snoke" I muttered and he shot his head back at me quickly, surprised with my words "I can sense the motherfucker from miles"

We stay glancing at each other for what feels like several minutes, only then he took in what was really happening and how much he was willing to risk himself and his group in a suicide mission. Because that's what it really is when it comes to Snoke. The artificial humanoid was as powerful as Palpatine.

"You're telling me you made me bring you into this shit show and didn't tell me who we're dealing with?" He raised his voice, almost squeaking with desperation, and I furrowed my brows.

I shake my head, not exactly catching on what he's saying. "You didn't fucking know we were literally walking into death?"

"I thought we were fighting off Stormtroopers?"

He's really unbelievable. If I wasn't here, he would be dead by now. Poe would've been sliced into a million pieces and would've taken his entire group down with him.

"Poe! For God's sake, do you ever think before you go on these missions?" I can't even begin to tell how much I'm frustrated with him and his lack of self consciousness. "This is the fucking Supremacy headquarters, it's literally his lair!"

He became desperate and started to communicate through his comlink, letting the others know what we were really getting ourselves into. I swear to God this is why I don't trust people at all. I should've known better than to just follow Poe into the assignments he finds. This is beyond crazy of him.

I decided to take over the yoke of his ship and maneuver it until we start to lift off the ground, swinging it. The moment we started to leave, the stormtroopers finally made their appearance and started shooting at us.

It was really hard to find the right setting for the attack, but I managed to hit the defense laser cannon, trying to blast them and take them down. Poe was in a mix of trying to warn everyone, while he shoved my hands off the yoke.

"You're gonna get us fucking killed!" He screamed before taking control and flying up, far enough to hit the men on the ground.

"You're the one to talk!" I yelled back at him, looking out the window to realize his teammates were still taking off and struggling to fight back. My senses heightened when I felt something really disturbing ring in my head.

At first, it was confusing because it came all at once. The high-pitched noise started to pound in my head and when I looked back at the headquarters, I noticed Snoke coming out of the Supremacy, walking slowly to the edge of the place. He was staring at us, but didn't move a finger.

"Pull the lightspeed gear!" I shouted at Poe, startling him. He looked at me and creased his brows. "Do it now!"

He didn't question my demand, pulling the gear immediately and we crossed the galaxy in a matter of seconds. He looked over his shoulder to get a glance behind us, to see if his teammates were right after us. I unknowingly heaved out a sigh, listening to Dameron do the same next to me when we noticed their ships behind us.

Still, the vertigo and the ringing in my head hit back, and I looked over the transceiver on his control panel. There was a hissing noise and a faint voice on the other side, speaking words we couldn't understand. He managed to spin a few buttons, trying to tune it in so it became clear.

"Code nine thirteen! Nine, one three!" The other voice spoke, and we both looked at each other at the same time. It's an emergency code.

Was that Cal Kestis? My blood ran cold, and I felt a shiver down my spine, and my limbs became numb. I watched as Poe took the lead and gripped the transceiver speaker and spoke to him, I was utterly shocked and couldn't say a word. I started to zone out, thinking about Luke and our groups of people. Even (Y/N) came into my mind.

"It's the General Grievous' army! We are under attack! Where the hell are you guys?" His voice came rather desperate, like he couldn't fathom what was really happening.

"We're coming, landing is in a few seconds!" Poe sped up and quickly we were near the Temple.

"Luke, is he okay? How bad is it?" I was still under a daze, my eyes roaming around the place looking for something dreadful happening down there.I start to unbuckle myself as soon as Poe lands the ship, barely waiting for him to open the doors and I immediately sprint off the hallway of the Temple looking for my son.

From the corner of my eye I noticed Cal hitting his lightsaber incessantly against the army of droids, his face covered in dried blood. He shot me a knowing look when I came over to where he was and assisted him with my weapon.

"Where is Luke?" I hear my strangling voice ask him as we managed to keep ourselves shielded from them. He didn't answer and I raised my tone at him "Where the hell is my kid?"

"He's hiding with (Y/N), she took him!"

"Where?" My hands were swinging the lightsaber as fast as they could, even though I could feel them trembling.

"I don't fucking know- ah!" He grunted and I looked over at him.

One of the droids slashed their sword against his upper arm, ripping a pained groan out of him. I kicked it off and shoved mine against them, beating it into pieces. Kestis watches me with wide eyes and nods when I face him back.

I rush out of the hallway, running aimlessly. I needed to figure out a way of getting to Luke, but I had to think about where she would hide with him in the first place. And I had no idea, given that I still don't know much about her. So I tried the only thing I have to my advantage. I focused my senses and shut down the background noise. A few seconds later, I gathered a few whispering down the other end of the Temple.

My hands were shaking really badly, I thought I was going to pass out from the distress. It was agonizing not knowing where he was and if he was ok. I walked slowly through each closed door, until I could hear shuffling against the smaller one. It could barely fit two people in there. Usually they use force shields so any other force sensitive people wouldn't get ahold of it, but I've worked on mine for so long it can literally overreach it.

"Luke! Are you in there?" I ask, resting my hand over the door knob while leaning my ear against the door. There's still faint noises on the other side. It was faint, but I could hear them. "It's me, it's dad"

"Don't open the door, Luke. It could be a changeling" She whispers to him.

"But I know it's my dad. I can feel it" Luke whispers back, leaning against the door. I can feel his energy dissipating through the room.

"It's me Luke. It's not a changeling, I'm right here!" I try to whisper to him as well, maybe he will sense it too.

For a brief second, he mentioned opening the door but (Y/N) caught him in the middle of it. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

"No, young boy. Did your father not tell you to not trust anyone?" Her words hit me hard like a brick.

I know I've been clear about that, but it felt too weird to be on the other side of the story this time. She knows how I feel about trusting people, (Y/N) is trying to keep him safe using my own advice.

Again, he shuffled on the other side and I felt his body moving further away from the door. This time, she was standing against it.

"Stay back, and hold onto me" She asked in a low tone and slowly turned the doorknob.

I didn't wait until she opened fully, making myself step into the tiny room as I felt a whip of laser coming inches across from my face. She really needs to start practicing her freaking aiming. I watch as she holds tightly to the blaster gun and sighs in relief when she notices it's just me.

I kneel down and hold Luke tightly against me, resting my chin over his small shoulder. His arms cross around my neck and he holds me back with urge.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" I ask in a rush and feel my hands pull him tighter, almost merging our bodies together. He mumbles a "no" and clings to me.

I have to be faster if I want to get ourselves out of there alive and in pieces. I hold him up and place both of his legs around my waist, looking back at (Y/N) who watches the closed door, apprehensive.

She looks back at me for a slight second, nodding before preparing herself to walk out of the room.

"Thank you" I mumble almost silently when I stare back at her, both of us getting in position.

We ran across the hallway looking for any kind of cover, while I used my free hand to deflect the blasts and hit them where I could. Whereas (Y/N) attempts to aim and shoot them, miserably failing at it. But at least she's trying. I get to one of the giant metal doors that leads us to the underground, where we keep gears and machines running. There isn't really a path to follow under there, giving us time to reach outside the hangar.

We are met with a couple of battle droids, reaching out to them with Luke still on my hold, while he keeps his head low on my neck and his arms still around my body. I take a sharp inhale and decide to pass him over to her. I have to do it fast otherwise I'll regret it. She darts her eyes at me with furrowed brows and a concerned look, but still does so.

She realizes what I'm on to when I grasp the blaster out of her hand and start to shoot them while using my lightsaber at the same time. The spinning helps me get through the blasts, giving me advantage when I finally beat them down. But there are screaming and rumbling on the other side of the hangar, our teammates fighting them off as well as trying to get rid of their attack.

I step forward trying to figure out a way of getting them down quicker, but my plans get interrupted when something blows them up into flames. My mouth hangs open when I snap my head to the left and watch a ship as it fires off another laser cannon over them.

We all watch as whoever is in charge starts to get off, turning the aircraft around and speeding up in seconds. When I look back to the blown up droids, I notice they took down each one of them and the screaming has finally stopped.

We were safe. Whatever that was, they saved us.

From the distance, I see Poe and Cal running towards us. The redhead seems to be a little beaten but could still stand up, even though his face was covered in small cuts and splits, which was manageable. The pilot, on the other hand, kept holding his side, while his head was wrapped in cloth. You could still see fresh blood spreading against it.

"Holy shit" Poe was out of breath, he dropped all his weight over my shoulder where he kept his hand rested on. "Holy shit"

Holy shit indeed. I should tell him this battle is still nothing compared to what he was about to do.

I snake an arm under his body and lift him up, supporting him while we walk slowly. Louise walks past me still carrying Luke as she carefully uses her free hand to rest on Cal's face.

"Jesus, Cal. Are you okay?" She asks him, concerned about his injuries even though he gives her a nod.

Her thumb ghosts over his cheek, and he holds her hand with both of his, squeezing it. Kestis gives her a sided hug, ruffling Luke's hair.

"Ow, ow, ow!" Poe grunts next to me and I give him a quick look.

"What is it?"

"I don't know, I sense something... weird" He murmurs, using my shoulder for support. "I think it's jealousy"

"What the fuck, Poe?" The pilot is holding a cheeky grin on his face, and I feel my jaw clenching.

"Is that even an emotion you have? Is it possible?" He asks and I dig my mechanic fingers into his shoulder blade. "Ow! Ow! Okay, I'm sorry!"

"Shut up, before I change my mind and feed you to the Ewoks" I hear him chuckling, even though he's definitely in pain.

"Ewoks and Wookies love me, you're gonna have to try harder" Poe muttered.

I swat my hand over his head carefully, not wanting to hurt him even more than I wish I could. "I'll handle you to the fucking First Order next time"

He opens his mouth with an offended look and I display a victorious smirk at him.

There are dozens of injured people at the medical bay, it's definitely going to be a difficult job for all the medics, we were probably going to have to ask for a backup. Both him and Cal get assisted, while we watch them leave our sight. I feel Luke's small hands grab my neck, pulling himself against my body once again.

