#sorry if this seems so long winded. i am incapable of wording this any shorter. i have tried lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oo-hazel-oo · 3 years

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The Lucky Batch

hey y’all! i’ve been working on this for a hot minute — turns out i am incapable writing anything shorter than 5,000 words, so sorry in advance for how long this got. a huge thank you to @cosmicghostie for being the ultimate writer's cheerleader and to the rest of the lucky batch for giving me such amazing characters to work with! you all genuinely brighten my day, so i hope this brightens yours! ♥︎

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lucky: a few days in the life of Clone Force 37’s unofficial therapist

content warnings: blood/injury, weapon use, lots of emotional distress (but also some fluff to make up for it!!)

Thumbs didn’t know when he had become Clone Force 37’s unofficial therapist. It just kinda happened.

His original role as the squad’s battle strategist shifted after he realized that his usual skill-set wouldn’t be helpful to a squad who typically threw strategy out the window.

Yet even without a set strategy, the unconventional group somehow had a relatively high success rate when it came to their missions. Thumbs had assumed it was their unpredictability that gave them an advantage. Or the fact that each of them had unique abilities, unlike any soldiers he had ever met.

However, the longer he was with Clone Force 37, the more he started to notice just how special his batch-mates were.

The twins, Foxy and Pepper, had caught his attention first. Both were skilled in their own ways, but what stood out to Thumbs was how each was fiercely protective of the other. He wasn’t sure what the pair had gone through to end up on the Clover, but he couldn’t help but notice the weight of Foxy’s quiet around strangers or the subtle promise behind each sticker that Pepper placed. Thumbs knew more than anyone, love was always accompanied by fear.

He saw this fear in Master Kenhla, every time she glanced towards the two padawans she had come to mentor. Despite her powerful posture, Thumbs could see how she carried the galaxy on her shoulders; not so that she could manage more, but so her brothers could bear less.

Brothers like Rane and Skip, who had lost everything, everyone, before finding their place with the Lucky Batch. Or Sparks and Ryder, both of whom blamed themselves for tragedies of the past.

They all had lost so much… Yet, by some miracle, they had found each other.

Thumbs would do anything to make sure it stayed that way.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This particular day had started normally, which for Thumbs meant wincing as three screaming forms barreled towards where he sat knitting at the back of the ship. He set his needles down, knowing he would not be getting back to work anytime soon.

“Here we go,” he mumbled under his breath as his batchmates shouted from across the hull.

“THUMBS!!!”

The small stampede, which was revealed to be Sparks, Ballast, and Luna, raced towards him, each one attempting to outpace the other.

“Oh Maker, Ballast, what did you do?”

The batcher in question skidded to a stop, mock-offense written across his face. “I didn’t-”

Thumbs gave each of his batch-mates a once-over, scanning them for injuries. “Should I get Pepper? Is anyone hurt?”

“Not yet,” the two mechanics both mumbled under their breath.

Thumbs sighed in equal parts relief and exhaustion. Ballast and Sparks had been ‘friendly’ rivals for as long as he had known the pair. Unfortunately for him, their rivalry often extended outside the realm of mechanics and into the everyday affairs of the Lucky Batch, with Thumbs usually acting as the chosen mediator of these disagreements.

Sparks pointed at Ballast, pleading his case. “He ate all the cookies Jack made me!”

“You’re overreac-”

“And drank all my caf.”

Now Thumbs understood the near-murderous look on Sparks’ face.

His brother had always done so much for the batch and asked for very few things in return, one of those things being his morning cups of caf: a simple but necessary pleasure that allowed him to function throughout the day.

Thumbs brought his attention back to the pair in front of him, wondering whose word to trust more. Then he brought his gaze down, to a much more reliable source.

“Luna, what happened?”

The padawan looked up nervously, her eyes partially hidden behind choppy bangs. Thumbs smiled when he noticed she was wearing the mittens he had knit for her. He had originally made pairs for both her and Brisk while they were stationed on a colder planet, but now Luna liked to wear them for fun, claiming they made her look like an ewok.

The young girl shrunk from the attention that was suddenly on her, moving closer to Ballast’s side.

“I…”

“What happened is he drank all my caf.” Sparks stepped forward, jabbing another accusatory finger towards Ballast. “The caf that prevents me from strangling my brothers when they get on my nerves.”

Thumbs spoke up, attempting to diffuse the rising hostility. “I thought you didn’t even like caf, Ballast. I always see you drinking that tea Jackal likes.”

The mechanic shifted on his feet nervously. “Well, I…”

Thumbs looked towards his brother curiously, confused by his sudden change in demeanor. Something about the whole dispute seemed off, almost like Ballast was covering for someb-

“Wait,” a small voice piped up from behind the three brothers. “B-Ballast didn’t take your caf, I did.”

“You-” Sparks spun towards the voice with an instinctive glower before recognizing its source. His features softened almost instantly. “What?”

Luna shrugged sheepishly. “I wanted to see if it was good… It was! And Master Ken said I was exceptionally energetic during our training afterwards.”

Thumbs fixed his gaze on Sparks expectantly, curious how he would react to the young batcher’s confession.

“I’m sorry,” she continued, wringing her mittened hands. “I know I should’ve asked.”

Sparks cleared his throat awkwardly as he waved off her apology. “No, it’s uh... It’s fine.”

Luna’s expression remained uncertain and Ballast elbowed Sparks in the side, urging him to reassure the young girl.

“Really, I mean... I shouldn’t even be drinking that much anyway,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck guiltily.

Ballast grinned at Sparks, eating up the moment.

