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slotmachines-fearofgod · 3 months

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As per the poll results...

Alpha-17 hated taking care of the cadets.

They were loud, unruly, undisciplined, and cocky little sons of bitches. The Kaminiise that interrupted his and Fordo’s training session had said something about the CC batches needing mentors now that Fett was determined to get back to bounty hunting. Every Alpha ARC was to take on a batch as a trial run, regardless of the fact that Fett was never much of a mentor to them.

It didn’t matter. What mattered was that his batch was a fucking mess. Maze had even patted him sympathetically on the back when they were given their official assignments. In their first week, two of them, apparently the twins of the batch, had already managed to get themselves into three offices they weren’t supposed to be in, and snuck out of the barracks almost every night.

Alpha made them run suicides for hours for it.

He didn’t care for his batch the way some of his brothers did, with soft gestures and words like “ad’ika” or “vod’ika.” They were clones, and they wouldn’t find any sort of soft spot in the middle of a battlefield. He’d raise them the way he was raised, with sharp tongues and extra training, and they’d come out the other side better for it.

That doesn’t mean he didn’t care at all.

CC-2224 was standing guard outside their barracks, which was a bad sign, especially considering he’d been the first to learn that if they got in trouble, they got in trouble as a group. He was usually the most effective at dissuading the rest.

Not tonight.

“Cadet,” Seventeen greeted sharply, “sitrep.”

CC-2224 didn’t look him in the eyes, another bad sign. It had been one fucking month, and he was already having to put up with shit like this.

“B - CC-5052 is experiencing residual discomfort from the training exercise today, sir. My batchmates are helping him with recovery.” Only three years old, six standard, and CC-2224 was already the best soldier out of all of them. But he was shit at covering for the rest.

“Why are you guarding the door?” Seventeen crossed his arms over his chest, looming over the kid. If it was really what he said, he’d been in there helping with whatever cramp 5052 was feeling.

The day’s training hadn’t even really been that difficult from a physical standpoint. It was Seventeen’s least favorite type of resistance training: the mental kind. The Kaminiise had them start it early so their minds automatically built up resistances to-

Oh.

“CC-3636 asked that I remain outside so as not to crowd CC-5052 and explain to any who may be monitoring the barracks what is going on.” Seventeen knew enough to read between the lines of that statement. He was there to discourage any particularly nosy Kaminiise from looking too closely for flaws. They would be monitored closely for the next few days for any defects, a fact that had been made clear to them before the exercises had taken place.

CC-2224 still wasn’t meeting his eyes. He looked exhausted now that Seventeen was actually looking for it. He had a certain deadness to his face that Seventeen had seen many times both in the mirror and on others. If he remembered correctly, today had been the first day this specific crew had to undergo this type of training. CC-2224 was probably the best off if he was well enough to stand guard.

Seventeen breathed out slowly, for the first time unsure what to do with the cadets. Usually their problems were solved with laps in the rain around the compound, or latrine cleaning duty. Emotional issues were more Fordo’s thing. But Fordo had his own batch to tend to.

“Step out of the way cadet,” Seventeen ended up saying, trying not to make it too gruff. The quick, quiet knock against the door signaled that he didn’t quite manage that. Nonetheless, CC-2224 let him pass, albeit a bit slowly. Probably trying to buy his batchmates time.

It was apparently enough.

5052, 3636, 1010, and 411 were all in their bunks, with 1010 just barely managing to reach his as Seventeen opened the door. 5052 was turned away from him, taking the furthest bunk in the corner, while 411 and 3636 took the closest. 1010 and an empty bunk stood in the middle, with 5052’s pressed up against the wall. He assumed one of the two empty bunks, above 5052 or below 1010, was for 2224.

“5052,” his voice rang out across the eerily silent room. It felt heavy in their room tonight, not light or even charged with an air of mischief like he was accustomed to it being. 5052 raised his head blearily, and Seventeen ignored the fierce ache in his chest at the sight of his red, puffy eyes. “With me,” he ordered, ignoring the subtle sharp looks 1010 and 3636 were exchanging.

5052’s eyes watered briefly, before his face smoothed out. He was already learning the importance of a blank face, which was good. He shouldn’t be using it with Seventeen, though.

5052 climbed out of his bed, his posture rigid in a way Seventeen had never seen before. Were it not for the situation, he would’ve applauded this cadet for his professionalism, something they’d all been lacking ever since he met them.

“Sir,” 411 called, and Seventeen spared him a brief glance, “I was wondering if-”

“Later, 411,” Seventeen said sharply, training his gaze on the kid who was approaching him like he was a death sentence. “5052 and I need to take care of something.”

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew what effect his words were having on the cadets, especially 2224 who stood guiltily in the doorway. It was fine. Maybe they’d finally understand he was in charge, or learn they weren’t as invincible as they believed themselves to be.

As 5052 reached him, Seventeen held out a hand. The cadet looked up at him, then back at his hand, almost confused. Seventeen sighed, grabbing 5052’s hand with his, practically dwarfing the kid. He tried to keep his posture open and non-threatening, but he got the feeling the look 5052 cast at his brothers was him saying goodbye. As he tugged the cadet out the door, he noticed 2224 make a move to grab his brother, before 5052 shook his head.

2224 watched them go with tears in his eyes.

Fucking aiwha-bait Kaminiise demogolka.

He could hear the soft crying before 5052 and he had turned the corner down the hall. To his credit, the cadet didn’t shed a tear. He may have cried it all out earlier, but one look at the kid proved otherwise. He put on a brave face, but it was just a face. Any clone trooper would be able to see right through it.

He pulled 5052 along in silence until they reached his office. Seventeen punched in his keycode with his free hand, keeping a tight grip on the kid so he didn’t try to bolt. It was only once they were inside that Seventeen dropped the hand and sat in his chair. 5052 stood at attention directly in front of him, just how they were taught.

“What happened?” It was less of a request, and more of a demand.

5052’s voice barely shook as he spoke, “I suffered the after effects of today’s training, sir.”

Seventeen leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his desk, “Symptoms.”

5052 pressed his lips together, tears shining in his eyes once again, before answering, “I-I felt a shortness of breath, tightness in my chest, numbness of limbs, hand tremors, and tunnel vision.”

“You had a panic attack,” Seventeen summarized for him, nodding along with the conclusion. 5052 gave one sharp nod, like it took all his courage just to admit it. Hell, it probably did. If any of the longnecks found out, he’d be decommissioned. Just like with the Alphas, they wanted this first batch of CCs to be perfect.

“Yessir,” he whispered, his lower lip wobbling slightly.

Seventeen sighed, “At ease, 5052. C’mere.”

5052 fell back into parade rest, but didn’t move, eyes darting between the wall and Seventeen’s face. Seventeen raised his eyebrow, and sat back in his chair. He could play the waiting game.

Eventually, the cadet caved and rounded the desk before he stood at Seventeen’s side, still looking past him instead of at him.

“I know 2224’s been going around giving out names, so what’s yours?” Seventeen asked gently. 2224 was practically asking for a decom with that little scheme, but he couldn’t help but admire the sheer bravery, or maybe stupidity, the cadet showed.

5052 shook his head just slightly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”

“Drop the sir, it’s just Seventeen for right now.” It would be easier if he put them on even footing.

That got 5052 to look at him.

There was a long pause where his mind was putting the pieces together, the fact that Seventeen took him to his office and not a long-neck, the gentle tone, the hand holding, the dropping of rank all beginning to click in his head.

“I’m not - am I in trouble?”

Seventeen shook his head and 5052 sagged in relief almost immediately. This time, the tears did start, wracking his little body as his head dropped to his chest. Seventeen did the only thing he could and yanked the kid into his chest, calmly running a hand through his short curls and breathing in and out, getting him to match the pattern.

It took a while, but 5052 began to calm down.

“It’s alright, kid,” Seventeen said lowly, “You’re not the first vod to lose it after one of those training sessions and you won’t be the last.”

“Vod?”

“It means brother,” Seventeen said. He’d forgotten that less exposure to Fett meant the new generations wouldn’t likely have the chance to learn Mando’a. He’d have to talk to the other Alphas about fixing that.

5052 nodded, before taking a moment to collect his thoughts. Seventeen allowed him that, just offering physical comfort like his batch was probably doing before he intruded. As much as they got on his nerves, they needed to know they were his vode, and he wouldn’t turn them in for something so little as a panic attack. He didn’t have to like them to treat them with some base decency.

“My name is Bly,” he answered eventually, “Please don’t tell anyone.”

Seventeen chuckled, “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He gently disentangled them, before bringing him into a keldabe. “Do you know what this is?”

He shook his head no.

“This is a keldabe. In a fight, a keldabe can be a useful tool in getting your opponents disoriented and putting some distance between you and them. It’d be a bit rougher than this, and probably leave you with a bruise if I really put some effort into it.” He held eye contact with 5052, even as the slightly caged look came back into the cadet’s eyes, “But between family, friends, or partners, it’s a sign of affection. A sign that we’re here for each other, through all this blood and fear. Something so brutal, so painful, turned soft and loving in the presence of those you trust.”

“Oh,” the kid breathed out, and Seventeen could tell the exact moment that he understood what he was telling him.

“I’m not letting those demogolka get their hands on you, even if your brothers are assholes,” the small laugh was almost happy, “I can’t go easy on you, vod. If I do, we’ll both be slated for decomm. Do you understand?”

The kid - Bly nodded, a very small smile beginning to form, “Thanks, Seventeen.”

Seventeen pulled back and nodded, hiding his laugh at Bly’s sudden yawn. It was getting late, and these kids hadn’t gone through sleep deprivation training yet. It would be best to let them rest while they could.

—

“Again,” Seventeen called, grinning smugly as Fox snarled at him. A year into their training with him and this batch had quickly shot to the top, with the exception of the clone in front of him. Fox’s scores had been dropping lately, though the little dickhead refused to tell him what had been going on, so they were doing this.

Sparring until Fox either dropped or spilled.

It was looking more and more like Fox preferred the first option.

Usually, when one of them was being difficult, he had them train until their legs gave out on them and they could do nothing but talk. Sometimes it took a little more or less work, especially when it came to Fox. Bly was happy to talk to him since that first night he’d shown he was safe, though he’d caught comments from Wolffe or Fox about the baby of the batch getting special treatment. Kote and Ponds generally folded as soon as they were physically exhausted, and Wolffe just had to get angry enough to spit it all out in quick succession.

Fox was different. He was smarter.

He didn’t take training laying down, and was clever enough to keep his cool even when Seventeen could tell he wanted to do nothing more than scream. He’d never dream of talking about his issues to anyone outside his batch, and even then Seventeen was pretty sure he’d only talk to Ponds or Wolffe. He hadn’t even wanted to tell Seventeen his name until Wolffe nagged him enough to make him stand, red-faced, in front of the older clone and spit it out. Seventeen pulled him into a quick keldabe, before repeating the name and telling him it suited him.

Right now wouldn’t be solved with nagging or a keldabe. At least, not the gentle kind. Fox needed blood, he needed to gnash his teeth and give and receive a little pain. Seventeen understood that just fine.

“Fuck you,” Fox spat, before lunging again. He was getting sloppier, more tired, and Seventeen was able to pin him in under a minute. He held the struggling kid there for a few seconds until Fox realized he wasn’t escaping and went limp, tapping out once again.

“Again,” Seventeen repeated once Fox had caught his breath. This time, it was less than thirty seconds before Fox quit fighting, just lying quietly on the mat.

“You know,” Seventeen huffed after a few moments of stillness, “You’re supposed to tap out.”

Fox tapped lightly, and Seventeen let him up. He grabbed his shoulder before Fox could get too far back into position to go again.

“Your flight time went up again.”

“I know.”

“You gonna do anything about it?”

Fox’s glare was enough to make almost anyone else back down. But not him.

“The fuck do you care?”

Seventeen stepped back, getting into a fighting position, “Again.”

Fox didn’t have buttons to push like Wolffe, nor did he give up when he should like Ponds or Kote. He needed a little of both, a little more push than most would have advocated for a kid, to get him to crack how he needed to.

They danced the familiar dance a few more times before, maybe the fourth or fifth time Seventeen pinned him, Fox let out a frustrated yell. That was close to what he was looking for.

“Kote took top spot for blaster modules this week.”

“I fucking know, okay?”

That was what he was looking for.

