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A Brother's Love Will Heal You

Warnings and Information: We're making up birds for Star Wars as practice for "Wounded Wings". When it comes to writing how young or old Clones are I'm not sure how it all works in canon like everyone else, so we're working on a system just within the NTMYB universe, we're going from "Generation" and breaking it down from there; they're all the same Generation, but they have different Growth Cycles. Growth Cycle "A" would contain multiple Batches, and from there everything works the same as before in previous installments where you have "oldest" to "youngest" within a Batch. (Generations > Growth Cycles > Batches.) Canvas hasn't gotten completely better (congratulations on the new phobias and trauma, baby boy!), but he's doing a lot better since PLB and CLB. He's back fighting with the brothers of the GAR and his General again, at least. Scruffy's made his peace with the fact that wherever he goes, the brother he's taken care of and has become bonded for life with will follow. The Clones aren't just soldiers, they're brothers. Every last one of 'em. Note: Some named Clones are not part of my list of 18+ Clone OCs, but that could be subject to change. No Mando'a here as usual. The usual use of italics. As an explicit warning: there are allusions to how this Growth Cycle was treated by a Trainer on Kamino. It can be interpreted as mistreatment at best, abuse at worst.

Word-count: 9,136 [holy sh-]

Suu-weet! Suu-weet! Suu-weet-weet-weet!

"What was that?" a Shiny from a newer Growth Cycle asks, craning his neck and looking into the thick tree canopy above the marching unit.

"Uh oh… Better be careful." Scruffy chuckles, imagining the widening eyes under his brother from another batch's helmet; Canvas had heard the younger brother's question about something he's intimately familiar with. He nudges the Shiny-brother playfully, something that often helps little brothers find their confidence the more the seasoned and battle-hardened brothers encourage and reaffirm. This younger Growth Cycle was lucky and most found their Names on Kamino.

Scruffy and many others of the same Cycle weren't too sure why exactly they never found their Names while training on their mother-world. Maybe there was a sour phase from one of Kamino's three moons, or something.

(Not that Scruffy believed in that stuff. The phases, risings and fallings of the moons and the planets and stars didn't dictate his life, only a good blaster and a watchful brother did. But hey, each their own. It was a far more humorous reason than the truth, besides…)

Canvas is jogging through the underbrush now at the second round of Suu-weet!-s, shedding his helmet and using his binocs. "What? What'd I do? What'd I say?" the brother named Cubby asks, sounding nervous and slightly embarrassed over the vocoder crackle.

"Canvas really likes birds," Scruffy elaborated for Cubby as Stick made his way closer with their brother's helmet tucked in the crook of his arm, "and he's probably going to try to find it if he can without straying too far from marching formation."

The helmet is given to Scruffy. "Uh-uh. More like really, really likes birds." Stick jokingly corrects his batchmate.

"Oh." Cubby says simply, the three of them now watching as Canvas continues to sweep the leafy branches with the binoculars. Even the General has now stopped to watch, having been marching in the middle of the formation with their men as well.

"Has he found it, General?" Scruffy asks the Jedi. Once again, Canvas has been kept a close eye on by the COs and General since Scruffy's return to duty. He was greeted so warmly by Carver and Cairn when they stepped off the LAAT, and helped acquaint them to his batchmate. Carver especially had practically squeezed Canvas until both were blue in the face, relieved to hear Canvas was sleeping once more since their last update.

"You little nerf-herder, I was so worried about you!"

"I-I'm sorry, Car- I didn't mean-"

"Hush, don't apologize to me. We're just glad you're doing better..."

The Force-wielder hums thoughtfully for a moment before perking, standing slightly straighter than before after a glee-filled yelp echoes through the forest. "Your brother is very excited about this one. I'll take your brother's helmet, so you can-"

Scruffy doesn't need to be told twice, even once, before he's giving his brother's equipment to the Jedi to go see what has 'Vas so excited that it's affected the General. "Thank you, Sir!" He carefully skirts through the underbrush and takes care not to fall flat on his face because of hidden roots, slightly breathless when he gets to his little brother's side. "What is it, 'Vas? What's up there?"

"That's a flame-throated- wait… no wait! Flame-bellied bunting! Those are even rarer than the flame-throated buntings! Look, look!" The binocs are thrust into Scruffy's hands, and looking where he's directed, a deep fork in the canopy to the southwest of their position off-trail, he can make out the feathered critter thanks to the magnification. It's a small little thing, it's back, wings and head an ashy gray and the throat is dappled in red and yellow before it bleeds into a beautiful blaze of orange. He understands where it gets its namesake, the bird's belly looks like the heart of a fire in all those glorious tones of orange that covers the whole underside. Small, almost beady little gray eyes and tight, conical beak.

Scruffy wolf-whistles below his breath. "That's a beaut of a bird, 'Vas. I'm going to guess… male? Seed-eater?"

"Y-yes! Wait, how'd you know? Did I already tell you? I don't think I did…"

He shakes his head at Canvas, giving him the binoculars again so he can continue to observe this prized find. "I've been paying attention to what you tell the General, little brother." Speaking of, the Force-wielder has joined them, the remainder of the company has now stopped to rest on the trail as they call over their shoulder that they can't leave their brothers too far behind.

Packs and heavy gear are lowered for the time being from weary but seldom complaining shoulders. "Yessir!" Clones chorus together. Any excuse to rest is welcomed.

The hem of the Jedi's outer cloak is gathered higher so it would not drag through the leaf litter as they carefully make their way down the gentle slope to join their men. "What have you found, son?" the General asks with interest, peering above them into the broad-leaved crown of the towering tree.

"Canvas called it a flame-bellied bunting. Beautiful bird, sir."

"Here, General," Canvas offers the equipment with excitement to share his find to another interested party, trying to direct his superior on where they'll find the flighted creature and see for themselves, "it's to the right of the-!"

Gone on the wing, the bird drops from the branch and flits away deeper into the forest in a dazzling flash of color before the Jedi ever gets the chance to have a proper look.

"Blast it." Canvas whispers dejectedly. "Sorry, General…"

"Don't be, son," the Jedi assures him, returning the equipment, "there could be other chances to see this beautiful bird, Canvas."

The trooper with all his brother's scuff marks slouches the more he talks. "I doubt it… it's rare to see them so deep in old-growth forests." Canvas murmurs with unfettered, bitter disappointment that he can't help for the moment, regretful that he's letting such emotions get the best of him. "B-but… maybe. Hopefully." he adds softly, filling his lungs with the rich, clear air of the forest to calm and steady himself. Look on the bright side. Have hope. "The… Force works in mysterious ways. As does nature. So I… like to imagine they are very intertwined." Scruffy and the General give him gentle smiles, his brother throwing an arm around his shoulders as they walk back to the others and join them for the rest break.

"It is good to have hope, Canvas."

"Agreed, sir. C'mon little brother, let's see who the General gave your helmet to and we'll go rest our legs." Scruffy follows up, steering Canvas in the direction of their brothers when Stick gives an over here! wave that was hard to miss. "Maybe we can find someone with a catalog of the planet's fauna and see if it has anything on the flame-bellied bunting. You could show the General that way, at least. Woah-woah, mind the roots!" He warns as Canvas skips off, enticed and excited by the idea of using a planetary catalog. The General rumbles with soft laughter at the Clone's deep sigh when the warning is hardly heeded, and Canvas's feet find the bare pathway through the forest without trouble.

"It is always so endearing; how much you all care for one another in your own little, unique ways. The camaraderie… unlike anything this galaxy has ever seen."

The words, the mantra, comes as naturally as breathing at this point. Scruffy hardly realizes he's said them for the hundredth time perhaps in answer to the Force-wielder's observation.

"Brother looks out for brother, General."

"Indeed you all do…" They seem almost grateful when they smile at Scruffy, clapping a steady, calloused hand in a gesture of comfort around the armor that protects the Clone's shoulder. "It is a wonderful thing, to witness such dependable, valiant men I serve alongside find the bravery in being soft and vulnerable to another brother. Now go rest with your brothers; you're still recovering."

The last sentiment was… peculiar. Something about the way the Jedi said it. "But, General, I- I was approved for combat and deemed to have properly recovered." Scruffy reminds them, hoping the reminder comes across respectfully.

"In that sense, yes. That is true, Scruffy." the General tells him sagely, which only serves to confuse the soldier further.

"But-"

Stick cups his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice and get his batchmate's attention. "Hey, Scruff! You'll never guess who had a catalog of fauna found here!" His left hand makes a scooping motion, urging him to get over here! already. Scruffy exhales softly, turning to his left to bid the General a polite good-bye, that he should go see what's going on, but he finds that the Jedi is already gone, several paces ahead in the blink of an eye. Strange… he hadn't so much as heard a sound through the leaf litter.

"Scruff, c'mon!" Stick was getting insistent. Better go see why.

Canvas can't believe it.

Neither can Scruffy, apparently, as he's cupping this brother's face in his hands to scrutinize the tattoo tucked near the hairline on his left temple. "Cypher? You- wow. Look at this! When did you get a tattoo?" The datapad Canvas is borrowing from is another of Scruffy's surviving batchmates, it turns out. (The notes Cypher's taken on all the wildlife are incredibly extensive, too.)

"Another member of the planetary reconnaissance and research party," Cypher replies, trying and failing to nudge Scruffy just a hair out of his personal space, "the ink was sourced from a very pigmented plant found here on the- hey! I'm trying to explain, back off a bit!"

Scruffy apologizes for the third time, stepping back before inviting his batchmate to continue. "Sorry-sorry; found where on the planet?" He doesn't mean to repeatedly encroach his batchmate's space, honestly. He's just so surprised to see just how much his second youngest batchmate has changed on him since the last time he's seen Cypher.

"The sector to the southwest, past the large canyon formations." Cypher explains, gesturing with his thumb at the holomap laid on top of his things with a highlighted section pulsing in blue on the HUD. "Which is where we've seen a strange number of naturally occurring cairn-like formations."

A stack of worry stones goes scattering as someone kicks his foot out in surprise. "Hey! Wait a minute!" Cairn's head now snaps up from the huddle around Canvas as he sifts through Cypher's notes for birds. "No wonder I recognized your voice; you're the one that ended up inspiring me and I finally found my Name because of you! I had no idea you were Scruffy's batchmate."

Cypher's expression is somewhere between a regretful grimace and a touched smile as they shake hands. "Yeah… There was a reason for that… But I'm glad I ended up helping you find your Name even if I didn't realize it, Cairn. Nice to meet you."

Cairn senses there's a nerve he shouldn't trod on, and so he leaves it alone even though he's brimming with questions as to why yet another of Scruffy's batchmates didn't want to associate with him. Scruffy was easily one of the nicest, most helpful and patient brothers a young Shiny could hope for, and he'd counted himself lucky that he was created in the same Growth Cycle as him, at the very least. "Nice to meet you too, officially, Cypher. Thank you. F-for the Name. And for letting us borrow your research notes so Canvas can figure out if you have his bird, too." Maybe, maybe, he could ask about it some other time. But he wasn't going to hold his breath.

"Sorry if it's not organized in a way that makes any sense to you, Canvas. It, uh, makes perfect sense to me with the way my brain's wired, but… it's definitely not alphabetical or even by color and animal type." Cypher offers in apology, nails skimming over the back of his head to self-regulate.

Canvas shrugs softly, glancing up at Scruffy's batchmate with an easy smile. "That's okay, Cypher," he tells him. "I'll find it, I'm sure."

It's another few minutes of carefully clawing through data before the idea strikes him to look through the photo files. Surely, at least there was a chance of finding his bird in there this way. He'd tried asking if Cypher had the bird in his records, but the name or description didn't spark any recognition for him, so he allowed Canvas to look through it himself.

"Knock yourself out."

Oh wow. So many birds. At least in the photo files things got sorted automatically thanks to a feature in the system. And with so few orange birds in the galaxy (sadly), it shouldn't take long at all before Canvas's eyes caught that living flame made of feathers.

"Yes!! He has it!" Canvas declares triumphantly, pumping a fist into the air that narrowly avoids Carver's temple. "Oh, s-sorry Carver!" The huddle of brothers closes in around him as he opens the image file from the thumbnail, the image expanding to fill the screen, waves of awed murmurings rippling through the group. "Hey, Cypher said knock yourself out, not someone else!" Carver teases, ruffling his curled hair as payback after he's had a good look at the flame-bellied bunting. "Where's the General so we can show them before we have to start moving again?"

Scruffy looks around, sweeping the forest for the Force-wielder before they're spotted on a wide, flat rock; legs folded under them and head bent deliberately. "Meditating."

"Maybe chow time will be better to show the General, then. Don't want to… y'know." Canvas gives the datapad back to Cypher and begins gathering his own things, balancing his bucket on his knees so he could don it in a moment's notice.

Many Clones in this unit were often hesitant about approaching their Jedi General if they were taking the opportunity to meditate, oftentimes with Carver's Mudhorn in their hands as they did so. They aimed to be respectful of what little time the Jedi could dedicate to their way of life, or maybe it was better described as a religion, during the war. It was mostly understood by the soldiers of the GAR that even if they couldn't understand it, they should aim to respect it. The Force is what their Generals found strength in, found courage in, found help in. Perhaps without the Force, more brothers would remain trapped in cave-ins, more brothers would have been picked off by hidden Separatist forces… and lost to detonations.

Had the General not called out in warning that Scruffy was walking towards a laser tripwire, his brother might not have slowed down or hesitated enough and-

He would've been down to just two brothers from other batches (who weren't COs) that could give enough of a kriff on the regular to take care of him when he didn't want to take care of himself. The "twins" of another batch different from his own and Scruffy's, Carver and Cairn.

Canvas taps one on the shoulder as they get the call to start moving forward again. "Hey, Carver, don't forget your All-Kit."

Carver's hands quickly pat down his utility belt and find the tool is in fact missing. "Oh! Thanks brother. Don't wanna lose this." He shakes his head in agreement with Carver. They weren't sure where the Clone had found the old vibroknife or the All-Kit, but both had been invaluable in this soldier's creative hands.

"Blast it! Sealed shut. Where would we find a fusion cutter way out here, to get in?"

"Oh, Commander, I can let you borrow this, I believe it has a fusion cutter setting!"

"Carver, that's- Where the kriff did you find this?"

"Not sure, Sir, to be honest. Just… found it near the airfield. I-I think."

The Commander hails the General on the comlink, requesting they help lead the way forward as they begin their march. The whole company will have a long way to go before they reach their position to make camp for the night. They have to make up for lost time. There's some grumbling at the front of the marching company asking if it was some kriffing rookie who was slowing them down this time, and the voice belongs to someone of an older Growth Cycle, from the sound of things.

It's a hoarse and unhappy vocalization. It's not missed by the General. It's not missed by Scruffy, more importantly. Scruffy hauls off before he can be stopped, and it's several minutes later before Carver, Cairn, Canvas and Stick find their friend and brother reaming this other soldier out while everyone else walks past in formation. His back is plastered up against the trunk of the towering tree, hands at chest level with his palms out towards Scruffy imploringly, the t-visor wagging almost anxiously as Scruffy lays into him, fingers like battering rams into the impossibly firm material of their plastoid armor.

"Uh-oh. Sounds like Snapper's getting a taste of his own medicine. Whaddya reckon he did?" a trooper behind the quartet asks. It's another older brother, one of their few permanent snipers in the unit, so he doesn't get many chances to interact on a personal level with his brothers of the GAR.

There's a gentle laugh. "Made the mistake of assuming the reason we got a break was because of a rookie." his companion replies, bumping elbows in a gesture of unspoken communication. Canvas can guess these brothers behind them are gesturing to him. He's grateful he's wearing his bucket. "Hey! Snapper! Tell Canvas thank you, you ungrateful nerf-herder, and maybe Scruffy will let you off easy! You don't have to love every Clone-brother you meet but at least be nice to them."

Hands pat the backplate of Canvas's armor, a soft touch intended to be friendly and non-intrusive. Probably from the sniper. There's a murmured thanks for the break, brother and a genuine glad you're back with the company that's nearly lost in the hundreds of feet drumming over the soil and leaf of the forest floor. The words invoke a tingle in the corners of his eyes and comfortable warmth in his chest to hear he'd been missed by brothers he didn't know well in the three weeks he, Stick and Scruffy had been aboard the Venator-class ship.

The company comes to a halt a standard hour after the sun has sunk behind the hills on this side of the planet. The imposing formation of men clad in white armor had taken on a nearly romantic glow as the dying light of day washed them and their paint patterns in the vivid hues of yellowed oranges and sweetened pinks. It doesn't take long after the lanterns have been activated before Cypher returns to this segment of the formation, completely stepping past Scruffy with the same uneasy silence an unmarked, decaying grave invokes in the men as they march past.

Cypher won't make eye contact with him when he seeks out Canvas to loan the datapad to him once more, this time the HUD is loaded up to a file just for the bunting; no need to dig this time.

He's polite with Stick, nodding in silent greeting. But there's not even so much as a polite hello for Scruffy. It's like he's not there. It stings a little. What did he do wrong? What does Cypher still hold over his head?

"Hey, Canvas. I'll need it back soon, but you can show the General your bird, now."

With childlike glee, 'Vas takes the device gratefully, carefully getting to his feet and dusting off his plastoid armor before trotting off to find the Jedi. "Oh, thanks, Cypher. Appreciate it!"

"Mhm." His gloved hands ball into fists the moment Canvas has left the radius of light from the lanterns they're using to illuminate their camp, voice a threatening purr. "Would you stop staring at me already?"

"Why are you still mad at me, Cy…?"

Scruffy wishes he never asked when the upper lip curls into a wicked, cutting snarl, and the fury increases tenfold as Cypher whisper-yells to avoid disturbing the other Clone brothers nearby. "I never needed you to try to be some kind parent to me just because I'm the second youngest of our batch, just because I'm a Clone! I just needed my brother! And I needed him to not embarrass me all the time by-!"