Thumbs couldn’t help the smirk that crept onto his own face as well. For a squad of soldiers who had fought countless battles and overcome powerful enemies, they sure did surrender fast when it came to their padawans. No one onboard the Clover was immune to their effortless charm.

Luna eventually looked up at Thumbs, seeking his own approval, which he happily granted with an encouraging thumbs up.

There was a welcome moment of silence before Sparks’ head jerked upwards once more.

“Wait, what about my cookies?”

“Hmm...” Ballast looked to the floor dramatically, feigning deep thought. “You mean the chocolate chunk cookies with sea salt and a fine caramel drizzle?” He smirked before continuing. “I have no idea.”

Sparks took two threatening steps towards Ballast and within seconds the two of them were chasing each other throughout the Clover with Luna giggling in their wake.

For the clones, who quite literally were forced to grow up too fast, the padawans’ presence reminded them of what a childhood should be. It kept them grounded, desperate to preserve that feeling for the young girls for as long as they could. And if that meant that Luna could get away with stealing Spark’s caf, then so be it.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

That evening’s supply trip was supposed to be easy. A quick in and out operation to gather necessary materials for the coming weeks. But it had already been three hours since Ballast, Sparks, and Foxy’s expected return and no one on the Clover had received an update on their whereabouts.

Thumbs wasn’t someone who paced often. While the rest of the galaxy seemed to be in constant motion, Thumbs always tried his best to remain still at its center. But the longer he waited for his batchmates’ return, the more he felt like he was spinning off his axis, unable to stop the repetitive trajectory of his feet throughout the hull.

He wasn’t even aware of his own movements until they were interrupted by the sound of distant yelling. Strained shouts echoed from outside the Clover’s walls, nearly imperceptible amidst the intensifying wind. Their tone, panicked and desperate, was more bone-chilling than the rain that had started to fall around them.

Storms had always scared Thumbs. He hated seeing flashes of lightning, understanding that the explosion of thunder would follow, but never knowing when. Deep down he knew that thunder was harmless, that lightning posed the greater threat, but at least it was quick, unexpected, gone in a flash. Thunder was slow, deafening, inevitable.

When the Clover’s ramp finally lowered to reveal a bloodied Sparks cradled in Ballast’s arms, he knew that the lightning had passed.

This was the thunder.

Thumbs watched in silence as his brothers stumbled into the hull of the ship, a trail of mud and blood left in their wake. Ballast and Foxy eased Sparks onto the closest bunk, removing his armor to better assess the injury. Luna and Brisk dashed into the room, their eyes widening at the horrific sight. Luna’s breaths came in labored bursts as she called for Pepper, tears streaming down her face.

The squad’s medic came running, following the worried gaze of the two young girls who stood near the bunks. He spared a brief glance at Foxy before quickly donning a pair of gloves and shouting orders to nearby batch-mates. Hearing the commotion, Master Kenhla arrived and immediately ushered her padawans out of the room, not wanting them to witness the sight of their brother in pain.

While before Thumbs had been unable to sit still, now he felt frozen, cold as the ice on Hoth. His brothers were right in front of him, yet he felt as if he were watching the scene unfold from millions of miles away.

He kept thinking back to that morning — Sparks had been fine, albeit cranky over his lack of caf, and now…

Thumbs hated it. He hated how things could change so quickly.

He watched as Ballast, usually explosive in his mannerisms, now held Sparks’ hand in his own, whispering words of comfort as his brother lay motionless on the cot.

Thumbs suddenly felt sick to his stomach, a shrill ringing filling the air around him. The echoes of a memory that had been stagnant for years, forced into the depths of his mind, suddenly emerged:

An argument, a battle, another brother gone. A hand desperately squeezing his own before going limp, devoid of all life.

Another hand, this one from the present, landed on his shoulder, dragging him out of one nightmare and into another. A voice was speaking, asking if he was alright, telling him to sit down.

Thumbs’ guilt only increased. Hands that should be helping his fallen brother were instead on his own shoulders, urging him towards the nearest seat. He shrugged them off with an uncharacteristic roughness, finally taking a few shaky steps towards Sparks.

He had almost made it to the bunk when the same pair of arms wrapped around his torso, pulling him back.

“Thumbs, stop,” the voice urged. “You need to let Pepper help him. There’s nothing you can do.”

He knew the words were supposed to be comforting. He had spoken the same ones to almost every soldier who had come to him burdened with the invisible weight of survivor’s guilt. Sometimes it was what they needed to hear; other times, it wasn’t.

The last thing Thumbs saw was an oxygen mask being lowered onto his brother’s face before eventually succumbing to the arms around him, letting himself be removed from the scene.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Thumbs woke up the next morning with a headache.

Foxy, who had been the one to escort him out of the room the night before, filled him in on what had happened during the supply run.

Apparently as the trio had made their way back to the ship, bandits had intercepted them. The ragtag group of thieves were lacking in both numbers and artillery and hadn’t been particularly difficult to subdue. Sparks had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, caught in the unforgiving crossfire of a supply trip gone wrong.

Thumbs wished he had been there. Maybe then he could’ve shouted to his brother in warning or pulled him out of harm’s way. Stars, he would’ve jumped in front of the deathly bolt himself if it meant Sparks was still standing at the end of the day.

The two of them had grown close over the past few months, especially after Thumbs learned the story behind Sparks’ name. He could tell that his brother’s outwardly gruff attitude was just a shield used to protect the sensitive, guilt-ridden soldier beneath. Even one offhand criticism of his work as a mechanic could bring him back to the accident and a past he wished desperately to forget.

Because of this, Sparks would often work through the night, losing himself in the wires and circuits of the ship to ensure he didn’t make the same mistake twice. Thumbs was always at his side reminding him to take breaks, to drink water when he was thirsty, to eat when pangs of hunger hit...