“I know Kote took top spot and I know Wolffe beat my fly time and I know Gree and his batch are taking over strategy mods! I fucking get it, so fuck off with whatever the hell this is!” Fox wriggled out from under him, and Seventeen let him go without a fight. He stayed facing away from Seventeen, but that was okay for now.

“I just…I hate this stuff! I hate being trapped in those rooms with those demogolka and fucking Fett watching over our shoulders like he ever did anything except leave and you acting like you give a shit when we both know you’re only here because we’re another assignment for you. I hate you pretending like we’re brothers or everything’s gonna be fine and we aren’t all gonna die soon or-or like any of us matter in the long run,” his rant was beginning to slow, and Seventeen approached slowly. The small break in his voice told him all he needed to know.

“I don’t get the point when it doesn’t fucking matter if I die here or on a battlefield because death is death, and either way no one’s gonna care,” if he had to guess, the tears started about thirty seconds ago.

The worst part is that Seventeen gets it. He’d lost one of his batch to the same thoughts. In the end, it hadn’t been the long-necks or a fight that did him in. Just a missing blaster and too much time alone outside. They all understood why, even if they never forgave him for it.

It was because he understood that he placed one hand on Fox’s shoulder, forcing his vod to face him.

“You’re right,” Seventeen rumbled, not leaning over and making himself small like he would for the others. Fox had always appreciated the truth above all else.

“What?” He was right, tear tracks were carved down his vod’s face, and the small breathy disbelief looked like it might break the younger clone.

“Fett’s a fucking asshole, don’t know why Kote likes him so much. The Kaminiise are indescribable in their cruelty, and I’m a dick. Doesn’t mean nothing you do matters, though.”

Fox scoffed and pulled away, trying to twist his face into that familiar hard sneer, “And what would you know about that?”

Seventeen shrugged, “Not sure. You don’t want me to know you. But I see the way Kote and Bly light up when their ori’vod is around. And I know Wolffe would never survive without you, and that Ponds would kill himself if you did what you’re talking about doing.” He looked this kid - his kid in the eyes. He needed him to know he understood. “You’re trying to get the Kaminiise to do it for you, so you don’t have to take the coward’s way out. I get it, vod’ika. But you know every single one of those little assholes in your barracks would hurtle themselves off the edge just the same if you died, by your own hand or not.”

“Wha-”

“Don’t do it for me,” Seventeen added, gentling his tone a bit as fresh tears sprang to his vod’ika’s eyes, “Don’t do it for Fett, and don’t you fucking dare do it for the long-necks. Do it for the brothers waiting for you back in the bunks. The brothers that would beat themselves up if they knew that you were even thinking about this. The brothers that are going to force you to cuddle with them even if they have to drag you kicking and screaming.”

Yeah, okay, maybe Seventeen liked to linger outside their door when he was done with his duties that didn’t involve five nightmares running around and making his life hell. Maybe he wanted to soak in his brothers’ laughter once in a while. So what.

Fox looked at the floor, desperately trying to hold back tears.

Seventeen sighed and knelt in front of him, opening his arms up and waiting.

It took Fox less than thirty seconds to decide that yes, he did want the offered hug. Seventeen kept his laugh to a low rumble, a little closer to soothing than teasing. Fox squeezed him like he’d never been hugged before, even though Seventeen knew damn well that was a lie. It didn’t matter.

“We don’t do it for ourselves,” Seventeen said lowly, “We’d never make it if we did. We do it for each other, or we don’t do it at all.”

Fox sniffed, and Seventeen didn’t even care that he was probably getting snot and tears all over his blacks. His little brother was going to be okay, and that’s what mattered.

—

It took the Kaminiise two years to figure out who had started naming clones. Who started giving them just a little agency and independence. And when they found out, they made sure to make an example out of him.

They came during the sleep cycles, when Seventeen wouldn’t be around to stop them, and took Kote from his bunk without a word.

Two years in, one year after Seventeen had begun to call the littles his vod’ike, he found himself kneeling at the feet of the man he hated most in this place, begging for mercy for his charge. Fett was cold, he knew, but not so cold that his second favorite cadet would be left to rot.

Kote had been in isolation for almost a week, and nearly every night Seventeen had a visitor from the batch crawl into his bunk with shaky hands and red eyes. A decomm would’ve been easier on them, but knowing their second-youngest was alive and alone, trapped and left at the hands of the Kaminiise, was breaking them.

Ponds and Kote had always been the anchors of the group. Ponds was the oldest, and the automatic go-to for most things. But Kote named them all, and every single one of them adored him for it.

Fett was unyielding when Seventeen entered with accusations on the tip of his tongue. He was prepared to yell, to scream at the man who started this, who refused to leave them alone even after everything he’d already done to hurt them. But one look at the man had him falling to his knees, a single tear escaping his eyes as he pleaded with his head bowed.

Fett said nothing, and Seventeen left feeling humiliated and angry.

Which was why, when Seventeen heard Kote had been let out and was currently in the care of Fett, he’d sprinted across the compound to collect his vod.

He got there just in time to see Kote leave, tears dripping down his little face, crumpling against the wall outside of the dar’manda’s room.

Seventeen said nothing, but knelt in front of his vod’ika and scooped him up, carrying him away from that place.

As they walked, Kote’s hands fisted in Seventeen’s blacks as he tried to muffle his sobs into the older man’s chest. He clung to Seventeen like they were the last people alive on this planet, and Seventeen made sure to hold him just as tight. They made it to the Alpha barracks, which were thankfully empty, and laid down together on Seventeen’s bunk.

Kote wailed for hours once he realized they were somewhere safe, away from long-necks and cold-hearted bounty hunters. Seventeen just held on, running a hand up and down his vod’ika’s back to comfort him, and whispered apologies into Kote’s hair.

“Why didn’t they just decommission me?” Kote kept asking through tears, sometimes screaming and sometimes whimpering.

“Why did Prime have to name me?”

“Why didn’t I listen to him?”

“Why didn’t he find me sooner?”

So many questions that Seventeen had no answer to.

When the tears finally slowed, Seventeen spoke.

“He tricked you, vod’ika. He’s a cruel and callous man and he tricked you.”

Seventeen had always hated how Fett dug his claws into this kid. He didn’t care how it would hurt Kote, he didn’t care what would have happened to him. Seventeen was a violent man but even he didn’t understand why Fett would do this.

“They couldn’t even say my name right,” Kote whimpered, “They kept saying ‘Cody’ and when I tried to correct them they - they just -” he broke off, burying his head into Seventeen’s chest and letting out another sob.

“They will always hate you for the freedom you’ve given your brothers,” Seventeen rumbled, “And I will make sure they cannot deny your strength.”

A plan was already forming in his head. He’d put Kote through extra training, make him into the best of the best. He’d make him good enough to rival an ARC. The Kaminiise couldn’t throw him out if he was useful enough, sharp enough, strong enough.

“He named me Glory, Seventeen,” Kote cried, “Why? I don’t understand!”

Seventeen didn’t have an answer for that question either.

“You have to stay away from him, Kote,” Seventeen said. He said it firmly, like it was an order, and not a plea, though they both knew better. Fett could easily take Kote away from Seventeen, away from his batch, and none of them except the kid crying into him could make it stop.

“He - he loves me,” Kote wailed, “I’m his ad, he loves me! I can’t just-”

Seventeen cut him off harshly, “Kot’ika, if he loved you, I wouldn’t have had to beg him to interfere.” It was harsh, but his vod’ika needed to know. “He didn’t come looking for you. We did.”

Kote cried for a long time after that. He kept trying to make excuses, telling Seventeen about all the times Fett had supposedly cared.

It just made Seventeen angrier. Fett had manipulated his kid into thinking he was more than a paycheck, more than food for a war that hadn’t even begun yet. Seventeen briefly entertained the possibility of killing him for it.

Out of all the tools they’d been given, hope was never one of them. The kid screaming into the pillow was proof as to why.

Kote eventually tired himself out enough to pass out on the bunk, and Seventeen sighed in relief as his breathing finally evened out.

Both Maze and Fordo poked their heads in, for once not laughing at the sight of Seventeen curled around one of the kids he’d once told them he’d never call his own. They told him Kote’s batch had been alerted to his release, and they’d immediately demanded answers from the older ARCs, meaning Seventeen would probably need to make an appearance soon to ease their fears.

Seventeen just nodded along to the debrief, a wave of exhaustion hitting him as well. He eventually gathered himself enough to sit up, taking Kote with him. The kid just shifted sleepily, his face scrunching up in dismay even though he didn’t wake.

“They’re going to be looking for an excuse,” Fordo said quietly after a moment, “He needs to keep his head down.”

“I know,” Seventeen murmured.

“Seventeen,” Maze said, “He’s terrified. Whatever you’re planning, leave him out of it.”

Seventeen just sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back against the wall.

“I’m serious. He needs to stop making ripples, good or bad. He’s already too individualistic for their tastes.”

Maze was right. Kote had always been headstrong and stubborn, just like the rest of his batch. They all relied on each other too much and not only had it taken Kote down, but the rest of them either refused to or simply couldn’t pull themselves together in his absence.

“You boys remember our training on Rishi?” Seventeen asked after a moment.

It was a stupid question, of course they did. They’d been dropped off on that moon, all in separate locations, with no comms or supplies to help them except what was expected in emergencies. They had to survive like that for a month before they were picked up again. It was the worst experience of any of their lives.

“We need a program like that for them,” he said after a moment, ignoring the twin glares sent his way. Every single Alpha had become incredibly protective over their batchers in the two years the program had been going on.

“Not exactly like that,” Seventeen assured them, “But their training is a lot more strategy and team focused. They need something closer to the way the ARCs were trained.”

Fordo snorted, “ARC training is a hell of a lot more brutal than what they’ve had to do so far. And it started a lot earlier.”

“It would make them indispensable,” Seventeen said after a moment, and he knew the silence following that statement meant he’d won.

Still, he sighed and stood, clutching Kote against his chest, “I’m gonna get him back to his batch. I have a feeling they’re about to come looking.”

—

Wolffe was smiling, which immediately put Seventeen on edge. Wolffe had a few kinds of ‘smile’. There was the genuine one, which was rare but always rewarding, the smirk, which was the most common and meant he’d just kicked someone’s ass in hand to hand training and was about to get far too cocky about it, and then his grin, which meant he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

Like now.

Seventeen folded his arms across his chest, giving his best glare at the cadet. They were six months into ARC training, a year out from the event that kick started the idea, and all it had done was make his batch harder to handle.

Not only were they trouble-makers, they were now troublemakers with all the strategy and training of their older counterparts.

“It wasn’t me this time,” they’d finally hit that funny age where their voices no longer matched their faces, and all of them grew at different rates. It was maybe the one time in their lives they would look genuinely different from each other.

Seventeen added an eyebrow raise to his glare.

“Kote found him first.”

Him?

“It was his idea,” Wolffe was beginning to shrink back just a little under the glare, “But he’s not making any trouble.”

Seventeen snorted, “The day you di’kuts don’t make trouble for me is the day you’re all dead and buried.”

Wolffe flipped him off.

“That’s ten extra suicides, cadet.” Seventeen smiled as Wolffe’s face immediately dropped and he started whining.

“It was just a joke, you’re mean to us all the time,” Wolffe argued, not helping his case in the slightest.

“I’m keeping you assholes alive,” Seventeen shot back, “Now what did you do?”

Wolffe scowled, replying, “Come on, old man,” before turning and marching down the hall.

“And that’s twenty,” Seventeen called after him.

Wolffe kept complaining the whole way there, even when Seventeen cuffed him on the back of the head for it. He led them to the CT barracks, which was new. To his knowledge, his batch never really came down here. There was no need to.

The experimental ARC babysitting program had gone well enough that when the CT clones were produced and of age, several Alphas had been relegated to managing these cadets, whom he’d been assured were either much less or much more rowdy than the CCs, depending on the batch.

Alpha had just been assigned his first case, though it was a curious one. Two of the batch had been decommed almost as soon as they came out of their tubes, and the other three didn’t get along the way most batches tended to. They were first generation CTs, so some defects were expected, but the vitriol with which they treated each other certainly was not.

It had been a jarring change from the crew he’d been taking care of for almost four years now.

Wolffe led him to a supply closet off to the side in the barracks, chattering all the way about how this was Kote’s fault. Seventeen ignored him in favor of looking around at the empty bunks, internally sighing about whatever scheme his vode had cooked up this time.

When Wolffe opened the door, however, the cadet inside of the closet threw Seventeen for a loop.