I shift his weight and whisper him some comforting words. He was really disturbed and I feel bad he had to live this shit. From the corner of my eye, I see (Y/N) trying to get rid of the dried blood from her trembling hands. I reach over and hold her wrist gently as she looks over me with a confused look.

Yes, I hate her sometimes, and she annoys me a lot. But I need to be friendly over the situation.

"We're fine, we're safe now" I speak through a comforting tone and she nods.

"Wasn't prepared for all of this" She tries to keep her head up, but her lips form into a thin line and I know she's in shock.

"I know, we never really are" My flesh hand gives her a reassurance squeeze and I feel my skin burn.

I can't handle the touch. I mean, I can handle touching my son. But when it comes to a woman, I just can't. It still reminds me of her. I jolt it back and try to cover up my reaction. Poe fucking ruined it for me. How can I be jealous of her if we can barely stand each other? This is probably a nonsense statement.

She doesn't say another word, holding her body with affliction.

I clear my throat before I choke out another "thank you". She glances up at me again, this time surprise washed over her face. "Thank you for taking care of him when I wasn't here. And for reminding him about trust"

This is a bit of a big deal to me. As much as I try to keep my distance from her, she keeps being pulled back like a damn magnet. I force myself to stay away from her but things always take a turn and we're once again facing each other. It gives me anxiety, and it's not a good one. If there's even a good kind of anxiety. It makes me feel like I'm taking many steps back after struggling with my reality.

I don't deserve someone in my life anymore, except Luke. All I did was hurt the people I love the most, and if I can keep them alive I can't allow myself to be too close to them. I mean, all of them. I don't want to be a friend for Cal, or Poe. I don't want to be a friend for (Y/N) either. This was an exception, she had to do it because I wasn't there for him. But I won't let it happen again.

And what happened today at the Temple was my fault. Whoever got killed or injured, it was because of me. It was because I still go after those who hurt me before. And General Grievous won't stop until he gets to me. I need to work on getting to him first before it's too late for me. I have to do this alone, this is my fight. I won't have anyone's blood in my hands anymore.

Only my own.

@adorbzliz @himesuedi @kingdomhate @cl0esblogg @littlecoffeenerd @readingthingsonhere @js-favnanadoongi @twilightzone24

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker fanfic #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin fanfic #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin imagine #star wars fanfic #hayden christensen imagine #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin fluff #anakin skywalker #usersavana #clonecaptains #userlace #poe dameron #cal kestis

70 notes · View notes

tiramiiswu · 1 month ago

Text

ᯓ࣪ ִֶָ☾. desiderium

0.1 Independence Day & Fireworks

⋆.˚ young justice x genshin impact ⋆.˚

✦ masterlist || next ✦ young justice x adeptus!reader ✦ word count: 13.7k ✦ warnings: none ✦ originally posted on quotev (may 18, 2023) ✦ a/n: purely writing this to appease the goblin in my brain. ✦ tide caller is supposed to be written with an ambiguous/unstated gender as to help with projection and will be referred to with they/them pronouns respectively. i kind of go on autopilot when writing and type out the wrong word without thinking so if anyone catches me slipping and accidentally using the wrong pronoun please let me know and tell me where you caught it so i can change it asap :'D sometimes my hands type a little slip of the brain and i never catch it until it's too late ^^;;

✦ (3/12/25) edit: fixed some formatting issues with my dividers, i didn’t check to see how they’d look on mobile and had to adjust their length 😭

☆ ꧁ ═════════ ⋆✦⋆════════ ꧂ ☆

Washington D.C.; July 4th, ??? CDT

“Okay, I’m officially whelmed,” is the first thing to fall from Robin’s mouth as he and his fellow sidekicks—Aqualad and Kid Flash—stood in a stunned silence staring at what towered before them.

Lined up in several rows and columns were several vertical cylindrical containers that pulsated with a strong electrical energy, illuminating the expansive room with an eerie neon blue glow and a notable hum sounding in the air. And to think it was all kept several dozens of stories below ground, completely unnoticed by anyone above ground.

The real Project Cadmus.

Upon a closer inspection the three noticed the very inhuman shapes within each container. They were large, insectoid looking creatures, almost akin to fireflies, though their legs were longer than a human arm (one pair looked more like long protruding horns due to their placement) and their wings were short, almost spine-like along their backs. A large bulb of sorts hung off their back and down their back legs and gave off a bright, cyan glow.

Kid Flash began walking forward, taking it all in, “This is how they hide this massive underground facility from the world. The real Cadmus isn’t on the grid, it generates its own power with these… Things.” he stops, gesturing to the imprisoned creatures surrounding them. “Must be what they’re bred for.”

“Even the name is a clue, the Cadmus of myth created a new race by sowing dragons’ teeth into the earth.” Aqualad stated.

Robin notices a computer console to the side of them, “And this Cadmus creates new life too. Let’s find out why,” he extends a wire from the holo-computer in his glove and connects it to the console. He begins hacking the Cadmus database for information on the strange creatures the boys had discovered. He relays the information he sifts through to the others, “They call them Genomorphs… Woah, look at the stats on these things! Super strength, telepathy, razor claws— These are living weapons!”

Kid Flash leans over his shoulder, reading the seemingly endless scroll of information recorded about each Genomorph created at Cadmus, “They’re engineering an army, but for who?“

Aqualad moves to stand behind them as something on the holographic screen catches the Boy Wonder’s eyes, “Wait there’s something else, Project Kr, a-and a new input as recently as this month, Project Riptide. The files are triple- encrypted, I can’t—“

He’s cut off as a new voice booms from across the room, “Don’t move!” The three sidekicks jolt up, startled by the new presence in the room. Before them was a tall man in a dark blue jumpsuit wearing a gold helmet with a strong looking build. He wielded a shield and was covered in some other gilded armor pieces alongside his helmet.

The three noted the extra company he brought with him. Surrounding him were smaller elf-like Genomorphs, an even smaller one sitting passively on his shoulder, like a monkey. They all shared a similar humanoid body that was a sickly gray in color, a pair of beady red eyes and striking red veins apparent on the arms and ribs of each creature. The smallest Genomorph had a pair of tiny horns protruding from its forehead.

Surprisingly though, the helmet-donned man seemed just as shocked to see them there as well. “Wait. Robin? Aqualad? Kid Flash?”

Robin seemed to snort a little, making a quick jab at his speedster companion, “At least he got your name right.”

Aqualad ignored them as he spoke up, recognizing the man, “I know you. Guardian. A hero.”

“I do my best.” Was the quick reply he received.

“Then, what are you doing here?” Kid Flash inquired, squinting at him accusingly.

“I'm chief of security. You're trespassing.” Guardian stated matter-of-factly. Though from his next statement he didn’t seem too apprehensive of the three now that he recognizes them. “But we can call the Justice League. Figure this out.”

During this exchange Robin had been quietly downloading all of the contents they uncovered from the Cadmus database. Quickly retracting the USB cord from the console while his friends had been keeping Guardian distracted. “You think the League’s gonna approve of you breeding weapons?!” He shouted accusingly at the man.

The helmed man seemed taken aback, genuinely shocked to hear such a thing, “Weapons? What are you… What have I..?” He trails off, raising a hand to hold against his head. He repeated, confused as his eyes began to close. As something flashed across his expression, as if a fog was starting to lift from his head. “Ugh, my head…”

The clarity seems to fade, and the fog quickly creeps back to cloud his mind as the little Genomorph on his shoulder lights up it’s horns to relay a message to Guardian. His eyes snap back open, hardened into a glare and looking more determined than before, “Take them down,” he ordered. “No mercy!”

The Genomorphs sprung into action with an animalistic snarl, making a charge towards the three teens with lethal intent. Robin jumps forward and drops a smoke bomb in response to is sudden attack, using the obscured field of view to shoot a grappling hook above to a beam hanging overhead to make an escape. An alarm began blearing during the disturbance.

Kid Flash manages to dodge the razor claws and gnashing fangs of the Genomorphs while blitzing them with extreme speed, taking down several of them in his wake.

One of the Genomorphs had launched itself onto Aqualad’s back, though he managed to rip the creature off of him before Guardian came barreling towards him. The two traded several blows before the Atlantean intercepted a strike from Guardian’s shield, sending shockwaves through the metal and rendering Guardian and the miniature Genomorph incapacitated on the floor.

The two notice Robin’s absence and find him by the elevator, his holo-pad out as he attempted to hack the industrial elevator for them to escape through. Kid rushes over to him, skidding to a stop before giving him an sarcastically irked, “Wait to be a team player, Rob.”

To which the younger boy says: “Weren’t you right behind me?”

Seeing two Genomorphs tailing after him, Aqualad books it to the elevator, barely making it in after tucking and rolling into the metal chute. The three heard a metallic THUMP from the other side as the Genomorphs collided against the now shut elevator doors.

Glancing at the elevator’s floor screen, he’s unable to contain his utter disbelief as the sub level numbers displayed above the door began increasing, “We’re headed down?”

Kid Flash turns to the other masked teen, “Dude, out is UP,” he shouts, pointing upwards to the ceiling.

Robin seems to give him an incredulous look in response, “Excuse me? Project Kr is DOWN, on sub-level 52.”

Before any sort of fight could break out between the two Aqualad steps in, placing himself between them, “This is out of control,” he states, he seemed stressed by the course of events that had just occurred, at least as stressed as the stoic Atlantean let on.

“Perhaps,” he sighed. “Perhaps we should contact the League…”

The three fall silent for a moment, fully realizing just how deep they had gotten themselves into (both literally and figuratively).

That is, until the elevator makes a ‘ding’ to indicate they’ve arrived at their destination.

The elevator doors open to reveal a disturbing sight. The once cement walls and flooring have been replaced with a soft, flesh lined tunnel, only accompanied by several pods lined in rows along the walls that acted as a macabre decor. There was a division in the path that followed ahead of them, leading to two unknown rooms.

The atmosphere became eerier, and it only cemented the reality of what the three had stumbled into by complete accident when investigating a simple building fire.