But there was little he could do for Sparks now as he lay unconscious in the hull of the Clover.

Pepper had done everything he could, luckily managing to stabilize their brother within a few hours of the incident. Sparks was slowly showing signs of improvement — he had even woke up briefly in the early hours, mumbling something about watering Percy, before slipping back into the depths of unconsciousness.

Percy was the name of one of Sparks’ plants, something Thumbs discovered after walking in on his brother affectionately repotting it in a moment of assumed privacy.

He smiled at the memory, shaking his head in disbelief. It was just like Sparks to be worried about keeping his plants alive while he was barely clinging to life himself.

With nothing to do but wait until his brother woke up, Thumbs made his way into the hull of the ship where he found most of the batch engaged in a lively game of Dejarik. It was a tradition, meant to keep the batches' spirit alive when faced with tough times.

He almost started towards them when he felt a presence to his left, distanced from the laughter of the others.

Thumbs’ gaze landed on Ryder as he stared out of the cockpit window absent-mindedly, though he knew from his expression that his mind was anything but absent.

Thumbs approached slowly, not wanting to startle the squad’s weapons specialist.

“Hey Ry, you alright?”

Ryder glanced up, a flash of surprise illuminating his expression, before looking back down, his face once again shrouded in darkness.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” A barrage of laughter sounded from the other side of the room, where everyone was still gathered. “Think I’m gonna go for a ride though.”

“Oh, okay…” Thumbs replied, wanting to say more to his obviously-distracted brother. “Mind if I tag along?”

“You always do,” Ryder said, shooting him a small smirk.

“Hey!” Thumbs laughed, punching his shoulder lightly.

Ryder chuckled, nodding for Thumbs to follow him to the far corner of the hull. Once there, he opened the weapons cabinet, extracting a couple blasters and holstering them on his form.

Thumbs looked at his brother questioningly.

“Just in case,” Ryder said, carefully checking over his chosen artillery.

Thumbs nodded quickly, admonishing himself for not thinking more practically, especially after what happened with Sparks. It was a dangerous thing to give the galaxy the benefit of the doubt.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The planet they were currently docked on was beautiful. The hues of its rolling hills were softened by the dying light, the gentle breeze transforming the tall grasses into golden waves. The sky’s colors evolved with each passing minute, all evidence of the previous night’s storm lost to its changing shades.

It was Thumb’s favorite time of day. At dusk the light never seemed harsh; it was sympathetic, understanding. It hovered, never fully settling, like a cloud. But dusky light was also ephemeral. Thumbs wished he could freeze it, trap it in a jar and release it when he needed its soft companionship.

He knew too many people like dusk: perfect, until they were gone.

“It’s pretty here,” Thumbs eventually broke the silence, a welcome distraction from his own thoughts.

“Yeah,” Ryder replied as his eyes traced the horizon, “It is.”

“That why you’ve been coming out here so often?”

Thumbs knew his brother liked to take his speeder out on rides whenever he needed a break from the confines of the Clover. He would even accompany him from time to time. But recently he had been escaping much more frequently and Thumbs couldn’t help but worry that something else was going on.

Ryder chuckled lowly. “I didn’t think anyone noticed.”

“Hey, you’re kinda hard not to notice.” Thumbs smirked, gesturing a hand towards his brother’s head: “Ya know, cause of the hair.”

Ryder grinned, blowing a stray strand out of his face. “Yeah, sure thing curly.”

Thumbs ran a hand through his own coily locks with a shy shrug.

The two brothers fell into a comfortable silence as fireflies blinked to life around them. Thumbs pretended they were shooting stars, closing his eyes and wishing for the speedy recovery of Sparks back onboard the Clover.

After a while, the air seemed to become heavy and Thumbs could tell that Ryder needed to get something off of his chest.

His suspicion was confirmed when he heard his brother sigh deeply, preparing to speak.

“Lately…” he started, tugging on the end of his turquoise braid. “I’ve been thinking a lot.”

Thumbs nodded and moved to sit beside him in a subtle gesture of comfort.

“About them?”

Ryder nodded, knowing Thumbs was referencing his past squad.

“I’ve been having the dreams again.”

Thumbs’ face fell. He remembered the night he found out about Ryder’s nightmares as if it were yesterday.

He had been awake in the hull of the ship, too afraid that something bad might happen if he allowed himself the privilege of closing his eyes. Ryder had started tossing in his sleep, muttering the names and numbers of unfamiliar clones. Thumbs shook his brother awake, eventually guiding him outside of the ship when he struggled to regain his breath. The two of them had sat on the Clover’s ramp until long after the sun rose, each finding comfort in the other’s presence.

Since then, the nightmares had decreased, but every now and again they would return. The guilt would return.

“In the dream, I’m back on the venator,” Ryder described, his voice hoarse. “First there’s the flashing lights. Then voices, their voices, but they eventually fade away and then there’s just static. For a moment, everything is quiet, just a faint buzzing...”

Thumbs gave his brother’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, letting him know he was still there, still listening.

“And then I’m in the escape pod. As I’m drifting away, I look back towards the ship, but it’s not the venator anymore. It’s the Clover.”

He paused, swallowing thickly.

“And then it’s just gone. Swallowed by fire.”

The unsettling images unearthed feelings that Thumbs never had the courage to voice out loud, but the anxious thrumming of Ryder’s fingers on the side of the speeder reminded him of his current task: to show his brother that he was there for him now, regardless of what happened in the past.

“Ry, I know there’s not a lot I can say. But know that they would’ve been so proud of you, of the soldier and brother you’ve become,” Thumbs reassured gently. “We all are.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Ryder mumbled.