“7567?” He asked, surprised. He was one of the batchers Seventeen had been assigned to take care of, the one that got picked on the most, actually. What really surprised him, however, was the state he was in.

His usual obvious blonde head of hair had been shaved carelessly almost completely off. He could see a few cuts dotted across the kid’s head, and the kid himself looked like he’d lost a pound or two since the last time Seventeen had seen him nearly a week ago.

He’d thought the kid was avoiding him, but there was obviously something more going on.

“You know him?” Wolffe asked, sounding surprised and completely ignoring the sharp glare being thrown his way from the kid hiding in the closet.

“He’s one of mine,” Seventeen responded, still searching for any more visible wounds or changes to his newest charge, “Haven’t been able to find him for a week.”

“Oh, uh, that may have been our fault,” Wolffe said, looking back at 7567, “What? Why are you glaring at me?”

“I told you not to tell anyone,” 7567 bit out, the harsh tone being somewhat off put by the higher pitch of his voice. He was just a bit younger than the CCs, and wouldn’t hit the growth spurt that truly mattered for another year or two.

“Yeah, well, suck it up. Kote’s been going crazy trying to hide you from your batch and the Alphas,” came the nonchalant reply, and Seventeen furrowed his brow. Why would Kote be trying to hide 7567 from his own brothers?

“I figured he could help,” Wolffe continued, and Seventeen ignored the brief flash of warmth at the statement of trust.

Now it was his turn to be glared at, and Seventeen took a second to admire the size of 7567’s balls before matching it with his own sneer.

“You’ve been skipping training, cadet.”

“I didn’t want to,” he replied sulkily, “Kote said it wasn’t safe.”

Seventeen hummed, “And why would he say that?”

7567 hesitated for a moment, before quietly admitting, “He caught them doing…this,” he gestured to his head, and a sick moment of realization came over Seventeen, “He scared them off, but he didn’t want me to go back with them.”

Batchmates teasing each other was one thing, but hurting one another?

That would have to be dealt with.

Seventeen sighed as he moved in front of Wolffe and crouched in the doorway of the closet, “So Kote, being the di’kut he is, hid you in here.”

7567 shrugged, “‘S not terrible.”

“You eaten recently?”

The cadet shook his head no after a moment, and Seventeen turned back to look at Wolffe, “Why exactly did you boys think this was a good idea?”

Wolffe crossed his arms, “I didn’t know until yesterday, ask Kote.”

“Not helpful,” Seventeen grunted, before turning back to 7567, “Since you and Kote are so tight, I assume you’ve got a name.”

7567’s eyes widened comically at him, giving him away in an instant. Of course Kote did, he’d always had a soft spot for the littles. 7567 still looked at Wolffe first, who must have given an affirmative.

“Rex,” he said quietly.

Seventeen nodded, “Alright Rex, with me. Wolffe, you too.”

Rex looked at him with slight suspicion in his eyes, and Wolffe let out a small noise of complaint.

“Come on boys,” he tried again, adding a little bark to his voice that had them both scrambling to follow him out the door, “Medics first, then food.”

Once they reached a medical droid, Seventeen sent Rex off behind a curtain with it, and sat down next to Wolffe, giving him the ‘you’d better start talking’ look.

Wolffe grumbled for a bit before admitting, “His batch are assholes. Too aggressive with him. He learned how to bite back, but Kote said it was pretty bad when he found them. Kid was bleeding like crazy and scared the shit out of Kote, who tried to take him here. He didn’t let him, on the grounds of his mutation, and wouldn’t budge.” Wolffe ran a hand through his hair, a tick they’d all begun to pick up from Seventeen, “He’s with us until further notice.”

Seventeen sat back in his chair, absorbing the information for a moment.

“Good,” he said simply, ignoring the look of confusion and surprise Wolffe sent his way.

“Sir?” Wolffe asked, and Seventeen shifted in his chair, keeping an ear out for Rex.

“He needs a batch,” Seventeen responded, “He’s too skinny and too short, probably from lack of nutrition, and his hair is going to make him stand out. He keeps going the way he’s going, his batch will kill him before the Kaminiise get the chance.”

“Oh,” Wolffe said, a little quieter this time.

“You boys got lucky,” Seventeen continued, still keeping an eye on the curtain, “You got each other. He doesn’t have that.”

“He’s stubborn,” Wolffe said after a moment, “He’s apparently been fighting Kote every step of the way. Doesn’t want anyone to think they have to take care of him.”

That was good. That showed spirit. If Rex had allowed himself to be cowed, to back away without a fight and shrink into the shadows, Seventeen would have had a lot more work to do. As it was…

“He won’t be around his batch if I recommend him for ARC training,” Seventeen suggested quietly, “Of course, he’d need some older vode helping him out, the way I did with you.”

Wolffe snorted, “Not sure you helped us out so much as put the fear of the Manda into us.”

Seventeen grinned down at him, “Got you moving, didn’t it?”

Wolffe rolled his eyes and settled back into his chair, now eyeing the curtain in an equally curious and concerned way, “Think he’ll make it? He’s a CT.”

Seventeen shrugged, “Don’t know. Didn’t know if you boys were going to make it either.”

Wolffe eyed him critically, “What do you mean you didn’t know?”

Seventeen chuckled, “You’re smart and strong, but it takes more than that to complete what you’re being put through. It’s only been six months, and you’ve yet to hit the worst of it.”

Wolffe groaned, “Why are you so cryptic?”

Seventeen looked back at him, a gleam in his eye, “Because it pisses you off.”

Wolffe opened his mouth to say something that probably would’ve earned him another hour in the gym, when the curtain swung back, revealing Rex looking even grumpier than earlier. His head had a few small bacta patches on it, and he promptly ignored the droid in favor of marching over to where Seventeen and Wolffe were sitting.

The droid ignored Rex’s obvious unhappiness and followed him over, this time addressing Seventeen.

“A-17,” it began, “I believe this CT-7567 has a serious defect that must be looked at. Chromosome number-”

“I’m aware,” Seventeen growled at the droid, “We’re all aware. Now fuck off.”

The droid paused for a moment, unsure what to do with itself.

“I must report this to Nala Se,” it finally concluded, and Seventeen just huffed in response.

After a beat of silence in which the droid scurried away, a small voice behind Seventeen spoke, “Is she going to decommission me?”

Seventeen almost laughed. Almost.

Instead he said, “Kid, she knew about your hair the second you left your tube. If you aren’t slated for it yet, you won’t be any time soon.” He turned to face his cadets, hiding his smile at the way Wolffe acted like he wasn’t just wrapping Rex up in a hug.

“C’mon,” he said, “let’s go get you boys some food.”

—

Today was the day.

His batch was going to take and pass the final test, and become honorary ARC troopers. Two years after they started on the shortened ARC modules, and they’d all become so much more than the Kaminiise ever believed they could be. He’d stood in front of all of them before they marched off for their tests and told them he was proud of every single one, no matter the outcome.

Rex sat with him, both quietly pretending they weren’t shitting their brains out with anxiety, and they waited.

Fox and Wolffe came out together, wearing twin grins, and Seventeen knew without asking. He wrapped them up, squeezing the life out of them and ignoring the groans of embarrassment. Kote came out thirty minutes later, having completed and passed his own exams and combat trials, followed by Bly soon after.

They all sat and waited for Ponds.

There was an air of anxiety coming from his cadets, and he knew why.

They were supposed to graduate together, to be the first full batch to make it across the finish line. They’d worked hard for this, studied and trained together for years. They knew the manuals inside and out and had personally tested themselves against every single ARC and trainer they could coax onto the sparring mats.

Ponds’ absence sent a shockwave through that steady confidence.

An hour later and they were still sat there, all uneasy, all rhythmically bouncing their knees in near unison.

An hour and a half later, the doors opened, and they all tensed, prepared for bad news.

What they were unprepared for, however, was a bloody, limping Ponds to walk through with the biggest grin any of them had seen on his face.

“What the fuck,” Wolffe was, of course, the first to speak. “What the fuck!” He repeated, louder and more worried.

This sent all of them into a frenzy, rushing toward their injured vod and checking him over, all shouting over one another and demanding to know what happened. Ponds just laughed at their concern, though Seventeen caught the slight wince at the movement.

After a few moments, he convinced them to quiet, and breathed deep, still grinning like a maniac.

“We passed,” he said after a slight pause, and the whole bunch erupted in cheers. They pulled themselves into a circle, Rex and Seventeen watching fondly from the outside, and congratulated each other, giving out hugs and keldabes left and right. Seventeen was fairly sure Wolffe and Fox hit each other a little too hard, and he smiled at the resulting stumble from the boys.

They were nearly seventeen standard years, which meant as soon as the war they were being bred for started, they’d all be shipped out without a moment’s hesitation. It was that thought that made Seventeen allow them to celebrate loudly, noisily, and unashamedly despite the attention it might have drawn.

Eventually, they calmed down, and Seventeen muscled his way to the center, planting himself in front of Ponds. They were too tall now for him to need to kneel and get on their level, but still short enough that he could loom adequately.

“Vod’ika,” he began lightly, settling a comforting hand on Ponds’ shoulder, “What happened?”

Ponds’ grin shrank slightly, but his answer was steady, “What do you mean? I passed!”

Seventeen allowed himself to smile at the no-longer-cadet’s enthusiasm, “I know, and I’m proud, but why are you hurt?”

“It was part of the test,” Ponds furrowed his brow in confusion, looking around at the others, “Didn’t all of you…” he trailed off, for the first time taking in the lack of injuries around him. Seventeen could see the moment realization dawned on his face, as well as feel the rising fury coming from the brothers behind him.

“No,” Seventeen said gently, shaking his head, “That wasn’t part of the test.”

“Oh.”

“Ori’vod-”

Seventeen cut whoever it was off with a short look behind him. They all looked equally scolded.

He hated this was happening during their moment of triumph, but he knew if he didn’t address it, no one would.

“Pond’ika,” Seventeen tried again, “What happened?”

Ponds stilled, his face becoming blank as he processed what was going on. Seventeen squeezed his shoulder a little tighter, becoming a grounding point until his vod’ika was ready.

“I was going into my counter-insurgency exam and Ward was in the ring. He said he and I would spar and that I had to be prepared for anything,” his voice and expression remained steady, even as Seventeen’s grew concerned, “He flipped out a knife at one point and…” Ponds looked down and gestured to his leg and torso.

“Why weren’t you wearing armor?” Kote asked from behind Seventeen.

“He told me to take it off,” Ponds replied simply.

Seventeen sucked in a breath. Ward was a grade A asshole, every ARC knew this. His ‘counter-insurgency’ fighting was just an excuse to fight dirty, to scar up troopers and taunt them for their lack of skill.

Skirata should have been in charge of this exam, not Ward. Skirata had always been the kindest of the Cuy’val Dar, and by the looks on the rest of the batcher’s faces, they were thinking the same thing.

“Okay,” Seventeen said simply, “Take off the armor and let’s take a look.”

Ponds shook his head, “Can we do this in the barracks?”

Seventeen nodded, and immediately Wolffe and Fox were at Ponds’ side, helping him take the weight off his injured leg. Rex gave a quieter congratulations to Kote, his obvious favoritism not quite overshadowing his worry as he constantly looked back to check up on Ponds. Bly fell into lockstep with Seventeen, and their little crew easily made their way to the barracks.

As soon as they got inside, Kote grabbed the medical kit and presented it to Seventeen, who began to set things out on the floor. He knelt in front of where Wolffe and Fox had sat Ponds on Wolffe’s bunk, but gave them enough space to help Ponds remove his armor.

Bly settled in next to Ponds when Fox vacated the spot to go lock the door, and sucked in a breath as Ponds unbuckled his thigh gauntlet. Blood rushed from the wound, which had previously been pressured by Ponds tightening the straps to keep the wound secure, but it wasn’t deep enough to hit bone, for which Seventeen was glad.

His torso was a little more complicated, the unnatural shift of skin telling Seventeen that one of his ribs was likely broken. If it had punctured a lung, they would’ve known by now, and he breathed a little easier with the knowledge.

“Kote,” he called quietly but firmly, “Comm Aven, tell him we’re gonna need some help.”

Ponds opened his mouth to protest, but snapped it shut when he received several glares from around the room.

“Can’t believe you passed with this,” Seventeen mumbled, “You should’ve tapped out when he flipped out the knife.”

“We were all supposed to pass,” came the answer Seventeen had already guessed.

“I know,” he sighed, “And this just proves how much you deserve it, but next time, you tap out, got it?”