"Cy!" Stick cries out louder than Cypher with a jolt, looking mortified. "Cut it out! Is this about that old data drive, still? What happened on Kamino when we were all trainees and cadets was an accident and he's apologized a million times for it! Scruffy never meant to erase your drive. And he was only trying to-! To… And was it such a crime that he was only trying to make us laugh if this isn't about the data drive?"

"In front of the Trainers? We were supposed to be showing them we were combat-ready and fit to fight for the Republic, show them we meant business and could rise to any occasion, like we were made for. And goofing off in front of the Trainers never did us any favors." Cypher growls, hands squeezed so tightly the gloves creaked.

Carver and Cairn study their spats and boots, faces flushed with discomfort as they listen to two of Scruffy's batchmates lay into one another. They abruptly stop once Canvas comes jogging back into the radius of light with the datapad, his expression bright and perky. Cypher stalks off the moment the device is back in his hands, Stick hits the dirt and trails after, hot on Cy's heels. Scruffy sits on top of his pack, motionless. They aren't sure if Scruffy is about to cry, or just bottle these feelings up and pretend they never happened so he doesn't worry Canvas.

He's not sure how to answer his little brother when Canvas speaks up in a timid voice, noticing how many of them look uneasy, his face falling with worry. "What happened…? Why'd Cypher leave?" Maker, the look of uncertainty and confusion is crushing. Canvas has such an expressive face, and he doesn't always have the self-discipline to not "make too many faces". (Whatever the kriff the Trainers meant by that.)

"Cy, uh… doesn't feel like having his rations with us, I guess." Scruffy offers lamely, breaking into his sealed, GAR-issued MRE to add water into the pouch. He didn't feel like eating. But 'Vas, so bonded to him, so intrinsically entwined… he needed a good example, still. His batchmates had been taken from him one by one as a Shiny before he was ready to decide for himself if he would strengthen or sever those batchmate bonds.

He promised Faro.

"Don't you think that's too much water?" Cairn prodded, looking at how much water the Basic instructions dictated they should add to soften the food.

Scruffy shrugs half-heartedly as Canvas takes a seat and breaks open his own ration packet, and then pauses to scrutinize the water. "It's better when it's softer. Makes it easier to mix all that seasoning in, no dry pockets."

Carver blinks in surprise before reaching out to nudge Canvas's shoulder. "Hmm, good point. I'll, uh, give it a shot. See if it actually makes these things palatable. Good news is the hydro packs are from Naboo again, too, so 'Vas won't get stingy with his water intake." Canvas ducks away, softly whining something about how the Coruscant water is kriffing disgusting and he thinks there's something wrong with it.

"...'Sour'? Really?" Scruffy asks, hearing this curious observation for the first time. He doesn't recall anyone else vocalizing that sentiment for the water rations supplied by one of the Core Worlds.

"Naboo's water is sweet!" Canvas insists of the Outer Rim planet's export. "C'mon, you're telling me that a planet shared by the Nabooians and Gungans aren't gonna make serious efforts to take care of their water?" he added as he dribbled in water from his hydropack to moisten the rations.

Scruffy nods, conceding to his little brother's reasoning. "Okay-okay… I guess that makes some sense." He waited until he was sure that Canvas had begun to eat his own rations before returning to his own, taking his time to savor the food and think before they would get the call to go dark that meant they would be expected to kill their lanterns and get some sleep, or at least keep their traps shut so those who could sleep could do so without disturbance.

The relative silence is disrupted with the call of a brother's voice from far away. "Hey! Canvas!" Startled, the group's heads perked up in unison, swung in the direction of the voice.

"Huh? Who's that?" someone asks.

"Shiny named Cubby. He's the one who noticed the birdsong." Scruffy explains shortly, nodding in greeting as the Shiny breaks into the warm glow of the lantern from the shadows. "Hey, brother. Good to see ya again."

"Oh, hi, nice to meet you, Cubby." Canvas and Cubby shake hands, trading toothy, friendly smiles, "Likewise, Canvas. Hey listen; I've got a group I'm already planning on eating with tonight, but I was wondering if maybe you can tell me all about that bird I heard earlier this afternoon in the morning? I'm told you're the brother to ask."

Canvas nods, eager. "Sure, sounds great." Cubby grins practically ear to ear as he repeats the phrase back to Canvas with a word of thanks before he walks off to join his group, some pep in his step.

Stick never makes it back to their group before the COs call out "go dark, boys!" and one by one, groups down the line kill their lanterns once they've gotten their things situated for sleep. Packs arranged in a circular formation, blasters in an arm's reach. Men in every other grouping will take watch, and luckily for his group, no one's expected to be awake. Canvas's eyes scan the treeline in vain, looking for Stick.

Where could he be?

What had happened?

There's a hand on his lower back, coming up from the forest floor. Scruffy has already laid down and made himself comfortable. "Hey, you need to get some sleep if you can, 'Vas."

"But where's…?" Why wasn't Scruffy concerned about his batchmate not being back? What had happened in the two minutes he was away to show the Jedi the image file of the bird? Why did Cypher seem so upset? "Where's Stick? Where'd he go? What-"

"He'll come back, Canvas…" Scruffy forces through a yawn, "he's got a light. C'mon, try to get some sleep." Reluctantly, Canvas hesitates to drop onto one of his shoulders and try to sleep away the fatigue of the day. There's something wrong. He hasn't known Stick as long or as well as he's come to know Scruffy, so he can't say with certainty if the behavior is normal for this brother. But Scruffy… something's up.

"Did Cypher say something to upset you when I was gone?" Canvas asks, knowing it's likely a long shot. It was always such a long shot to ask these questions as the baby of a batch, much less the baby of a totally separate batch. Not your batch, not your burden, some older brothers might say. You typically learned to keep your nose out of it… Typically. "What happened? A-are you okay?"

Scruffy doesn't answer that at first, at least not verbally. Scooching himself closer on the forest floor, Scruffy throws an arm around his side, effectively pinning Canvas down. "It's not your job to worry about me, little brother… I should manage my own feelings."

"B-but-"

Scruffy means business, voice firm, arm pulling him closer. "In the morning. I'll tell you what happened in the morning, Canvas. We need to sleep."

He feels his breath hitching. "But Scruffy…"

Someone sits up, and the pik! of a compartment on a utility belt popping open punctuates the silence. The worry stone is tucked into the palm of his hand, strong fingers closing his fist around it. The object Canvas used as an anchor since he was a Shiny, usually so effective, does little to abate the threat of tears presently. Why the kriff is he crying like a damn cadet? Again? He thought he'd gotten better and could rationalize that Scruffy was going to be okay, he was going to be okay out in the field again, once this brother from another batch had found the trick to getting him to sleep when the anxiety got the best of him and he couldn't be rational on his own. Why is he kriffing crying?!

"Can I do something to help?" Carver offers to Scruffy once he's sat up, able to pull Canvas to his chest once he's shed the chestplate, laying the sensitive, fleshy shell of Canvas's ear above his heart. Scruffy wags his head softly, taking slow, measured breaths. "I've got this handled, Carver…" If he just held Canvas to his chest like he did in the unofficial rec center on the Venator-class ship, hopefully it wouldn't take an hour for his little brother to calm down. Wouldn't take an hour for him to fall asleep.

"Why am I like this? What is wrong with me?!" Canvas demands under his breath, hoping he can, somehow, get an answer out of himself. Something had to be wrong with him. He was far too anxious for a Clone trooper. To the opinion of some of the galaxy that he was technically a child, he had the strength and body of an adult, and perhaps in most areas, the mental maturity and age of one, were it not for this cursed anxiety. He probably never should have left Kamino much like Cryfar with some of the head injuries he likely sustained while keeping up with the demands of those bounty hunters; the older Clone brothers were never so heartless, so… cold. There's something wrong with him.

There's something wrong with him, he shouldn't be so soft! Pathetic! He's not fit to be a soldier! The aspects of him that are so "childish" make him unfit for what he was made for. He's defective; there's something wrong with him!!

"Hey, no… Don't say that." Scruffy says with an admonishing tone. Fingers slide through the closely-shaved curls of the regulation-length cut as one of Scruffy's hands cradles the back of his head. "Nothing's wrong with you. It's not your fault you're like this. It was the Trainers who did this to our Growth Cycle. Blame them. Or a malfunction in your jar. Or the Kaminoans. But it's not your fault."

Words meant and completely intended to be comforting only make him cry harder, only make Scruffy begin to panic himself. Canvas can hear the quickening heartbeat against his ear. But he can't seem to catch his breath just yet, promise that he's not more upset, but the opposite. He's just so swept up with this swelling tidal wave of emotions that he just needs the frothy crest of the wave to finally break and crash, first.

"I-" he tries insisting, feeling how choked he must sound. Someone else adds their arms to the mix, their chest against his back. It might be Carver, the comforting hand on his upper arm belonging to Cairn.

"I-I'm o-"

There's collective whispers and murmurings rippling around him. Dozens of concerned or confused brothers. Lots are asking what's going on; is it one of the rookies having trouble adjusting; is it Canvas?

He, Scruffy and Stick have only been back a couple of days. Medics have warned the Captain, Commander and the General that while Scruffy is fit for duty again, meaning his little brothers who were worried about him are too, they had concerns that their "little Canvas" may need the Shiny-treatment for a while. Easy tasks. Easy responsibility. Lots of supervision. Lots of encouragement. So much patience.

Brother needed to look out for brother.

Scruffy, patiently, continues to hold Canvas close, verbally waving off other Clones who come to see what's going on. "Hey-hey, it's okay. Go. He'll be-"

"M'fine… m'fine." Canvas insists, this time successfully finding his voice without sounding so choked. Brothers are dismissed by Cairn and Carver so Scruffy can just softly talk to Canvas.

"Are you going to be okay now, 'Vas?"

"I-I don't need to go back to the Jedi cruiser… I'm fine. I'm ready for this." Canvas promises, trying to dry his face. Really, he is ready for his duty to the Republic again. He's just not sure why he wears his heart on his plastoid quite so much. He's not sure why he got so upset.

Scruffy exhales slowly, deliberately. For just a moment, it reminds Canvas of Faro. "That's not what I meant. What I should have asked instead was if you were going to be okay to talk about things in the morning." Scruffy really reminds him of Faro right now… and for a moment he wonders if Faro and Scruffy would have gotten along.

Faro valued discipline and attentiveness above many things… so he rarely got to see a side of his oldest batchmate that wasn't that.

"Canvas?" He's been silent for too long for Scruffy's taste. "Are you going to be okay to talk about it tomorrow?"

"M'not sure…" Canvas mumbles, avoiding eye contact with the brother who "adopted" him into his batch. It's the same inquisitive tone Faro, occasionally Gunnar, used with him when he had to complete a training exercise under the supervision of the long-necks. It's making him feel mixed up. "C-can I decide in the morning?"

It's the question he never dared ask Faro. Canvas could use it on Gunnar, but it was too daunting to test on his oldest brother. He never had any reason to fear Faro, but for some reason…

Maybe he just didn't want to disappoint his brother. Or worry him. Something.

Stick is suddenly back. Canvas didn't hear him return. "Good idea, brother," Stick yawns behind him, throwing himself on his side, "decide in the morning. Get some sleep."

"Where've you been?" Scruffy demands, almost angry. "You didn't eat your food, you nerf-herder."

Stick yawns again. He's not taking the concern for him so seriously, it seems. "I did eat. I was studyin'. Had a long talk with Cy. If you can promise to do your best to get some sleep, he might be able to show us something in the morning." Acting on intrigue, one by one these brothers slowly turn back to the soil of the planet for sleep. Carver pipes in, asking what's on everyone's mind when everyone settles down against the forest floor: "Psst! Who's "us", Stick?"

"Whoever's interested." Stick replies. It'd be cryptic if he wasn't so sleepy and more importantly warm as he closes off the other end of the 'Canvas sandwich', tapping his boot against Scruffy's. "And that's for calling me 'nerf-herder'." Scruffy only grunts half-heartedly in return, returning his arm around Canvas to cap off their new-found sleeping routine before whispering good night-s to each brother nearby.

Canvas slept a lot better when he had his brothers nearby. Sheltered from the Kaminoans. The Separatists. The galaxy at large. Safety in numbers, almost…

Almost like a nest, he decides.

Birdsong wakes Scruffy before the sun. Before Cypher has completely made his way back to them.

-weet-weet-weet! Suu-weet-weet-weet! Breeeee!

The sound is sweet, serene. It ends on a buzzy note he didn't hear the other day when Canvas had tracked down the bird and offered to show him, and the General.

Canvas… He wanted to share something so important to him to people he cared about. Or possibly, as a way of thanking them.

Scruffy remembers that once when he was a lanky little cadet, he helped a nearly full-grown brother hide something from the inspectors. An innocuous little item, just a packet of chewstim. But because it could be used to make a mess on the underside of the tables around the Cloning facility, it was considered contraband. It wouldn't be a problem if a younger Clone had it, however, as they were afforded a little more leniency. So Scruffy hid it for that brother until he'd passed inspection.

The day he returned it, the older Clone found him in the mess hall and slipped him an extra helping of food typically reserved for the near-mature cadets.

"Share that with your batchmates, little brother."

"Why're you giving this to me, Chews?"

"Because you helped me. It's to thank you, uh… What's your name, little brother?"

"Oh… I don't have one yet. I don't get much time to think about the name I want because of the Trainers. And because I'm trying to cheer up my brothers since the Trainers are so hard on us..."

"You're the oldest of your batch, aintcha?"

"Uh-huh." His hair had been ruffled affectionately after that by the older Clone named Chews.

"Keep an eye out for 'em; we brothers need each other. Don't take the 'not your batch, not your business' banthashit to heart quite so much. And don't worry about the Name stuff. One day you'll find your Name… or your Name will find you…" Chews flashed the packet of chewstim he kept in one of the deep pockets of the cadet uniform and winked.

Because of Chew's words, something changed in Scruffy that day. Thankfully, for the better. Not just for himself, and his batchmates, but all his brothers. If they knew ahead of time a fresh-faced Shiny or two would be stepping off the gunship, the Commander would usually ask Scruffy to stand beside him while welcoming the new troops and explaining their unit's unofficial "scuffing ceremony". Steal the first imperfection in their plastoid on their own terms. A mark of their autonomy, their agency, their uniqueness.

The Captain would ask him to help with the brothers who were having a hard time making friends or integrating into the unit. Help these brothers find their strengths the same way he helped Carver find his. Help the medic-brothers calm a scared soldier. And just yesterday, when they started marching in the morning, served as a cautionary tale.

"Mind your feet and where you're walking." He warned a rough-housing Shiny. (He would have gotten along well with Scruffy's middle batchmate.)

The Shiny rolled his eyes before plunking the helmet on his head. "Hah! Big words coming from the brother named 'Scruffy' because the COs had to keep pulling him out of pits by the back of his armor."

"That's true that's why I have my Name…" Scruffy said with a casual shrug, glancing over his shoulder to see how far away Canvas was before his voice became as cold as meltwater when he added: "But I triggered a tripwire about three weeks ago; and I'm damn lucky I was dead for only two minutes before they were able to bring me back. Watch. Where. You. Walk. Or you're going to end up upsetting a brother close to you, and you may not be so lucky."

He's never once told anyone but one of the COs (and he's likely told the second, which was fine) that in those two minutes, he found himself back on Kamino. The promise he made to Faro.

Scruffy's not sure how - or if - he should tell Canvas. The poor kid, with everything he's been through, both the good and the bad, had practically sobbed when he saw the little portrait of himself painted on that slab of wood after that first good sleep in days. Repeating the same six words over and over again. I love it, Scruffy. Thank you.

The birdsong begins again, and now Scruffy can feel Canvas stirring slowly out of his slumber by the sound. There's two buzzy notes this time.

Suu-weet-weet-weet! Breeeee! Breee!

"...G'morning, Scruffy."

"Mornin', 'Vas. Sleep well?" Scruffy hopes so, he can now hear Cypher carefully making his way over, creeping over splayed limbs and sleeping brothers. It looks like he's followed by the General and the Commander. "Can you hear that? Sure sounds like a lot of those buntings."

"They're… primarily active just before dawn." Canvas yawns, wiggling out from under his arm to sit up and rub the sleep from his eyes.

"Which will be perfect for us." Cypher's made his way to them, looking down at their sleeping arrangements. "... Looks like personal space isn't much of a concept around here."

He can see the fond smile of the Commander over Cypher's shoulder, and the silent chuckle as he looks at the mess of tangled limbs and the odd piece of armor that's been removed in the night. The General is a ways off. "Just the way we like it." Scruffy says with an easy smile. "Plus it helps him sleep." Canvas leans away from the hand reaching out to pat his shoulder, looking shyly away. "Helps me sleep better, too, turns out. So I can't complain or make too much fun of anyone." he admits, now sitting up and reaching over to prod Stick awake.

Scruffy, Canvas and Stick are joined by Cairn and Carver after some additional encouragement to wake up before they would typically, and follow after Cypher. The five of them, plus the Commander and the General, take Cypher's lead half a kilometer off-trail and into a snug clearing in the forest. They leave most of their armor behind to quiet their movement through the trees.

"Canvas probably knows what phishing means when it comes to birds. We don't like using the technique in the research team too often, but what my research partners don't know won't hurt them." Cypher explains, indicating where they should try sitting and waiting.

The Force-wielder hums thoughtfully. "I should take this to be a… controversial technique, then."

"Yessir. It…" Cypher stops, shaking his head, getting a better idea. Let the brother who this kinda thing clearly meant a lot to do it would be more meaningful. "Y'know what? Canvas? Would you like to explain?"

Put on the spot, Scruffy can see Canvas's ears going red, but he tentatively nods before he launches into a digestible explanation to his brothers and the Jedi. "The technique mocks a scolding or alarm call of most passerine - which means "perching" - birds in the galaxy. Because it disrupts natural behaviors, it's best to do the call sparingly. Same goes for audio playbacks of any kind of mating calls, for example. And… personally… I'd find using the calls of a predatory bird too mean to even entertain."