Thumbs frowned, knowing his brother wasn’t convinced.

“Well, this was supposed to be a surprise, but it looks like you need it now.”

Thumbs pulled out the pack he had brought with him, rifling through it until he found a small bundle. He nervously presented it to Ryder, who observed the way it had been carefully packaged in colorful gift wrap and adorned with stickers, most likely donated by Pepper.

“I made this for you,” Thumbs spoke as Ryder opened the parcel. “It’s a blanket, obviously, but it’s… Well, it’s got a little more to it than that. Each row of stitches is made of yarn from all the different places we’ve been to as a batch. Thought it could be cool to see how far we’ve all come. But I also know how important it is to you that we honor our pasts, so down here,” Thumbs pointed at the bottom left corner, “I stitched in the names of CT-2019 and CT-1882. And over here is General Lyle’s.”

Thumbs looked up at Ryder, trying to gauge his reaction.

“I know it doesn’t change anything, not really, but I thought maybe it could help you sleep at night.”

There was a long moment of silence as Thumbs began to doubt the impact of his gift. The whole idea was starting to sound stupid now. Maybe if he had-

“I… Thank you, Thumbs.” Ryder finally spoke, his voice cracking slightly. “Really. It’s- It’s perfect.”

Thumbs grinned, glad to see the glimmer of hope return to his brother’s eyes. “Of course, anything for my vod.”

Ryder held the blanket close, tracing his finger over the carefully stitched names of his old squad. His eyes scanned over the various colors and textures that Thumbs had incorporated, recognizing yarn from planets they hadn’t been to in years. How long had his brother been working on this?

He was just about to ask when a subtle movement drew his own gaze downwards. Thumbs was quietly bouncing his right leg, a nervous habit that Ryder had picked up on throughout their time together. He doubted that Thumbs was even aware of his own anxious mannerism, but Ryder could tell that something was on his mind.

“Hey, vod?” Ryder placed the blanket down, his focus now on his brother.

“Yeah?” Thumbs replied, still staring straight ahead.

Ryder thought back to something his companion had told him just moments ago, something that had made him feel important, valuable, seen.

“People notice you too.”

Thumbs chuckled, thinking back to when he invited himself to join Ryder on his impromptu speeder trip just hours before. “Yeah, I guess my constant pestering makes it hard not to.”

“Yeah...” Ryder continued, almost hesitantly. It would be harder getting through to his brother than he thought. “But we also notice why you do that.”

“And why’s that?” Thumbs asked casually, not quite sure where Ryder was guiding the conversation.

“Because you care.”

At this, Thumbs finally met his brother’s eyes, confusion painting his features. The words were simple, yet something about them did not fully compute.

“No matter how many idiotic things we pull, you’re always there for us.”

Thumbs held his brother’s gaze, considering his words intently, before looking down to his feet. He frowned before mumbling something, barely audible above the light breeze:

“Not when it counts.”

The words sliced through the air, contrary to the soft tone in which they were spoken. Ryder couldn’t help the immediate snap of his head towards his brother.

“What do you-”

“Yesterday, with Sparks,” Thumbs interjected, his voice gaining strength. “No amount of pestering could’ve helped him.”

There was something about the way Thumbs was speaking — something that Ryder had missed before, something familiar — that was unravelling with each passing moment.

“But he’s okay now, he’s fine,” Ryder tried to console, his brow furrowed.

Thumbs scoffed. “That was just luck. I heard what Pepper said: If his injury had been just an inch to the left…” He ran a hand through his hair frustratedly.

“Well, luck is kinda our thing,” Ryder said, repeating words that Pepper had spoken to him when he first joined the batch.

“But I don’t want it to be!”

Ryder looked up in shock. In the entire time he had known Thumbs, he had never once heard him raise his voice. But shock soon turned to concern when he noticed the tears streaming down his brother’s face.

“I don’t want to rely on luck,” Thumbs choked out, his voice softening. “Not… not when it comes to the people I care about.”

Helplessness.

Ryder was well-acquainted with the feeling — the image of his former general on the other side, the wrong side, of an escape pod window, forever etched into his memory. He tried to think of something to say that could comfort his brother, but the only words that came to mind were the ones Thumbs had already spoken to him moments before.

The whole batch knew that Thumbs had always struggled to take his own advice and that reminding him to do so never seemed to have an effect. It was unusual to see him in such a vulnerable state, something the former-strategist was well aware of as he avoided his brother’s gaze, shame written across his tear-stained features.

Ryder cringed at the sight, knowing he would need to take a more unconventional approach to offer his brother reassurance, one that would hopefully provide him with a fragment of control in a galaxy that seemed to feed on chaos.

Ryder nodded once, steeling himself, before reaching down and pulling his twin blasters out of their respective holsters.

“You know,” he started, attempting to keep his voice level, “I got these from CT-2019 and CT-1882. They were graduation gifts.”

Thumbs turned his head curiously, wiping away a stray tear in the process. A small part of him fought back the urge to smile: unlike his brother, he had been given craft supplies and a book for graduation.

“I could teach you how to shoot ‘em, if you want.”

Thumbs looked towards his brother incredulously.

“Ry, I’ve shot a blaster before...”

Ryder exhaled breathily, a playful grin gracing his features. “Ah, not ones like these. These here are DC-17 hand blasters.” He held his weapons in front of himself reverently. “They’re more powerful than your standard blaster, more efficient too.”

Thumbs hesitated, his confusion at the sudden shift in topic still evident, before nodding slowly.

“Alright, sure.”