Robin is seemingly undeterred by the disturbance in their environment, quickly taking initiative as he dashes out of the elevator. Kid Flash is silent for a moment before making a half-assed attempt to reason with his remaining companion , “We are already here…”

Aqualad just sighed, defeated by the curious nature of his two friends, “Which way?”

Their shorter companion scoffs, “Yeah, bizarre-Iooking hallway one or bizarre-Iooking hallway two?”

They didn’t have to spend much time deciding however as a stern voice calls from behind them with a quick, “Hold!”

The three boys are quick to noticed the horned individual appearing down the first hallway. Standing there is a tall, slender man with blue skin. In addition to his strange complexion, he bore a pair of aforementioned horns, lacked a nose, his ears were notably pointed and fin-like, and two ribbons of flesh, originating on his cheeks. He was adorned in plain white hospital apparel.

The strange man then raised his hand, his horns began to glow like the small Genomorph from before. A few crates lying behind them in the hall began to float in the air before exploding above the sidekick trio’s heads. Robin threw an exploding birdarang towards him before the three began escaping down the second hallway.

Kid Flash runs ahead of them, though when he turned a corner he nearly crashes into a Cadmus scientist. He slides past her, tripping her in the process. He looks back from where she had come from and saw the gradually closing door that read “Project Kr”.

He turns back to his companions who were approaching at a significantly slower speed than the closing door. He then spots a few air tanks placed near the door and quickly thinking picked one up to then lodge in the door, preventing it from closing. “Hurry!” he shouts to the others before he jumped between the gap and into the chamber, Aqualad and Robin following shortly after.

The former looks through the gap and sees Guardian and his Genomorphs closing in on them. He steps back and kicks the air tank out of the gap which causes the doors to snap shut with a loud CLANK!

Robin had been typing something quickly into his keypad, when he finished he announced to them, “I disabled the door. We're safe—“

“We're trapped,” Aqualad had corrected, more stressed than ever. Though before any debate on what happened could start, Kid Flash drew both their attention to the matter at hand, “Uh, guys? You’ll wanna see this.”

Standing before him was another Cadmus computer console, though this time it was only attached to a single tank. Kid Flash pressed a button on the console that activated several lights near the center of the lab room. Now illuminated the boys could see what was contained within the stark white pod, a sleeping boy. He appeared to be close to their age, with dark hair and a fair complexion. He slept peacefully unaware of the chaos that had just occurred outside his pod. Above him were three of the small monkey-esque Genomorphs like the one Guardian had on his shoulder.

Though the most startling thing about him was the skin tight suit he donned, it was an equally as stark white as his pod, the lighting and lack of contrast made it reflect a blinding light. On his chest was a bright red shield with a large S dead in the center

The symbol of Superman.

Kid Flash walked in a slight stupor towards the pod, reading the label on the lower part of the glass aloud, “Big K little r, the atomic symbol for Krypton!” He turned to the other two, his brows furrowed somewhat. “Clone?”

Aqualad immediately turned to their more tech savvy friend, “Robin, hack.” He ordered.

“Right, right,” he whips out his holo-pad again and connects it to the console with the extending wire like he had done before. After bypassing Cadmus’s security once more he began reading the newly uncovered information about the project. “Weapon designation Superboy. A clone force-grown in— 16 weeks?! From DNA acquired from Superman."

“Stolen from Superman.” Aqualad corrected with a scowl.

“No way the big guy knows about this.” Kid Flash agrees.

“Solar suit allows him to absorb yellow sun radiation 24/7.” The Boy Wonder continues.

Aqualad gestures to the sleeping creatures above him—Superboy, “And these creatures?” He inquired.

“Genomorph-Gnomes, Telepathic, force feeding him an education.”

A grimace starting to form on Kid Flash’s face, “And we can guess what else, they’re making a slave out of… well, Superman’s son.”

“And now we contact the league,” Aqualad states firmly. There was no room to argue at this point with what they’ve discovered. He presses the Atlantean A symbol on his belt while the others attempt to activate their comms.

“No signal,” Robin says.

Kid Flash looks to the other two, “We’re in too deep. Literally.”

After a few minutes of contemplating their next move, the three notice the G-Gnomes horns lighting up above the Superboy. Kid Flash looks to Aqualad and Robin, “This is wrong.” He says grimly.

Robin agrees, nodding, “We can’t leave him like this.”

Aqualad takes another moment to think, before coming to a decision, “Set him free,” he looks to Robin, firm in his decision. “Do it.”

Robin takes to the console, quickly typing out a command to the pod for it to open its lid. The air compressed within the pod hisses as it escapes into the open room, the glass lid lifting upward and the metal plates around it sliding open.

For a moment the boy inside remained still, peaceful even. Then they saw his hands stretch out at his sides, the knuckles of his fingers cracking before forming into a fist at his side. His eyes snap open, and the trio watch as he springs to life, immediately jumping to attack them.

He attacks Aqualad first, he tackles him to the ground before raising his arms and bringing them back down in a violent manner, punching the Atlantean boy repeatedly before Robin and Kid Flash come to intervene. They attempt to restrain his arms as well as try to snap some sense into him—

“Woah! Hang on Supey!”

“We’re—on your side!”

—But to no avail. The Super-clone shoves Kid Flash off of him, flinging him back into a glass container. He crashes into it before falling and knocking himself out after his head collided with the ground. He falls over limply and lies still.

Robin pulls various items out of his utility belt and throwing them at their assailant,, attempting to spray him with gas and even tasing him before Superboy slammed him into the concrete and stepping onto his chest, attempting to crush the smaller boy beneath his foot as Robin struggled beneath him, feeling his ribs crack under the pressure.

Aqualad looks to see Robin struggling against the clone, taking out his water bearers and taking an aggressive stance, forming a solid hammer in his hands before charging at him, “ENOUGH!” He manages to knock Superboy off of Robin, sending him spiraling against the pod which leaves a large dent in the metal due to the force. Aqualad then tries to help Robin stand to his knees, but the poor boy simply falls back down onto his back, rendered fully unconscious due to Superboy’s assault.

As Superboy regains his footing he begins walking menacingly towards Aqualad, who attempts to stop him, saying, “We... are trying... to help you—!” Before the clone’s expression twists into a snarl and leaps towards him again to engage in an exchange of blows once more. This exchange stopped momentarily as Aqualad manages to get behind him and interlocks his arms behind him in a restraint before shocking him with a strong electric charge.

This however only causes his opponent to yell before leaping back first into the ceiling, slamming Aqualad into the hard unmoving surface in an attempt to shake him off. When this doesn’t work he starts slamming him repeatedly against the roof before Aqualad detaches from behind him and falls unconscious.

Superboy assesses the situation and sees that all three of the sidekicks had been defeated by his hands. Calmly, he began walking to the entrance of the lab.

He punched the metal door until it flew open, falling shortly in front of him. Behind it were some scientists, Guardian, and several Genomorphs. A male scientist with long brown hair tied in the back in a pony tail stepped forward. His name was Dr. Desmond. He wore a standard white lab coat, glasses, brown sandals, he had slight wrinkles on his face and streaks of white in his hair. He had smiled in a pleased way when Superboy emerged from the lab, and he inspected his weapon’s success. Simply giving him a brief, “Atta’ boy.”

☆ ꧁ ═════════ ⋆✦⋆════════ ꧂ ☆

In a stark white room were seven large monitors, on each screen was the silhouette of an obscured individual. Dr. Desmond entered the room lacking the confident superiority he tended to have beneath the surface of the Cadmus facility. He now stands before each monitor. A voice emits from one of the screens, “Dr. Desmond. You require an audience with the Light?”

“Yes. Very sorry to disturb you at this late hour—“

Another cuts him off, “Just make your report.”

“Of course,” the scientist cleared his throat. “Well, we had a small fire here at Project Cadmus. The origin of the incident is still unclear… but it seems to have attracted some unwanted attention. Three sidekicks, Robin, Aqualad and Kid Flash...breached security.

“They found and released the weapon. The Superboy. Of course, the clone is under our telepathic control... and, as ordered, turned against his would-be liberators. The three are contained and we don't believe the League knows they're here. Uh... What should I do with them?” He was unsure as to what he was supposed to do now, more worried about losing his job (or worse) for allowing such a blunder to occur in the first place.

There was but a beat of silence before they spoke again, “Clone them,” the second voice says. “Add them to the current cloning schedule, alongside Project Riptide.”

The first voice agrees, stating, “The substitutes will serve the Light. And only the Light.”

“And… the originals?” Desmond inquired.

“Dispose of them. Leave no trace.”

For the first time since he entered this meeting room, an evil smile crept its way back onto Dr. Desmond’s face.

☆ ꧁ ═════════ ⋆✦⋆════════ ꧂ ☆

A calm, yet stern voice rang through the barely conscious minds of the three sidekicks, attempting to rouse them, “Time runs short. You must awaken.”

When they did not stir the voice became more demanding, and a force jolted them awake, stating, “You must awaken now!”

The three had awoken startled, finding themselves inside a more industrial looking pod than the one they had freed the Super-clone from. They were strapped against a metal plate by steel bands, restraining their wrists and ankles against the plate behind them.

What Kid Flash noticed after realizing his current predicament was the piercing stare of the backstabbing boy standing below them.

Superboy stared intently at him, it was hard to tell what he was doing whether it be examining him or simply trying to kill him with a single look, but Kid Flash was up to his limit with him, “What? What do you want?!” He spat, though it didn’t seem to deter the Kryptonian clone. “Quit staring you’re creepin’ me out!”

“Uh, KF, how ‘bout we NOT tick off the guy who can fry us with a look?” Kid Flash turned to his right to find Robin in the same position as him. He could swore there was something next to Robin, another tank, but from his limited field of vision it took an excessive amount of neck craning in order to check. To to the left of him was Aqualad, “We only sought to help you—“

Distracting himself from the fourth pod, Kid Flash cut in to chew the clone out, “Yeah, we free you and you turn on us! How’s that for grati—“

“Kid, please. Be quiet now,” Aqualad cut him off, trying not to escalate the situation even further than it already had. “I believe our friend was not in full control of his actions.”