"Why would someone use a predatory bird's call, hypothetically speaking?" Cairn asks carefully, noting the pained wince in Canvas's face.

"It'd scare them away. Be slower to return, if at all. It's a riskier move, in my opinion… just to see if you can flush them out of hiding and see them in flight."

"Which… is… why…" Cypher is tapping away on his datapad before he hands it over to Canvas, "all my audio files are painstakingly marked. You can choose if we use a playback or try phishing to see if we can't spot a flame-bellied bunting here. I'm told that areas like this, with a little handful of blue-thistle seed, might entice them to come investigate by someone in research and reconnaissance." While Canvas pours over the audio selection, Cypher goes and scatters the seed over a low boulder and into whatever branches he's able to reach before rejoining the group.

Without major delay or dilemma, to Scruffy's minor amusement, it doesn't take Canvas an hour to decide on something to play-back in hopes of attracting the feathered rarity.

«Suu-weet-weet-weet! Breeeee! Breee!»

Scruffy takes a peek at the HUD, just under Canvas's finger he finds the word "TERRITORIAL" added after a comma to "forn-besh besh". So call he and Canvas woke up to was the flame-bellied's territorial vocalizations, most likely. Smart of his little brother to feed into natural behavior. And he sees his batchmate nod approvingly to himself; Cypher must also have realized the deliberate choice Canvas made.

Carver stuffs a knuckle into his mouth to keep himself silent when the first bunting arrives, flared feathers in all directions to make itself appear big and blustering to an imaginary challenger. Cairn's face splits into a wicked grin. The Commander looks at the bunting with silent amazement next to the Jedi, and Canvas…

Well, he looks just absolutely delighted. And no one calls him silly for softly complimenting the bird, either. "Oh, what a handsome little man you are. Your coloration is so strong! That's good. That means you're healthy."

There's an unspoken understanding that unless a Clone's interest or talent comes at any extreme detriment to their health, safety or duty, you do not mock a brother for what fascinates them. Especially in this unit with how many never found their Names until leaving Kamino, for kriff's sake.

So Scruffy is thankful that, though Cypher may have a strained relationship with him personally, he's been very willing to take them out here this morning. And he didn't even know Canvas that well. He just learned only yesterday that a brother within the same Growth Cycle really, really likes birds, and Cypher is already opening up to him in strides.

The Jedi speaks up carefully as not to disturb the number of flame-bellied buntings still gathering in response to the territorial call. "Your brother is right, young Canvas. They are very beautiful birds." They echo Scruffy's words from just yesterday when Canvas had tried offering the binocs to the General. "And, we didn't see just one, as we hoped. But a whole group of them."

"Blaze." Cypher and Canvas reply in unison. It surprises them both, and they promptly break into stifled laughter.

"Blaze?" the Force-wielder repeats curiously, "Why the word blaze?"

"The collective noun for flame-bellied buntings, specifically, would be "blaze", Sir," Canvas explains, eyeing a particularly orange bunting that hops his way, "and the flame-throated buntings' collective noun is a "burn". There were once flame-crowned buntings, too, but they've… gone extinct."

"A pity… And what was their collective noun?"

Cypher shakes his head with the smile that means he knows something. "Actually… I've heard a pretty credible rumor that there's a captive breeding program for the crowns. If that's the case, that makes them extinct in the wild, not the galaxy as a whole. It would be nice to see wreaths of flame-crowned buntings."

The Commander chuckles, watching as the bunting Canvas had been keeping his eyes on jumps from the low boulder and takes to the wing, making a short, quick whet-whet! sound just before it lands on the Clone's shoulder.

Scruffy can hear the hitch in his little brother's breath, and the stifled klic! of the datapad that had been returned to Cypher moments before. He briefly wonders what that bird call means, but he'll have to ask 'Vas, or Cy, later. Right now the two of them were counting on the silence of their brothers and General as well as their own so as not to sully such a moment. These are docile and timid birds. If one of them decided Canvas would be a suitable perch, he'd hate to kark up this moment.

"... h-hi there." Canvas stammers, voice soft and quivering with contained excitement. The little bird is so close, realistically if he wanted, Canvas could softly pet this feathered friend. "Galaxy and all her stars… you're such a perfect little thing." The flame-bellied bunting chirps a single, clear note - tweep! - and gives his head a little scratch with the left foot before taking to the wing.

There's a soft feeling of tiny, tiny talons when the male bunting lands on Scruffy's shoulder next, once more tweep!-ing. It's surprisingly loud for such a little creature, but it makes some sense with the bird so close to the shell of his ear. Scruffy is careful to hold himself still as possible, glancing at his brothers after taking a moment to soak in this moment.

Cypher has his equipment in his hands, either taking notes or pictures as quickly as he can manage before this bird flies away for more of the thistle seed. Carver and Cairn just flash him little thumbs up signals as he glances over them. Stick mouths out the words you lucky bastard, to which Scruffy agrees by means of a single, slow nod.

The Commander is talking softly to the Jedi, and he hears both make mention of both him and Canvas.

Canvas of course, visually follows the flight path the bird makes when it takes off from Scruffy's shoulder at last, lifting the spell of silence. At last everyone can make his comment about the birds, or the weather, or how lucky Scruffy and Canvas must feel to have been "chosen" by the flame-bellied bunting for a moment to perch and rest on.

"Remarkable birds," the Jedi begins, speaking reverentially, "and a truly special moment to start the day with and share with everyone. I thank you, Cypher. Now: we should return to our company before the Captain begins to worry."

Canvas is the last to climb to his feet of all his brothers, obediently following after their General the half kilometer back to their unit. From here, they can hear their brothers just beginning the process of prepping their morning ration packs.

"You're surprisingly quiet after such a close encounter with what I can assume is one of your favorite birds, young Canvas," the peacekeeper-turned-warrior notes when they find they don't hear his voice among those of his brothers, "so I would guess you're committing your experience to memory?"

"That…" Canvas replies after a long, contemplative pause. "And just thinking, General."

"Ah-hah. I see now; simply in thought."

With the edge of his elbow, Scruffy prods his younger brother for further answers. "What about, 'Vas?" They're all equally curious, but sometimes the General is just too polite to ask these follow-up questions themselves. "I mean, it's pretty clear it's most likely about the flame-belliedies, but, in particular."

"Their symbolism." Canvas answers, carefully climbing over the same, large root they came across on their way down to the minuscule clearing. "Whether or not any of it's true is just up to personal opinion, of course, but there can be a lot - or a little - of symbolism attached to birds." Canvas kindly offers a hand out to Scruffy so he can steady himself as he comes down the other side with the confidence that he will not fall. (Since the tripwire, he's become a lot more conscientious than before when it comes to traversing these often hostile, unfamiliar planets.)

"Thanks, little brother… What sort of symbolism is attached to a bunting?"

"Strangely specific symbolism." Cypher chimes in, having keyed up the question into the search function that pulls information from the Holonet.

He gives the datapad to Scruffy to read once they return to their spot in formation where he, Canvas, Stick and Carver and Cairn had slept. He reads aloud from the information he finds in the source his batchmate has selected. "Let's see…

"It's widely accepted that the Flame-bellied Bunting, discovered by two brothers over a hundred years ago, symbolizes a perhaps rather niche partnership in the galaxy. The fraternal bond. Mr.Val and Mr. Leys Helios were identical twins who took on their mother's interest in the avian wildlife the galaxy had to offer at a young age. In their mid-twenties, Val and Leys discovered the Flame-bellied Bunting (thought to have evolved from the Flame-throated) while they were out camping together. Leys reports the bird, though very shy and skittish, landed on both him and his brother as they intended to observe their new finding. 'The moment sort of bonded something in us.' Leys claims, which was later a source of great comfort when…"

Scruffy stops reading aloud for a moment, swallowing the lump in his throat that's been building the closer he has gotten to where he'd read ahead.

"When what?" Stick asks, the rest politely waiting for Scruffy to continue.

He continues reading from the article, voice full of gentle pauses to allow his brothers time to process what he reads.

"Later a source of great comfort when shortly after, Val became very sick and unexpectedly collapsed one afternoon, never regaining consciousness… An otherwise healthy individual, medical examiners could not determine how Val lost his life so suddenly while out camping with his twin. (Maker, that's just awful.) Leys says shortly after a memorial service for his brother, he invited a renowned galactic ornithologist to see the bird he and Val claimed to have discovered, seeking validity in what he feared would have been the first and only bird he had confidently discovered for the first time with his brother.

"'When I returned to the site of our discovery with the scientist, I quite honestly had no hope of seeing the bird again. I didn't want to. Not when Val was gone.' says Leys Helios. 'But it happened again, incredibly. Another flame-bellied bunting, a little male who'd barely seen his first spring, came and landed on my shoulder. And something within me believed it was my brother; like it was Val coming to say "Hi!" because I felt that same sort of feeling again, that bond again. It was unmistakable. I just sensed, somehow, that this was my brother checking up on me. So I no longer thought about giving up my interest in birds just because Val was gone. And in his memory, I loaned Val's name to the scientific name of the Flame-bellied Bunting and our brotherly bond to its symbolism, because our mother loved the symbolism behind birds. She thought it was a sweet little gesture. And I'll n-never forget what she sa-said to me'..."

Scruffy's tears become too thick to read through to continue any longer. Everyone is properly emotional, the Commander and Canvas are the first to step in and offer their physical comforts; a steady hand on his shoulder as once the datapad has been collected so he and Canvas can quietly weep together once the final words of the article have been read. Cairn, Carver and Stick are next to come closer and make this a group hug, which Cypher (stiffly at first) joins once he too reads those final words over the shoulder of the Commander.

What you felt wasn't just your bond with your brother when that little bird landed on your shoulder, but his love, too. A brother's love will heal you, and keep you safe, just like anything else in this galaxy.

[Clone OC Masterlist]

[FIRST INSTALLMENT] [PREVIOUS] [NEXT]

#frostfics #A Brother's Love Will Heal You #star wars #swtcw #sw tcw #tcw #star wars headcanons #clone oc: canvas #clone oc: scruffy #clone oc: stick #clone oc: carver #clone oc: cairn #clone oc: cypher #clone oc: commander juke #clone oc: captain law #jedi oc: caelen #fictional birds #I apologize for the length I didn't think it'd be THAT long #but clearly that brotherly love/bond theme had other plans

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comm-caribou · 2 years

Text

Chapter Fifteen: Welcome to the Disaster Show

Word Count: 5.6

Warnings: Hypothermia, angst (let me know if I miss any!)

————

Shortly after arrival on Hoth’s Republic base, Cosmos and Squirrel exited their gunship.

“Never seen snow before,” Cosmos gawked.

“I see why Max tapped out,” Squirrel shivered, “I’m freezing.”

“It’s not too bad,” Cosmos laughed, “think I’d get in trouble for going outside?”

“Doubt it,” Squirrel snickered. “I’m going to go find Tag and Frenzy.”

Cosmos watched him go, and then looked for Juliette.

The hardest part about being friends with her meant having to wait. He wondered if it bothered Fang, having to switch from professional to personal and back again.

It felt like whiplash.

Sighing, he walked alone.

He stood over by the hanger door, watching the snow fall against the dark sky. Almost like falling stars, piling on the ground in a blanket of white.

He was so enchanted, that the snowball flying by his helmet jolted him back to reality.

It hit one of the troop’s in the side of the helmet.

The shiny was knelt down, hand in the snow.

He was… drawing?

“Quit slacking.” The snowball tosser snapped, “do you want to get us in trouble?”

The shiny brushed the snow off his helmet, and did a couple more lines.

Cosmos stepped out, holding his arms as the chill brushed through him.

“Whoa,” Cosmos gasped, “is that a gunship?”

The shiny looked over his shoulder, then got to his feet nodding.

“Sir, aren’t you cold?” The shiny asked.

“Just a smidge,” Cosmos admitted.

“Rex is going to be mad,” the snowball thrower hissed.

“So?” Cosmos turned to him, “he’s not my boss, and I would love to see my General tear him a new one.”

“You really think your little girl can take one of us?” He punched his hand, “she’ll be in for a shock.”

“Harm her and you’ll never see another battlefield,” Cosmos threatened.

“Levy, she’s a General,” the shiny warned. “Even if she’s not the one we answer to.”

“If you all are done bickering,” another trooper cut in, “we’re here to relieve you.”

Levy left grumbling, not even apologizing.

Jerk.

“You might want to head in,” the 501st trooper turned to Cosmos, “a cold front is coming. Much colder than this one.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Cosmos headed in with the shiny. “So? What’s your name?”

“I don’t really have one,” the shiny said, “they call me Lazy.”

“That’s not your name,” Cosmos said.

“Huh, how come every nice brother I find they’re from somewhere else?” The shiny pondered, “what’s your name?”

“Cosmos,” he happily replied.

“Cosmos? You’re the pilot General Trix rescued!”

“You’ve heard of me?”

“Everyone’s heard that story! Although I thought it was rumors she rescued a pilot. Did she actually punch a Jedi?”

“Sucker punched General Vos for insulting clones. He claims he was baiting her, but that’s his story.”

“I would love to meet her.”

“Stick with me, shiny. I’ll introduce you.”

Cooper approached with Keks behind him, “would you mind if we ate in the gunship? Everyone’s talking about the Battle of Kamino, and I think Mirage is still sore on the subject.”

“Of course,” Cosmos wrapped an arm around the shiny. “But he comes with.”

“Hello,” Keks grinned, “I’m Keks, this is Cooper.”

“Sergeant Cooper,” Cooper corrected.

Cosmos chuckled, and led them to the ship.

“I got another question,” the shiny said, “is it true that the General named you Cosmos?”

Cosmos took off his helmet, smiling, “right after she punched General Vos.”

****

Ever since losing his voice, Tracks had noticed everyone tends to talk around him.

Even in a crowd of brothers, he felt like an afterthought.

Goose—who volunteered to be his copilot—always talked for both of them.

Some days, it felt like the well meaning pilot with the obnoxiously loud laugh was putting words in Tracks’s mouth.

As they walked back from the mess, where they were with the other 952nd pilots, Tracks’s gaze fell on a lone trooper in pristine white armor.

They’re sending them out newer and newer each month.

There was no one else around, and this shiny was looked like he was just left there.

Abandoned like a pup.

“…but that’s besides the point. The point is that our General is the best out of all the Generals we had. Sure I wasn’t around for General one and two, but out of the others, she’s the best. I mean how many Generals do you know eats their meals with her pilots and helps name them? Although, Baby isn’t exactly an ideal name, and the trooper with that name is too gruff that it’s almost an insult if you think about it. Not as insulting as Dipstick. Don’t know why Radar is so obsessed with that one. Seriously, what goes on in Radar’s head? Total mystery. I don’t even think he knows what he thinks about half the time.”

Tracks took in every word, nodding. However, he honestly was more curious about the lone shiny.

“I’m talking too much again, huh?” Goose rubbed the back of his neck, “sorry.”

Tracks waved his hands, then gestured to the trooper sitting by himself.

He looked beyond bored under his helmet, drumming his hands on his armored knees.

“You lost, shiny?” Goose approached.

Not how I’d start, but okay.

“Hmm?” The shiny looked up, “no, I’m just… waiting.”

“For what?” Goose knelt down, “you already causing mischief.”

“Not really,” the trooper answered, “just not clicking with anyone yet.”

Tracks held out his hand, offering him aid getting up.

Goose translated, “Tracks wants you to join us.”

“Really, you don’t have to pity me,” the shiny hugged his knees, “I’ll be fine.”

Tracks kicked his boot lightly.

“Tracks says he’s not taking no for an answer,” Goose turned to him. “Right?”

Tracks gave him a thumbs up, close enough.

Goose stood up, “come on.”

The shiny sighed, then took Tracks’s hand, “not like anyone is actually looking for me.”

****

They only had a few minutes to themselves.

As usual, despite the informality, Juliette joined Hardwire. She followed him into a quiet room, and removed her helmet easily. Her gear was not as clunky with snow gear trapping her in.

“Let me,” she giggled as Hardwire struggled.

“I can do it,” Hardwire tried to shoo her hands away, but not once actually hitting her hands.

She popped his seal, and lifted his helmet up, “there’s your charming smile.”

A smile formed on his face, despite him trying not to give into her teasing.

“General,” Hardwire lightly scolded, “you’re forgetting your formalities.”

“Sorry,” she apologized, even though he could tell she didn’t mean it.

He sighed, shaking his head as he went into his pack passing her a ration bar.

She sniffed it, grimacing.

“It’s not that bad,” Hardwire bit into his.

“It smells disgusting,” she gagged. “You men actually eat and enjoy this?”

“It has all the protein and nutrients we need,” he took another bite, “you’ve eaten it before.”

“When I was starving,” Juliette pouted, “now I see why Fang enjoys cooking shows.”

Hardwire paused, “where do you get access to cooking shows?”

“My private datapad isn’t on a clone military network,” she explained, “speaking of, why are clone networks so censored? You can’t access any sort of entertainment other than cheesy radio.”

“Do I have to remind you we’re soldiers?”

“I know that, but you get to go on leave and have some days of freedom.”

“But not for free. We can’t just go everywhere unless we have the credits. Then it’s how’d you get these credits?”

“That’s awful.”

Her lip pouted after she said that.

It was unconscious, like a habit.

Hardwire lifted her chin, “have I ever told you that you’re my favorite person besides my brothers?”

“Really?” Juliette lit up.

“Really.” He tapped her nose.

She giggled, then sat on the desk he was leaning on. Her face twisted into disgust again, looking at the ration bar.

“If you eat it, I’ll tell you some good news,” he offered.

Juliette groaned, then bit into the bar chewing slowly.

“Swallow it,” he scolded.

She groaned, forcing it down, “it’s like eating dirt.”

Hardwire chuckled, opening his datapad, “according to Cooper, the men found some shinies.”

“Shinies?” Juliette forced herself to take another bite.

“It’s what we call troopers who just left Kamino and haven’t seen real action yet,” Hardwire explained, “anyways, they taken a real liking to us and Cooper sent me a request transfer regarding the two of them?”