Ryder spent the next few minutes guiding Thumbs through the best way to handle the blasters — helping him correct his stance, improve aim, and prepare for recoil. The process was strangely reassuring, giving Thumbs something tangible to hold onto, something he could control.

“Hey, Ryder?” Thumbs asked, looking down at the weapon in his hands, the echoes of its former owners serving as a comforting reminder that those who were gone could still protect their brothers who lived to fight another day. Maybe when Thumbs was gone, he could do the same.

“Thank you.”

Ryder had just begun to respond when a noise sounded from behind them.

Thumbs startled and spun on his heel, impulsively throwing the first thing he could think of towards the nearby bushes: Ryder’s blaster.

He mentally facepalmed as his brother jumped off of the speeder, aiming his remaining blaster towards the sound. He held out a hand as he crept closer to the bushes, silently telling Thumbs to stay back.

A tense moment passed, before a tooka revealed itself from behind the bush.

Thumbs sighed in relief before looking up at Ryder guiltily.

“Probably not the best use of the blaster,” he said with a cringe.

“What, you wanted to shoot it?” Ryder questioned breathlessly, a smirk growing across his features.

“No, of course not!” Thumbs smiled, relieved that his brother didn’t seem upset over his moment of panic. The tooka sauntered up to him, rubbing its head against his legs.

Ryder retrieved the discarded blaster and walked back towards the speeder, the remnants of a smirk still visible on his face. “Well, looks like good things can come from bad luck.”

“Yeah,” Thumbs huffed, looking down at the small animal by his feet. “Guess so.”

And maybe that’s what Clone Force 37 was: a group of outcasts who were all in the process of turning their histories with bad luck into good things — good luck.

“C’mon, hop up,” Ryder said as held out an arm. “Let’s get back to the ship.”

Thumbs let himself be pulled into the speeder, the firm grip of his brother’s hand a silent reassurance: I’m here for you.

He leaned back, his eyes reflecting the stars that had started to appear above. He wondered how many of them he couldn’t see, how many millions of lives were being lived just out of his view.

Thumbs glanced over to the brother at his side, thinking about how lucky he was to have crossed paths with him, with all of them, in a universe of infinite proportions.

“We should probably pick up some caf for Sparks on the way back… I know he’ll want some when he wakes up,” Thumbs spoke, laying all the way back in the speeder.

Ryder nodded in agreement as they lurched forward. The sun had finally disappeared from view and the two soldiers soon became mere silhouettes against the dimming night sky.

But anyone familiar with Clone Force 37 knew that they were so much more than two small blips on the horizon:

They were brothers.

And Thumbs was positive that nothing in the galaxy could ever change that.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

@the-lucky-batch @lavenderstaars @lynnpaper @foxlock @maygalodon @mango-peachjuice @radbatch @letsunity @burnthashbrown27 @generaltano @catboy-tech @cosmicghostie @namesmox @monako-jinn-stories @longearedowlfromouterspace @lusiawonder @just-another-dreamerr

#the lucky batch #clone force 37 #fam force 37 #cf37 thumbs #cf37 sparks #cf37 ryder #cf37 ballast #cf37 luna #cf37 foxy #cf37 pepper #cf37 kenhla #cf37 brisk

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agent-hood · 4 years

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@the-roanoke-society

Nervous energy radiated from Carter’s every molecule, forcing Parker into a near-meditative stillness just to bring balance to the situation. Carter had been getting sent on more and more dangerous missions and wanted to seek some formal training for the particular brand of magic he possessed. So they sought help.

Kieran had been all too happy to direct them to Robin Goodfellow, who in turn got them in contact with his cousin, Fionn. The man agreed to meet with Carter to test his skill, but the twins had learned a bit too late that Fionn was the leader of the Brightguard, the only martial group the Seelie court held. So meeting them was a big deal. Like a child on their school’s yearbook committee landing an interview with the panel responsible in determining who to award the Nobel Peace Prize.

It had planted a seed in Carter which Parker thought him previously incapable of growing- insecurity. She already knew that there wasn’t anything this Fionn could do that her brother couldn’t, but seeing him daunted turned what would have been polite cordiality into a contrarian indifference. She didn’t care if he was the most powerful being in all the universes, so long as his existence made Carter feel bad then in her eyes he was less important than the dirt beneath her heel.

“Maybe we shouldn’t meet with them.” He started as they walked ever closer to the agreed meeting spot. “We can say I came down with the flu or something and couldn’t make it- I’m sure they’d understand.”

Parker sighed and stopped them. They were just about to the edge of the clearing and definitely past the point of no return.

“Carter, you know I’ll back you up whatever you decide, but you wanted to do this to help take some of the work off dad’s plate. It’s gotten a little over our heads I’ll admit but we shouldn’t lose focus just because there’s some uppity knight who thinks he can talk to trees better than you can.”

“Who’s uppity?” Came a robust voice only a few yards ahead of them. Parker was proud of herself for not jumping right out of her skin in surprise, but she put that aside to reach for Carter’s hand when she noticed he had grown pale in response.

Before them were four figures (each she learned through research was a ‘general’ of the guard and a master of a respective elemental magic). The one who spoke, who she could only assume was Fionn, was a near-perfect physical specimen, if your type was golden and sculpted. The other man hung towards the back, also handsome and tall, but with darker features and enormous wings. He looked like someone took an angel and gave him levels of romanticized angst that teenagers could only dream about.

The other two were women, and couldn’t look more different if they tried. One stood rigidly at Fionn’s side, a statuesque beauty but looking like she’d rather be anywhere else. And the other was slight, possibly even shorter than Parker, with almond eyes and a bright smile as she waved at them both.