Then, surprising the three captives to no extent, the clone spoke, “What if I..? Hn… What if I wasn’t?” His voice was low, somewhat rough and rasped from a general lack of use. It was as if he had spoken for the first time since his creation (and judging by his general timeline of living it probably was).

Kid Flash was the first to react, “He can talk?!”

This earned him a glare from Superboy, who found a much stronger voice that was laced in irritation, “Yes… he can!”

The Atlantean and Boy Wonder each gave Kid Flash an unamused side eye, to which he sheepishly replied, “It’s not like I said ‘it’.”

Aqualad seemed to catch on to the rising tension, hoping to steer it away from the premature death of his speedster companion he focuses his attention back to Superboy, “The genomorphs taught you telepathically.”

He nodded somewhat, it was a bit difficult to see but it was enough for Aqualad to see. “They taught me much,” he said curtly. “I can read, write. I know the names of things.”

“But have you seen them?” Robin pressed. “Have they ever actually let you see the sky or the sun?”

“Images are implanted in my mind,” he seemed to shrink somewhat, regretfully admitting, “But, no, I have not seen them.”

Aqualad frowned, “Do you know what you are? Who you are?”

This question seemed to strengthen his resolve, though not exactly in the way Aqualad might have been hoping. He watched Superboy’s poster straighten, and in a tone that felt preprogrammed he stated firmly, “A clone made from the DNA of the Superman. Created to replace him should he perish. To destroy him should he turn from the Light.”

Aqualad’s companions shared a nervous glance while he responded carefully, “To be like Superman is a worthy aspiration.” He told him. “But like Superman, you deserve a life of your own. Beyond that solar suit. Beyond your pod. Beyond Cadmus.”

This irked Superboy, it seemed to trigger a newly characteristic anger he’s shown since his awakening, “I live because of Cadmus. It is my home!” He growled.

Robin looked at him in what could only be described as pity, “Your home is a test tube, we can show you the sun.”

“Uh, pretty sure it’s after midnight. But we can show you the moon,” offered Kid Flash, trying to add something helpful into the conversation.”

“We can show you, introduce you to Superman.” Aqualad offers him.

This catches his attention. The three watched his expression soften, his eyes shining with a glimmer of hope. It had been the softest expression he’s shown since they discovered his serene expression sleeping in his pod.

This tender moment was cut short by a snide voice coming from the entrance of the lab chamber they were in. “No, they can’t.” Desmond approached them, Guardian and the scientist Kid Flash tripped from before—Dr. Spence—flanked his sides. “They will be… otherwise occupied.” He turned to his subordinates and began to order them to work. “Activate the cloning process!”

A genuine alarm spread across Robin’s face, “Pass! Batcave’s crowded enough!” He exclaimed, attempting to cover up his alarm with his usual witty banter.

Desmond ignored him, “Add them to the schedule set for Project Riptide,” glancing at Superboy the scientist grew agitated. “And get the weapon back to its pod!”

Despite the circumstance Kid Flash seemed to pout at hearing this, “Hey, how come he gets to call Supey an it?” He asked indignantly.

Guardian placed his hand on Superboy’s shoulder, though with one final glance at Aqualad (and another plea for help from him as well) he shrugged him off. Desmond seemed to catch onto this exchange rather quickly, “Oh, don’t start thinking now.” He groaned, a G-Gnome hopping from his shoulder to Superboy’s. Condescendingly, he began speaking down to him. “See, you're not a real boy. You're a weapon. And you belong to me. Well, to Cadmus. Same thing. Now get back to your pod.” He commanded.

Without another word, Superboy obediently turned around and began walking out of the lab.

Desmond then turned back to Spence, “Where’s Project Riptide?” he inquired, irritated.

Spence had input something into the console before her and in doing so caused a light to turn on in a pod placed to the right of Robin. There was a fourth person strapped to one of the machines the boys were hooked up to (this came as somewhat of a shock to the three of them) however it was hard to make out any discernible features due to their slumped over posture indicating they would not be conscious for the next step of Cadmus’s plan. What they could see though was that rather than a solar suit like Superboy’s they were wearing some very outlandish clothes that had several intricate details and patterns with an otherworldly feel to them.

Desmond stared at the fourth pod for a moment before turning back to Dr. Spence, he nodded. This acted as an indicator for her to continue and she put another sequence of inputs into the console. The three sidekicks began to writhe and scream as they felt an excruciating pain shoot through them. Several metal probes jab them in the chest, simultaneously electrocuting them and extracting blood into tanks attached to the machines.

Desmond says something to his subordinates over the din, “Where’s Dubbilex?” Before being startled by the sudden appearance of said Genomorph stepping out of the shadows of the room, standing beside Desmond. “Lurking as usual… Get the G-Gnomes downloading their memories. When that's done, delete the source material.”

During this exchange Aqualad managed to bite back his screams, and over the nearly deafening sounds of his friends anguish he spoke under his breath, attempting to speak to the Kryptonian boy via the presumption he indeed had super-hearing, “Superboy, you live. That gives you the right to follow your own path. A weapon or a person? The choice is yours. But ask yourself: what would Superman do?”

There was a beat. Maybe two passed. And as the sidekicks writhe from the extraction process, the door of the lab is promptly kicked open by the individual on the other side, propelling it into the large computers across the room. This shuts off the DNA extractors and alleviates the trio of sidekicks of any more pain from said machines.

Desmond is furious, immediately turning to his creation to bark out, “I told you to get back to your—!” He’s roughly tossed to the side by Superboy alongside Dubbilex and Guardian who both attempted to get in the Kryptonian’s way.

Superboy glowered down at the bespectacled man, “Don’t give me orders.” He growled, before continuing his stride towards the sidekicks.

Having recovered somewhat from the machines torture, Kid Flash is the first to acknowledge the sudden turn of events, “You here to help us or fry us?”

Superboy narrowed his eyes at the redheaded speedster, as if thinking something over. “Huh, I don’t seem to have heat vision. So I suppose helping you is my only option,” he says with a small smirk.

In this moment Robin’s pod began hissing to life, the metal door sliding open as he slipped out, wringing his wrists in his hands, “Ugh, finally. Lucky Batman isn't here. He'd have my head for taking so long!” It was then apparent he had been attempting to pick the lock of his wrist cuffs since he woke up.

“Seriously? That’s what you’re worried about?” Kid Flash deadpanned. “The whole League will have our heads after tonight!”

Robin ignores him as he throws a pair of bolas at the only remaining scientist in the room, restraining Dr. Spence. He then walks over to the console she was occupying and types a new input, this opens the other pod doors open with a hiss. Then he directs some of his attention to the clone, “Free Aqualad, I’ll get Kid Mouth.”

Superboy didn’t take too well to receiving another order from someone, “Don’t you give me orders either,” he growled out, but nonetheless he leaps up to tear the cuffs off the Atlantean. Robin picked the locks for the cuffs on Kid Flash.

Aqualad thanks him as the three sidekicks descend to the ground with Superboy about to follow. That is, until he remembered the unconscious fourth captive. He looks to the pod on the other side of the row, its lid open but its inhabitant still hanging from their restraints. To anyone else they could assume they’re unconscious state was caused by death, they hadn’t stirred this whole time. But Superboy could hear the faint, methodical sound of their heartbeat beneath the whirring of the machine. The sidekicks called out to him, but he had made his decision. He maneuvered his way from Aqualad’s pod to the other and began tearing their cuffs off as well. If he was being freed tonight, it’s only fair he helped free his fellow Project. They fell forward limply as he caught them with his arm. Realizing they weren’t going to wake just, yet he supports their body with his and leaps back down to join the others.

Desmond sees the four of them (plus his new Project) begin to race out of the lab, “Y-You’ll never get out of here! I’ll have you back in pods before morning!” He shrieks from the ground.

“That guy is not whelmed, not whelmed at all,” Robin muttered, only stopping momentarily to throw some birdarangs into the DNA containers and triggering them to explode, destroying any of their DNA collected by Cadmus.

“What is with you and this ‘whelmed’ thing?” Kid Flash asks as Robin rejoins them. They race down the fleshy hall, passing by the pod-like inserts in the walls as they begin to glow an eerie red.

“We are still fifty-two levels below ground,” Aqualad states. “But if we can make the elevator—!”

He’s cut off as several ginormous Genomorphs emerge to block their way, the smaller Genomorphs they had fought before against Guardian begin emerging from the pods behind them, snarling and growling like wild beasts.

During this, Project Riptide began stirring awake. Superboy was startled to feel them move, even more so to feel them shove him away from them.

☆ ꧁ ═════════ ⋆✦⋆════════ ꧂ ☆

You groaned, holding your throbbing head with a gloved hand (the others took notice of the strange blue pendant embedded into the top side of your wrist) “What… What happened?” before opening your eyes to see an absurd sight before them, snapping your eyes wider and frantically looking around, “Where am I? What the Hell is this place? And what the Hell are those??”

They don’t have time to answer them as one of the large Genomorphs raised both of its fists in preparation of crushing them. You all manage to duck out of the way, though Kid Flash is very much caught off guard when you begin to pull a spear out of literally thin air. It was a long, double pronged polearm fading from a dark navy to a brighter blue by the tip. At the end of it was a teardrop shaped pommel with a decorative end in the shape of a small anchor. He stared at you in bewilderment, “Where did you get that—“

You ignored him as you began to pull back your spear before hurling it like a javelin at a frightening speed into the neck of one of the smaller Genomorphs, the force pinning its now limp body into the wall next to it. Before he could ask again you seemed to have moved so quickly it looked as if you had teleported over to your spear before ripping it back out and making another dash to a different Genomorph.

The other sidekicks had made their way to the elevator, however their newly liberated companions seemed to be preoccupied in trying to eliminate the Genomorph threats to follow them. While you dashed to-and-fro around the Genomorphs, slashing them with your spear, Superboy had launched one of the lumbering Genomorphs into the wall. This impact ran a crack up the wall and started to cause parts of the ceiling to break off and come crashing into the ground, “Superboy! The goal is to escape, not bury ourselves here!” Aqualad shouts.