Juliette swallowed hard, “are you saying two new troopers?”

“Should I forward in the request to General Skywalker?” Hardwire asked.

“Yes!” Juliette gripped his shoulders. “Please! If Cooper likes them then that’s a good sign!”

Hardwire laughed, “alright, alright. Just give me…”

He turned back to her, really processing her words.

“What do you mean by that?” Hardwire asked.

“It’s kind of obvious Cooper doesn’t like me,” Juliette shrugged. “And I’ve heard there’s been a few heated arguments regarding me.”

“Did Fang tell you?” Hardwire asked, forgetting to deny that fact.

She shook her head, “Fang only said once that Cooper is conflicted and to just not push my luck.”

“Honestly,” Hardwire sighed, “he’s just worried we’ll destroy you.”

“Destroy me?” Juliette laughed, “are you planning on killing me?”

Hardwire placed his hand on top of her head.

She quieted down, looking up at him with those hopeful eyes he adored.

“You’re so important to us,” he pat her head, “and when we die, we don’t want you to mourn us. We’re meant to die for the Republic, and you have to let us.”

Without a word, she cupped his face, pulling him down to her eye level, “Hardwire, you are my friend. All of you are so important to me, and I’m not going to cry because I’m sad I lost a soldier. I’m going to cry because I lost someone I will never see again. Even if I’m sad, I’m not going to abandon you or any of your brothers. Do you understand me?”

Hardwire smiled, “crystal.”

She pulled him closer, and kissed his forehead, “no more fretting. I’m banishing all your fears.”

He laughed, standing back up, “I see why Fang fell for you now. Here I thought it was just you saved him from uncertain fate on Kamino.”

“You’re silly,” Juliette hopped off the desk, “clearly he fell for me for my obnoxious personality.”

****

It wasn’t intended, but Cosmos was pretty sure he just kidnapped this shiny he refused to call Lazy.

No one was looking for him, so Cosmos was taking full advantage of having a buddy.

“So, you don’t have a co-pilot yet?” He asked, almost as if plotting something.

“Afraid not,” Cosmos sighed, “with everything that happened on Kamino, we’re being delayed troops. I understand, but at the same time I’d like to not have to hope that someone lets me step in.”

He couldn’t imagine any of them dying again.

He heard Tracks lost his wingman under Merick’s time as General. Whispers when Tracks wasn’t present told of a gruesome scene.

Cosmos came into the 952nd about the same time as Juliette. Along with them, it was his deceased co-pilot, Tag and Frenzy, and another pair of pilots now dead.

They needed pilots just as much as they needed troopers.

“Is piloting full time hard?” he asked, “I’ve flown a couple ships and liked it.”

Cosmos chuckled, “you’d need training, and to be certified as a pilot. Besides, 501st doesn’t seem to be lacking pilots.”

“Oh, I forgot you’re not 501st,” he dropped his head down. “My mistake.”

Cosmos stopped walking, “were… you suggesting you’d be my co-pilot?”

The shiny turned his visor to him, “well, yeah.”

Cosmos stared him, feeling as if his helmet’s audio was messed up.

Are you kidding me? I find a willing volunteer to be my co-pilot, who listens to me, and has a personality that isn’t making fun of each other at lunch. And he’s from another Legion? Cosmos wanted to wrap the shiny in a hug, Universe, you are cruel!

Instead, Cosmos just gripped his shoulder, “if I was able to, I’d make you my co-pilot in a heartbeat.”

“Thank you, Cosmos,” the shiny said sadly. “I’d be your co-pilot in a heartbeat.”

****

Juliette sat on the sidelines, watching as Master Skywalker spoke to the Jedi council.

At the other side of the room, she could see Hardwire and Rex working on the controls, going through channels.

She kept going back and forth between the clones on the communication logs, and the Jedi meeting.

The meeting was more so a check in, and not of much interest to her.

She looked back to the clones, noting Rex’s rigid stance.

She closed her eyes, listening hard.

“They were suppose to check in by now,” Rex grumbled.

“I can assemble a squad,” Hardwire offered.

“It’s getting worse out there,” Rex sighed, “sending out another squad could get them killed.”

Juliette opened her eyes.

She got up, and approached the Commander and Captain.

“Commander,” she cooed, “you know I’m a trained tracker, right?”

Rex looked to Hardwire, then back to her, “General Trix, it is dangerous out there. Not just the cold, the inhabitants as well.”

“I can handle it,” Juliette turned to Hardwire, “you believe in me, right?”

“Of course I do,” Hardwire had a smile in his voice.

“I do as well,” Master Skywalker approached, done with his meeting. “Rex, loan her some speeders and a couple men.”

Hardwire turned to her, “may I suggest bringing Mirage, General. In case you do run into trouble, you might need his assistance.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Juliette followed Captain Rex, already contacting her ARC.

As soon as the doors shut, Rex finally looked at her.

“I heard you rescued that pilot,” Rex said, “you earned a great deal of respect from many of my brothers.”

Juliette studied him, “many, you say?”

“I’m still deciding,” Rex answered, opening his comm, “Jesse, assemble a squad, we got some missing scouts to find.”

****

Tracks and the other 952nd watched in amusement as Mirage excitedly rambled, running a comb through the shiny’s hair with gel.

“Careful, Pretty Boy,” Boomerang teased, “you’re making a clone of yourself. Which I didn’t think was possible.”

Tracks smirked, stealing a glance at Cooper.

He was sitting next to the Sergeant when he sent a request to Commander Hardwire.

If General Trix saw them right now, Tracks thought, she’d kidnap this one immediately.

“Someone has to teach our little brother important life lessons,” Mirage chuckled, “don’t you agree, kid?”

“Yes, sir,” the shiny agreed.

Boomerang and Cooper exchanged a look, acknowledging each other’s standard haircuts.

Juliette hopped on the ship, “hiya, men!”

“Hi, Juliette,” they all acknowledged.

Tracks gave her a wave, wondering why she was so smiley.

“I need my best ARC,” Juliette turned to Mirage, “a scouting group is lost, and Hardwire wants you with me.”

“Anything for you,” Mirage put on his gloves, “I’ll be back, kid.”

Juliette hopped off the ship again, “love the hair, new friend!”

Mirage followed her off, adjusting his helmet as he walked.

Probably not a good idea to walk and fix his gear, Tracks thought.

She moved next to Mirage, holding his arm as he walked.

“She’s a good General,” Goose declared, getting a hum of agreement.

“She has kind eyes,” the shiny stood up, as his comm went off. “Looks like I got to go. Thank you, for your hospitality.”

“Anytime,” Goose hummed.

“See you later, trooper,” Keks smiled.

Sooner than you realize, shiny.

****

The snow was rough.

It was hitting them hard, in icy sharp walls of sleet and snow.

She was grateful Mirage was driving, and she was in the sidecar looking over logs.

Rex gestured for them to stop, and the speeders skidded to a halt.

Juliette reread the last transcribed report. It said someone in the background screamed, then the line went dead.

“It’s going to be impossible to track them,” Jesse stated, “probably froze in the storm.”

Juliette messaged Hardwire to get her the audio.

“We can’t give up on them,” Kix argued.

Almost immediately, Hardwire sent it.

“We got to at least try,” Rex ordered.

Juliette listened to the audio in her helmet, hearing something else besides the trooper screaming.

It was a growl.

She sent another request to Hardwire.

“General Trix, are you even listening?” Rex appeared in front of her.

Hardwire sent a map of caves, and one word.

“Wampas.” Juliette stated.

“Wampas?” Rex asked.

“In the last audio message we got from your men,” Juliette explained, “there’s something in the background, and considering the inhabitants of this planet, I suspect they were taken by a Wampa.”

“And you expect us to take on a Wampa?“ Jesse scoffed.

“Sounds like it’ll be fun!” Hardcase laughed.

Juliette passed Rex her datapad, “I had Hardwire send a map of known cave locations. These two are the closest to their last transmission.”

Rex looked it over, humming, “Jesse, you and the kid go with the General to this location. Hardcase, Kix, you’re with me.”

Rex handed her the datapad back, and went back to his speeder.

Mirage started up the speeder again, and the teams split up.

“Are you sure about this General?“ Mirage called over the running engine. “I hear those things are dangerous.”

“If it was you, I’d come for you,” Juliette stated, “you can rely on that fact always, Mirage.”

****

Hardwire headed down to the hanger, still checking over his datapad as Juliette messaged him.

She suspects a Wampa took the men, he highlighted some caves as he walked. I hope she’ll be okay facing one.

“Well, well,” Boomerang appeared at his side, “if it isn’t my favorite Commander.”

“I hope I’m your favorite Commander,” Hardwire sent the locations.

He glance back to Fang and Coyote tailing him.

“How you all handling this cold?” Hardwire asked.

“Probably better than Mirage,” Coyote joked.

“Even with the heaters running and this extra padding I’m shivering,” Fang shuttered, “after this, don’t expect to see me without a big, warm blanket.”

“Can the next planet be tropical?” Boomerang teased. “I want to make a sandcastle.”

“If only we’d be so lucky,” Hardwire mused as he approached Keks. “All set?”

“Cooper is doing a final check,” Keks said leaning on a crate. “Kind of vish those troopers didn’t get lost. Ve could’ve been leaving with our two new shinies.”

“New what now?” Boomerang exclaimed.

“Cooper said you all took a liking to some discarded shinies,” Hardwire chuckled. “General Skywalker and Captain Rex have approved the transfer. We just need to let the troopers know.”

“Cosmos has one,” Keks stated, “the other vent vith the search party.”

“Where’s Cosmos then?” Hardwire asked.

“Wandering around,” Coyote answered, “with his pilot crew.”

“Of course,” Hardwire chuckled, “they’re a flock.”

Boomerang turned to him offended, “hey, bad jokes are my thing.”

“My bad,” Hardwire chuckled. “I’ll find him later.”

****

They approached the cave, following Mirage.

Juliette wanted to take point, but he insisted.

The ARC lowered his scope, keeping his head close to the wall as he looked in.

“You were right,” he whispered, “there’s two left, one isn’t looking too good.”

“Any sign of the Wampa?” Jesse asked quietly.

“Nope,” Mirage crept around the corner, “it appears to be out.”

“Shiny, keep watch,” Jesse ordered.

“Yes, sir,” the trooper responded.

Juliette followed Mirage in, keeping one hand at her holster as they entered the open area.

She knelt down, looking over the two troopers.

One looked like he was confused, the other was holding him trembling like a small child with his security blanket.

Juliette held out her hand, “I’m Juliette Trix, we’re here to save you.”

The trooper took her hand.

Even through their gloves, he felt like ice.

Poor darling, she removed her pack. He’s shivering.

She took out the blanket and wrapped it around the trooper’s shoulders, “can you walk?”

The trooper shook his head, teeth chattering, “I-I can’t f-feel my toes.”

Mirage helped the other trooper up, “you look like you got tossed around.”

“You have no idea,” the trooper replied groggily.

The shiny backed in, “guys… it’s back.”

Jesse aimed his blaster, “fall back, shiny.”

The trooper glided back on the ice, gracefully dropping to his knee next to Jesse.

Supporting his brother, Mirage and the discombobulated trooper aimed pistols.

Juliette waited till the giant, white furred creature with giant claws rounded the corner.

It bared its gnarly teeth, growling at them.

“What’s the plan?” Jesse asked her. “Hold our ground?”

Juliette looked to her gauntlet, tapping a few buttons, “it’s what? About three meters? A couple hundred kilograms?”

“What are you talking about?” Jesse asked.

“Screw it,” Juliette set it all the way up, “I suck at math.”

She aimed her gauntlet and fired a grapple attached to a wire.

The Wampa looked at the impalement, and cried out when she hit it with a huge shock of electricity.

As predicted, it fell.

Jesse groaned, “damn. You left no fun for us.”

“I love you,” the shivering trooper gasped.

Lucky for her, her helmet hid the rush of blood that went straight to her face.

“Gosh, you could take me out a date before you declare your love for me,” Juliette said, hoping they didn’t hear the shock in her voice.

“Come on, trooper,” Jesse helped the man up, “she’s way out of your league anyways.”

Juliette slid on the ice, “I suggest we leave before he wakes up. Assuming I didn’t kill him.”

The shiny skated on the ice, following her lead.

Jesse and the two other troopers shuffled on the ice, lacking the shiny’s confidence.

Mirage took one step, and slipped down into a painful looking forward split.

“Kriff…” Mirage whimpered as he defeatedly slumped to the side.

Jesse chuckled, then turned to Juliette, “I’ll contact Rex and get these two to the speeders.”

“Thank you,” Juliette glided back to Mirage with the shiny. “You hurt?”

Mirage groaned, “I think I pulled something.”

The shiny helped Mirage up, looping his arm over his shoulder.

“Thanks, vod.” Mirage said, wincing as he slowly limped.

“Vod?” The shiny asked.

“It’s Mando’a,” Juliette supported Mirage. “Basically means sibling, brother, or sister.”

“A bunch of early ARCs picked up bits and pieces and passed it on to us,” Mirage chuckled.

“That explains so much,” Juliette glanced down at the Wampa as they passed. “Yup, definitely didn’t kill it. I vote we never come back to this planet, ever.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Mirage picked up his pace.

They got out to the speeder bikes, greeted by Jesse.

“Mind if your little shadow rides with you?” Jesse asked, “I got the others wrapped up in my side card.”

“That’s fine with me,” Juliette said, “maybe I’ll steal his body heat.”

The shiny chuckled, “happy to be of service.”

Mirage got on his speeder bike, starting it up.

The shiny helped Juliette in, and hopped in beside her.

She kept her gaze on the cave.

“Hey, Juliette,” Mirage turned to her, “not to sound jealous, but couldn’t you have let us shoot it first?”

“Sorry,” Juliette giggled, “I had to make sure this thing still worked before a real emergency.”

“Uh huh,” Mirage chuckled, hitting the gas.

She jerked back into her seat, as she saw a shadow in the cave.

“Aren’t Wampas insanely fast?” Juliette yelled over the engine.

Mirage gunned it, and Jesse stepped on it too.

Leaving the creature crying out at its cave.

Who the heck would make a base out here?

****

Tracks sat on the ship, prepping for takeoff.

Goose popped up in the front seat of the canopy.

“Hi,” Goose said over his shoulder.

Tracks grunted.

“So, I was thinking,” Goose began prepping, “you use to say something about getting the ship to drop points safe and sound, right?”

Tracks paused, feeling dread course though him.

“I’ll get you there safe and sound.”

That’s what he use to always tell Hardwire at takeoff, part for himself and part for Hardwire’s peace of mind.

It was his words.

He didn’t want to share them.

Not even with Goose.

But, he didn’t have his voice anymore.

Goose turned to him, “I’m right, right?”

Tracks felt his shoulders slump in defeat, and he nodded.

They were his words.

Goose crossed his arms over his chest, “safe.”

Tracks straightened up.

Held up his fists, “and.”

Tracks mirrored him.

Then slowly moved on hand over his chest, “sound.”

Tracks put it all together, ‘safe and sound.’

“I got to double check it when we get back,” Goose turned back to the controls, “but you seemed down lately. I’m guessing your therapy isn’t going well.”

Tracks blew some air out of his mouth.

“That bad, huh?” Goose sighed, “well, guess I’ll continue chatting everyone’s ear off while they all wonder how that really tall copilot of mine puts up with me.”

Tracks shook his head, clicking his tongue.

“You know,” Goose laughed, “you’ve gotten sassier since losing your voice. Or were you always like this?”

When Goose turned back to him, Tracks placed his fingertips to the chin of his helmet and extended his palm.

Goose chuckled, “you’re welcome.”

****

Seeing Juliette again was a relief, but also kind of upsetting.

“Guess you’ll be leaving now, huh?“ his shiny said sadly, “maybe we’ll meet again soon?”

Cosmos doubted it.

When the 501st needed aid, it was 212th or 104th who came running.

Still, Cosmos wouldn’t let his disappointment show through his voice as he shook the trooper’s hand.

“When we meet again,” Cosmos said, “you better have a real name by then. Got it?”

“Got it.” The shiny laughed, but there was no heart to his voice.

Cosmos sighed, “I’m going to miss you too, brother.”

The shiny backed away, weakly waving, “don’t crash.”

“Don’t get shot,” Cosmos sadly waved back, turning away first.

This sucks, he thought with every heavy footstep.

****

Hardwire approached Juliette, noting the shivering as she turned to him.

“Cold?” Hardwire teased.

“So cold,” she said, “I’m almost considering snuggling up to you.”

Jesse came up behind her, dropping a blanket over her shoulders, “here. You can have this back. The men are being warmed up now.”

“Thanks,” she said, “by the way, I do remember you.”

“You do?” Jesse sounded just as confused as Hardwire.

“General, we have never worked with the 501st,” Mirage reminded her.

“I meant at 79’s,” Juliette turned to Jesse, “I asked you where the 952nd were.”

Jesse tilted his head like a bird, “wait…”

Hardwire chuckled, “I forgot the 501st were on leave that day too.”

Jesse sputtered, then backed away hurriedly.

“I think you spooked him,” the shiny laughed.

Hardwire looked at the shiny, mirroring Mirage’s stance with his hands folded behind his back.

Boomerang came over, noticing it too, “I like your shadow.”

“He’s a good little shadow,” Mirage agreed.

“Shadow,” the shiny mused, “I like it.”

“Well, Shadow,” Hardwire stepped forward, “I think you should know you’re no longer part of the 501st.”

“I’m not?” Shadow asked.

“You’re ours now,” Juliette declared.

“Welcome to the 952nd,” Boomerang wrapped an arm around him, “our motto is ‘you call, we haul’.”

“Pretty much.” Mirage snickered, “come on, let’s get you on the ship and introduce you again.”

Hardwire chuckled, then turned to Juliette, “I sent Cooper to get the other one. Once they’re on board, we can leave.”