“I think she’s talking about you of course.” The smaller one said, giving Fionn an impish grin.

“...she wouldn’t necessarily be wrong.” The other woman said (making Parker immediately like her).

“Fionn.” He said, stepping forward to introduce himself, hand extended and grin that said he was entirely too sure of himself. They shook politely.

“I’m Parker and this is my brother, Carter. I trust Robin informed you of our situation?”

“He did yeah...” he said, rubbing his chin casually (and setting off Parker’s internal alarm bells that he was set on toying with them). “But the thing is, I’m a very busy man. There are plenty of full-blooded fae out there who would swim through a river of silver to have me show them the ropes.”

Parker glanced at Carter and nearly saw red. his eyes were fixed on the ground and he was biting his lip; He wasn’t pale and nervous anymore, he was ashamed. As much as she wanted to walk away or chew him out right there, this was still a high-ranking member of the Seelie court and the cousin of their father’s friend. If she was going to get an apology from him (and she would), then it had to be worked for.

“You doubt his ability?”

“I just need a demonstration to see where we need to start from is all- I said I would assist and I’m a man of my word.”

“Almost too many...” Parker muttered darkly, words slipping out before she could catch them.

“What was that?”

Shit.

“Well, you said a lot about your time and importance, but how do we know you’re in a position to train Carter?”

“I’ll have you know I have mastered complete command of all botanical and earth-related magic for longer than your ancestors have been around.”

“And I’ll have you know that my brother is more talented than anyone I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m sure he is talented as much as he can be, but let’s face it- you are just a human so how much can you have seen?”

“You know what- you seem so sure in this-“ “I am.” “So it would be no issue for you to prove it.” “None at all.” “So what do you say to a friendly spar?” “Oh please-“ “and if I win, you have to take back what you said.” “You!? Well IF you can land any hit I’d be glad to do so. But what do I get out of this?” “Well IF you’re able to prove to me you’re just as powerful as you say you are- I’d be happy to admit you’re the better fae.”

With that same smug grin as before, he extended his hand in acceptance. As Parker reached to shake it, Carter and the other’s voices rang out to try and stop them; saying that they were being immature/had nothing to prove.

“STAY OUT OF THIS.” They both yelled in unison before snapping their attention back to each other as they shook hands in agreement. Parker walked a ways away (to what she assumed would be the edge of their ‘arena’) and collected her thoughts.

She had been trained for this- not just taking down guys four times her size (thanks to Joe for insisting on a combat-focused regimen), but taking down their power.

Remembering her training with Louise and Rae, she calmed her heart rate, stilled her breath, found where her own power lay within her (dormant and hungry and so different and misplaced compared to anything else), and reached.

It was satisfyingly easy, to feel Fionn’s own power (vibrant and green- he wasn’t boasting about how powerful he was), and to cloak it. Like snuffing out a candle from a person who thought it was the sun. So long as she maintained focus on that, she’d have the upper hand.

‘Alright, hard part over.’ She thought as she moved into a defensive stance, telegraphing that he would have to make the first move in this fight. And he did, coming at her slow and obvious- letting her know that she wasn’t even worth the effort of pretending he wasn’t taking it easy. Parker just added that to the pile of mistakes and assumptions he was making.

It was an easy strike to deflect and even easier to move away from. She debated the risk of continuing on with this pattern until he grew tired, but something told her his stamina would outlast hers. No she would need to end this soon.

She was quick, but Fionn was able to keep up. Parrying every potential hit with an ease that came from centuries of practice, and always gentle. Batting her fists away like they were flies, redirecting any kick like they were dancing. He might have been able to physically keep time with her, his patience couldnt.

She saw the exact moment when it happened- when Fionn attempted to use his powers and couldn’t. A look, half wild panic and half unfiltered rage, clouded his blue eyes as he realized exactly who was responsible and what she was capable of.

‘Perfect- now we can finally start.’

He came at her then, no longer holding back or staying still, and a terrible and deep part of Parker was thrilled at it. At finally being challenged, at reaching that point where it was all instinct; where she got her best results.

Soon enough they were both heaving and dizzy from the effort- but still without a clear winner. Parker had taken a few blows, but that was expected, and nothing that had made her yield.

Finally, she saw an opening- after stepping to the side he didn’t follow fast enough and his back was to her. She seized the opportunity and made to strike, but realized too late that it was exactly what he wanted her to do.

Before she could blink, Parker found herself pinned to the ground, winded from the force of it. But if he expected her to admit defeat at this point then that would be his mistake. Just because she couldn’t move her limbs did not mean she couldn’t win.

Thrusting her head forward she was able to catch him off guard with a headbutt, unfortunately her angle wasn’t perfect and a balloon of pain burst across her face where she was sure she had broken her nose. Thankfully, her gambit had paid off and Fionn had fallen back in a daze.

For a long moment nothing happened, with both of them holding their faces in an attempt to regain their bearings.

“Okay...” Fionn said, voice sounding tired but not nearly as winded or hurt as Parker hoped. “I yield. You made your point and got a solid hit in... I’m sorry.”

“Yeah...” She sighed in agreement. “I yield too. Although I’m not apologizing.”

“You don’t need to.” He groaned as he pulled her up to stand. “I am fully able to admit I was in the wrong here. I took your lineage as an indicator for talent and made assumptions.”

Parker was suddenly swept up in a crushing hug as Carter finally reached her.

“Dammit Park, dont ever do something like that again no matter how badass it is! Just look at your nose- what is dad going to say?”