This seems to peak his already heightened aggression, “YOU WANT ESCAPE?!” He challenged, before swinging one of the larger Genomorphs by the arm and swinging it into the horde of others. He then grabs your wrist abruptly—startling you—before regrouping with the others by the elevator.

Aqualad tears the elevator doors open to reveal the dark empty chasm of the shaft. Kid Flash and Robin each make their way into the elevator, the former jumping onto the wall of the elevator shaft while the latter uses his grappling hook. Superboy takes Aqualad into one arm and tries to do the same for you as well, however before he could grab a hold of you, you managed to step away from him as you began to arch your polearm up before launching it into the side of the shaft wall. The two watch as you take a big leap up before grabbing onto the spear end sticking out from the wall. You then began to scale the elevator shaft with now notably clawed hands, your spear dissipating into gold particles.

Now only having to worry about one passenger, Superboy tightens his hold on Aqualad and takes a powerful leap into the air. He and Aqualad soar several stories up, making it all the way to about SL-9, before suddenly losing momentum, the two suddenly beginning to descend downwards, “I-I’m falling,” he realizes in somewhat of a daze.

You had seen the two boys pass them while you continued climbing steadily up the side of the chute, though you were very shocked to see them suddenly pass them going down this time. Groaning somewhat they lept off of the wall and descended downwards in order to catch up to them right as Robin looked up and threw one of his birdarangs into the wall above. Once you had caught up to them they grabbed Aqualad by the arm, causing him to tighten his hold on Superboy, before a pair of false wings deployed from around your shoulder blades. They were then falling slower, though the extra weight of two more passengers still caused the wind glider to drag down faster than it was supposed to while you heaved them up with you.

Once you glided near the birdarang embedded into the wall you heaved the two over by the dark skinned boy’s arm, helping him latch onto the new protrusion in the wall around SL-15. You in turn latch onto the wall beside them, observing the conflicted expression cast over Superboy’s face. He wore a crestfallen expression, and he began to question himself, murmuring, “Superman can fly… Why can’t I fly?”

Kid Flash pipes in suddenly, drawing your attention from the one currently having some form of an identity-crisis to the level below, “Don't know, but it does look like you can leap tall buildings in a single bound... Still cool,” he reassures, offering to help the distraught boy up to the small ledge beside him. Aqualad hopping down beside them.

Still a little dazed he manages to thank the speedster before Robin alerts them to the imminent danger they were about to be in, “Guys! This’ll have to be our exit!” He shouts as the high speed express elevator makes its quick descent above them.

Aqualad and Superboy take out the elevator door, the latter taking one final swing to it before you all dive out of the way from the rapidly descending elevator right before it slammed all of you into the void. You weren’t given much of a break however as a group of Genomorphs came down the main hallway, attracted to the sound of the destroyed metal doors, causing the five of you to break out in a run.

As you were running down the halls, Superboy suddenly directs the group, “Go left! Left!” The group listened, mostly as there wasn’t much room to try and press him about where you were going. Then another call, “Right!”

However, upon following his directions this time, you found yourself at a dead end, the only thing of note being the sight of a single vent near the top of the wall. You gave him somewhat of a cross look , “It’s a dead end,” you stated lowly.

Kid Flash was the second to jump on him, “Great directions Supey,” he says sarcastically. “Are you trying to get us re-podded??”

“No. I… I don’t understand,” he seemed genuinely confused at this outcome.

Robin nudged Kid Flash to the side, a wide grin breaking out across his face as he excitedly stated, “Don’t apologize, this is perfect!”

They work to get the vent cover off quickly, then after discarding it to the side the boys assist each other in getting up and crawling into the vent itself. Robin led the charge while Aqualad, you, Kid Flash, and Superboy followed shortly behind.

It was during this escapade through the vents that Kid Flash (who was currently crawling right behind you) decided to mention the elephant in the room, “By the way, uh, who are you exactly? We never really had time to get your name.”

You wanted to look back and glare at the redhead, however your current circumstance prevented you from doing so, “Is now really the time for this?”

Robin piped in from the front, “So far we’re not sure if there’ll be any time in the future, so now is definitely the time to ask.”

You rolled your eyes, “If it quells your incessant probing then so be it. For now, you may call me Tide Caller.”

“What? No first or last name?”

“None that I feel like telling you at the moment.” You did not feel like informing them of anything aside from your adeptus title until you found out just exactly what was going on around here. “Now I get to ask you some questions: What is going on? And what exactly is this place?”

“It’s a bit… complicated. Short answer? We’re in an underground research facility hidden from the rest of world that’s focused on cloning and creating living weapons, which were the creatures chasing us from before, that are called Genomorphs,” Robin explains, though he as a bit preoccupied with following the layout of the ventilation system to guide them to an exit. “We came to investigate a fire that started in the building above ground but upon further inspection we ended up going way deeper than anticipated, eventually we found Superboy and later you and the rest is history.”

You blinked owlishly at his explanation, “I… have no idea what half of the words you just said means, but it’s enough for me to know that this place is bad news,” you take a few cursory glances between the boys in front of you and the one behind you. “Who are you three anyway?”

Wally balked at this question, “Wait seriously? You don’t know who we are? Robin, Aqualad? Kid Flash? No, not ringing any bells?”

“No, not really… Am I supposed to?”

“Seriously? Dude, what kind of rock have you been living under?”

You scoffed at his question, “Forgive me if I’m unable to recall a group of such strangely dressed individuals and their equally as strange titles,” you grow silent for a moment before a follow up question comes to mind. “Why are you all dressed like that anyway?”

“Oh, as if you aren’t—!”

“Enough! Now is not the time to start arguing.” Aqualad shut you both down before you could start a fight while you all were still traversing the vents.

You could hear Kid Flash grumble something under his breath behind you. After some time he started to complain, “Ugh, at this rate we’ll never get out.”

Superboy stops suddenly at the end of the line you’ve formed, shushing the group as he looks behind him. “Listen.” Unbeknownst to the rest of you, his super-hearing had picked up some movement far behind them within the vents. If he focused he could hear the quick, clambering sounds of claws against metal as several Genomorphs began to scurry through the vents in an attempt to close in on them.

The group began to advance further, Robin leading you down a certain path as you all crawled after him. He kicked open a vent cover at the end of the path and jumped down, Aqualad followed in order to help the rest of you down from the top of the wall. Robin was typing something frantically onto the holo-pad on his wrist, “I already deactivated the internal security cameras during the trek in the vents, now if I just…” he trailed off somewhat as he hooked up his glove to the wall. A moment later he looked triumphant, “I hacked the motion sensors.” He states with a smirk tugging at his lips.

Kid Flash was the one to respond first with a cheerful: “Sweet.”

“Still plenty of them between us and out.”

Kid Flash seemed undeterred by this information, pulling down his goggles, saying, “But I’ve finally got room to move,” before barreling out the door and down several flights of stairs, clearing a path for you and the others by knocking several Genomorphs down in the process.

You stared at his abrupt exit in awe, “I take it the ‘Flash’ in his name refers to his speed?” You wondered aloud, earning a small laugh from your shortest companion as the rest of you followed in tow.

Robin, who was still in the process of hacking as you ran, called out to your group, “More behind us!” Once you had all passed him, Superboy came to a stop on the platform behind you, slamming his foot on the connecting stairs. This caused the remaining stairwell as well as all of the horde of approaching Genomorphs to come crashing down.

Kid Flash continued to speed up the winding column of stairs before skidding to a stop once spotting the door indicating his destination to be Sub-Level 1. Before he could reach the door, racing towards it as we speak, a blaring alarm pierced the air, causing a pair of heavy-duty doors to automatically slam shut. Kid Flash couldn’t stop himself before crashing into the closed off exit, muttering an “Aw man,” before colliding with the doors head first and falling abruptly to the floor a few feet away, landing on his butt.

“We’re cut off from the street,” Aqualad grumbles, and you were all so close to freedom.

“Thanks. My head hadn’t noticed,” Kid Flash says sarcastically while rubbing the back of his head from the impact with the floor.

You came up from behind them, staring blankly at the doors, “Can’t we just break them down like before?” Superboy must have been thinking the same thing as he stepped forward, passing the fallen speedster and attempting to knock the door down with a punch. Though his fist didn’t seem to even leave a dent. He then tried to pry the door open, Aqualad even joining him but to no avail, it had been shut tight.

Robin was below you, grumbling in annoyance as he typed rapidly into his holo-pad, “Can’t hack this fast enough,” then noticed a pair of Genomorphs reared around the corner, growling at the sight of you. He then sees a door to his right, “This way!”

He kicked the door down and led the rest of you through the corridor but stopped when you saw the rest of the Genomorphs waiting for you, alongside Guardian. Each of them had a small G-Gnome resting on their shoulder.

You immediately summoned your spear as Aqualad formed a pair of dual swords out of his water bearers and took a fighting stance.

One of the G-Gnomes’ horns began to glow, then another, and another. Suddenly all of the G-Gnomes were glowing red like beacons, seemingly set off in a chain reaction. You felt a sharp pain in your head, an echoing mental rattling as you and your companions fell to the ground. You couldn’t make out the sounds outside the ones reverberating through your skull, leaning heavily onto the side of your polearm, breathing heavily and ragged in an attempt to stay upright as the rest of your companions lie limp on the floor.

☆ ꧁ ═════════ ⋆✦⋆════════ ꧂ ☆

Superboy had fallen to his knees after the G-Gnomes triggered this telepathic attack on him and his newfound friends. It was only when a voice echoed through his head, through his mind, that he felt the fog lifting somewhat, “Perhaps for the sake of all Genomorphs, our brother Superboy should make up his own mind.”

Superboy looked up to see the Genomorph from the lab—Dubbilex—as he came to a realization as to where he heard this voice before, eyes widening, “It was you.”

“Yes, brother,” he confirms. “I set the fire and lures your new friends to Cadmus, woke them when they were in danger—”

“And guided me,” he finished for the older Genomorph, before questioning him and his motives. “Why?”