There was no nod or sign that he agreed, which Seventeen had also expected. Ponds was just as stubborn as the rest of them, no matter how much he hated to admit it.

He heard Kote talking quietly in the background and got to work, Rex occasionally pushing certain supplies his way and Wolffe and Bly talking calmly to Ponds as Seventeen went about patching him up.

They didn’t want full batches to graduate ARC training, because then they could prove it was a waste of time and money. He’d known that the second he and a few others proposed the idea to Fett, the Kaminiise, and the Cuy’val Dar and nearly every single one of them had soured.

Well they could take their elitist dar’manda bullshit and shove it up their asses. His batch had passed, regardless of Ward’s best efforts, and shoved it in every single one of their ugly faces.

Ponds’ injuries had luckily not impacted the general mood after the initial shock, and soon they were all sharing details and comparing experiences in their different tests. They all laughed at Bly for forgetting to fill out the last digit of his number during one of the written tests, and Fox followed it up with how Wolffe was so nervous he forgot to load his blaster during the firing range exams. That was followed by a smack, which was followed with an insult, which was followed with Seventeen having to reach out and grab Wolffe before he made a move to tackle his brother.

Nearly nine years old and they still acted four.

Aven came in a few moments later, taking over the medical side of things for Seventeen, who took the opportunity to give the eldest a keldabe. Ponds smiled into the hold and relaxed a little further.

They were no longer cadets, not as of that afternoon, and Seventeen knew he would have to let them go soon.

Still, he sighed as Rex ganged up with Wolffe against Fox in their bickering, and turned around to scold his vod’ika.

—

In the years the war dragged on, Seventeen saw very little of his batchers. Rex and Kote, who was going by Cody in front of the natborns, visited when the war came to Kamino, and introduced him to vod’ika of their own. Wolffe called after what happened with Ventress, showing off his own scar from his encounter with the Sith acolyte. Bly commed often, asking mostly about business, but he’d once let slip something about him and his general. And Fox…Fox he never really saw.

But they’d all gathered, either on a call or in person, to say goodbye to Ponds.

Rex had sent him a message saying the batch had already had their night of grief, wallowing in each other’s arms. He was glad they’d taken the time for themselves, but even happier they still trusted him with this.

They’d all formed little batches within their battalions, as they should, but he’d never really been able to take care of another batch like he did with them. There were too many cadets on Kamino now to focus on them one group at a time.

So even if it was over a call, he was relieved to see their faces, and ached when they all looked to where Ponds usually stood during these video conferences.

It was quiet at first, and Seventeen took the opportunity to drink each of them in. They were all so much older, so much more exhausted, then he remembered them being. Fox and Wolffe in particular looked like hell, and though he knew it was a combination of grief and whatever osik they’d been handling recently, it didn’t look right on them.

Kote spoke first, telling Seventeen what happened and declaring Boba dar’manda with vitriol hidden behind his teeth. He and Rex were in person together, as were Bly and Wolffe, and Seventeen appreciated Rex putting a hand on his shoulder to ground his ori’vod. Bly went next, starting to tell a story about Ponds during a fairly recent fight that brought small grins to his brothers’ faces. Wolffe joined in, as did Rex, and soon they were all at least smiling.

The one vod that never spoke was Fox.

It puzzled Seventeen how quiet he was. Fox had always been the first to speak up, the first to step in, the first to very loudly give his opinion. But now he was silent. He looked almost like he was disassociating.

“Fox’ika?” Seventeen called, “You alright?”

Fox looked up once he noticed all the attention was on him and nodded quickly, “‘Course,” he assured them, his tone still sounding off, “Just…reminiscing I guess.”

There were a few murmured agreements from around the table, before the conversation turned back to Ponds. Seventeen caught Wolffe looking over worriedly a few times. He idly wondered how many of them made the effort to keep up with each other. He hoped all of them, but knew better than to assure himself of it.

The call went on for a long time, most everyone having a good cry at some point. Seventeen was the only one that left with dry eyes when it was said and done.

He sighed as their blue forms flickered out of existence, and looked across his desk. It was scattered with paperwork, test results, security reports, all the paperwork he’d been relegated to once his leg made it so he could never fight again.

He unlocked the lowest drawer in his desk and pulled out a bottle of moonshine Spur had snuck to him once Ponds’ death had been officially reported back to Kamino. He poured himself a drink and sat back in his chair, scrolling through old comms. There weren’t many with Ponds, just little questions his vod’ika had here and there, and a few scattered conversations about life in the thick of things.

They were clone troopers, which meant they didn’t get holos or recordings of kids running around just being kids. They didn’t get keepsakes or days that could be spent talking and catching up. He’d known he would have to let them go eventually, and that when he did, there would be nothing to tether them to him.

It still hurt.

Three glasses in, he picked up his comm again, and pulled up his conversations with Fox.

It had been nearly six months since they last talked.

A-17: I’m being sent to Coruscant soon for an escort

A-17: We should catch up

He waited a few minutes, then put his comm down. Fox was a Marshal Commander now, he’d respond when he could.

Until then, Seventeen was content to drink to the memory of both Ponds, and the boys his batchers used to be.

#commander cody #commander fox #commander wolffe #commander ponds #commander bly #alpha 17 #kamino #fanfic #my writing #ok so it's no specifically cody #but i figured it would fit for the occasion

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offtorivendell · 3 months

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My thoughts on the Bryce, Azriel and Nesta HOFAS bonus chapter...

Disclaimer: as suggested by the title, the following discusses the Walmart HOFAS bonus chapter featuring Azriel, Bryce and Nesta. I haven't read the main text, so it won't feature anything related to that, but there are massive Maasverse and HOFAS spoilers ahead regardless. Please beware.

These are just my initial thoughts, not expanded upon in any substantial way and, as usual, I could always be way off the mark.

Also, yes, fair warning that I'll be mentioning the ACOTAR characters a lot. If that's not your jam, and you'd rather avoid any of the possible implications of the crossover, then I'd give this post a miss. On the other hand, if you're interested in how CC/HOFAS may affect Prythian going forward, please read on.

Music:

The Stone Mother song has me 👀 especially as the stone and water were "talking" at the start.

@cassianfanclub and @wingedblooms have already posted about the Stone Mother (here and here); @ladynightcourt3 has found the Phrygian goddess Cybele, also known as the "Mountain Mother," who sounds very relevant.

That being said, am I crazy to think Elain could have been listening in? Is Azriel stone and Elain water? His stone siphons - which Elain called beautiful, did she hear their song, as kin? - and Elain possibly as water? Was she using salt water to boost her powers, or a reflection pool to scry, and keep tabs on her sister and friend?

Or is it the space between linking worlds? Are the old gods talking?

Alternatively, could stone be referring to Nuala and Cerridwen, who are capable of manifesting stone around themselves and others (ACOTAR).

Is this what SJM meant when she said we'd see Elain in "some form" in the next book?

@psychee92 said she wished that SJM had somehow included Mr Brightside, and now I wish the same; even a mention of indie rock. 😭

Josie and Laurel - "He/god will add/increase" "(laurel) trees/victory"? Elain? Lol sorry, but it's either giving gardener, or Elain killing Hybern.

Wraith-like harmonies? After the description of Josie and Laurel's voices? It's crack, but is it a metaphor for Nuala and Cerridwen?

The musical similarities between what Juniper dances to and Prythian's music?!

Azriel's humming/singing made the shadows dance, once more suggesting that shadows dancing is a response to power, not mate bonds

The music Az liked was death metal. Could this link to any sort of metal artefact, like an iron crown for grounding? Or wyrdstone jewellery?

The glass coffin?

"Nineteenth century literature presents the glass coffin as a prison within which sleeping women are frequently mistaken for dead or vice versa." (Source). It's giving Sleeping Beauty (credit to @elriell for the OG SB theory), and a little Snow White.

Check out this tale from The Brothers Grimm, which sounds... suspiciously relevant to Elain.

@cassianfanclub also suggested that it's giving necromancer vibes, and I'd love that for Elain.

Feyre once said she could sleep for a hundred years after coming back from the Prison, right before going to the Hewn City in ACOWAR. After Elain had left the room, and before Feyre went to check in on her to find her "asleep—breathing."

Let's not forget Elain's assistance in rescuing the human COTB, Briar, from Hybern's camp.

Will Elain prick herself while weaving?

I was tired enough that I could barely summon the breath to ask, “Do you think the Cauldron made her insane?” “I think she went through something terrible,” Lucien countered carefully. “And it wouldn’t hurt to have your best healer do a thorough examination.” I rubbed my hand over my face. “All right.” My breath snagged on the words. “Tomorrow morning.” I managed a shallow nod, rallying my strength to rise from the chair. Heavy—there was an old heaviness in me. Like I could sleep for a hundred years and it wouldn’t be enough. “Please tell me,” Lucien said when I crossed the threshold into the foyer. “What the healer says. And if—if you need me for anything.” I gave him one final nod, speech suddenly beyond me. I knew Nesta still wasn’t asleep as I walked past her room. Knew she’d heard every word of our conversation thanks to that Fae hearing. And I knew she heard as I listened at Elain’s door, knocked once, and poked my head in to find her asleep—breathing. - ACOWAR, chapter 27

Azriel specifically said Nesta "beheaded" Hybern, after looking down at Truth-Teller.

This is not Azriel giving Nesta credit for the assassination. If anything he's hiding Elain's involvement.

I've said before, and I'm sure I'm not the only one who has done so, but I would expect Azriel to protect his LI with silence, whoever they are.

He had to have been thinking about Elain, who I've theorised could now/soon be known as "The Shadowsinger's Knife" after she became the "knife in the dark" in Azriel's place at the end of ACOWAR.

The young girl sitting on the mushroom:

I'm still looking into the carving of the young girl sitting on the toadstool with the hound sprawled on the ground beside her, as I find it really interesting. My initial thought was that it seemed like a convenient place to drop a mention of a garden-like fairy carving with a hound right after Bryce had quizzed Azriel about his hypothetical mate, or lack thereof (Elain being both heavily associated with plant life, thanks to her "little garden," as well as dogs, after Nesta called her one in ACOSF).

I also wonder if it has anything to do with the Czech tale that amanita muscaria - while psychoactive/toxic - are said to protect from lightning and other ill fortune. If this is correct, it reminds me a little of the markings - wyrdmarks - on the Archeron cottage.

I don't know where Bryce and co were walking, as I have only read this bonus chapter and the prologue, but given it was carved on an underground wall, and I suspect that there are underground portals in at least the Hewn City and the Prison, and maybe the waterways... could it have been for protection against the invading lightning Asteri? Or did the Asteri (Daglan?) put them there to protect against Thunderbirds, or whatever Hunt is?

Miscellany

Maybe Bryce hadn't been sent there by Urd? Who then? Was @silverlinedeyes right all along?

The mention of pleasure halls seems like a call back to Azriel's bonus chapter, but it's also likely that they aren't all brothels (see Rita's).

Azriel listening closely about Nesta now liking being Fae; he could extrapolate her responses to Elain. Maybe she's no longer miserable, and in need of their pity. And maybe she's changed her mind from ACOFAS, when she said to Feyre "I don't want a mate, I don't want a male."

Azriel said "no" to whether or not he has a mate rather quickly. Hmm... the shadowsinger doth protest too much?

It's also potentially important that Nesta said "yes, WE are" curious about Azriel's mate status. Her, Azriel and most of the fandom! 😂

"Okay, okay," Bryce said. "But it'd be cool to know something about your world. Or about you." They were both silent. Bryce asked Nesta, "You have a mate, right?" She nodded to Azriel. "Do you?" "No." Azriel said quickly, flatly. "A partner or spouse?" "No." Bryce sighed. "Okay, then." Azriel's wings twitched. "You're incurably nosy." "I think that's the nicest thing you've said about me." Bryce winked at him. "Look, I just... I'm curious. Aren't you?" Azriel didn't answer, but Nesta said, "Yes. We are." - HOFAS, Bryce, Azriel and Nesta bonus chapter

All in all, while there were no overt mentions of Elain - and really, why would SJM do that in a series that wasn't Elain's own - imo we got the Elain-shaped holes in the text that I was hoping for, and I can't wait to see if there are any more in the full book.