“Great,” Juliette wrapped her blanket tighter around her, “I want to eat something hot wrapped in my blanket.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Hardwire chuckled.

His gaze shifted to Rex’s boys, frantically talking and gesturing towards her. Rex had joined them, just listening to them debate.

They don’t believe him, Hardwire concluded.

“Want to go say goodbye to Rex quick?” Hardwire asked.

Juliette sighed, taking off her blanket, and putting it under her arm in a ball.

He led her to the four men, and let her take lead.

“Captain Rex,” she extended her hand, “it was a pleasure, I hope to see you again soon.”

Rex took her hand, “likewise, General Trix.”

Hardcase whispered, “it’s definitely not her.”

“But how would she know that?” Jesse briskly argued.

Juliette turned to them, then turned to Hardwire passing him the blanket. She turned her attention back to the men, and placed a hand on Jesse’s arm.

“Please? I’d really love your help.”

Jesse chuckled, backing away almost bashfully.

“Is it her?” Rex teased them.

Kix snickered, “it’s her.”

Hardcase turned to Hardwire, “you’re welcome.”

Hardwire shook his head, softly laughing, “I am truly grateful you guided her to us.”

Juliette gave them a nod, and began walking.

“Good luck out there, Commander,” Rex shook Hardwire’s hand, “and don’t lose another General.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Hardwire stated, then went after her.

She turned to him, extending her hands out for her blanket.

He turned his body, keeping it away.

He could imagine her pouting her lip under her helmet.

“You flirted your way to us,” Hardwire teased.

“Only a little,” she quietly admitted.

They stepped on the ship.

“We’re clear,” he said in his comlink, then the doors shut.

He wrapped her blanket around her, then gently pushed her two steps back to Fang.

The trooper wrapped an arm around her, holding her as always.

But that’s all he did.

****

Once the ship landed, Cosmos hopped out of the canopy not waiting for the ladder.

“You know, that’s bad for your knees,” a shiny approached him.

No way.

Juliette popped up with him smiling, “we got two new recruits. You like?”

Cosmos grabbed her, wrapping her in a hug.

“I do have bad news though,” the shiny got his helmet off, “I still don’t got a name.”

“It’s okay,” Cosmos laughed, “I understand.”

Juliette turned to the shiny, “whatever you do, stay away from Radar. You don’t look like a Dipstick.”

“Absolutely not,” Cosmos agreed, “his name is definitely not Dipstick.”

The shiny awkwardly smiled, “thank you?”

Cosmos released Juliette, “we’ll explain over food. I’m thinking hot soup.”

“I’ll take hot anything,” Juliette took off her helmet, smiling as she took her hair out of a messy, lose bun.

The shiny looked at her, “huh, I see what you meant Cosmos.”

“What did you say, Cos?” Juliette turned to him with worried eyes.

“That you your smile is contagious,” Cosmos tapped her nose.

Juliette giggled, “you’re a liar.”

“Believe what you want,” Cosmos put an arm around both of them, “but that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”

****

“Please don’t downplay it. You could’ve gotten hurt.”

The hours had passed. From dinner to bedtime, leading to the moments she snuck with just Fang in her room.

Her head rested on his chest, listening to steady drumming of his heart beneath her ear.

His rough fingers ghosted over her, playing with her hair, brushing her cheek, tracing her arms, and running down her spine. Almost as if he memorizing her through his fingertips.

Her hand found his left, feeling the warmth of his fingers slip between her own.

She brought his knuckles to her lips, “I’m downplaying nothing. I was fine, besides I had Mirage.”

“Mirage said during dinner he slipped leaving the cave,” Fang stated, “and if that Wampa got a hold of any of those troopers, you would’ve risked yourself for them.”

“Isn’t that my job as a General?“ Juliette asked.

She could hear the annoyance in his sigh, and he said nothing.

She never seen him mad before.

Jealousy sometimes occasionally showed up, but never was he this upset.

She sat up, moving up his body to his face.

His head was turned away.

His brow furrowed and jaw clenched.

“Fang?” Juliette swept his curls off his forehead, “please look at me?”

He turned to her, eyes hard as steel.

This really upset him, she concluded as she caressed his face, “Fang, I’m sorry. I get you’re upset with me, but I have to protect you and your brothers.”

“Protecting us isn’t your job,” Fang rolled his eyes.

“Are we fighting?” Juliette asked, watching in horror as he got up.

“Obviously,” Fang hopped off the bed, gathering his armor.

He’s leaving!

Juliette scrambled off her bed, “wait, I’m sorry! I’m really sorry!”

Fang kept placing pieces of armor back over his bodysuit.

“I don’t know what I did wrong,” Juliette felt tears stinging at her eyes. “Fang, please tell me what I did.”

Fang turned to her, snapping, “you took off without saying goodbye!”

She sucked in her breath.

“You went off into a snow storm on a planet that’s temperatures are in the negative hundreds. You went in said snowstorm to rescue two troopers you didn’t even know, and when you realized it was a Wampa that might’ve took them, you went searching for the Wampa!” Fang ran his hands over his face, “you risked yourself for strangers, and I can’t tell if I love that or despise that.”

Juliette sunk down onto the bed, “I didn’t think it was that dangerous.”

“This a constant war zone,” Fang picked up his helmet, “everything you do is dangerous. I’m sorry I blew up at you, but I need to cool off.”

“Please don’t leave,” Juliette reached for him.

He stepped away, repeating, “I need to cool off.”

Juliette felt her lip trembling as he left the room, not even bothering to shut her door.

She held her face in her hands, trying to will the tears away and work up the strength to get up.

The door closed, and she lifted her gaze to the last trooper she expected to see in her room.

#caribou originals #caribou stories #caribou ocs #952nd #star wars #star wars the clone wars #juliette trix #commander hardwire #sergeant cooper #corporal keks #tracks #fang #coyote #cosmos #arc trooper mirage #boomerang

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emmetrain · 1 year

Text

@exspiravitcor asked:

The small Litwick, tinier than many of its kind, with its flickering but brilliant orange flame stared at the man before him. Alesha was newer to Abel’s menagerie, but quickly became well known due to his… disposition. Cranky, finicky, and sometimes downright rude, the Litwick truly had no one he wouldn’t glare at.

Emmet being no exception, even tho the Pokémon was currently occupying his mug. Emmets favorite mug to be precise which had recently been cleaned most likely and that was probably why the candle had chosen it as his new pouting place. He was also pretty well known for this act, despite Abel trying to get him to stop.

Alesha was a very weak Pokémon, sickly from birth, so Abel perhaps did treat him differently, and often allowed the Litwick to stay in the break room. Though it seems the little guy was tired of everyone bustling in there, and had found a place to hide.

Speaking of which, the Litwicks one eyed glare intensified, flame burning a bit brighter as he tried to scare off the Subway Master from his new found spot.

Emmet was staring back at them. The orange flame is captivating, and though he did not care much about shiny and non-shiny variants, the orange flame was verry pretty to see. Of course, there was a hint of frustration behind the smile, but his amazement distracted him enough.

When the flame grew bigger, Emmet nodded, taking a step back. "Hi! I am Emmet. I think we can find you a better breakroom. My mug is harrrdly suitable." He raised a finger before digging into his bag, and then the drawers around till he found an old box, with a chandelier shaped candle holder inside. Emmet had to wipe the dust off, coughing a bit as he got it ready for the little one.

"I think these were for my older brother's first birthday as a Subway Boss. We had plenty to gift to the passengers who won against him in Super Singles Line. This one came a bit off-colored, so we stored it away."

After placing the candle holder, Emmet reached to his phone to text Abel.

Incoming Message to "Abel 🚆🧑‍🔬";;

[TEXT] : I am Emmet. I am holding your pokemon hostage. You need to take a break and have a cup of coffee to listen to my demands.

[TEXT] : It's your prretty Litwick! What was their name again?

[TEXT] : If you are busy, please do not rush. We are just hanging out.

#exspiravitcor #ic #verse;; searching for the truth #ask;; suggestions and complaints #Em vc: this is a staring contest and i will win next time #//ALESHA IS SO CUTE thank you for blessing my inbox with it ;A;;;;;

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nei-ning · 2 years

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I went to bed at 10:30pm - 11:00pm and woke up after about 4 hours nap. I slept so well! I stayed awake to 5am, going back to sleep, leaving my phone play some underwater music which is meant to help release anxiety, sleep better etc. Very lovely music in my taste!

Now I slept 1,5 hours. During this time I dreamed. In the dream I was in old looking Finnish house, maybe from 1970 or so. I was looking outside through window since I couldn't sleep. My, adult, little brother just didn't let me sleep. I had to share a room with him. Whenever I JUST had fallen asleep, he came to poke me once very painfully.

I saw mom and sis coming home, mom having new (still used) red Volvo. Maybe from 1980's or 1990's. I stared at them angrily, not being pleased they had go and change mom's current car, which is in my name, to this without asking or informing me. Sis told me mom needed newer and better car (and still they changed it to older).

I didn't care so I just laid on my face on the bed, ignoring them. Sis kept asking why I didn't answer, didn't I hear her, had I fall asleep etc. My brother, who now was in another room with mom, door being open between these rooms, started to mock me. I don't remember anymore all those things he said, but they made me angry so I started to yell back at him. I told him if he's such a dick, he should get fucked. I laid down on the bed, he still mocking me to mom while sis near me said something so I snapped back at her angrily: "He won't let me sleep! When I just, JUST, have fallen asleep he comes to poke me, awakening me!"

I pulled blanket over me, curling under it. I kept talking about him to my sister some, so hard trying not to cry, but there came sniffs, then louder sobs and then full - out loud - painful cry. That kind of cry when you've lost someone dear to you in real life. I cried like that over a year ago when I suddenly lost my girl cat after 14 years.

My sister then said something to my brother who, with amused voice while smirking, said: "If you really are like that, then you really deserve a guy who punches you in the face."

I heard my mom gasp, maybe even call my brother by his name, but at the same time I was literally pouring all the pain, hurt, exhaustion, lack of sleep out.

Then I ended up observing, with sis, Molang bunny with his friends. I'm not sure was it a cartoon or were they really there living in their own small but old looking mansion. Anyway, there was Molang with his friends. Around 10 of them in total. They went from another room (view from above them) in a fireplace room which had middle sized round table with clean plates, forks, glasses abd big beautiful bouquette. There was specific shaped empty spot on the table.

One bunny placed huge shiny yellow ribbon on it's shape spot, another got huge golden egg on it's spot and then 3 or 4 rushed behind old couch to dig out golden gift box under it to put on the egg. In other words, they were putting together a present! My sister stood by my side watching them and I either faintly heard her or sensed her thoughts for me: "This is a gift for you (from them)."

Then, all of the sudden, I woke up on me crying. And no, it wasn't my typical "crying", just having one tear at the corners of my eyes. I had streams of tears on my cheeks, my nose was running and I was sobbing fast out loud while being curled under my blanket, hugging my pillow - just like in my dream. I even worried Verti, my boy cat, who slept next to my head on another mattress. He instantly made asking meow sound, making sure am I okay.

So that music what I mentioned, in some level, really helped me release some 20+ years old shit. I also need to mention that my brother and I are now between our 30 to 40 and we have NEVER fight, argue, bicker each other, not being jealous to each other etc. Nothing what people consider as "normal sibling behavior". To us all that has never been normal! It's unnatural, stupid and horrible to us. We always have got along so well!

It's weird that in the dream my brother represented all those negative things but maybe it was the "safest" way because, in real life, I know my brother isn't like that at all. If it would had been my father, well, then I would had known it in real life that that's how he truly is.

But then we get to those Molang bunnies. They were making me a gift, all golden / yellow. And it was the last part in the dream in beautiful old mansion (I love old mansions!). So I take it as: After I have go through all the shit from the past, release it / let go, I will be rewarded with something wonderful and surprising! I'm actually quite eager and excited about that already, ahah! :D

#Text #Dream #Neis dream #Emotional abuse #Past trauma #Anxiety #Molang #Bunny #Bunnies #Golden ribbon #Golden egg #Golden gift box #Healing #Mansion #Old mansion

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booksbydlwhite · 2 months

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#SampleSunday- The Pearl: A waste of a nice ass

Welcome back to Sample Sunday! I am sharing snips of THE PEARL, my upcoming Black Diamond romance. Pick up last week’s sample tto meet our heroine, Kari Savoy.

Interested in my inspirations for this novel? Follow The Pearl’s Pinterest board.

As usual, I am tracking progress and revelations of writing this book on my author podcast The Bookcast. Catch up with Episode 78 to hear how the writing is going.

Enjoy today’s snip!

As the afternoon blazed through the windshield, I pulled into the underground parking deck at The Pearl, followed the directions toward resident and employee parking and found a spot close to an elevator. I slung a bag over each shoulder, lugged two rolling suitcases toward the elevator, and pressed the button to call it.

A few moments later, the doors slid open. Expecting it to be empty, I lunged forward— into the broad, molded chest of Davis Scott.

He wasn’t in his finely tailored, well-fitting suit. Instead, he wore a skin tight, neon green and black racing shirt, matching pants and molded black riding boots. His arm shot out, his large hand firmly gripping my shoulder. I steadied myself and backed up, releasing the suitcases I’d rolled across the parking deck.

“I am so sorry. I don’t know why I expected this elevator to be empty.”

“Hello, Ms. Savoy,” he replied, in the same stiff tone from our conversation before.

I moved back a few steps and took in the entire view of him, head to toe. Namely… his attire. “That’s right. Dionne mentioned you had a bike. I guess I assumed she meant a ten-speed.” When he didn’t laugh, I cleared my throat and tried a different angle. “So…you ride?”

He nodded. “Yes. I’m headed out for a ride with Jason. Do… you ride?” An eyebrow rose as he asked. He shifted the helmet he’d been holding, propping it against his hip.

“No,” I offered quickly. “I’m too scared to get on those things. My little brother does, though. I recognize the gear.”

“Ah. Well.” He turned and pointed, which made me follow his gaze to an older but obviously well-cared for Harley parked a few spots away. It was simple and understated, jet black and shiny chrome. “That’s mine,” he said, quietly.

“A Harley,” I commented, smiling. “So you’re a serious biker. Moses rides one of those sport things.”

Davis chuckled deep in his throat, then gripped the helmet in both of his hands. “The younger generation prefer the newer bikes. Shiny, push button, electric components. This one is special to me, so I’ve taken care of it.”

“I see.” I reached for the handles to my suitcases. “Well. These aren’t going to get themselves upstairs.” I waited for him to step out of my route to the elevator.

“Do you need assistance?” And just as I was about to think it was sweet of him to offer to help me, he added, “Justin is in. I’m sure he’d be happy to come down.” He unzipped a pocket and pulled out his phone.

“No! Don’t… do that. I uhm…” I maneuvered around him to the elevator with two bags on each limb and pressed the call button again. “I can manage. Thank you.”

“No problem.” He slipped the helmet onto his head and snapped it into place. In a voice now muffled, he said, “Have a nice day, Ms. Savoy. See you in the morning.”

He turned on a heel and made long, purposed strides in the direction of his bike.

What a waste of a nice ass.

#sample sunday #the pearl #Black Diamond

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catmaraudersfan · 8 months

Text

So I made a thing:

Notes:

Summary - October 1st, 1989 is about to become frustrating for the Men in Black. (Half an idea: After something tragic happens to Zim, Dib vows to be kinder and more open to supernatural beings. Dib quits the Swollen Eyeball Network, DONE with their mockery and cruelty, and creates his OWN organization, the Men in Black. Over time, Dib notices that when humans DO believe in the supernatural, they act like Dib himself used to. And so, Dib keeps his organization a secret, only bringing in those he feels he can trust with the supernatural.)

After the births are discovered

Agents are running around, trying to do damage control and prevent the news from getting out. Grumbles going around, asking which species thought Earth was a breeding ground.

They then get a report that a registered alien by the name of Reginald Hargreeves has just bought seven of the new babies.

Reginald Hargreeves is now their top suspect.

The Men in Black somehow get their hands on baby-Ben/Number Six and baby-Klaus/Number Four.

Lying on Table 1, baby-Six is sucking his thumb, looking at the people around him. On Table 2, baby-Four is babbling at thin air and squirming around.

One of the newer Agents nervously waves a device over the infant on Table 1. Trying to determine which species created him.

Baby-Six blinks wide-eyed at the shiny thing, reaching his hand for it. When that doesn't work, tentacles emerge from the baby's stomach and grabs the device.

Agent J and K enter the room in time to see this.

"Whoa!" yelps the Agent, releasing the device and stepping away from the baby.

"Calm down, would you?" orders Agent J. "He's just a baby."

"He tried to attack me!" yells the new Agent.

"He just wants to play with what he thinks is a toy," corrected Agent K. "We've got it from here, Agent."

"I don't think the new guy is working out," J says after the new guy leaves.

"Give him some time," responds K, trying to ease the device from the giggling baby's tentacles. "You were also nervous your first day."

"I never screamed over babies, K," retorts J, going over to the other baby.

"Hello, little guy. Do you have tentacles like your brother?" coos J, poking the baby's stomach.

Baby-Four giggles, grabbing J's sunglasses with Telekinesis.

"... Huh. Hey, K, tentacle boy's brother has Telekinesis instead of tentacles." J reported, trying to get his sunglasses back.

"Good to know," acknowledges K.

#Umbrella Academy #Invader Zim #Men in Black #Crossover #Crossovers #TUAxMiBxIZ #TUAxMib #TUAxIZ #IZxMiB

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

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What kills me in fics is when you have tags going like "Good brother Jason", which, cool, but in the same story there's " Dick TRIES to be a Good Brother" LOL way to switch the dynamics. I also tend to stay clear of the ones where the centric character seems to have a platonic relationship tag with everyone (including the ones where they're antagonists in canon like Jason & Tim) except Dick. You can feel the hate/dislike/prejudice a MILE away.

Yeeeeeeah. You are definitely not alone. Like pretty much every Dick Grayson stan I’ve ever talked to on the subject stays the hell away from any fic tagged “Dick Grayson tries to be a good brother.”