“Because you are our hope,” Dubbilex relays to him. “The Genomorph hero. You will blaze a trail for all our brothers, showing us the way to freedom.” He then glances at the dazed, slumped over form of Tide Caller, impressed by their mental fortitude being strong enough to keep conscious even under all of the pressure the G-Gnomes were putting on them and the other teens. Though it didn’t seem like they were able to focus on much else, “And for you to help to guide this displaced soul during their imminent travel into the unknown…”

Suddenly, the G-Gnome perched on Guardian’s shoulder hopped off its spot, deactivating whatever control it had over the man. He groans, gripping his head in pain, “What’s going on..?” As Guardian gradually began to come to his senses, the sidekick trio and Tide Caller began to stir.

“What is your choice, brother?” Asked Dubbilex, staring stoically at the young clone. Superboy for a moment looks down in contemplation, before lifting his head with a fire in his eyes.

“I. Choose. Freedom.”

☆ ꧁ ═════════ ⋆✦⋆════════ ꧂ ☆

You groan as the weight over your mind lifts. Sluggishly lifting your head to see the Genomorphs now standing passively around you. The Genomorphs had ceased their hold over Guardian, you, and the sidekicks alike, “Feels like… a fog… lifting,” Guardian mutters, hand to his temple as he feels a newfound clarity forming in his mind.

Aqualad looks to the dazed hero, still a bit apprehensive of the man, “Guardian?”

Guardian had looked at them with a determined expression, and with conviction he told them, “Go. I’ll deal with Desmond.”

A voice cuts through the air, “I think not,” as Dr. Desmond reveals himself, the Genomorphs parting their wall for him behind Guardian. In his hand he holds a strange blue vial. “Project Blockbuster will give me the power to restore order to Cadmus.” He declares, downing the mysterious glowing liquid, dropping the empty glass vial shortly after.

He fell to his knees, head slumped into his arms, veins pulsating under his skin. His body rips through the fabric of his lab coat and undershirt. Robin and Kid Flash watch him undergo this horrific transformation. Desmond growls as he jerks his head up, the whites of his sclera turning into an ink black while his eyes turn a bright red. His skin tears into scraps as his body grows larger, stronger, the layer underneath such a grotesque display turned thick and gray.

He rises from the ground with a guttural roar, scraps of skin and tufts of hair still clinging to his head and body. The thing standing in Dr. Desmond’s—Blockbuster’s— place turned to the group of heroes, breathing heavy. He sneered down at them with thick, sharpened teeth.

Guardian puts his arm out towards you and the teens, defensively ordering, “Everyone back!” Before charging at the hulking goliath. You are greatly unamused to see Blockbuster sweep Guardian aside like he’s a mere toy, watching the golden helmed man fly into the wall a few feet away.

Superboy was next to act, charging at the monster and striking him across the jaw. This however hardly affects him as he retaliates by punching Superboy downward, targeting his shoulder and upper back. Superboy turns and tries to hit him again, this time with an uppercut. He lands a few more hits, at one point being knocked back onto his shoulder before rolling back onto his feet, before Blockbuster reacts in turn by launching the boy as Superboy attempted to leap into the air to strike him by catching him and throwing him violently into the ceiling, following him up to the next floor shortly after.

You all stare in disbelief at the massive hole the two had made, Robin being the first to make a comment on it, “Okay, that’s one way to bust through the ceiling.” He then pulled his grappling hook out and shot it through the opening the hole formed.

“You think Lab Coat planned that?” Kid Flash asked as he grabbed onto Robin in order for the shorter boy to propel them upwards.

“I doubt he’s planning anything anymore,” retorts Aqualad who crouches down in order to help give you a boost before following shortly after, jumping through the hole in the ceiling next.

☆ ꧁ ═════════ ⋆✦⋆════════ ꧂ ☆

Above them was an expansive room with railings on the sides and upper stories in order to separate the two stories, the open hall lined with pillars acting as support beams. The four of you watched as Blockbuster made an attempt to restrain Superboy by pinning his arms to his sides, though it proves fruitless as Superboy manages to break his hold on him. Before he could take a swing at the gargantuan man, Blockbuster had grabbed a hold of Superboy’s ankle and flung him into the group you and the sidekicks had formed. Robin and Kid Flash managed to avoid getting hit by the body of their friend, you and Aqualad however weren’t as lucky as he came crashing into you.

The yellow speedster dashes over to the entanglement of you, and the other boys, Robin following shortly after him in order for you to group up again. You pull yourself up using your spear as leverage while Kid Flash and Robin help Aqualad and Superboy back on their feet as Blockbuster starts to charge towards you.

Kid Flash charges quickly at Blockbuster before needing to drop into a slide underneath him as the goliath attempts to squash him. Though he still kept Blockbuster’s attention long enough for Superboy and Aqualad to perform a unison attack, landing two solid punches to Blockbuster’s face to knock him back and over as Kid Flash had crouched behind his legs in order to trip the monster, “Learned that one in Kindergarten,” he informs you smugly as Robin jumps over him, throwing two of his projectile disks (though the impact of this quip is lost on you as you instead chose to ponder what exactly a Kindergarten was… a garden of children?).

Blockbuster swings his arm, deflecting the two incoming projectiles before they could do any sort of damage aside from stagger him momentarily. He rolls only to see Superboy standing before him, making a gesture that led you to believe he was taunting him into wrestling. Blockbuster however is faster than the Kryptonian boy, grabbing him and shoving him forcefully into a nearby pillar, cracking it under the sheer force of his assault, though Superboy doesn’t seem to fazed by it as he continues to unleash a combo of punches to the hulking creature as it pulls away. That is until Blockbuster performed a cross strike that shattered the pillar behind Superboy due to the impact.

He goes for a second strike but is interrupted by a water whip coiling around his arm, restraining him back. Aqualad pulls him forward, propelling himself up high enough to land a jab to Blockbuster’s face using his knee before landing on the remaining pillar above Superboy and turning his water bearers into a mace, readying it to swing. Blockbuster intercepts this single-handedly before tossing the Atlantean to the side as he holds Superboy down with the other. Aqualad lands on the floor with a pained cry, the floor beneath him cracking beneath the pressure while Blockbuster’s grip on Superboy grows tighter before flinging him violently into a segment of another pillar near the second story of the building. The Kryptonian falls somewhat unconscious, his arm then buried beneath piles of debris from the breaking pillar.

Kid Flash rushes in to help his friends as Aqualad manages to dodge Blockbuster's attempt at squashing his head with his foot. The yellow speedster had managed to grab a hold of the monster’s wrist and using his momentum he turned it to face back first towards Aqualad. It opens it’s fisted hand which allowed him to grab a hold of Kid Flash’s wrist when he lost his grip. Blockbuster then intercepts another one of Aqualad’s attacks by swinging Kid Flash like a sack of flour into the Atlantean. This sends each of them flying, Kid Flash sprawled against the ground by a different pillar while Aqualad slumps against the pillar from before.

Blockbuster comes in to deck him with an uppercut to the stomach that hits like a truck, destroying the remainder of the pillar before he then pins Aqualad to another pillar, his hand around his throat.

You felt the building begin to shake as the pillar cracks where it’s seen joining the floor by one of the corners, blockbuster continuing this relentless assault while you and Robin watch from a safe distance away from the action. “Of course!” your shorter companion says in realization, activating his holo-pad to look at the floor plans of the room. Then calling out to Kid Flash who had been slowly recovering, “KF, get over here!”

The speedster recovers his footing and zips over to the Boy Wonder as Aqualad changes his water bearers into a circular shield to defend himself from another uppercut from Blockbuster. As the monster stumbles on his feet, Superboy charges at him, targeting the area below his ribcage before jumping and hooking the goliath from behind in a chokehold. This enrages Blockbuster as he tosses Aqualad to the side in favor of trying to get the clone off of him before flinging him into the pillar again, destroying it.

Robin had been showing something to you and Kid Flash, a simulation of sorts playing in real-time on the holographic screen, “Got it?” He asks, directing this query to the speedster who nods in confirmation, parroting the words before the Boy Wonder gives him a command, “Go!”

You watch as Kid Flash dashes away, speeding to the right of Blockbuster to direct an attack at his face. When this doesn’t seem to faze him in the slightest save for tearing some of his stretched skin from his face, he dangles it tauntingly, “Got your nose!”

This manages to draw his attention from Superboy to begin targeting the talkative speedster, he barely misses him when he goes to strike him in two downward attacks. Before Superboy could get on his feet again to attack the beast, he’s called over by Robin, “Superboy, Aqualad!”

Kid Flash continued to taunt the raging goliath as he came to a stop in front of one of the remaining pillars, shouting: “Come and get me you incredible bulk!” before zipping out of the way as Blockbuster lands a devastating punch to the pillar. Some of the debris had flown out and hit the speedster in the shoulder, which knocked him off his feet.

He barely dodged another incoming attack from Blockbuster as Robin finished explaining his plan to You, Aqualad, and Superboy, “This one, and that one,” he says pointing to the remaining pillars he needs you three to destroy. The two of them gave him a nod of affirmation before charging back out. Robin takes out a few of his exploding disks to throw at his own targets, before turning to you momentarily, “You’ll be able to help Aqualad with that uh… Vision? Of yours? Th-the thing on your wrist.” You gave him a silent nod before joining the others.

Superboy breaks his pillar with ease, landing a single blow to the base of the pillar while Aqualad forms his mace with his water bearers to destroy the second one, his tattoos glowing a bright electric blue.

Kid Flash dodges another attack from Blockbuster and moves to his right, tricking the creature into weakening another pillar, chuckling, “Sorry, try again,” before bolting away once again.