#hofas spoilers #hofas bonus chapter #bryce azriel nesta bonus chapter #crescent city spoilers #hofas #hosab spoilers #acotar cc tog crossover theory #bryce quinlan #azriel shadowsinger #nesta archeron #elain archeron

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kai-the-person · 6 months

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I find it fascinating that the team no one thought would win, bonded over all their short comings. Which ultimately became their greatest strength. Everyone logs on. Everyone tries their best. They play to their strengths and rely on each other for the things they don't know. What's to lose if they don't do something right? They're here for a good time, not a long time.

At the same time, green team was torn apart by the thing everyone thought would make them the best team. This game thrives on connection where red team travels in packs to avoid being easy kills at the same time Bad and Tubbo are traveling around killing. Sure, Fit is used to this sort of thing. But he's too used to it being every man for themselves and can't really trust or rely on his teammates. Added to that, the players all have their own objectives that differ wildly while red team has this sort of 'how fun can we make this.' style going on. They aren't enjoying themselves because these skills they were chosen for aren't getting tested and they can't properly connect with their team, which is what the qsmp is all about.

Blue team is a middle ground between the 2. And it seems to be working for them so far. It's worth pointing out that they work well together with most not having the whole, 'if I go down, I'm going to make it as inconvenient as possible for you,' of red team. Nor do they have the level of skill that causes isolation like green team.

I'm really excited to see how these attitudes shape and change the gameplay considering we have 11 more days of this. I hope nobody is negative to our new favorite underdogs in green team, it's no fun if you drive cc away to avoid harassment by fans that don't understand that this is all fun and games. They're all friends in real life. :)

Also, Tubbo needs to let Bad satiate his blood lust more. Let him spawn kill Foolish a couple times a stream.

I think it would be enriching for everyone involved ;)

#qsmp

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simplepotatofarmer · 8 months

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The fact that it was his character acting as an anarchist and disagreeing with the presidency that was one of the factors that led up to this… just sucks man

he's getting the technoblade treatment for real.

the dsmp fandom was genuinely so gross to techno. people where calling him and his character emotionless. saying he betrayed his '''family''' when cc!techno stated they were not related, at all, and continuing to ignore his stance on this.

people made posts about how his style of rp was bad because it was too light-hearted and broke the fourth wall too much which okay, then it's not for you! respect what the man wants to do!

it was so awful, they twisted him and his character.

and now people who can't tell rp from real life are going after bad who is one of the kindest people in the mcyt sphere, always has something good to say about everyone, is having to call people out multiple times because they just can't be normal towards him and instead are treating him terribly.

i hope people listen to him this time. i think more cc's should speak up about this sort of thing, draw a stronger divide between their character and themselves, and let their fanbases know it's not okay.

#loyal answers things #discourse #fandom critical

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firesnap · 1 year

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Thinking about how cc!Wilbur consistently kept his story motif of having a guy who wants to be a different version of himself, who wants to change, only to have circumstances and his own choices sabotage him constantly. It was such a good idea for an open ended RP because it makes the character's actions and arc tied heavily to how they react to events not just what they do. Then having his "redemption" arc never being about redemption, but about how real change isn't possible until you figure out how to break old patterns was such a king move. It tied all the arcs together and then left it more about the character's choices in the face of events than events themselves. All of it adds up to c!Wilbur remaining one the most doggedly consistent RP characters you can find.

Like, we can wax poetic about how he played with ideas about being a character in a story or the nature of being inherently good versus wanting to be good and all of that, but we really only get to play with that stuff because he had a well mapped out and developed character. Man had google docs mapping out stories and his character before most people even realized there was a story and it shows.

It's the RP background in general. Wilbur knows that balance between improv and structure that I think cause a lot of people to flounder. Improv RP is great! I play DnD and a lot of it is that! But all the really great RP still comes from having a cool character and knowing that character enough that you can throw yourself into whatever plot hits the table or whatever is made up on the fly. It's the balance of being able to work with what you've created, but also knowing what you've created enough to let it breath. To be real, we wonder why c!Crime is in 8000 AU's and topping AO3 stats and a lot of it is because of them being RP characters. They're made of relatable tropes and Wilbur wanting to play with found family bonds and, again, tailored to be shoved into any situation the person using them needs.

If, like we're hoping, DnD happens this year I think we'll see more of those sort of characters that sort of scratch a spot in your brain. Fingers crossed.

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antimony-medusa · 5 months

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It’s very interesting hearing you talk about rpf dynamics in the myct fandoms. I’m a casual enjoyer of it and only follow a few people in the fandom. The boundaries thing is just so weird to me bc rule 34 is a thing, people are gonna do what they want to do. Every other fandom I’ve interacted with has had the rule that fandom stuff is for the fandom and shipping and rpf aren’t things regulated by the cc’s. Going up the the person and asking about their boundaries feels worse to me than just writing or drawing whatever it is that you want and then just putting it in the proper tags or website on the internet so that the cc’s won’t find it.

Yeah. I agree.

I think the whole notion of boundaries started in a good spot, with not wanting to make the creators uncomfortable, which is a laudable goal! And with this fandom being really close to RPF, it's the sort of thing that you think about if, if you're sort of inventing a fandom from first principles and not checking in to how actual ethical RPF fandoms have learned, painfully, how to work. (First rule is to NOT SHOW THE PERSON THE RPF, the second is that we all know that it's fictional and not real truthing about the person, and the list goes on. I don't believe MCYT is truly RPF, but it's close enough that I think we wouldn't do badly to adopt RPF fandom principles from people who already know the pitfalls to avoid.)

And then we had, as a neutral statement, unprecedented access to the creators through TTS and Twitter, so while I might have the thought "I hope this doesn't make this actor uncomfortable" I'm not likely to be able to actually get in contact with the guy playing Steve Rogers— But I CAN get in touch with the guy playing Technoblade. (or y'know. I could. Anyways.) So people could start to show up and ask things, and then that became normalized, and then questions that really are rude if you think about it for a second ('what are your feelings on shipping?' why are you bringing up shipping— maybe they don't want to talk about it—in a context where the person can't avoid it?) get followed by the same questions over and over again, and both more petty (what do you feel about scars) and more invasive (how do you feel about age regression?) questions, until it's just a constant barrage of the person being asked to weigh in on things they might wish to not look at! But we're shoving it in their face!

And then this whole thing combines really badly with the parasociality of the fandom, with people feeling like they actually know these streamers and they're friends. You get people cruising Ao3 (a thing the streamers know not to do) going "how would I feel if this was about me, like it's about my friend streamer", and then they go out and send death threats and doxing in the defense of their friend streamer, and you get people writing for the approval of their friend streamer and convincing themselves that their friend streamer really approves of what they're doing and they'd love to read it, and suggesting things like a QSMP fanfic library, and you get people bringing up fanfic to their friend streamer in their chat and comments, both in the sense of "isn't this horrible please condem it" and "isn't this great don't you like it", and in all cases that behaviour, throwing all this information in their faces, is the thing that I think is inappropriate to do to a real person.

Just let them make jokes and play block game. If we're getting a little too into it and wriitng royalty au epics, we should not bring it up to them. This seems straightforward to me.

#discourse #fandom meta

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lets-try-some-writing · 4 months

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Your CC Warfare fic legit had me stressing out so bad I thought I was feeling a genuinely new emotion, lol. That whole thing was like a really bad car crash: it's terrible what happened, but you can't look away. If Strongarm had just said nothing, she would've avoided putting her foot in her mouth and getting in trouble. With how tense everything was, I see no reason why she would jump in. I understand she was trying to help Sideswipe out of that situation, but she did it in like the complete opposite direction! She should've reared him in, not back him up. She said it herself that they were war veterans. Though, I suppose that's easier said. Strongarm may be intelligible of the war records and Autobot law, but truthfully, plain intelligence pales in the face of wisdom and actual experience. Intelligence says: this war could've easily been won because of xyz. Wisdom and experience say completely otherwise. And I guess that is one of the points Optimus is trying to make: that Strongarm and Sideswipe do not have the wisdom or experience to understand exactly why things played out the way they did. I have the feeling the two simply looked at the war records itself and not any history that came before, especially Optimus' involvement with Megatron's revolution. I don't know if that would make much of a difference for Sideswipe tbh but I think Strongarm would be able to see just a little why Optimus couldn't outright kill Megatron in the beginning like Sideswipe said he should've. Even so, going back to the records itself , it won't contain legitimately every single thing that happened. It probably only recorded decisive battles and notable events. Billions of people were involved, and with that many variables, it would be impossible to say that the war could've been won if only Optimus did something sooner. WHICH BY THE WAY MAKES THIS SO MUCH WORSE. Sideswipe (and by extension Strongarm) is basically saying that Optimus is personally responsible for dragging on an intergalactic war just because he didn't off one guy as if the most wicked bots in the face of existence werent out there making lives worse on purpose under the cover of the war and would help stretch it to continue their sick actions. As if there weren't a hundred other Megatrons ready to continue the war themselves the moment Megatron died. If I could write an essay on every reason why the war dragged on, I'll be writing until I die and never come close to finishing. Even within the small game Optimus planned there are obvious reasons why it wouldn't be a quick or easy victory if they even win: limited number of fighters (no guarantee they'd hit the max min bc rallying people to fight is difficult), no details until they got to Helex (you're not always going to know what your goal is when being sent out to fight), no resources from the state (war is expensive and getting funding is difficult). So imagine that plus way more reasons plus on a planetary scale. The scope is simply unfathomable. Anyways, I think this comment has gone on long enough lol. Excellent work as always and I'm excited but also incredibly nervous to see how this all plays out. Take care!

YOU ARE PICKING UP WHAT I AM LAYING DOWN!!!

This whole fic is one giant show. Optimus wants the idiots under Bee's control to LEARN. You've already picked up the logical reasoning behind the rules he's laid down so far. And let me tell you, its only going to get more complicated. War is a difficult and unpredictable thing. Optimus is going to make that as real as possible in this non-lethal scenario.

Is it overkill? Maybe. But if even those serving under Bumblebee don't have the barest inkling of the truth? It hints at a FAR larger problem. I am going to have so much fun writing this thing. I want to get a few chapters stockpiled and then I will post them on Ao3 and continue there :3

Thank you for enjoying my writing and giving this lovely analysis. This sort of things makes my dad and encourages me to write more.

#lets try some writing mumbles

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leolingo · 8 months

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(rant about linguistics, aphasia and q!quackity’s impairments post-memory loss!!! to anyone who knows more about any of this, PLEASE add on or dm me id love to learn if anyones into neurolinguistics or anything of the sort)

ive been digging deeper into q!quackity’s condition (because I quite literally CAN’T stop thinking abou it) + taking note of his symptoms/behavior and it seems like what he’s dealing with could be called alexia (acquired inability to read) with agraphia (acquired inability to write), which are types of general aphasia, except i still need to know MORE about his production and comprehension i need to get in there!!!!!

it seems like he could be experiencing literal/verbal alexia with agraphia, which would mean he can’t recognize written letters or symbols at all and that is why he’s unable to read (this is all very tentative… all i have to go off of is my psycholinguistics class and as many academic articles as i can read). from what ive seen, q!q hasn’t actually tried to read any signs out loud, there’s no verbal attempt or production of speech which would make sense if he really can’t recognize the alphabet. BUT. what bothers me is that he can speak spanish with no issues. since spanish has a high proximity between phonology and orthography, theory says people who are able to speak it should be able to read and write the phonemes. and he can’t — or hasn’t tried. THAT makes me think he Can recognize the letters themselves

to confirm this i would really like to see him try to spell…. Or just name a letter! if its confirmed he CAN recognize individual letters, then id say what we’re looking at is more like pure alexia (without agraphia) — only a reading impairment, which would cause him to be unable to Arrange the letters in a sensical order. Its tough to check any of this w minecraft as a medium…. with a keyboard (or, in rp, on a communicator/in chat) it’s kind of impossible to know if he’s clicking at random or actually Trying to seek specific letters. but ill say that the way he sometimes dictates what he’s intending to write makes me think he DOES have the visual of each letter in his mind, and just struggles to order them or accurately transpose them

its also interesting to me how theres no sign of a speech impediment. q!q could speak fine from the very first moment we saw him. all hesitation was modal/owed to circumstance and not actually tied to his production of speech. i think that has more to do with the memory part of things! it could be that the extend of his memory alteration only goes as far as his writing and reading do. speech and comprehension come first in regular human development, and those are the faculties he has kept mostly unaltered. there could also be an argument to make about this pointing spanish as his first language (like cc!quackity) and english as his second, which would explain the dissonance between his production in one language and the other — but given that last stream he did express knowledge of english, idk if its relevant

i dont know much about the actual anatomy of things but i think it’s interesting that most aphasia cases are caused by lesions on the left temporal-parietal lobe. AND that its also possible for aphasia to be caused by head trauma like a hard hit to the head or deprival of oxygen (due to drowning? food for thought).

psa i know the situation in canon could be a lot less deep than im trying to make it. i get that. i dont expect the writers team to have researched the symptoms to this extent, but i enjoy discussing it. this is part of my major and a big area of interest for me so i find it really fun :) ill keep reading on this topic as much as i can and reblog w more of my musings if i find more relevant info. baseline qsmp team please let me in i need to study q!q under a microscope (lovingly)

#literally its ALLLLLLLLLL I think about since the return stream #WHAT THEY DO TO HIM?#kit.txt #qsmp #q!quackity #kit.meta

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electrosweaters-arts · 1 year

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Question!