LOL like....it’s basically what I was talking about in that older post I just reblogged a few minutes ago. That thing where Dick’s actions or choices in a canon story or fic aren’t judged on their own merits but are rather inherently weighed against some hypothetical perfect choice that he DIDNT make and so he’s basically evaluated based on how much he falls short of that mark each time instead of anything he actually did.

Sorry not sorry, but I’m just not interested in stories that TRANSFORM the character most commonly referred to as the emotional glue of the family and the only one who consistently even CARES about them all being a family....into the fumbling incompetent relationship disaster man who at best gets credit for at least putting in an attempt at being there for his family.

Especially not when Bruce and Jason and Tim are praised for doing the bare minimum in canon when it comes to family interactions while everything Dick ACTUALLY did is just completely ignored and overwritten in order to make his Failure to People Good the narrative obstacle to be overcome.

Now, the “Dick Grayson Tries To Be A Good Brother” tag applied to Tim-centric fics in particular tho....hoo boy I am out of there so fast there’s a Kool-Aid Man shaped hole in the wall and not a sign of me as far as the horizon.

Like, currently my Pet Peeve Thermostat is set to Battle for the Cowl-referencing fics that don’t use this tag but very much are in that spirit. You probably know the ones, like their summaries suggest they’re open to considering Dick’s side of the situation but turns out the author at most is throwing him a “well at least you tried not to suck” bone while still reading him the riot act for very much still sucking.

Because what drives me up a flipping WALL here in particular, when I naively click on a link that seems different from the usual and ignore the voice of experience because I’m just desperate enough for Tim and Dick food that doesn’t just go on and on about how Dick ruined their brotherhood and it will never be truly repaired....

What makes the fruit bats in my belfry go absolutely B-A-N-A-N-A-S is not just the super fun realization that Psych! You thought this fic might be different but it’s actually the same!

Nah.

It’s how much people, both writers AND commenters, just absolutely LOVE to reference Tim’s shitbag parents and how emotionally abusive and neglectful they were (all true and valid, btw, let’s be totally clear about that)....but bringing them up here specifically to emphasize just how great Dick’s ‘betrayal’ was and how what he did makes him no better than them.

It’s like. Oh. I see.

So because after twenty years worth of stories about Dick dropping everything the second Tim needs him, whether it’s for help or just advice or even just reassurance or comfort or ANYTHING ....because after two decades worth of content showing Dick absolutely doting on Tim in their EVERY SINGLE interaction and buttressing his self confidence at every opportunity, never passing up a chance to call him his brother and emphasize that they’re family and he loves Tim and is so proud of him...

Because after all that there’s a story whose very premise forced Dick to choose between two kids, both still very much his brothers and their shared father’s sons even if one was new to him and didn’t have the same history the other two had....

Because by the very nature of the story Dick had no choice but to prioritize one over the other due to them both hating each other and Dick already being stretched to his absolute limits trying to live his dead father’s life and take on everything Bruce used to do at the cost of giving up everything Dick had chosen for his own life and wants and priorities, all while dealing with his own grief....

And with it being inevitable that the boy he DIDNT choose to prioritize was going to be hurt....

Because after twenty years of never failing to put Tim first the second Tim needed him, never even putting HIMSELF first OVER Tim....because for the first time Dick felt that someone else he felt obligated to, felt a responsibility towards, actually needed him MORE than Tim....

And for that reason and that reason ONLY, Dick picked that other boy, all while trying his best to tell Tim that he still needed him, still valued him, all the things that Bruce DIDNT tell him when he took Robin not even because he thought someone else needed it at the time but simply to take away, with absolutely nothing Dick said in any way negating or contradicting any of his many, MANY assurances to Tim over the years that they were brothers and always would be and with them still very much legally brothers and with concrete ties to each other that declared them family even WITHOUT the connection of Robin....

Because after and despite ALL OF THAT, Dick picked the brother that he didn’t know and frankly didn’t even LIKE, because he knew no one else was going to pick this kid and he also knew he’d already picked Tim a hundred times before and hoped that at least all that HISTORY of past focus and attention he’d given Tim to help build him up, give him foundations to build further upon, that hopefully at least that history that was still there, still relevant, still something Tim had actively benefited and grown from in ways Dick now hoped to help Damian....like surely this would be of at least SOME significance to Tim, SOME kind of proof of how much Dick loved and valued Tim....

Because one time and one time ONLY, Dick DIDNT put Tim’s needs first, not because he didn’t want to or because he was being selfish or short sighted or simply didn’t care, but rather solely because this one time Tim’s needs were in direct opposition with the needs of another young boy Dick saw as his responsibility and in even greater need and with even less of a foundation than the one Dick had helped Tim build....

This puts Dick on the same level as Tim’s shitbag parents, the ones who are infamous for (and practically synonymous with) emotional abuse and neglect. Dick’s basically interchangeable with them now. Certainly no better than them. Tim’s entire emotional well-being rested on Dick and Dick alone and nothing he’d provided Tim with in the past counts, just this one moment in time right here right now, that’s the entirety of their relationship see, it all comes down to this and nothing else, and because Dick didn’t put Tim first, no matter WHAT his reasons or how much he wanted to, he has officially failed Tim as hard as the neglectful parents who did nothing BUT neglect, ignore and just not give a shit at all, simply because they couldn’t be bothered to.

Yeah.

That’s neat.

#and please before certain people get all up in their righteous umbrage and declare a blood feud against me for this #take note of how nowhere did I say Tim doesn’t have the right and reason to be hurt #because of course he does #you will never see me claiming otherwise #but just because someone was hurt that doesn’t mean that someone did it to hurt them #and that is the distinction so many fans don’t seem to care to make #I’ve literally seen people call Dick emotionally abusive and neglectful for this era of canon and holy shit people #in terms of abuse specifically you absolutely can be abusive without meaning to #hell this is basically the nature of neglect. they’re not TRYING to hurt a child because the entire problem is the child #doesn’t even rate as much of a presence in their awareness as they should #but people can yell it’s just their interpretation all they want about this era of canon #but it’s flat out not true. it’s their transformation of the material not an interpretation of it #because you literally have to CHANGE what Dick ACTUALLY says to Tim to paint him as neglectful or not caring about his emotional well-being #you have to CUT OUT all mention of the times Dick tried reaching out to Tim or checking up on him in order to paint Dick as simply moving #on with his shiny newer little brother #that’s not a difference of interpretation. that’s an act of transformation. changing details of a story that isn’t reading the way you want #it to....until it DOES say what you want it to #and the problem has NEVER been some of us just being unwilling to let people have their headcanons #the problem is people’s refusal to call them headcanons or AUs or anything that acknowledges they’ve transformed the source material #in order to CREATE the interpretation they’re going with #AND OTHER FANS HAVE EVERY RIGHT IN THE WORLD TO SAY YEAH WE’RE NOT TRYING TO TALK ABOUT YOUR TRANSFORMATION OF CANON THO #we’re literally trying to talk about what you transformed it FROM....and the fact that despite all your complaints about canon character #choices....some of you repeatedly make the CHOICE to change canon not just to fix or address the poor character choices you don’t like for #your faves.....but also at the same time making this other character do the very stuff you claim to hate canon having your faves do #and that is your CHOICE. AND YOU GET TO MAKE IT. BUT IT IS STILL A CHOICE TO MAKE CHANGES #NOT simply a different interpretation of the foundational material #like you guys keep trying to pass it off as #and that MATTERS #it matters quite a lot in fact

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hydrangeathief · 2 years

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forduary 2022 week 1: fordxsleep

Can’t sleep can’t stop have to keep moving have to keep going can’t rest can’t relax can’t ever–

Unconsciousness, when it comes, is a blessing. The blow to the back of his head sends a loud clang! reverberating through his skull and bouncing off the metal plate in his forehead, bright bursts of light blossoming before his eyes, and Stanford’s knees hit the mud with a dull thud. He pitches forward, barely catching himself, twisting and writhing and trying desperately to turn around and face the Thing behind him before it can sink its claws into his back and rip and tear and shred and make him bleed make him hurt make him die–

Ford blinks himself awake. He’s been doing that a lot lately. He’s been awake for six days.

The Thing is still on top of him. Distantly he can feel claws sinking into the skin of his ribcage, hot pricks of pain that doesn’t quite register past the exhaustion, past the all encompassing need to stop and lay down awhile. The wet, sticky mud under his back is quickly becoming tinted with hot, shiny red.

There’s a gun in his hand. He pulls the trigger. The Thing shrieks and suddenly it’s gone, or maybe Ford just faded from consciousness again, because he blinks and when he opens his eyes it’s dark. Stars litter the cosmos. The twin moons of this planet hang full and round in the dim yellow sky.

Twin moons. Twin brothers. Huh.

Ford blacks out.

“You alright there, Sixer?” Stanley asks.

Ford hums. He’d been dozing, drifting peacefully in the warm sun on the deck of their little boat. The sky is brilliant blue and clear above him, sun dazzling and blinding, sending sharp glints of light bouncing off the tops of gentle waves. The ship bobs up and down and Ford leans further back into his lawn chair, sun warmed and content.

“Drifting through memories, that’s all,” he says. He can still feel the claws of the Thing digging into his ribs, tight and squeezing and hot and sharp, but the old scars are long healed and long covered by newer, fresher ones. The sun eases away the memories of pain and gentles them, time soothing the haze of exhaustion and fear into something simpler, something manageable.

“Don’t drift too far,” Stan says. He casts his reel. He’d been fishing on deck since the early hours of the morning, but not catching much, though his mood hasn’t been dampened. Perhaps it’s just the simple act of fishing, Ford muses. Perhaps it’s the open ocean and the salty breeze and the companionable silence of someone long missed and well loved.

“I won’t,” Ford assures him. He flops a hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun and sighs contentedly. He feels a bit like a housecat on a patch of warm hardwood, content to drowsily spend the day in thought.

“Good, ‘cause I only got one lifeboat! Heyo!” Stan says, and laughs loudly at his own joke. Ford snorts, more to acknowledge the pun than out of actual humor, but Stan grins at him all the same. Ford finds himself smiling back.

They lapse into comfortable silence.

The last time Ford felt genuinely comfortable falling asleep was a lifetime ago, before he’d made colossal mistakes that could have cost him everything, before he’d seen and done and experienced so much. The last time Ford felt safe with his guard so far down was so long ago that he can’t even remember it. Perhaps he never felt completely safe. Perhaps the last time is buried somewhere deep in childhood, memories lost to time and pain and struggle.

But here, on this boat, in the middle of the sun-kissed ocean, with Stanley whistling idly nearby, Ford feels okay. He feels… right.

And isn’t that something?

The enormity of it is enough to make his breath hitch. For so long he’d been running, been hiding, been focused solely on living to see the next day, the next planet, the next dimension. He’d been starved and beaten and betrayed and hunted and nearly died on so many occasions that he still can’t quite believe he made it through all that alive. In some dimensions there’s still a bounty on his head high enough to make even the best person do horrible, terrible things. In some dimensions he’s the most wanted criminal on any planet, dead or alive. In some dimensions he has been a harbinger of doom, a horseman of some apocalypse or another, a bringer of destruction.

In this dimension, Stanford leans back in his chair and closes his eyes against the sun. He hums along absently to whatever song his brother is whistling. He plants his bare feet on the deck of his boat and anchors himself to this reality, this time.

When he wakes up, Ford is going to have one hell of a sunburn and a very amused twin brother on his hands, but for now, that doesn’t matter. For now, he just relaxes, and feels safe, and falls asleep.

#YES this is late YES it's weirdly written #YES im posting it anyway!#gravity falls #forduary #ford x sleep #fic #a post from me

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wint-er · 3 years

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The Start Of A Family

Percy Jackson One shot

READ ON AO3

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The blanket started out small. Just 3 squares of fabric. Annabeth pointed out that if it was 3 squares it couldn’t really be a blanket, it was the wrong shape. Percy always said that he didn’t care, that it was theirs and it was special so it didn’t matter. A blue square, a grey one and a green. Percy, Annabeth and Grover. The beginning of a family.

The next summer a couple more were added, a second blue one and a patched red one. And so Sally and Tyson joined the family. That same summer Annabeth added two more; black and a bright blue joined the collection. Thalia and Luke. Her first family.

The summer after that Thalia added another one, this time her own. A new one. It was still blue, but this time she stitched on a yellow bolt of lightning and a bow, then gave it to Annabeth to pass on. Clarisse joined the mix at some point, a red square, it was charred and ripped and the edges but it was added nonetheless.

Through the years at camp more and more were added until it became a map of everyone who had lived and died. A soft red from Juniper, pink one from Silena, light brown from Beckendorf. Two purple ones from Castor and Pollux and when Castor died Pollux stitched his brother's name in silver thread onto his square. Yellow for Lee and a sort of cream colour for Micheal.

Chiron added a brown square that had additional stitches around the edge, Mr D begrudgingly added a purple one that shimmered in the light. Will added a pastel yellow one soon after the war. Then, once Malcolm sat down to add his, he stitched the names of everyone who died into their squares.

When Thalia returned to camp she added a silver one for Zoe, Annabeth added a new one for Luke, this one a dark blue. Rachel added a bright red one to the mix at some point and no one really knows when but the Aphrodite cabin got a hold of it, and the next time Percy pulled it out of storage there were 4 new squares in varying shades of pink scattered around the edges.

Travis and Conner added a teal, and bright pink square respectively. Saying that they were the most obnoxious colours they could find. Chris added a plain brown one, the fabric of that square was oddly soft Percy had noticed. A green one stitched with daisies was added by Katie soon after Chris added his.

And then Percy went missing and no one touched the blanket for a very long time. It was only when Jason, Piper and Leo got back from their quest, Grover returned from searching and they all knew where Percy was, did Annabeth pull it out of its box under Percy’s bed and take it to the campfire. Grover and Annabeth sat at the edge of the campfire with some of the younger campers telling the stories behind each square.

When Percy found it in his cabin on the Argo there was a new square, a light grey one, so light it was almost white. Whose is it? He’d asked Annabeth, she glanced at the blanket. Paul's, he's part of the family too. She answered.

It was only after the pair got back from tartarus did they add more squares: a gold, reddish brown, sky blue, orange and a dark pink. Hazel, Frank, Jason, Leo and Piper. They were part of the family now too. Whether they liked it or not.

It was around the same time that Percy sat down and stitched everyone's names into their squares. Not just the people who had died. Annabeth added another two patches, both silver, for Bob and Damasen. Bobs with a small gold cat stitched in the corner.

After the war with Gaea, the camps sat together and more squares were added. Purple, black, olive green. Reyna, Nico and Bianca. Various oranges, Nyssa, Harley and Jake. The blanket was getting bigger now, It could comfortably fit Grover, Annabeth and Percy under it now.

Camp Jupiter got hold of it at some point and Dakota added another purple one near his half-brother's set. Gwen added a pale yellow. Lavina predictably added a bright pink one.

Lester- Apollo ended up at camp at some point, while he was there a few more squares were added. An earthy green, shiny gold, bright orange and a dark grey. Austin, Apollo, Kayla and Meg. Meg was oddly hesitant about adding a square and everyone noticed how her eyes lingered on the bright yellow fabric, but no one said anything.

When Leo got back, they added a cinnamon coloured one for Calypso, and when the pair returned after seeing Jo, Emmie and Georgina they added a square for the family, a dark red patch that felt like velvet. That was when the Ares cabin added a few in varying shades of red and black.

When Jason died Thalia came back to camp and stitched a small pink heart in the corner of his square. Leo stitched a red one inside of that heart with surprising skill.

After the fight with Nero, Meg returned to camp and added a bright yellow square over her old one. No longer hesitant to add a patch to the family. The rest of her cabin added patches in a whole array of colour. Slotting them into the missing spaces. A purple and black square were added by Cecil and Lou Ellen at Will's insistence.

The blanket made its way through the camp, picking up squares from people they missed. Evening out the edges and fixing any big gaps in the fabric. It made its way back to the Athena cabin where they stitched up the edge and put it back in a box under Percy's bed. That's where the blanket sat. For years and years. Until Percy upon returning to camp, long after starting a life with Annabeth, found it there.

He sat on the edge of the bed running his hands over the fabric, his fingers seeking out missing stitches and particularly worn patches absently. Having long memorised the little imperfections. Annabeth found him there, with it in his hands staring at it.

The next time they saw Grover, the group sat under it, together, telling stories about their first adventures and reliving a time they never thought they would wish so desperately to go back to. When they were young and didn’t realise the pain and heartbreak that sat before them.

The blanket was big and worn with singed bits where it got too close to the campfire, there were holes where campers hadn’t lined up the squares properly. Sloppy stitches and crooked lines. The right side was uneven and a few of the squares had snarky messages stitched into them by older campers who were leaving, but it was made by them and they would never see some of the people who added to the blanket again.

It was a map of everyone who had lived and died, but it was also a map of the people who had joined the family, who had found a place to be loved, to love, even when the rest of the world didn't seem to want them.

So yes, the blanket wasn’t as small as it was in the beginning but that's only because their family had grown with them. And it was very much like the blanket, big, miss matched and messy. So yes, it was different, but amongst all the newer squares and marshmallow stains, sat the first three squares, A blue square, a grey one and a green. Percy, Annabeth and Grover. The beginning of a family.

And the beginning of a family it was indeed.

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 3 years

Text

Though I Can't Recall Your Face, I Still Got Love For You

Summary: Spencer’s always been ambivalent about his birthday, but self proclaimed lover of birthday’s Y/N attempts to change that.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Warnings: Spencer’s kind of a sad bitch. Question: Why do I like writing sad Spencer?