“Whatever he’d like, but I think he’s going to be more preoccupied with the news that Carter is going to get the training he needs.” Fionn jumped in, clapping a friendly hand on Carter’s shoulder, The ‘cocky asshole’ impression now fully gone. “You’ve gotta let me in on how you were able to override my power. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

“Oh well Parker can nullify fae-magic. It’s her own special ‘thing’.” Carter offered as everyone else drew closer, speaking to them as if they were new friends. It brought Parker back to when they were in highschool and her twin was able to fit in wherever he went, able to make everyone feel like they were part of the ‘cool kids’.

“Nah, I felt that immediately. I’m talking about when halfway through and it slipped- I still tried to reach out. I commanded the trees to intervene and restrain her but... nothing.”

“Oh!” Carter began to look sheepish at that. “I, uh, kinda asked them not to? It’s just- I really wanted Parker to win.”

The surprised and silent smiles that each of them grew made the fight (and broken nose) absolutely worth it to Parker. Granted she hadn’t been aware her control had slipped, but having Carter there more than made up for it.

“Carter... it is going to be a genuine honor to train you.”

#agent hood #agent thorn #fionn #the roanoke society #//in which parker is smol and full of rage #//and its the first time officially meeting fionn

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hyunnielix · 6 years

Text

The Night We Met

Based on the song ‘The Night We Met’ By Lord Huron

Hawthorne and Miss Robichaux's Academy become intertwined, helping each other by learning off one and other. However, you learn about Michaels plan and have to bid him a farewell unable to support him through his decisions.

Pairing: Michael x Y/N

Warnings: Best-Friend!Michael, Painful Angst, Heartbreak, Choking, TW: Physical Abuse, Toxic relationships

Word Count: 2k

When the night was full of terrors

And your eyes were filled with tears

“Familiarize yourselves with each other briefly, shortly dinner will commence,” Cordelia announced re-explaining the current situation as if you were stupid, she wore all white with a classy but overdramatic cape to signify how she was the Supreme.

You sat wedged between Zoe and Madison as your small coven sat on the multiple couches spread around the, you almost wanted to call it a study, books filled the shelves all the way up to the ceiling. It was definitely an acquired taste with an outdated fireplace along with a twisted metal staircase leading to another compartment of the enormous place.

Your whole coven was waiting for the warlocks, who seemed to be taking their sweet time arriving. This was their damn academy you’d think they would be a little bit more professional.

“Punctuality, males have none do they?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes while you fiddled with your hands that were placed uncomfortably on your lap. You tended to become bored easily so sitting for long periods of wasted time was definitely not your forte.

You were the most hesitant towards the intertwining of both the academies, not wanting the males with their inflated ego’s and cocky attitudes ruin your reputation and your coven’s.

“Y/N watch your tongue around them, although we are farther superior than their kind we have to honour the truce we have recently agreed to,” Myrtle scolded you, her orange crimped hair moving as she shook her head adjusting the glasses that sat on the bridge of her nose, pushing them up slightly.

“You wouldn’t want to start a world war three already, would you?” Madison deadpanned, removing her gaze off her nearly perfect manicured nails to side-eye you as a smirk grew on her face.

“Depends, I’m in the mood for a little hell-raising,” You arrogantly smiled at Cordelia, tilting your head as if to test the waters of her tolerance.

Multiple pairs of shoes clicking against the tiles caught your attention, a short man donning a top hat and maroon black cape stood before all of the warlocks who were dressed in proper tuxedos eagerly waiting to be let in, you assumed he was the chancellor.

“Ariel, Behold,” Cordelia introduced, gesturing to enter the room as all of your fellow witches arose from their seats getting ready to probably playfully entice them and flirt their way to death.

Unphased by all of the males, you slithered your way to the back corner of the room, you back hitting the books on the way down to the floor letting your body collapse with exhaustion.

Trying and failing at keeping yourself entertained, you closed your eyes letting out a frustrated sigh as the noise of chattering started to get on your nerves.

A cough broke you from your trance, Gaze starting at a pair of shiny black shoes you followed up the figure to be met with a strawberry blonde haired blue-eyed prince charming look-alike.

“Being unsociable at a gathering isn’t lady-like,” He observed a ghost of a smile on his pinkish tinted lips as he leant over you almost intimidatingly.

“Is that all you came to say?” You questioned, peering up at the warlock with blatant uninterest while balling yourself up even more uncomfortably.

“Sorry, how rude of me I’m Michael Langdon,” He introduced himself, holding out his hand for you to reach for, like a gentleman.

Taking his hand in yours, he helped pull you up from the floor the personal space was almost non-existent as you began to introduce yourself to him.

“Y/N, L/N,” You replied, furrowing your brows in cautiousness unable to hide the faint blush on your cheeks, you weren’t used to people paying attention to you.

Fast forward to today, eavesdropping was something you casually did and definitely weren’t proud of but in some cases, it had previously saved you from the peril of this godforsaken world.

Noticing Michael’s absence from dinner, you decided to follow him loosely after he passed the dining room, confused to as why he would be going to the surface at this time of night.

The atmosphere was freezing, the wind brushing up against the trees and fresh air entering your lungs almost made you feel normal.

Hiding by the entrance of the academy, Michael paused gazing over his shoulder, for a second you stopped breathing surely thinking he had spotted you.

Continuing on, he began to skip towards a figure in the distance who was significantly shorter than him, squinting you tried to identify them without any luck.

Sneaking in the opposite direction, you decided to make a bolt towards the trees as it would give you enough camouflage and noise range so you could hear the both of them.

“Oh my boy, look at you, you’re skin and bones, you’re wasting away do they even feed you?” She asked, releasing him from the tight embrace they currently shared.

Michael smiled a true genuine joy-struck expression on his face, you hadn’t seen that smile in ages. You guessed the woman dressed in all black was someone precious to him from his childhood that he never spoke about.