Robin drew an X onto the floor with chalk as Aqualad used his water bearers to form a puddle on the ground. You helped him in creating the field by activating your Vision, water forming from your wrist and swirling up your arm before creating four missiles made up of water and launching them at the ground next to you. In the spots you targeted, small, semi-translucent whiskered serpents made of Hydro sprouted from the ground, looking at you as they awaited your orders. You crouched on the ground near them and then pointed to the X Robin had drawn, “See that X? I need you to target that spot specifically.” The four Hydro serpents gave a tiny nod before turning to shoot small bolts of Hydro at their intended target, adding to the puddle that Aqualad had been forming.

Kid Flash skids through the puddle and obscures the X as Superboy jumps into the air, hitting Blockbuster hard enough to knock him to the ground landing straight on the target Robin laid out for him. Your Hydro mimics had dissipated by the time Aqualad channeled a current of electricity from his now glowing tattoos, channeling the crackling electro power from his hands and connecting it to the puddle formed beneath him that trailed all the way to the massive puddle Blockbuster currently resided on. Once he touches the water Blockbuster is immediately electrocuted.

After stunning Blockbuster, Aqualad relinquished his hold on the current as Robin called for everyone to move out of the way, the three remaining pillars he had stuck his exploding disks which began blinking red and green rapidly and emitting a frequent beeping sound before they exploded.

This causes the building to collapse, the five of you barely avoiding the now caving in roof. Superboy managed to grab you and Kid Flash in an attempt to cover the two of you from the falling debris while Aqualad covered Robin as the whole building came crumbling down.

☆ ꧁ ═════════ ⋆✦⋆════════ ꧂ ☆

For a moment there wasn’t a single sign of life beneath the rubble, that is until Superboy had punched a large potion of debris from over your group, tossing a slab of concrete somewhere to the side. You used your polearm as a crutch, leveraging yourself into a standing position, the others began to rise slowly, standing shakily next to you. Their clothes had been ripped and they all breathed heavily as the adrenalin escaped their bodies.

Aqualad came to his senses first, almost in disbelief at the events that had just occurred up to this point, “We… did it,” he pants.

Robin was panting just as much, “Was there… ever any doubt?” He questions as he gives Kid Flash a high five, though both of them dropped it immediately as a sharp spike of pain shot through them due to the injuries they received during this whole adventure.

Superboy had stepped out of the rubble, he looks to the incapacitated Blockbuster. You joined him momentarily, taking in the strange environment you seemed to be in. There were towering buildings in the far off vicinity near the destruction. They were tall, taller than the buildings of Liyue Harbor and the windmills of Mondstadt. They were more industrial looking as well, uniformed. The lack of notable details in their architecture made it hard to determine just where in Teyvat were you. Though a little nagging voice in the back of your mind told you that you were very much no longer in your homeland anymore.

Kid Flash called out to Superboy, “See?” He says, drawing both his and your attention from where you were directed towards, jerking his thumb towards something in the sky. “The moon.”

You both looked to the sky, Superboy stared in awe at the celestial body, taking it all in. He finally got to see it in person, to feel the moonlight and the breeze against his skin, no longer wondering what it felt like when he envisioned the image of the moon in his mind when educated by the G-Gnomes fed him mental pictures. To him it was mesmerizing.

Meanwhile you were startled to find that (aside from the moon) you couldn’t make out a single constellation in the sky that you recognized. Missing were the familiar sights of Bestia Iustitia, Sinae Unicornis, Alatus Nemeseos, or Lapis Dei. Not even the sight of your own constellation. The stars held no meaning to you now, and the distance between you and your loved ones felt even more unsettling. Now that you were above ground you could feel the distinct lack of touch with the elements, surrounded by an unnatural amount of Geo and not enough Dendro to make it feel less jarring.

Before he could answer you, Superboy noticed something in the distance, something approaching from the sight of the moon. He squints at it, trying to decipher what he was seeing. It grows larger, the shape forming that of a man. He was donned head to toe in a bold blue, accented by a red cape flowing behind him. He bore a striking resemblance to the boy standing next to you. Kid Flash walked up to the other side of Superboy, “Oh, and Superman. Do we keep our promises or what?” Though he seemed just as surprised as the boy next to him.

You squint at the man in the gradually closing distance, “Is that man… flying?” You wonder aloud, before then coming to a small (rather delayed) realization. “Wait… do you mean ‘Super’ as in… in relation to Superboy?” This caused one of the other boys behind you (Robin you presumed) to let out a small laugh, though due to your current conditions it sounded more like a cough.

You activated your elemental sight, and it seems he was flying without the need to use Anemo (unlike a certain god you had met before).

Suddenly, more figures began to form in the moonlight behind this… Superman. All of them unfamiliar to you, and all of them dressed in just as strange of outfits as your saviors. Many could fly without the need of Anemo—like Superman—though you noticed some of them needing to be lowered down on glowing green platforms created by some of the airborne heroes. They landed above you on the rubble before lowering their more grounded companions to the rubble below. Next to the now landed Superman was a man dressed like a bat wearing a dark suit and a cowl who flanked him on one side, to the other was a man in all red who appeared at an astonishing speed similar to the yellow speedster you’ve become acquainted with.

There was a moment of silence as these… heroes stared passively at the sidekicks, Superboy, and you. You could see a familiarity in their eyes when they scanned over the sidekicks, though it vanished when they landed on you. You straightened your back to stare as intensely in return, despite the soreness of your body screaming for you to just fall over and rest.

You watched as Superman narrowed his eyes upon sighting Superboy who had begun to take a few steps forward, as if sizing him up and taking in the similarities the two had, almost suspiciously. The younger of the two then lifts the torn flap of his suit, showing the matching shield symbol on his chest with a small smile. Identical to the one that the older man wore across his broader chest.

However that is where the similarities stopped as Superman’s expression went from one of disbelief, and almost as quickly turned into one of anger. You glared at this shift in tone as you began to shift closer to Superboy’s side, polearm still in hand as you began to take a protective stance alongside the now confused, almost disappointed expression of the clone.

The man dressed as a bat—based on these naming schemes you guessed his title was something like “Batman” or something—was the next to speak up, though you didn’t take too kindly to the tone he used when he said, “Is that what I think it is?” While staring at the boy beside you.

Kid Flash put a hand to the side of his mouth, as if trying to whisper, “He doesn’t like being called an ‘it’,” before Superboy suddenly rose to anger, his eyes hardened into steel as he announced firmly: “I’m Superman’s clone!”

The heroes surrounding you, save for Batman and Superman, all seemed taken aback by this declaration. Batman redirected his gaze to Robin, and with a slight glare demanded him to, “Start talking.”

As the three sidekicks were explaining the situation to their mentors, they remembered your presence, turning to you suddenly. You were tuned out of the conversation up to that point, too busy watching all of these strange people work on clearing damage and assessing the situation. Not a single one of them seemed to have any sort of elemental traces on their person, save for the blonde man speaking to Aqualad (you swore to the Archons and Celestia above if that man was simply dubbed “Aquaman” you would hurl yourself off the nearest mountain peak).

You felt a hand on your shoulder as you turned to face the group of sidekicks and adults. They all stared at you with inquisitive looks, Aqualad giving you a silent cue to introduce yourself. Sighing you looked the scowling Batman in the eyes, he seemed the most distrusting of you or your origins as you began to explain, “I am one known as Tide Caller, an… an adeptus from Liyue Harbor and former servant of the Geo Archon,” you were hoping this was explanation enough but none of the words you had just said seemed to spark any resemblance of recognition from the heroes who all glanced to each other in confusion.

It was Robin who helped come to your rescue, “Tide Caller was there with us when we woke up in the pods in Cadmus, one of the scientists called them Project Riptide’. They were about to be cloned as well, but Superboy got them out after coming back to rescue us.”

Kid Flash rubbed the back of his neck, “Yeah what Rob said, they don’t actually seem to be a clone of any sort like Supey’ here. Actually, they don’t really seem to be aware of what Cadmus is or how they ended up here at all.”

You nodded, “I come from a land known as Teyvat, a place ruled by gods which harness the ability to control the elements under the eyes of Celestia, as well as provide mortals living within Teyvat the potential to achieve godhood by granting them the powers of one of seven elements via that of a vision, Teyvat is a dangerous place to traverse without any means to protect oneself, Visions are granted to those who are recognized by the gods and act as a conduit for whichever element resonates with a chosen allogene,”

You raise your wrist to show them your vision, still glowing to indicate the stored energy within the cerulean gemstone embedded into your wrist guard, small traces of Hydro rippling around your hand when called upon. “My Vision is that of Hydro, representing the divine ideal of justice. Alongside it are Visions are that of Anemo, representing the divine ideal of freedom, Geo representing contracts, Electro for eternity, Dendro for wisdom, Pyro for war, sometimes passion, and Cryo, which was once represented by the divine ideal of love… though, I have heard in more recent times that that ideal has changed since then.

“I am accustomed to fighting monsters roaming my homeland, but when I had awakened we were faced with a horde of creatures I have never seen before. During our escape, Kid Flash and his companions attempted to question me as well, but none of the information they had managed to share before trouble stirred once again made any sense,” you then looked to the skies, observing the new star patterns littering the backdrop of the moon sadly. “The stars of this land are equally as unfamiliar to me. I cannot make sense of any of it, and I fear I am much farther from my home than I had anticipated.”

The older heroes seemed to sympathize with you, however the more commandeering of the three continued to stare at you analytically, as if trying to suss out any falsehoods from your revelation, “What’s the last thing you can remember before waking up in Cadmus?” He presses.

This caught you off guard, a slight headache forming from the start of your recollection. You’ve been wondering this since you had awoken, though distracted due to being thrown into the fray upon coming to your senses, so with a hand now pressed against your throbbing temple you relayed such information to them, “If I’m being honest I am… having some difficulties recalling such information. Though, the last thing I remember before waking here was… the feeling of falling. A-And feeling as if I had been dropped into a pool of ice water,” you looked up tiredly to the unwavering expression of the man in black.

He made some noise of acknowledgement after some moment of silence. During this moment of contemplation you took notice that Superboy’s attention was elsewhere, and following his gaze you saw the man in blue and you felt your eyes harden, much different from the former’s curious expression. He was speaking to a woman in a tiara and a warrior’s garb and a man dressed in black and blue (though the most striking thing about him was the fact that his skin was green).