Word Count: 2.5 K- ish

Author’s Note: prompts come from here this one is 4,8,25 from @shemarmooresfedora !! please go check out her blog on here and on Ao3!! Also, I’m stilling taking requests for numbers. I’ll update for which ones have been taken 💕

Though I Can’t Recall Your Face, I Still Got Love for You

Birthdays were always hard when all you had to do is go home to an empty house. No sounds of friends crowding the dining room table, no laughter from family members, no well wishes or pats on the back. All there is, is the stillness of silence and the emptiness of solitude. Spencer thought that he was used to it. He remembers the way the sun felt on his face the morning he woke up on his 18th birthday. His first thought wasn’t it’s my day, but it’s the day I put my mom away. The day Spencer became a man, was the first day he really wished he was a little boy again.

Ever since then, birthdays have always been a sore spot for Spencer. They just bring up sour tasting memories of his mother refusing to get out of bed or his father staying late at work to avoid coming home to a wife who doesn’t remember her own husband or a son who he can’t seem to understand. Birthdays, for Spencer, have always been just another day. Or at least, that’s what Spencer tells himself on the long ride up the elevator to the 6th floor of the BAU.

The bullpen is dark when Spencer walks out from the elevator. Paperwork and manila folders clutter the desks. Even Spencer’s workspace seems to reflect himself: frozen in time. He sits at his desk, a photograph of him and his mother placed at the right corner smiles up at him. A newer photograph, one of him and Y/N, sits right next to the one with his mom. There’s one with Derek and Penelope, one with him and Gideon at his Academy graduation, and one with him and JJ, who’s holding Henry. One of him and Luke at a bar, Penelope in the background drunk and singing.

Spencer loves photographs, but recently he’s been obsessed with them. Ever since his mother’s diagnosis, the fear that would ever forget the faces that find a home in his heart paralyzes him. These pictures may very well one day tell a much more older, much more grayer Spencer the story of his life. Today, in his mind, is another day closer to his fate.

His birthday means he’s another day closer to forgetting the way Y/N eyes sparkle when she drinks too much rose, or Henry’s laugh at Spencer’s magic tricks, or feeling when Derek calls him his brother. No one, not even Y/N, knows that Spencer has a drawer filled up of photographs he’s collected over the years. He can’t deal with forgetting the principles of electromagnetism, but forgetting his family? Spencer wouldn’t have anything left, but the smiling faces of familiar strangers, whose names are just out of reach.

Spencer rubs his eyes with the ball of his palm. He knows he’s not going to get work done. Spencer spins in his swivel chair and he’s nearly startled out of his quiet thoughts when his phone rings.

“Dr. Spencer Reid,” he says, swallowing his emotions as he shuts the drawer on the shiny faces.

“You really need to start checking your caller ID, Spence,” Y/N says, with a chuckle. Spencer can practically feel the way she’s smiling. For some reason, her teasing never made him feel bad.

“Well, what do I owe this pleasure?” Spencer asks. He drums his fingers on his desk, waiting for Y/N to respond.

“It seems like we have a missing person case,” Y/N starts, “6’2 male, brown hair, some say his eyes are green and some say they’re brown, so we’ll go with hazel, and he’s like ridiculously smart, but also kind of dumb for avoiding his girlfriend on his birthday,”

Spencer sighs as he launches himself into a long spin in his chair. He’s not surprised that Y/N is calling him; she’s always loved birthdays. She’s always been someone to someone. It’s taken some time to adjust to the fact that Spencer is Y/N’s someone.

“Are you coming to rescue me?” Spencer asks sheepishly. He leans back in his chair, watching the elevator. Y/N might think she’s slick, but Spencer’s sure he knows her better than he knows geographical profiling.

“Maybe, can you tell me how fast elevators can travel up to the 6th floor?”

Spencer opens his mouth, ready to fire statistics on top of statistics, but is silenced by Y/N’s arrival. Spencer tries to remain neutral, remain ambivalent about this day being something more than any other day, but Y/N makes it difficult.

As soon as her feet leave the elevator she launches herself at Spencer, not caring that he’s less than capable of catching anything. In a tangle of arms and legs, Y/N manages to sit herself on Spencer’s lap. His hand snakes around her waist; he holds her so tight that it’s almost like he’s afraid she’s going to get blown out like birthday candles on a cake.

“I can’t believe you thought you could sneak out and come to work, on your birthday of all days,” Y/N says quietly, she threads her fingers through Spencer’s hair. She likes how long it’s gotten and his curl pattern is almost fully restored to their original health from before he went to prison.

“How’d you find me?” Spencer asks, thinking that birthdays might not be so bad if they all involve Y/N sitting in his lap and trying to braid his hair.

“Do you seriously have to ask that? Only the Oracle of Quantico,” Y/N teases and Spencer rolls his eyes, thinking he should have known that Garcia would be the one to track his location for Y/N.

“It’s vaguely illegal for a federal agent to tap into those databases, especially for a civilian,” Spencer counters. Y/N, smiling at him, dips her head down to press light kisses on his eyebrows and down the bridge of his nose.

“So’s an ex-Army Ranger giving me his key card to sneak into the BAU,”

“Luke’s in on this too,” Spencer tries to sound upset, but his heart swells at the thought of Penelope, Luke, and Y/N all instigating for his birthday.

“Of course he is, I had to bring out the big guns for my Spencer’s birthday,” Y/N quips. Her fingers climb up Spencer’s sides, tickling him. She likes the kind of laugh that he lets out when she tickles him. It’s a laugh that’s unguarded and full of life. It’s a laugh that doesn’t hold anything back. It’s a laugh that relieves the pressure that festers deep inside him.

Y/N’s hands may make him laugh, but nothing makes him beam more than hearing Y/N call him “my Spencer”. She says it so simply, like my doesn’t even exist, like it’s an involuntary muscle being flexed. For Y/N, loving Spencer came as easy and effortless as breathing.

“You do love birthdays,” Spencer says, looking up at Y/N. He spins them around in his swivel chair, giggling as she lets out a gleeful squeal. Spencer grows dizzy, but he thinks he’s dizzier from Y/N’s love than from spinning in his chair.

“I love your birthday more than any other day, even my birthday,” Y/N says, getting up from Spencer’s lap to pick up the canvas grocery bags she brought with her.

“I was never one for birthdays,” Spencer says quietly. Y/N, more than anyone, knows Spencer’s challenging past. She knows his fears and she knows his dreams. She haunts his every waking moment; somehow a mercurial threat and a constant promise at the same time.

“I know, but I’m sure I’ll make you grow to love them,” Y/N says, “I wasn’t sure which flavor you wanted so I got all of them. Wawa has a surprisingly good selection of Turkey Hill,”

She takes out three gallon sized cartons of ice cream. One coffee with chocolate chips, one butter pecan, and one Moose Tracks. She hands Spencer a spoon and a napkin before sitting down on the floor and opening a carton of the ice cream.

“I do love dairy,” Spencer says, eyeing the ice cream, but considering the consequences of eating the creamy desert. Spencer shoves the statistics about the effects of dairy on a 40 year old with lactose intolerance down and takes his spot next to Y/N on the floor.

He goes to open his carton of ice cream, coffee with chocolate chips, but before he can dig his spoon into the tub, Y/N grabs his wrist.

“No! Spence, wait. Here, take these. And you need to light it,” she says, plopping a couple lactose pills in his hand and digging out a pack of candles and a lighter from her bag.

“Y/N are you out of your mind! We can’t light something in the BAU, god, Emily will kill me,” Spencer says nervously.

“Spence, do you really think Emily Prentiss is going to give me shit for lighting a candle for your birthday in the middle of the office. That woman lives on the edge,” Y/N waves him off and lights a single candle.

Spencer, staring at the lit candle, listens as Y/N sings “Happy Birthday” to him. Sitting criss cross on the floor of the BAU, he watches as the candle light illuminates Y/N’s face. She looks almost ghostly in the dark with the flickering light making her eyes glow. Y/N wishes the song and grasps his hand and squeezes hard.

“Make a wish, baby,” Y/N tells him. She really believes in wishes. Spencer wishes he could believe in wishes. He desperately wants to believe that Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos are somehow tying knots in the places where his string has been cut.

But more than anything, Spencer can’t bear to forget the face of the women across from. He can’t bear to one day not recognize the way her hand feels in his. He can’t accept the possibility of Y/N being anything less than the person he knows best in this world. Spencer doesn’t particularly care for the metaphor of the light going out. But his fears are put at bay when Y/N leans over and pecks his cheek. He can feel her grinning against his skin and like some virus contracted through touch, it’s contagious. Y/N breaks apart from Spencer and motions for him to eat some ice cream. They sit, shoulder to shoulder, against the front of Spencer’s desk eating their ice cream.

“Thank you, for making my birthday special. It’s been a hard year,” Spencer says, letting the tension in the air speak for itself, “my mom didn’t remember me the other day. I hate seeing her like that,”

“I know, sweetheart. You’ve been through so much. That’s why you need to tell me these things,” She says, setting down her ice cream. Y/N places her hands on Spencer’s shoulders, guiding him to place his back against her chest. His head rests in the crook of her neck. Spencer can feel her steady heart beat against his back. It’s a constant, patterned drum amidst the chaos of his mind.

“Can we take a picture, you know, just to remember this day,” Spencer asks, his voice laced with trepidation. He can feel Y/N nod, and move to grab her phone from her pocket.

Spencer sits up and scoots over to open the bottom drawer of his desk. He pulls out an old camera, one where you have to wait for the picture to appear on the print out. He likes the charm in older things, you really have to work for it. He likes the effort that you have to put into getting the picture made.

“Going old school, I see,” Y/N teases as she catches sight of Spencer’s old camera. He returns to his spot, snuggled against her back. Their legs stick out on the floor, his much longer than Y/N’s. Her arms snake around his torso, holding him tight. Spencer holds the camera out, facing them to capture their faces in some archaic selfie style.

The light flashes before Spencer’s eyes, and Y/N’s kiss on the top of his head burns a hole that instantly leaves him craving more. He’d let her draw any pattern she desires, as long as her kisses are the medium and he is her canvas.

“Can you tell me what you wished for?” Y/N asks, her voice low.

Spencer, looking off into the distance, makes a disgruntled noise. He can feel Y/N’s fingers crawl up his sides and her arms encasing his body. She’s shielding him from his demons, but little does she know that the most menacing foe is his mind.

“You’re really not supposed to, but considering you’re my wish I think you have the right to know,” Spencer offers, “I wished that I’ll never forget you. Never forget this life we made together,” He feels his chest constrict. Mentioning his fear makes it seem more palpable; more real.

“Spencer, have you felt that way for a long time?,”

Spencer takes a deep breath, letting the floodgates open.

“I’ve felt like this my whole life, Y/N. I’m terrified to forget you. To forget our children that I haven’t even met yet. Forget who I am. I’m terrified that I’m going to leave you behind in a murky past that I can never remember,” Spencer says. He chokes back the pain. He doesn’t want Y/N memories of him to be marred by fear and darkness.

“This is about your mom, right. Spencer, listen to me. I’ll love you even if that comes true. I don’t need you to recall my face to know you still got love for me. And you're not leaving me behind. I won’t allow that. I’m not leaving you behind, baby,” Y/N says, her voice the most soothing cure.

She’s a power mixture of biochemicals and neurotransmitters. She heals him at an epigenetic level and restores him piece by piece. Her medicine is love.

Or maybe her love is his medicine.

“I’ve never been this scared of losing something, because I never had someone to lose,” Spencer mumbles, he twists his head so his breath is warm against Y/N’s neck. Somehow in this twisted position, Spencer has never felt safer.

“You can’t lose something that can’t be lost, my Spencer. I’m not going anywhere,”

“I love you to the moon and to Saturn,” Spencer says kissing along Y/N’s collarbones.

Like the pictures in the drawer, Spencer tucks away the fears of the future. He swallows the threat of forgetting everything because the promise of love swallows him whole. He craves a future with Y/N with the possibility of forgetting who she is over the life he’d live if he left her behind.

She said it best, even if one day he can’t recall her face, he’ll still have love for her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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Taglist!

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@willowrose99

@calm-and-doctor

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x female reader #criminal minds #samuel de champagne problems 300 followers #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid comfort #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader comfort

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soiruntotheriver · 2 years

Text

ModWitcherAU!drabble

Geralt accepted the call and waited, knowing that Eskel could hear him breathing.

“Hey, man. Sorry to interrupt your ‘me time’, but I’m afraid the old girl’s finally given out.”

Geralt huffed.

“Yeah, I know, I know. I should’ve traded her in years ago, but we both know that was never gonna happen. So let’s just skip to the part where you agree to pick me up and I promise to buy you one of those gross green drinks you like on the way home.”

Geralt sighed and racked the fifty pound weight he’d been doing curls with.

“That’s the spirit.”

Twenty minutes later found Geralt maneuvering gingerly into the alley behind The Den, pulling his much newer Chevy Silverado up alongside Eskel’s ‘78 Ford in the tiny back lot. His brother’s place of work afforded plenty of space out front for the vehicles of paying customers, but didn’t grant the same courtesy to the staff. Geralt managed to squeeze his body out of the cab without dinging his driver’s side door and headed inside.

The dimly lit corridor was bustling as always, performers hurrying to and from their dressing rooms, a stage hand passing by with props, one of the bartenders offering Geralt a wave as she headed outside for a smoke. The low hanging amber bulbs did little to illuminate the nameplates on each of the doors, but Geralt could’ve found the way in his sleep. Third one on the left, the second largest room after Aiden’s - and that was only because the other man technically had seniority, despite having worked there only two weeks longer than Eskel.

Geralt knocked once before entering.

“Hey,” Eskel greeted him from his seat at the vanity, halfway through toeing off his shoes.

The shoes in question were a pair of four-inch patent leather heels that made Geralt’s feet ache just looking at them. He let his eyes wander up over Eskel’s stocking-clad legs to the emerald green garter belt, briefs, and matching brassiere. He took a moment to note how nice the color looked against Eskel’s skin before pushing the thought away.

It wasn’t the first time he’d looked at Eskel and liked what he saw. Hell, there’d been moments in the past when it hadn’t stopped at just looking. But, it wasn’t…a regular thing. At least, Geralt tried not to make it one.

It was true they weren’t really brothers, but seven years growing up in the same house drew that line pretty thin. Besides, it wasn’t like he went for guys all that often anyway.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” Eskel said, standing up and moving towards where Geralt was loitering by the door in order to grab his bag from a nearby chair.

The other man took a moment to root around for something inside, shifting just close enough for Geralt to smell the sandalwood cologne under the clean salt of his sweat. One silk-clad thigh settled a hair’s breadth away from Geralt’s fingers.

He let the back of his hand brush against skin and a wide strip of lace that was just as soft as it had looked from across the room. Eskel glanced up at him with small smile and a soft question in his eyes. Geralt felt his control waver.

Which was, of course, when the door to the dressing room came flying open, nearly thwacking Geralt in the process. A blur of something shiny and blue darted inside, already halfway through whatever they were saying before they’d cleared the threshold.

“Es, darling, have you seen my – oh.”

Geralt blinked ever so slightly up into the bluest eyes he’d ever seen, large and almost cartoonishly round in their surprise. The person to whom the eyes belonged stood agape for a moment before shutting their mouth with a little snap. The silence lasted only as long as it took Geralt to register the mop of wavy brown hair and the intense amount of glittery powder dusting the other’s cheeks.

“Apologies!” the mouth started up again, “I didn’t realize you had company…”

“That’s alright, Jas,” Eskel said, pulling away a little, “This is my brother. Geralt.”

“Brother!” the man exclaimed, “I didn’t know you had siblings. I must say - though the both of you are, obviously, stunning - I don’t see any family resemblance.”

This was followed up with a slow once over of Geralt’s physique, presumably with the intention of spotting familial similarities.

“Adopted,” Eskel offered, “Geralt, this is Jaskier. He started a couple weeks ago.”

“Ah!” Jaskier intoned, “That explains, well…everything.”

He made a vague gesture encompassing both their persons and the still negligible space between them. Geralt felt his face heat and he moved back until he felt his calves pressing against the chair behind him. This new vantage afforded him a better look at what the other man - Jaskier - was wearing.

A corset of blue brocade, shot through with gold thread cinched in an already tiny waist. A matching pair of silk briefs trimmed in velvet encased a pair of slim hips. Fingerless fishnet gloves in a deep navy stretched all the way up to the man’s surprisingly sizable biceps. More gold glitter shimmered across a pair of sharp collarbones and gathered in the hollow of a long, pale throat. Dark chest hair fanned out over the bustline of the corset, the hint of masculinity paired with that distinctly feminine silhouette making Geralt feel a little dizzy.

The entire look was topped off by a pair of staggeringly high red pumps, the same hue Jaskier had painted that effusive mouth with. The look should have been at least a little ridiculous, but instead it was merely…distracting.

What was the man saying?

“-- back another time. Do tell me if you see my silver polish, won’t you, Eskel? Geralt, it was an absolute pleasure to meet you. Perhaps I’ll see you around?”

With that and a wink, Jaskier disappeared as suddenly as he’d arrived, leaving the scent of roses and something…resinous behind.

Eskel chuckled a bit at Geralt’s raised eyebrow.

“He’s something else, huh? Sweet kid, though. And a pretty decent musician, actually,” Eskel divulged, pulling a t-shirt on over his lingerie and shimmying into a pair of black jeans.

“Not that he gets to use it here very often. We’ve been trying to convince Mousesack to let him incorporate his violin into one of the acts.”

Geralt’s hum had a question mark at the end.

“Yeah, and lute and tin whistle and, uh, bodrán?”

Geralt grunted an affirmative.

“And bodrán.”

Eskel paused, eyeing Geralt before adding, “He’s here Thursday through Monday. Six to midnight.”

“And why do I need to know that?” Geralt bit out.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe cause your ears are still burning.”

Geralt’s attempt at glaring the grin off Eskel’s face yielded unsatisfying results.

TBC...?