Is Victor in the cryptid college universe? What’s he like, if he is?

Victor IS in CC! In fact, he's already appeared in two pages during the prologue

He's kinda a silly little guy but I'm going to PREFACE real quick by saying: Victor in CC is probably the MOST canon-divergent in terms of personality you're gonna get in CC, at least depending on your interpretations of the OG book characters, but he's pretty different from how either of us actually view him in the book.

CC Victor isn't an exactly an evil mad scientist trope or anything (being a mad scientist in CC is basically like being a mathletes nerd but a bunch of you keep dropping random children off at other peoples houses) but he's just a bit of a general asshole, SPECIFICALLY because placing him in a modern college where EVERYONE is a monster changes who the character is a Lot. A lot of his base traits come from the book, but amplified as a parody like we do with all the CC characters (so yes he does get tropey on purpose) + some changes based on how being in a monster college changes his and the creature's story.

While not uncommon for mad scientists in this universe, he's pretty self-centered, he believes himself to be the superior scientist of his class and can often be rude and dismissive of other students' work. (Though he IS actually incredibly good at what he does, he's top 3 in the class and would most likely be #1 if Griffin didn't have a grading bias towards experiments that can help him with world domination)

(going to be using some LOVELY sketches from @internetwerewolf now <3 theyre the person currently drawing episode 1 of CC <3)

Also, before I forget to mention! CC victor is gay and autistic and both he AND both of the creatures have chronic illnesses that leave them with a lot of joint pain. Their illnesses are based off my own so since *I* don't have a medical diagnosis for my joint issues I can't put an exact name to what they have but ???? maybe Fibromyalgia? again, can't put a name to it but their joints are stiff and HURTY. Adam and Victor's symptoms usually manifest in more invisible ways, from time to time they will need a mobility aid of some sort but most days they get by with painkillers and compression-wear. (Mary almost always uses a crutch or a cane and from time to time will use a wheelchair)

And oh right, the creatures! Let's talk about the creatures, I'd say they're pretty important to Victor's character, wouldn't you? (^another @internetwerewolf doodle of Adam and Mary at Victor's dissertation)

Starting with Adam, Victor made Adam in his first semester of Freshman year at CCU (if you don't know, the school Oracle acts as the head of admissions for the school and is particularly in charge of inviting new mad scientists to the school, which is why characters like Victor or Jekyll were accepted and allowed to know about monsters before having made their experiments themselves, the Oracle knew that they would make them eventually) his reasons for creating and then abandoning the creature are mostly the same as in the book, the death of his mother gave him a fascination with restoring life to the dead but once he actually gave life to the creature he was horrified an ran out on it. Adam was left in Victor's dorm room alone for about 3 weeks before being found by an RA and due to school policy on mad science experiments he was given free room and board for the course of his college degree, he was also taught english directly from classes at the school and found a copy of Paradise Lost among Victor's old things, which gave him the idea for the name Adam.

Adam never actually killed anyone in CC, but he DID ask Victor to make him a family member. He was incredibly lonely from being unable to connect with any of the other students and wanted someone like him, Victor obliged before he and Adam got into an argument which ended with him partially destroying the other creature and leaving Adam to do the rest of the reanimating work himself. (This is why Mary is not quite made right, the stitching on her limbs is very loose and she's missing an eye)

The creatures' and Victor's overall relationship is rocky at BEST, most days they can't STAND each other and squabble any time they pass each other in the halls. Though Victor's family is all still alive AND Adam got his second creature so from time to time they can get along, if a topic in interesting enough for both of them Adam and Victor can hold a conversation for a few hours, and they will sometimes help Victor out if provided a good enough reason to. Mary's less likely to talk to Victor but that's mostly because she just...doesn't like talking to people. They treat him like a shitty dad, and as seen in the prologue they DO like to rough him up a bit from time to time for fun but they wouldn't ever really want to KILL him. (Hyde would. Hyde wants to kill him. Adam has to hold him back from it.)

This was WAY longer than I expected, kinda incoherent, feel free to ask any follow up questions if you'd like! I LOVE talkin about these guys :3

#do NOT ask electro-sweaters about the CC characters worst mistake of my LIFE she wont shut the fuck UP #cryptid college stuff #frankenstein #frankenstein au #webcomic #comic #victor frankenstein #adam frankenstein #gothlit #gothic literature #the creature

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gcldfanged · 30 days

Text

Meet the Writer

ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘɪᴄᴋ ᴜᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴜꜱᴇ(ꜱ) ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ?

(CANON MUSES) -

Genesis: I actually HATED Genesis initially in the og CC game. I thought he was a lame addition and just like… idk, they wanted Gackt in the game so they made his presence plot relevant? OOOUGH, I was so mad… But then I saw how the rpc and fandom treats him, which is honestly even WORSE SOMEHOW??? So I decided to try writing him seriously and what do you know, I actually kinda like it.

Verdot: I literally have to make the content I wanna see in this rpc, such is my burden. my curse...

(OCs) - I wanted to write about the themes I have on my pinned and honestly, there were so many Tseng rpers who I am friends and mutuals with that knock it out of the fucking ballpark- I just didn't feel like I'd have ANYTHING new or good to contribute to the exploration of his character? So I made an OC :P And he's really changed so much! I remember when I was still making my own art for him and he wasn't QUITE like there the way I wanted him to be, but I didn't have anything better to employ as a faceclaim or reference to draw from. And then Cas was like "btw here's a manga about your HYPERFIXATION" and Kokonoi's general appearance and vibe was a great starting point to go off of instead.

Anyway, There's always things I had planned for Jae in the works or on the backburner, but he has really evolved over the span of years I've been writing him, so I really appreciate every person who took the time to check him out and build something with him.

ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ?

You know, I have been becoming more lenient with allowing myself to write certain things. I always end up being afraid of how people will react to certain themes I explore because... let's be real, a lot of people are pretty intolerant to opinions that are different than theirs. So long as whatever I and/or my partner explore is handled with the care and respect it deserves, I don't really see an issue with much anymore. Hell, I was terrified to post that one drabble fleshing out Jae meeting Veld for the first time because I was afraid people would see Jae's reaction to killing someone as somehow 'excusing abuse' because he wasn't dancing on the guy's corpse and actually showed remorse for what he did. It's fears of what I write about being misconstrued like that that really makes me hesitant to even talk about certain ideas with partners. But I'm getting over that, little by little and step by step.

ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ?

I actually love writing (as you can tell) introspective pieces. Something where you're really getting inside the character's head for a moment to see past all of their walls and facades, or sometimes you're still seeing what they tell THEMSELVES is the real undiluted truth, but isn't. I just love that kinda stream of consciousness really dig deep into the VOICE of a character exploration. Makes me feel lots of emotions.

ʜᴏᴡ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴜᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ?

Usually I'll be doing something else like watching a piece of media or listening to a podcast and start to think "Ooh, my muse would love this" or "this makes me think of xyz muse wow", and it just kind of expands organically from there.

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ɪɴ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴏʀ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ?

Music helps get me inspired initially, especially since I make spotify playlists for all my muses (and ships :P), so generally I'm cool with music, but usually I zone in too much on my own writing to pay attention. It's like my sense of hearing turns off.

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇᴘʟɪᴇꜱ ᴏʀ ᴡɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ?

Both- There's always a general sort of... idea or outcome that me and my partner would LIKE to shoot for? And sometimes we just don't get there, because it really depends on what the characters do/say and how it's taken by the other muse.

For example, I was roleplaying a thread with @steeleidolon's Kunsel where he and Jae are trying to broker a deal and Kunsel ends up saying something to the effect of "your people" and he means the Turks. Jae, on the other hand, hears 'your people' and assumes Kunsel was bringing up his race and the perception of fellow people from Wutai or Hanuel being unfairly insular. So, it kinda went to shit, LOL.

It's little things like that that can color your muse's reaction to sometimes very different degrees than what you plan for!

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ꜱʜɪᴘᴘɪɴɢ?

I like complicated dynamics and no, I will never shut up about them. Ships for me don't even have to strictly be romantic or sexual in nature, so like- I have some interactions I'm still feeling out with @saishuu-heiki that are platonic but leaning in a distinctly enemy/frenemy/challenges other person kind of vibe? And I think it's great! They don't HAVE to be like "we're friends, we're lovers, or we hate each other'- Like, limiting all your interactions to one of those three options gets really boring for me...

ᴡʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀʟɪᴀꜱ/ɴᴀᴍᴇ?

King_Kkeungi is my mangaka pseudonym for the Silent Manga Audition that I tried submitting to last year. People have called me just "King" (if they didn't know how to pronounce Korean) or "Kkeungi" before, so I tend to go by these handles now.

ᴀɢᴇ?

30s, I'm like Dagon: ancient and evil, spoken about in hushed whispers that the zealots who follow my dark lore worship-

ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ?

May 10th

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀ(ꜱ)?

Blue-greens like teal and turquoise, soft pastel mint, and pinky-purples

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴏɴɢ(ꜱ)?

Currently? PRIMADONNA by Kedarui! It's a sequel to their other song, Femme Fatale and has amazing lore and characters. It's just got fascinating kinda themes and imagery when you watch them back to back.

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ?

The 2nd DUNE movie, holy crap, I was blown away!

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜱʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ?

Hell's Paradise, which I am still TRYING to finish.

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜱᴏɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪꜱᴛᴇɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ?

Philip by millenium parade, my new go-to Jae song

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜰᴏᴏᴅ?

Thai or Vietnamese food *drools*

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ?

Summer... I just love the heat and the sun and the iconic imagery/sounds/themes like eating watermelon and wearing floppy plastic sandals, melting ice cream, hearing the chime of our furin while sitting outside on the porch of the house.

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ?

I talk to regularly (like near every day): @ceaselxss, @annjiru, @phoenixshards, @sadistpet, @nightiingaled. Like talking with a lot: @speedchasing, @ofdeference, @hisnewera, @cwarscars, @contemptim, @steeleidolon, @altrxisme, @hxbiris & @hxvemxnd

The people who have known me the LONGEST are mostly discord only rpers now, but Tricky, HD, Kit, and Vixen I consider to be extremely close to me since we've been friends for... like over or around 6+ years and are still ongoing buddies who have met face to face before.

Then there's my ex-fiancee, but he doesn't do tumblr rp anymore.

This list also doesn't even cover ppl I write with/ooc interacted with over a long period of time like @ivory-paragon, @poeticphoenix, @reapersxfolly, @endweapon, @chthonicsurge, or @dcviltriggcr, so- I like reaching out to people and developing bonds! We don't even have to be on discord capslocking at each other, it's really cool when you can come back to an RPC and still have that connection without any awkward small talk?

#◈ ooc #◈ dash games #◈ MUNDAY

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lifesver · 5 months

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sometimes i think about how like. unbelievable it seems that the family could get away with all that they do for as long as they do, and especially what happens assuming there are survivors out of the game’s friend group (lol lmao our delusions). but also like, it was the 70s which was such a bizarre and fucked up time for the rise of violent crime anyway. you had these prolific horrific serial killers because your ~average middle-class north american family just had no concept that these sorts of people were out there, let alone prowling their neighbourhoods. people hardly locked their doors, and had no reason to feel like they needed to. like it cannot be overstated how not ready anyone was to be dealing with these kinds of cases. as a result there was also just a lot of terrible non-thorough policework. a lot of cold cases, because like. fr there was a time when you couldn’t report a literal child missing until 72 hours had passed. and if you were a young person at all, it was super likely you got written off as a runaway without any real investigation occurring. no cell phones, no tracking, no cctv, no digital papertrails to prove otherwise.

and then you factor in the idea of the sawyers having local connections, if you factor in the hewitts, who literally have planted themselves in law enforcement. like yeah no shit. you have corrupt and/or inexperienced detectivework, especially with the kinds of things the friends would have reported after surviving the house. a lot of it would have sounded too outlandish to even believe. and then, back then there was such a limitation to the kinds of evidence you could use, it might have been hard to get the family on anything anyway, even if they did get close enough.

so it’s like, no wonder they call off maria’s search that quickly. it’s no wonder in nosy/dusk/cc verses it’s so easy for her, and for leland, to fall to the wayside, to be forgotten, as cold cases, among just an influx of missing persons cases and limited law enforcement infrastructure to handle them.

idk it’s interesting to think about the space slasher movies take up, as a reflection of the times they were made.