The latter looked over his shoulder to see the inquisitive stare of Superboy and promptly put a shoulder on the other man’s shoulder, this caused Superman to meet the curious gaze of his clone. You watched them have a small exchange of averting their gaze before sheepishly looking back for a moment before the older Kryptonian began to approach the other. Superboy crossed his arms as the older male started to speak, “We’ll, uh, we’ll figure something out for you. The League will, I mean.” He manages to correct himself in what you took as him trying to distance himself from the situation. “For now I better make sure they get the Blockbuster creature squared away.”

And with that he takes off into the night, following the two men who had created the platforms from before—the Green Lanterns, as you had overheard them be referred to as—had formed a sphere around Blockbusters still immobile body, while a silver man with red gloves and boots as well as two winged heroes with maces flew alongside them. He just flew off leaving the poor clone feeling hurt, confused, and abandoned.

The sidekicks watch this exchange as well, though you aren’t sure if they feel the same bubbling anger as you from witnessing such a thing. Before you could make any biting comments directed to the departing figure, Batman draws all of your attention to him, “Cadmus wil be investigated,” he states. “All 52 levels, but let’s make one thing clear—”

He’s interrupted by the Flash who pipes upo in a whine, “You should have called.”

You’re starting to realize where all of the younger speedster’s childish antics seemed to come from.

The Batman glared at his counterpart before growling, “End results aside, we’re not happy. You hacked Justice League systems, disobeyed direct orders, and endangered lives. You will not be doing this again.”

The three of them looked down for a moment, before Aqualad spoke firmly, “I am sorry, but we will.”

His mentor attempts to commandeer him into silence, “Aqualad, stand down.”

“Apologies, my King… But no.” Aqualad puts his hand to his chest in reverence to the older man—you are shocked at hearing such a title be directed to such a man—an action of which causes the blonde man to raise his brow as to question such an action. He looks to his mentor—his ruler—before firmly stating his mind. “We did good work here tonight, the work you trained us to do. Together on our own we forged something powerful, important.”

“If this is about your treatment at the Hall, the three of you—”

“The four of us,” Kid Flash corrects, not hesitating to cut off his mentor. “And it’s not.”

Robin had already taken a step forward, the next to speak his mind and step up against his mentor, “Batman, we’re ready to do what you taught us, or why teach us at all?” He’s the quietest out of the three, but his voice doesn’t waver.

Superboy finally let his irritation bubble over, spitting out a curt, “Why let them tell us what to do?”

You nodded, supportive of their cause, “Where I come from, the noblest of heroes do not wait for the gods to acknowledge them first in order to pave way to a better future. It is their ambition that will guide them to Celestia.”

“It’s simple,” Superboy passes you, then the sidekicks, all of which stood proud and tall as they defied their mentors, “Get on board, or get out of the way.”

☆ ꧁ ═════════ ⋆✦⋆════════ ꧂ ☆

Mount Justice; July 8th, 8:04 EDT

You watch as one of the Green Lanterns and Captain Atom fly around carrying large pieces of metal equipment around the inside of the hollowed out mountain you and the rest of your newfound team were within. Alongside you in the center base of the mountain’s interior were an assortment of heroes in addition to your team who were dressed in civilian clothes over the colorful getups they had worn when first meeting you.

Robin wore a black jacket over a hooded sweater and a pair of black running shoes in addition to a pair of “sunglasses” as they had told you they were called.

Kid Flash—or you should say Wally, after informing you of his secret identity a few days prior—was wearing a long sleeve shirt under an unbuttoned short sleeved button-up in addition to dark blue pants and running shoes. He kept a pair of goggles in his pocket.

Aqualad—known as Kaldur’ahm—wore black sandals, black pants that were baggy enough to allow a comfortable room for the fins on the backs of his calves, and a two-toned blue and black jacket with a turtleneck style collar as to hide his gills. When you asked about his physiology he had informed you he was not in fact human, but rather Atlantean, which he described as a race of people who lived underwater and bore aquatic-type physiology due to their subversive nature, showing you the webs between his fingers and the shark like fins on his legs.

Superboy donned a simple short sleeve top and fit him snugly, it was black with the signature red shield of him and his predecessor. In addition to this he wore a pair of dark pants and black combat boots.

The boys had taken to explaining to you that they can’t be seen in their hero uniforms everywhere they went outside missions, so they took to their civvies (civilian clothes). Additionally they had to explain to you that the attire you’re used to seeing back in Teyvat is considered more “old-fashioned” or fantastical.

That being said, you still didn’t have much of a “modern” wardrobe outside your usual adventuring getup as they put it so you were still in your usual attire from the night they discovered you. They had been surprised at how well the fabrics of your clothes held up from all of the chaos that occurred at Cadmus.

“This cave was the original secret sanctuary of the Justice League,” Batman informs your team of heroes. “We’re calling it into service again. Since you five are determined to stay together and fight the good fight, you’ll do it on League terms.”

All of you watched as he began to walk away from the center of the room, leaving the floor to the two other heroes standing by. “Red Tornado,” the red, metallic, being with a cape you were startled to discover lacking any organic signs of life to. “Volunteered to live here and be your supervisor. Black Canary,” the beautiful blonde woman in the black, one-piece bustier-leotard combination under a blue lapelled jacket. “Is in charge of training.” She also wore gray stockings with seams up the front and back, as well as black, heavy, calf-length boots, black fingerless gloves, and a black choker.

He had introduced them before swiftly bringing the attention back to himself, “I will deploy you on missions.”

Robin seemed excited by this part of his exposition, “Real missions?” he inquires.

“Yes, but covert.” Batman confirms.

The Flash was next to speak up from behind Kid Flash’s shoulder, “The League will still handle the obvious stuff,” he then starts tapping the lightning bolt symbol on his chest. “That’s why we have these big targets on our chests.”

Aquaman continues after him, “But Cadmus proves the bad guys are getting smarter. Batman needs a team that can operate on the sly,” he says before redirecting the conversation back to the stoic man in black.

“The six of you will be that team.”

Robin is the first to react, very excitedly going, “Cool!” Before catching the part of his mentor’s statement that felt off. “Wait, six?”

Instead of answering him, the Dark Knight simply looks over Robin’s shoulder as a new pair enter the room. You and the boys turn to see Martian Manhunter stepping from the shadows with a young teenage girl with green skin and a coppery red hair (the explanation that the reason the two were green was due to his origins as an outlander—as a Martian, took a bit longer for them to explain that you’d like to admit). “This is Martian Manhunter’s niece, Miss Martian.”

She was a bit shy at first, giving them a small wave and a cute smile, you noticed she seemed to have a more human-like facial structure than her uncle. She greeted you all with a small yet nervous, “H-Hi.”

You noticed how Kid Flash gives Robin a look as he puts his hand on his hip, the shorter male glancing up at him in turn, “Likin’ this gig more every minute,” he says with a small smirk before turning his attention back to the redheaded girl. “Uh, welcome aboard! I’m Kid Flash, that’s Robin,” the aforementioned boy gave her a little ‘rock on’ gesture with his hand (you only recognized it from your time with Xinyan who took the time in teaching you about the gesture she tends to make when performing). “Aqualad,” who gives her a silent nod in greeting.

“It’s cool if you forget their names.” He follows up nonchalantly.

“I’m honored to be included,” she says with her hands clasped in front of her as the former sidekicks moved closer to greet her.

You followed shortly behind them, raising a hand to your chest in a slight bow you had grown accustomed to doing when meeting new people back home, “And it is an honor to meet you as well, Miss Martian. I am Tide Caller, I hope our time together shall be memorable,” you state calmly. She seemed to fluster somewhat at your formality.

You and Robin seemed to have come to a similar observation as you both had looked back to see Superboy standing off to the side by himself. Robin had taken the initiative however, noticing his downcast expression as he called out to him, “Hey Superboy! Come meet Miss M!” To which he complies.

As he approaches, you watch as Miss Martian’s shirt seems to shift and warp into a new shape, changing from a solid white with a red X across her chest and a cape into a black t-shirt with the same red X, as if mirroring Superboy’s black top, “I like your t-shirt,” she admits albeit shyly.

Superboy smiles softly which in turn causes Robin to nudge him in the chest with his elbow, a small smirk across his face. Kid Flash zips to the other side of him bearing a bright smile.

Robin then looks to the Atlantean teen, both of them seemingly coming to a similar train of thought as Aqualad proudly states, “Today is the day.”

☆ ꧁ ═════════ ⋆✦⋆════════ ꧂ ☆

While all of this occurred at Mount Justice, there was something stirring within Cadmus once more.

Below the currently under renovations Cadmus, “Cadmus changes today,” Guardian spoke directly to Dubbilex and Dr. Spence, the latter he turned to next, “Dr. Spence, you’re Acting Chief Scientist. No more G-Gnomes suppressing our wills, no more secret breeding projects. This is a kinder, gentler Cadmus.” He declares.

Dubbilex ensures to Guardian, announcing his his full support, “Then I will of course help in any way I can, brother.”

Despite this promise to make a new and improved Cadmus, free of corruption and secrets galore, something sinister was brewing beneath the surface.

Guardian’s conversation was monitored by a group of unknown individuals, “Can the Light afford to leave Guardian without the G-Gnomes?” A masculine voice asks, the screens lined up as they all review the security footage currently playing this live feed.

“We have subtler means of control,” another reassures. “What concerns me is the children. We now know the League is employing young Heroes to do their dirty work. Tch. That’s a dark twist.”

“Yes, but one that can be played to our advantage,” a third, much deeper voice says.

A scoff is heard, “You should be more worried of the loss of not only one, but two weapons,” A feminine voice chided. “You may be able to recover from the clone, but what about the Tide Caller? That was not an easy acquisition to make, their impromptu dive into this world was difficult to plan, how do you expect to get them back after such a blunder.”

"Even the temporary loss of the weapon and the Tide Caller may prove useful,” reassures the last voice, before ending the exchange with finality. “Eventually, everyone sees the Light.”

16 notes · View notes