“I’m fine just tell me you took care of the problem,” He fretted, placing his hands on both of her shoulders desperately praying for a good outcome, the predicament he was in had caused him more harm than he bargained for.

“Your problem is now an overstacked country barbeque, you can bury him in a shoe box if they can find him,” She rambled on, laughing a bit as relief flooded his face.

Letting out a small gasp, you covered your mouth petrified that you would accidentally give away your position. Who did they kill?

“Good, these people are the only ones who could pose a threat to me, once I become supreme I can destroy them from within and eliminate their whole fucking coven, then the road is clear for what I'm supposed to do.” He passionately spoke, his eyes nearly igniting with fire as he tried to reassure himself and his ally.

You didn’t understand why wouldn’t he tell you, that's what being best friends meant right? Keeping secrets from each other was beneath the both of you or so you thought.

“So stop worrying, look how easy it was for you to win their trust and get into their school,” The woman exclaimed, convincing him that everything was going according to plan.

Eyes widening and having heard enough, you scrambled to your feet making a bit more noise than you intended to do whilst trying to escape being unnoticed. Gaining both the attention of him and the woman, you continued to sprint for your life back to the academy.

“Y/N?” Michael whispered, sighing once he saw your fleeing body before returning his gaze to Ms Mead.

“I’ll take care of her,” He muttered, reassuring her before taking off after you.

By the time you had returned to the academy, everyone was asleep but the thoughts racing in your head prevented you having some piece of mind.

You knew Michael had seen you, it was only a matter of time before he came to talk to you. Sensing his presence, you stood up refusing to make eye contact with him.

“Y/N, what you heard, I was going to tell you eventually-,” He scratched his head, awkwardly smiling hoping that you would understand.

“Stop it, You can’t do this.” You warned, paralyzed in the spot you were in. Your brain was screaming at you to leave but your body stayed put.

“We could be together, rule together,” He explained, furrowing his brows as your reaction astounded him, he was not expecting this from you.

He was being naive again, it was one of his many faults.

“You don’t understand Michael!” You shouted, the sudden outburst making him take a step back unaware of your assertive side. You had never raised your voice at him once in the time you knew each other.

“I’m not betraying my whole entire coven, my friends and family just for you.” Your chest heaved, head dizzying as you tried to calm yourself down so you could suppress the oncoming panic attack, your hands were already shaking and sweaty.

To him, those words felt like poison on his tongue, he almost flinched before reciprocating with an even more heartbreaking sentiment.

“Am I not worth it?” He seethed snarling in your direction, unclenching his fist as he didn’t want to hurt you, trying to control his bubbling anger.

“Because I’m sick and fucking tired of being told I am nothing, you don’t understand how hard it is with everyone underestimating me and having to deal with the constant abandonment of people I care about,” He raised his voice as almost as if he was scolding you gesturing with his hands almost violently.

“In the end, they always leave,” He bitterly stated, his icy blue eyes softening as he left you completely and utterly speechless.

You tilted your head feeling pity- or was it sympathy for him? Half of your mind was fighting against all the reasons you should stay and the other half was creating new outcomes for the same deadly choices.

“I’m sorry, but I have to let you go, that is my final decision.” You shakily exhaled, backing away slowly from him your gaze focused elsewhere as you didn’t want to see his reaction to your rejection.

“But I love you,” He pleaded as if he could use it as an excuse for all the wrongdoings he was going to commit.

Clasping your hand over your mouth, you couldn’t help but let out a cry allowing the pent-up overwhelming feelings wash over you. Tears ran down your flushed cheeks as he pulled you into his chest allowing you to use him as comfort.

“Why must you do this to me?,” You questioned, banging your fist against his chest until finally pushing him away from you almost disgustedly.

“You’re the antichrist, you’re incapable of love,” You regretted the words that came out of your mouth, but nothing could take them back it didn’t take you long to connect the dots.

“How do you know that?” He inquired, resting his hands by his side as he clenched his jaw looking down almost in shame.

He had been acting up for months, being secretive as well as muttering Latin words during the night that once you wrote down realised were satanic ritual spells.

“This is just another manipulation tactic,” You mumbled on, trying to believe in the words you were saying.

“No, Y/N you can’t possibly believe that,” He argued, his chin trembled not wanting to take another step or he believed it would scare you off.

“You want to take over the world, exterminate society and every single living human or supernatural being with a family who is worthy of being loved just like you were,” You hissed, any hint of remorse for him disappearing in the snap of your fingers.

“Were?” He asked, his voice cracking slightly he was looking even more broken with every word you uttered.

“Don’t make this any harder for me,” You exhaled, refusing to wipe the remnants of the tears off your cheeks while you stared blankly at him.

“Even if I did take you with me, you don’t deserve to live,” He laughed almost psychotically, striding towards you his eyes flickered black his demeanour had changed in less than a second.

He reached out, clasping his palm around your throat he began to put immense pressure on it lifting your body weight in the process you dangled from above, struggling to breathe as you fought against his grip, letting out choked cries.

“M-Michael, please you don’t need to do this,” You forced out, he was cutting off the circulation around your body.

“Oh but I do I’m the anti-christ remember darling? That’s exactly what you called me am I not correct?” He asked, leaning his face closer to you so you could feel his breath.

“You’re not the Michael I used to know-,” You cried out, barely holding onto conscientious he finally released you, your body collapsing like a house of cards on the floor head lolling back as you tried to stay awake.

Bringing your hand up to feel your throat, you whimpered the last thing you saw was his face but instead it was pasty white, cracked and unhuman like. A face of a demon.

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