#the radio broadcast that plays all the texas crimes sounds like. insane. but also the 70s-80s were insane #sorry this is a lot of true crime talk i find the topics interesting esp when you think abt why slashers were what horror centered on then #true crime talk cw sort of //#also i am sad abt the kids once again. tfw you listen to the radio and no one’s even looking for you. there’s too many other headlines

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wingedblooms · 2 years

Text

Flame and Shadow

Elain has two love interests (potentially two bonds)—one of flame and one of shadow.

“Easy,” Lucien repeated, and flame sizzled in his russet eye. The flame, the surprising dominance within it, hit Cassian like a stone to the head, knocking him from his need to kill and kill and kill whatever might threaten—

Azriel was nothing short of beautiful. Even with those scarred hands and the shadows that flowed from him like smoke, she’d always found him to be the prettiest of the three males who called themselves brothers.

Elain’s hair glows like the dawn on the longest night of the year.

He knew he’d be swallowed by it if he went up to his bedroom, so he’d remained down here by the dying light of the fire. […] and though the shadows kept him company, as they always had, as they always would, he found himself leaving the room. Entering the foyer. Soft steps padded from under the stair archway, and there she was.

The Faelights gilded Elain’s unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. She halted, her breath catching in her throat.

But he could have this. The one moment, and maybe a taste, and that would be it. “Yes,” Elain breathed, like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.

Elain’s friends are half-wraith spies who smell like jasmine (just like her) and disappear into shadows.

One of them covered my mouth with a hand, holding me tightly to her, shadows slithering down her arm and onto mine. She smelled of jasmine—I’d never noticed that before. After all these nights, I didn’t even know their names.

Elain seems to be deeply connected to the Mother, Cauldron, and Fate as a powerful seer. This trio is probably synonymous with Urd, who shifts form and winds between worlds to influence fate. She is also the goddess that the House of Flame and Shadow worships in CC, which happens to be home to wraiths.

A pyre smoked atop a black stone altar in the center of the temple. A stone throne on a dais loomed at the rear of the space. No statues ever adorned Urd’s Temple—no depiction of the goddess had ever been made. Fate took too many forms to capture in one figure.

“I thought the Fae bowed to Luna, but perhaps you remember the old beliefs? From a time when Urd was not a goddess but a force, winding between worlds? When she was a vat of life, a mother to all, a secret language of the universe? The Fae worshipped her then.”

Anything, I begged the Cauldron. Anything— […] For a moment, I thought the Cauldron had answered my pleas. But as a black blade broke through the king’s throat, spraying blood, I realized someone else had. Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, “Don’t you touch my sister.” […] The Cauldron purred in Elain’s presence as the King of Hybern slumped to his knees, clawing at the knife jutting through his throat. Elain backed away a step.

She plucked another figurine from the mantel: a rose carved from a dark sort of wood. She held it in her palm, its solid weight surprising, and traced a finger over one of the petals. “He made this one for Elain. Since it was winter and she missed the flowers.”

It was a fire. Not her father’s neck. Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she’d placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess—perhaps even the Mother herself. Nesta hadn’t let herself dwell on why she’d felt the need to set the rose there.

So, if CC3 is called House of Flame and Shadow, it might just be the perfect bridge for Elain’s adventures in ACOTAR 5.

#elain archeron #elriel #flame and shadow #light and dark #forbidden secrets #goddess of fate #urd goddess #acotar cc crossover theory #ACOTAR 5 #crescent city 3

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someloserjay · 10 months

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Concerts and Tequila PT.2

Tw!! NSFW mentions of drinking

This is the first smut I’ve ever written and writing from a different genders POV wasn’t a great first choice any constructive criticism is highly appreciated.

Part two to my other fan-fiction under the same name

Sebastian POV

Looking at her hazey eyes makes thoughts run through my head, hell my head is spinning. Doing anything right now isn't okay though, right? I ask myself. I mean we’ve both had so much to drink. No, I can't do anything. I'll wait. I have too. I realize I’ve just been looking over [Y/N]’s face as I’ve been stuck in my own head thinking. Before I can make another coherent thought a pair of warm lips collide with mine. The hand that had been on her chin falls as the lingering smell of tequila and some sort of fruity chapstick flood over me and I’m frozen for what feels like years before my body takes over and my hand moves to rest on the back of her neck. My eyes close and I relax into the kiss letting my mind forget its worries for this moment. Her hand tangles in the back of hair. Before I can even realize I’ve pulled her into my lap as the kiss continues, my hand gently holding onto her waist just under her hoodie. Her hands tangle themselves deeper in my hair, one of my hands hesitantly, creeps up her skin following the shape of her. She’s warm between the alcohol, the hoodie, and I’m sure because of the situation. My hand stops when it reaches just under her breast. I remember the conversation I had just had with myself and run my hand back down to where it had been. Eventually we pull away for some air, we rest our foreheads against each other as we breathe.

“I’ve waited so long to do that. Sucks it took 20 cc's of liquid confidence.” She says under her breath with a laugh, yoba I will never get tired of her laugh. Her voice is still horse and going in and out from screaming but it’s still the prettiest thing I’ve heard. I fall back into the bed, my head spinning a smile plastered on my face now, [Y/N] promptly climbs off my lap and lands beside me, her head finding its home in the crook of my neck. My hand finds itself gently rubbing circles on her waist.

“I didn’t know you felt like that.” I say trying not to watch her facial movement, I'm totally failing. I’m definitely staring.

“I didn’t want to mess anything up that we already had.” She mutters as she plays with a strand of my hair. I watch her eyes dart around my face waiting, no, begging for confirmation that her boldness hasn’t ruined our friendship.

“[Y/N], I’ve had a thing for you since we talked at the beach that night.” I say, her eyes light up the drunken haze still coating them. She yawns, it has been a long night, I glance at the clock. Shit it’s practically two am.

“Let’s get to bed.” I say standing up to go turn the light off and double check the door is locked. Sam and Abigail are sneaky bastards, but I owe them. As I turn I see [Y/N] climbing under the covers of the bed we had just been laying on. I can’t help but to smile. A big goofy drunk smile, yoba I’m going to feel so sick in the morning. How does [Y/N] drink with us on Fridays and just get up and do farm work. The thought bogs my mind as I walk back to the beds and without a second thought I undo the covers beside [Y/N]. She gives a very tired smile. She turns to be in bed and rests her head onto my chest, I slip my arm under her head. Can she hear my heart racing, I really hope not. I watch as she falls asleep, placing an very gentle kiss on her forehead, not not to wake her before going to sleep myself.

[Y/N] has the worst alarm sound, why did she pick the worse one, my head hurts. I groan as I sit up, I was right I feel like I got hit by a bus. Speaking of i have to ride one today. I toss my legs over the side of the bed and stretch. Before I know it, we’ve all checked out of the hotel and are climbing into the rental car to go return it and catch the bus.

“[Y/N] how in Yoba’s name are you so chipper?” Abigail asks as she closes the car door and gets passed the aux cord.

“Working the farm makes you a morning person, what can I say?” She says with a smile on. She puts the car in reverse and we get on the road. The three of us are dealing with different hangover symptoms except her. How is she fine? I know if I ask it’ll just be something like ‘farmers don’t have time for hangovers.’

The bus finally pulls into the stop at town and everyone hobbles off. Everyone says their goodbyes as Abigail and Sam head back to their houses.

“Well I better get back and check on the animals.” [Y/N] says

“Wait, uh, about last night?” I ask my confidence left when the hangover hit me.

“Yeah, you uh wanna come by later this afternoon and we’ll chat over some prairie king?” She asks as she tosses her backpack over her shoulder.

“8?” I ask and she nods, turning on her heel towards her farm.

——8pm——

I take a drag from the freshly lit cigarette, blowing it out as I glance up at the clouds covering the sky. [Y/N] should be happy rainy days are good for the farm, quieter at least. The walk is nice and quiet. It gives me time to think what am I going into? We both confessed our feelings. I’m confused and nervous about what’s going to happen. Are we going to pretend nothing happened? Before I know it I’ve arrived at the farm and my cigarette is finished making my nerves a small bit better. I make a straight shot to the door and knock the door while shoving the burnt out cigarette butt into the pack. I’ll toss it later, I think to myself. T my he wooden door creaks open as a tired [Y/N] stands in front of the door with a huge smile. She ushers me inside, on the coffee table sits a pizza box from the saloon and some jojo colas. She has pillows set on the floor to sit on and controllers set beside each side. She closes the door behind me as her cat comes over to rub against my leg before curling beside a space heater in the kitchen.

“So uh.” She says breaking the silence as we sit, the theme music for prairie king softly playing in the background

“I didn’t think it would be this awkward sober.” I say laughing out a breath, my hand rubbing the back of my neck.

“Look things don’t have to get all weird between us, if you don’t want to move forward anywhere that's totally fine. I get it completely. The friendship we have is great and if that’s all it’s going t-“

“You’re adorable when you ramble you know.” I say trying to not let on that I’m just as nervous as her. She begins stuttering over words trying to put a sentence together.

“Seriously, I like you [Y/N], and I want to move forward on that.” I say my hand moving to rest on hers. She smiles and I set my free hand on her cheek, gently pulling her forward until our lips meet. This kiss is much gentler, the passion is still there, it's not the same. It’s better. The food can wait, same with the game. As if it’s muscle memory, one of her hands rests on shoulder and the other finds its way to my hair. I pull away just for a moment.

“Do you want to?” I ask, my eyes meeting hers.

“Right now, more than anything.” She says before reconnecting the kiss. That’s all I needed as I guide her back onto my lap as I did last night. She straddles me as my hands find themselves exploring. They find the hem of her shirt, I start to lift it when it reaches her arm we break the kiss to let it slip off her head. My eyes drop

“I’ll be honest, I didn't expect anything to happen.” She says with a laugh a plain bra matching her skin tone faces me.

“I don’t care what it looks like.” I say grabbing the hem of my own top and pulling it off, tossing it with hers. She places her hands on my chest and the other on the back of my head. She pulls me forward back into a kiss, my hands trail up her spine until I hit the back of the bra pushing the two sides together, the clasp falls. Both of our breathing is unsteady as she pulls the straps off her shoulders. I’m assuming it lands near our other clothes. I’m quick with moving my hands to her front, she’s so warm. I feel a bit bad, I know my hands are cold, they always are, she doesn’t seem to mind. I have one hand reach to hold her breast as I rub circles around her nipple with my thumb. Her hips buck forward in response to the touch, and a quiet moan was added to the kiss. My own body is very well aware of the situation. I start to fiddle with the strings on her sweat pants until the bow she had it tied in comes loose. I’m cursing my jeans for being tighter than I want at the moment. She pulls away, breathing heavily

“Ugh, did you want to go to my room?” She asks as she slowly works the button on my jeans.

“Do you?” She nods, standing helping me up as she leads me to the bedroom. The door clicking shut behind us. She quickly steps out of her pants, her underwear falling with them. She climbs onto the bed as I’m kicking off jeans and boxers. My cheeks flush, she’s sitting against the headboard. She pulls me back in for a kiss before my nerves can catch up to me. One hand is beside her hip steadying myself, with the other I start to gently rub her thigh, quickly move up to tease her entrance. She gasps and whines, her hips push down towards my hand. I understand and slowly push two fingers in, starting them at a steady comfortable pace. I put my head in the space between her neck and shoulder being as gentle as possible as I bite and kiss at her neck leaving marks down to her breasts before kissing down her stomach. She gasps as my tongue presses against her sensitive bud. Moans slip from her lips as her hands rush to my hair pulling gently towards herself. After a couple minutes of this her thighs push together against my head slightly and I pull away.