#drabble #the witcher drabble #Eskralt #Geraskier #Jaskel?#apparently I'm writing a burlesque AU #H writes fic #eskel #jaskier #geralt

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chiafett-moved · 2 years

Note

MIKEY 👁👁 tell me about your ocs? (please) (only if you want to - no pressure)

LEO THANK YOU it's time to rant. I have a few oc asks in my inbox, so be ready for infodumping in the next few hours. I'm going to focus on the three main ones I'm working with right now: Penchant, Hemlock, and Holly (in order of character development)

Penchant is a sergeant working under Commander Faie in Deadweight Company, a non-canon company of my invention.

Penchant is about three quarters of a cycle younger than Faie, putting him at about Rex's age. He's certainly not a baby anymore.

Penchant is a man of endless patience and limitless ability to just roll with shit. That being said, he's not a pushover, and if he sees a problem, he'll deal with it. This makes him a great counterpoint to Faie, who can be a bit of a handful.

Faie and Penchant worked together from about six months into the war onward.

Faie was unsure of him at first, but they were soon inseparable. Penchant cares about Faie in that special "little sibling who had to grow up too fast" way. They don't always see eye-to-eye and sometimes they fight like hell, but they love each other.

Penchant is a fundamentally kind person. At his core, he wants things to be fair and he wants to do right by other people. Sometimes, this leaves him open to getting taken advantage of, but that's why he has an asshole older brother.

Appearance-wise, Penchant is pretty bland. He's got no obvious mutations or tattoos and keeps his hair within regs. He does have a few tattoos in less obvious places, though, including a nice back piece of a yin-yang symbol.

Hemlock is the CG CMO. He's seen some shit and he's done some things, but he's pretty much indestructible.

Hemlock's also on the older side, just a bit younger than Rex. He's been training to be a medic since fourth cycle, so he knows his shit. He was assigned to the Guard at the beginning.

Hemlock was one of the only trauma surgeons assigned to the Guard (because why would you need trauma specialists if you never see the fight hahahahahah), so the burden of education fell on his shoulders when it became clear that trauma surgery would in fact be needed.

He can be a cold bastard. His childhood was pretty typical of a clone (so, you know, brutal), but things went rapidly downhill when he was assigned to the Guard. He stuck to his guns and told shit like it was, and he lost basically all his friends to the animosity between CG and the GAR.

He's known Fox since the very beginning of the war. They've been through a lot together, and they both feel extremely responsible for the younger and/or newer ones.

Holly is Hemlock’s apprentice and his younger brother. Yes, he named himself after he met Hemlock.

Holly came to the Guard straight off Kamino, almost a year into the war. He didn’t know what to expect, so he didn’t have quite the same culture shock as the older clones.

Holly wants to be ori’vod because, well, he’s not a shiny! He’s permanently Hemlock’s little brother, though, so it’s hard.

Holly is a ball of sunshine with blood on his face. He’s trying so hard but he’s getting tired.

He feels like he has to be the cheerful one, especially in the medbay, and especially since his older brother is the CMO. Hemlock wants nothing more than to protect Holly, and Holly just wants to return the favor.

That’s all for now!

#purgetrooperfox #ask #my ocs #penchant #holly #hemlock

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kamakrazeewarboyz · 3 years

Text

Time for some clone ocs!!

First up we have the republic commando Phantom Sqaud

Leading man is Corpse, who’s also the demolitions expert and loves making things go boom. He’s also rly good at crafting his own improvised explosive devices out of whatever material is available, and even though he’s the lead man 9/10 he prefers to stand back and take out enemies at a distance instead of close quarters bc of an incident that earned him both his scar and his namesake (he got shot point blank in the head by a droid, and his squad thought he was dead until they got him back on the transport ship and he gasped awake). He’s the coarse, grumpy one of the squad but deep down he loves his brothers and would both sell them to Satan for one corn chip and also fight the sun with his bare hands to keep them safe

Shriek is the resident know it all- he loves learning and picking up on new things so he’s always listening to holotapes and sometimes reading books when he can + wastes time during quiet moments scouring the holonet for info on whatever new subject has caught his interest. He’s basically like a human encyclopedia, so if any of the others need a question answered or a translator, they know they can turn to him. He was blinded during a mission and given two cybernetic eyes, and he can see pretty okay with them but there’s something a bit ‘off’ about cybernetic vision vs natural vision so he relies more on his sense of sound and has honed in pretty acute hearing bc of it

Bone-Shaker, or as he squadmates like to call him, Bones, is the team muscle. He’s got a thing for taking out droids with his bare hands or his vibroblade in up close combat, but when he’s got to take them out from a distance he LOVES being the one with the biggest blaster whooping and hollering while he shoots them down. He can be kinda crude and intimidating at first but he’s actually a super big softy with a giant soft spot for his brothers, and he’s SUPER touchy feely. No one in Phantom Squad is ever touch starved bc they know at the end of a long day Bones is gonna pull them all into a giant cuddle pile and not let them go

Wraith is basically like the team infiltrator and stealth guy, and he doubles as the team sniper when it’s needed. He’s rly light on his feet and super good at sneak into places and around people undetected, so he’s usually the go to recon or stealth retrieval guy. He’s soft spoken and doesn’t actually talk a lot unless he feels like he rly needs to do he’ll usually use hand gestures or gentle touches to get his brothers attention, but he’s also got a great sense of humor and cracks up a lot at Bones’ jokes or Shriek’s deadpan puns, esp when they’re (lovingly) picking on Corpse

And now the Shadow Company boys! I’ve given them their own battalion to fit into and their own Jedi general who has yet to be drawn, but they’re situated inside of the 323rd battalion under Jedi knight Daven Uuthus, a female Nautolan

Puncture is pretty much the company tattoo artist, he was always rly into art and doodling when he was younger and once he was deployed all the different systems shadow company was sent to opened him up to a whole new world of art and ways to create it. He got rly interested in tattooing specifically when he saw other clones starting to get them to individualize themselves, and even more so once he started to notice all sorts of different tattooing techniques across the galaxy. He learned a lot of tips and tricks from locals on different planets he visited and tried them out himself when he could find willing brothers, and eventually grew so good at his craft he made a name for himself as the go to guy if you want a badass tattoo

Clapback is the human embodiment of sass. Like he’s SO. SASSY. He will hit you with zingers so fast you’ll be roasted like a chunk of meat before you even realize what’s happening. He and his batchmate Hammerhead have an ongoing brotherly rivalry (all out of love of course but that doesn’t stop them from being savage) which is how Clapback got his name, bc everytime Hammerhead would come up with something to throw at him he’d throw it right back and twice as ruthless. He’s a good source of levity along with Hammerhead during hard times, but he’s also super caring and always there to help and comfort a brother or friend in need

Hammerhead is the slightly less feral but still equally chaotic one out of him and Clapback. He gets put into Shadow Company w/ Clapback after the first battle of Geonosis (which neither one of them took part in but were deployed rly soon after) and promoted to sergeant before the war ends, and while he’s got a goofy side he can also be very serious and in the moment when the time calls for it, and rly good to have at your back in the middle of a fight. He’s also great at tactical improvision

Triple- or Trip- is the “”long suffering”” third batchmate to Hammerhead and Clapback. He gets roped with the ‘responsible sibling’ role all the time even though he’s just as good at spreading chaos as the others, but he’s usually more level headed and better at controlling his impulses (and his mouth) than the other two. He becomes a special ops trooper, but Shadow Company works with spec ops troopers often, so he still gets to see his close brothers maybe more than he’d like (which is a JOKE bc this dummy is so soft for them it’s like a neon sign above his head, he just likes to pretend he doesn’t care)

And last but not least Lollipop!! He’s the Ultimate Babie of the company, and also one of the newer troopers, coming in a little over halfway through the war so he’s v shiny. He got his name from the time he and a few other troopers stumbled upon abandoned farmland and a couple of eopies took major interest in him and wouldn’t leave him alone, ‘licking him like a lollipop’ as one of the other troopers said which ended up sticking, though he mostly goes by Lolly. He’s easily the biggest softy in the company and he’s also crazy good at map reading and geography so once he’s in he’s looked to a lot as their backup guide to make sure they’re getting to where they’re going alright

#Star Wars #Star Wars oc #clone trooper OC #clone ocs #I have two more boys and the Jedi but I need to redo the others face designs and actually draw my Jedi generals #but here they are!!! my babies whom I love!!!#feel free to ask me anything abt them I love talking abt them!#commando wraith #commando shriek #commando corpse #commando bone-shaker #trooper puncture #trooper clapback #trooper hammerhead #trooper triple #trooper lollipop

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remmushound · 3 years

Text

Curse of the Clan part 59! @selfindulgenz @scentedcandlecryptid

There Michelangelo stood before Krang, the giant blob of a being rearing up with help of the wires that supported his gelatinous flesh as it spilled over in thick folds. Michelangelo stepped as far away from the alien as he could, ruby eyes locked on the yokai and trying his best not to let fear shine in them. But Krang knew better; he knew Michelangelo was afraid. He could taste it. Immediately he started to poke and prod into Michelangelo’s mind, just as he had with Donatello during their lovely stay in the forest.

Michelangelo whined and clutched at his head when a sensation not unlike a needle pierced through it. His legs lost sensation, and his thoughts were scattered like leaves on the wind. His heartbeat was like the drums of war pounding inside of him but that wasn’t the only thing that drowned his senses because there was something else, something evil, something poking around in his head that shouldn’t have been! The feeling was anything but pleasant, but no matter how much Michelangelo squeezed his head to try and force it out, it wouldn’t go away.

The voice was inside the cavern of his skull, vibrating along his brain and making his entire body shake and his vision go dark.

“You’re more resistant than the purple one…” The voice inside Michelangelo’s head said, and there came a cold tingle up Michelangelo’s arm that settled around his throat like a noose. “I wonder if you’ll last as long as he did…”

“You… hurt… my… brother…” The words were hard to force out, as heavy on his tongue as a ten pound weight, but he refused to let them stay.

“And it was fun.” The voice was in his left ear, and then his right. “And it was easy. Because he was soft…”

“You take that BACK!” With Michelangelo’s defiant roar and a swipe of his flaming kusari, the cold force prodding him was knocked back.

Krang was slammed back into his body with a furious snarl, a scowl creeping over his features as he rubbed his head with a fore-tentacle. Michelangelo’s aura was strong, a truthful passion powerful enough to form a force field around the box turtle. Krang laughed.

“Donnie is just as strong as I am!” Michelangelo growled, his eyes glowing gems.

The darkness closed in again, and this time Krang was braced for the power that the orange turtle radiated, and he was able to penetrate it. His grip on Michelangelo’s psyche tightened, and bit by bit he pulled out everything he needed and weaved it to fit his own desire.

Michelangelo and Leonardo were back in that supermarket, running from the Gumbus as it chased them down the aisles. They were seperated from April and they were alone, well alone together at least, and they needed to hide. They spotted a place, and they both dived for it, but… Michelangelo didn't make it.

No, that wasn’t right. Leonardo had grabbed him and pulled him into shelter! Michelangelo was sure he had! Why was he thinking of this anyway? It wasn’t unlike him to blank out, drawn into the spiraling colors of his own mind, but this time it seemed far more misplaced than usual, and the memory was wrong! Why was it wrong? No no no, Leonardo had helped him, not left him to the beast—

Michelangelo fell to his knees as another nightmare forced its way to the front of his mind. Him and Donatello, together behind the bushes watching Todd’s RV before they knew the friendly capybara. Whispering to each other. Todd sneaking up behind them and scaring them near out of their shells, and what Michelangelo should have remembered was both him and Donatello scattering, but what came forth through like a crudely patched pair of jeans was Donatello shoving his little brother to the ground and leaving him there for the apparent ‘Spine Breaking Bandit’ to seize.

“Your mind is strong…” Krang’s voice came with a rush of nausea, “I wonder: Is your body the same?”

Michelangelo throwing a boat, using all the power he could summon. His brothers should have praised him, but instead came their vicious scolds and hurtful words and the insults made Michelangelo drop the boat and—

“Is your love for your brothers…?”

Michelangelo wanted to go on his first solo mission. Instead of supporting him, all three of his brothers surrounded him like cruel silhouettes, laughing and pointing and mocking the bravery that tried to shine. Their words and faces twisted with hatred spiraled in Michelangelo’s mind and let nothing else through.

“...too little…”

“...too weak…”

“...too dumb…”

“...all heart…”

“...no brain…”

“You need to grow up.” The voices of all three brothers melted into one. Michelangelo was crying. His brothers wouldn’t say that, his brothers wouldn’t be mean, his brothers loved him

“Or your father?” Krang taunted further. “Would you still love him…?”

Now this was a memory Michelangelo couldn’t recall. It was a place he knew, Draxum’s lab, but it wasn’t the way it was when he had briefly saw it years ago. It was different, older yet newer at the same time. Shiny and alive and now dancing with fire that swallowed everything in his path. He was helpless, the smoke choking and burning his senses. And he saw someone there, his father Lou Jitsu, grabbing items from Draxum’s shelves and tossing them into the flames to ensure their destruction. Michelangelo started to cry; he was a baby, what else could he have done? He reached out for the man and for a moment Lou Jitsu had looked his way, the eyes soft and kind as Michelangelo knew them to be. Then came the veil of hatred pulled over as the flames swallowed Lou Jitsu and he disappeared, leaving Draxum’s experiments to burn up. All of Draxum’s experiments.

“No…” Michelangelo said; he was on his knees now and dreadfully cold. “No… that… that didn't happen!”

“Didn't it…?”

Did it…? All of Michelangelo’s memories were so twisted, so mixed up, that he couldn’t tell what was true and what was a lie and what had happened and what hadn’t happened. He knew his brothers wouldn’t do that but they did do that, he saw them, they were in his head! In his head… it was all in his head, it was all a game, all a lie, everything. Did his brothers really hate him? Did his father despise him? Did Draxum and April and CJ and everyone else think so lowly of him?! Did they...

Michelangelo was cold. He recognized it now. The stinging bite pierced through his skin, and that was something he knew was a lie. Though the sensations pricked and burned at his mind and body, he wasn’t shivering. He hadn’t been cold in Japan and he certainly wouldn’t be cold here. That was a lie. He remembered Knight’s words, that Krang could only tell lies. Maybe the truth could hurt him?

“You’re lying…” Michelangelo said lowly, and the truth cut worse than a knife through Krang.

“What…?” Krang’s face distorted in recoil.

“Your name isn’t Krang, it’s… Knave. And my brothers don’t hate me either…” Michelangelo stood a little straighter, bringing his burning eyes to meet Knave’s. “Or my friends. They’re taking down your ship right now…”

Michelangelo’s voice carried a storm, an auditory thunder like a lion’s roar! But both quickly realized that it wasn’t just Micelangelo’s voice that had done it as an aftershock hit the mech hard and caught both alien and mutant off guard.

~~~

It was harder to reach Raphael than Leonardo had been anticipating. He entered the mind meld state just as easily as he had in the forest to find Donatello, but finding someone was so much different than actually reaching them. Leonardo could send out as many thoughts as he wanted, but which ones could reach Raphael wasn’t something he could control, especially at such a distance. It was only getting farther and farther away as Raphael raced off to find his friend. The way Cassandra had been tossed, the sound made when Krang’s claws met her flesh. The blood, the scream. He didn't even think a mutant could survive that, let along a human, but he still had to find just in case she was—

Raph!

Raphael stopped, his feet skidding across the asphalt as he looked around. The city was evacuated hours ago, and even if it hadn’t been, he couldn’t think of anyone who would be this far away from the fight that would know him. Was his mind tricking him, or was that strange, turtle-shaped flicker of blue light staring at him?

Raph! The voice said again.

Leonardo! That was Leonardo’s voice! Raphael raced to the blue light he saw and stopped short, the projection transparent and glistening but most assuredly a visage of his brother.

“Wha— Leo? How are you doing that?!”

“There’s no time to explain, I don’t know how long I can hold this!” Leonardo’s image was flickering like a camera glitch, blipping in and out of existence at random, “You need to get to the back of the mech! We think we found a way to shut it down but we need you to—“

Leonardo’s voice and transparent body disappeared. Astral projection. So that was Leonardo’s new power!

“What? Need me to what?” Raphael searched the empty road for anything to complete Leonardo’s urgent request, but there was nothing. If he was going to Raphael for help, then that meant it could only be one thing. “Smash? You need me to smash you out!”

Raphael didn't have his smash jitsu anymore, but he could still try! Maybe being so close to Leonardo would help his little brother to be able to reach him again! Not a thought against his plan came to Raphael’s mind, and he was already on the way back to his brothers’ aid when he remembered why he had been all the way out here to begin with. Cassandra! She was still out there somewhere and he had to find her! He started to go back to his search, then winced and hesitated when he again remembered the desperation in Leonardo’s voice.

He had to choose between his brothers and his best friend and he had minutes, if that, to make the choice. Cassandra or his family, Cassandra or his brothers, his friends his families his—

Was that a truck?! It was! A semi-truck was barreling down toward him blaring a horn louder than any alarm Raphael had ever heard in the lair. Fear and shock froze him to the spot like a deer in headlights as the truck kept coming, and in the driver's seat was a young girl who couldn’t be more older her early twenties, hair pulled back by a bandana and an expression that told of pure, mischievous glee.

“Cass?!” Raphael gawked, and then screamed and raised his hands to cover his face when he realized the impact was imminent. Cassandra had the brakes on just in time, the back of the semi-truck practically lifting up off the road as the tip of its hood just barely brushed against Raphael’s plastron.

Cassandra leaned out of the window, “Get in, big guy! Haven’t got all day!”

“CJ!” Raphael scrambled to climb into the passenger seat, immediately grabbing Cassandra from the drivers seat and turning her around looking for the injuries that he knew he had seen! Cassandra’s clothes were in ruin, the cloth stained crimson, but no matter how Raphael searched he couldn’t find a single injury! “How…?”

“Don’t question a good thing Raphie!” Cassandra said, pushing against Raphael’s plastron to get him to let her go. “Buckle up. We’re going for a ride.”

Raphael strapped himself in. “I didn't know you had a truck driving license!”

“I DON’T!”

With that, Cassabdra sped away down the road.

#krang vs Mikey #return of CJ #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #tmnt au

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