“Not yet sweetheart.” I say in a borderline growl in her ear as I pull her down so she’s laying under me she yelps as she’s pulled from her sitting position. She smiles at me with lust filled eyes as I line myself and slowly push myself into her until our skin meets.

“Fuck…” I mutter as Im fully inside the woman underneath me now. Her legs wrap around my waist and pull me down from my neck into a kiss. I start at a quick but steady pace. I pull away from the kiss and look at her as she moans under me and holds on to my shoulders for some sort of handle on things. It’s not long before her thighs tighten around me and try to keep my stationary as she rides her peak out.

“I love you.” I say wiping some hair from the side of her cheek as I keep thrusting throughout her orgasm. I push myself up so I can see her fully under me, my hands going to each breast playing and gently tugging. I quickly pull out the warm liquid landing on her stomach and thigh. I touch my forehead to hers for a moment, before reaching over her to the tissues on her nightstand carefully cleaning her off. I toss them in an trash can she has in her room before laying beside her. We’re both panting as she cuddles beside me.

“I love you too.” She says smiling.

“Why don’t we get cleaned up, eat the food you have ready and play the prairie king.” I say sitting up, she nods and sits up with me. I think I'm starting to love Pelican town. And of course [Y/N].

#sebastian x farmer #sdv farmer #sdv fanfic #sdv self insert #sdv sebastian x reader #stardew valley

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memryse · 2 years

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Martyn and Grian as Narrative Foils

(aka: there’s only room for one blond(ish) british guy in this death game)

Sorry for 3rd and Last Life posting on Double Life release day. This was supposed to be out before Double Life. They changed the release schedule. That is not on me!!!!!!!!

Anyway, I’m not going to lie, I started writing this because of a shitpost, but I’ve been meaning to do it for months now anyway. I think about them so much. I love them so dearly. I do not know how long this is going to get as I am writing this entirely on the fly but regardless I sure am going to take advantage of Tumblr now auto-collapsing long posts and not use a read more for once! Nature is truly healing.

To briefly explain what narrative foils are: they’re two characters who contrast with each other; they might have some similarities, but are polar opposites in other ways, which makes their differences stand out even more. Usually in literature, this is done to make the good qualities of a protagonist stand out more than they would otherwise (interesting etymology lore: the term comes from when people used to back their gemstones with foil to make them shine even more). We’re not dealing with conventional media in this case, so it’s not like we really have a protagonist, but I find that this is a really good lens through which to understand both Grian and Martyn’s characters. What’s most amazing to me is that they manage to achieve this in both seasons - sort of on purpose by cc!Martyn in LL, I think, but otherwise accidentally. As is generally the case with anything meta about this series.

Starting with 3rd Life, Martyn and Grian begin the series very similarly. By this, I mean “very chaotically”. They both begin alone, determined to cause mischief in a new server. Specifically with creepers, and specifically resulting in Scar losing his first life. They’re both complicit in that death happening, with Martyn’s soundboard being the reason everyone becomes desensitised enough to creeper sounds that they let their guard down, and they’re instantly branded as the dangerous and unpredictable ones on the server. Before any of that, though… they’re allies. The server’s first alliance, formed over diamond swords and golden apples, is between Grian, Martyn and BigB. The Blue Sword Boys. I always joke that you can see how mentally ill someone is about 3rd Life by seeing what their reaction to the Blue Sword Boys is, and. Well. I’m writing this. So you can kind of see where I lie on the normalcy scale. Anyway, they share their diamonds, and declare themselves allies. Funny how things work out.

Post-alliance, they return to the surface, and both of them find themselves indebted. Grian’s life debt sends him off to the desert on the back of a llama, and Martyn finds himself setting up shop in the snow after stealing a bit of enchanting. These are absolutely opposite ends of the spectrum in terms of the severity of their crimes, but have near identical consequences for the rest of the series, which is really funny to me. Scar’s life is worth about the same as Protection I iron leggings, or something. The conditions of their newfound alliances are different by name (effectively a servant, vs a willing employee), but they’re overall very similar: both enter these roles willingly, to make amends, and end up doing whatever their “boss” asks of them. As for the Blue Sword Boys? Grian never mentions them again.

Throughout the next couple of sessions, we see Grian and Martyn’s respective loyalties grow ever deeper. Grian complains through it all, vowing that he’s out the second he turns yellow, whereas Martyn is content to do as Ren says; he advertises for Renchanting, defending Ren in the process (though not without worry about Ren’s ability to keep a secret). The divide between Monopoly Mountain and Renchanting also widens with every session: particularly in session 3, in which Ren refuses Scar’s trade offer - partially for Martyn’s sake - and Scar famously vows “when I turn red, Ren, you’re on my list” and turns red not long after. It’s here that their position as foils begins to become clear; they started the series in the same way, and now their paths are beginning to diverge.

To talk more generally about their alliances, both are, of course, famously loyal to one (1) person. Martyn is the Hand of the King, and Grian is Scar’s subordinate, even if they’re both definitely more competent than their respective leaders. Both have other allies, but only truly care for Ren/Scar - even though they both had intended to betray those same people. Grian insisted he was leaving Scar the minute he turned yellow. He didn’t. He couldn’t.

I’m technically free of Scar’s bonds, but I feel like I’ve got this moral obligation now. I don’t understand— I can’t let him die. I just— I don’t want to see him go, he’s like the most interesting character on the server, and I just can’t let him go.

Martyn is the same. He planned to betray Ren at the last minute. But… he doesn’t. He can’t. He defends Ren until his dying breath, following his King into the afterlife without hesitation. Unlike Grian who finds himself on equal footing with Scar, though, he never becomes Ren’s equal - nor does he want to. Martyn shows his loyalty by digging in his heels and being the best Hand that he can, be it advising his King or in wartime. Grian shows it by choosing to stay at all. The only betrayal that happens regarding either of them is Scar killing Grian: Grian is the one who’s betrayed, the one who screams “TRAITOR!” and “BETRAYER!” at the one he’d meant to leave behind weeks ago. But he’s also the one who forgives Scar within moments, who agrees that it’s a mutual win for both of them, who kills Scar but it’s not a betrayal, it’s simply all that was left for them in the world.

As I said, Grian never mentions the Blue Sword Boys again. His focus is entirely on Scar. But Martyn wants to save Grian from Scar - he never forgets their initial alliance, and he truly does care for Grian. It’s mentioned in multiple sessions, but the session I want to talk about in depth for this is session 4. This is, of course, the session where Grian traps Dogwarts. That trap killing Ren is certainly the breaking point for friendly relations between Monopoly Mountain and Dogwarts as a whole, but even after all of that, Martyn still suggests to BigB that they try to save Grian. It’s BigB who suggests that Grian “likes” being with Scar, to which Martyn quietly - regretfully - asks, “Have we lost him?”.

The subject comes up again in session 6. Skizz brings up the idea of Stockholm syndrome - Martyn responds by firmly stating “Grian’s got that BAD. Grian’s got that bad.” It’s no longer a question of whether Grian can be saved; it’s not BigB trying to convince Martyn to give up on Grian; it’s that Martyn has given up. They’re both so deep into their respective alliances that the other is now merely The Enemy. And yet… Martyn still hasn’t forgotten the Blue Sword Boys. Session 7, he’s being hunted down by Grian, Scar and Scott. As he fights back, he takes out his diamond sword, the diamonds given to him by Grian all those weeks ago. He yells, “You gave me this, Grian, and I’m gonna use it!”. And yet neither can kill the other - Martyn dies to a skeleton after escaping them.

I don’t think that I need to go into detail about the war, we know how that goes. So let’s skip to the end: Martyn follows Ren into death without even a moment’s hesitation. The culmination of all his loyalty, all his devotion to Ren, is to die to Scar side by side with his king. Grian and Scar, of course, proceed to the final fight: an armourless fistfight to the death. The idea for that fight was suggested by the ghosts - specifically, Ren and Martyn’s ghosts. And this was not the first time that they’d had this idea - far from it. Ren and Martyn had planned to have that fight for themselves should they make it to the final, all the way back in a much earlier session (I don’t have specifics for this one for once though because I am a sleepy bitch and I did look for a bit but couldn’t find it. But it did happen!). It’s just… incredibly ironic, is it not? That fight was what Dogwarts wanted for themselves. Their victory. And yet it was fought by their mortal enemies. Grian carrying out Martyn’s final wish. Both of them follow their allies to their deaths, unable - unwilling - to live without them.

That was… a ride.

Onto Last Life!

Of course, things are immediately quite a bit different between Martyn and Grian. They’re allies, in total contrast to 3rd Life. Namely, they are both in the largest alliance on the server. Brought together by Grian, who surrounds himself with people in the Southlands, but never quite making a true connection to any of them - not like last time. Even when he joins up with Joel, their alliance is one of mutual convenience at best. They’re both similarly unhinged: that does not translate to true loyalty, not like his bond with Scar. Martyn, on the other hand, intends to go about his series selfishly. He joins the Southlands, but doesn’t expect it to last, between the Watcher voice and his inability to leave Ren (more on that later). He actively intends to betray them, joining the Shadows in secret. And yet it’s Martyn who becomes attached to the Southlands, with his marriage to Mumbo and his closeness to Jimmy and Impulse (especially Jimmy, with their shared Evo history).

Martyn decidedly does not trust Grian, however, and even works directly against him despite their alliance. He recognises the threat that a red Grian would propose, like returning Scott and Pearl’s Wither skull as soon as he finds out Grian already has one skull hidden away. I think this is where you can see how their paths have truly, irreversibly diverged: Martyn, whilst still as chaotic as ever, will never be the guy who ran around a village with a creeper soundboard and Bad Omen. He’s more serious, more devoted. Conversely… 3rd Life did quite the opposite to Grian, especially because he never got to properly be red. By the time of Last Life, everyone is well aware of how he’ll inevitably become even more unpredictable and bloodthirsty.

As mentioned, both of them reunite with their former allies multiple times - both of whom live alone, unlike their newly Southern ex-partners. Grian and Martyn both try to act as if they don’t care. They’re not attached to Scar and Ren anymore. But neither of them are very good at hiding how much of a lie that is. They’re not able to resist worrying about Scar and Ren, or helping them when they need it most. Grian outright says he’d leave the Southlands for Scar if he could get a life as well. Martyn takes it a step further and does betray the Southlands for Ren, joining the Shadow Alliance and gaining a life in the process.

The next point of interest is, of course, Grian killing Mumbo and Jimmy. This firmly cements Grian and Martyn as enemies once again: in yet another Pure Chance In The Traffic Light SMP moment, Martyn is chosen as the boogeyman - and he chooses revenge. He hallucinates their pumpkin ghosts in the next session, unable to deal with losing them, and the voice preys on this. It fills his head with promises about bringing them back, and Martyn, in his desperation, believes it. All of this, and yet he was never supposed to get attached to begin with. Grian, on the other hand? The one who formed the alliance? He justifies their deaths to himself and to others as much as he can. They weren’t his friends anymore. They were hurting him. He had every right to fight back. He warned them.

However much Grian truly believes these justifications is up to you. But, at the end of the day, he’s the one to destroy the Southlands, to put the final nail in its coffin. And it’s Martyn who suffers most from it.

Lastly, I of course have to mention the end of Martyn’s series, and the Watcher lore as a whole. By definition, Watcher Grian and Listener Martyn contrast each other. But it goes deeper than just “Grian watches, and Martyn listens”. By now, we’ve already established that Martyn upholds his purpose, whatever that purpose is: be it loyalty to his King, or obeying the Watchers. Grian, though? The Watchers say it best: “he was only ever meant to watch”. They want Grian dead, and they want Martyn to do it - as seen with his attempted boogey kill on Grian. Grian disobeys his purpose, and Martyn enacts the Watchers’ punishment for it, blindly following without truly understanding who was commanding him. They use his loyalties against him - the same ones that Grian forcibly severs. And yet… despite that disobedience, Grian’s still playing the game as intended, isn’t he? He never refuses to cooperate like Scott does - he dances exactly as the Watchers want him to. Upholds their rules, even at the cost of his friends’ lives. He plays the part perfectly, just… not the part he was supposed to play.

Even their colour schemes are contrasts. Martyn, the follower, clad in the lime of a green life. Grian, the wild card, self proclaimed “always red” with his jumper the colour of blood.

#3rd life smp #last life smp #grian #inthelittlewood #mae analyses #this was going to be longer but #sleepy bitch disease #and i want it posted Now #aoughfjfhfjgkfghjfdkfhjkdfhj

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