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comfortless · 2 months

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HIYA SYL! I LOVE UR WORK WITH THE DEPTHS OF MY SOUL AND ALSO I HOPE YOURE HAVING A GOOD DAY (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

AHEM! I constantly have this idea of Hybrid!Konig discovering the scent of Hybrid!Reader on his territory, but due to it being so vast he can never catch her in person. All he has to go off of is scraps of food, her scent rubbed against stones and stumps, and prints that are MUCH smaller than his! Until on one faithful day, he catches the lil thing creeping around his personal space!

I just wanna add that I’d love to see you tweak this idea ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ (If you want!) like making it human!reader instead orrrr in a more human manner such as it being a cabin in woods and reader is stranded, maybe. ANYTHING, KEKEKE ID JUST EAT UP ANY OF YOUR AMAZING WORK

raaah thinking about a bear hybrid König because of the cute lil kaomoji.. he would be so big and soft… ;; reader gets to be a fox..! also thank you for your sweet words and the prompt, angel!! ^^ 💘 too many ideas… i should write more hybrid!Kö…

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. reader & König are mostly human like last time! just with ears and tails. König is incredibly awkward in this (has 0 idea how to talk to a lady someone help him), possessive behaviors, very much… love? obsession? at first sight, fluff, implied sex.

The pretty thing in the grove does not know that she sits on the cusp between admired and threatened. She skitters through summer foliage like a dance, twists and winds and stretches to reach each fattened, ripe fruit hanging from vine or limb. The scent that lingers in this place fills most up with dread, their eyes wide as they look for places to hide or run, any place but here. She hardly seems bothered when she takes a plum into her mouth, it’s juice dripping down her chin as her tail curls over her bare stomach.

She laughs when the birds in their trees warn her of danger, bares her teeth at them and tells them all she’s far faster than some old bear, speaks off-key when she’s drunken on stolen fermented fruit and dazed on the rays of sunbeams shifting through the leaves.

He could rush out, take her by surprise and hook a claw into her throat before she would even have the mind to spare him a glance. It’s just that no part of him wants to, not now, not when he’s been made aware of the beautiful passerby that steals his food and leaves a pattern of uneven, dancing footprints in her wake. He had only had the thought once when he saw this earthly garden uprooted with only the foreign smell of rosemary and lilac left behind.

Watching her now, it’s all too different.

She leaves the pit of her plum at her side when she lies in the grass to rest, tail plumed up and over her middle like a blanket as her ears flick and rustle her hair. It’s not a tentative sleep: she’s soft, warm and utterly exhausted from her day of pilfering if the long, quiet breaths were much to go by.

Any other bearman would eat her whole and pick the bones from his teeth to leave as offerings for the birds, the buzzards with their wild eyes and ruffs of feathers about their necks. But… it’s only summer, what good would eating her do? He reasons it would hurt him more than it could ever hurt her, because then all would fall back to tedium and silence. There would be no more hushed laughter and dizzying prances, no more of a sight prettier than any view he’s seen prior.

He wants more of her than this— more than what he should ever have at all or more of her than even she could offer with honeyed words or soft touches.

So, he only watches her rest. In the gentle calm of daylight, she rolls against the grass in sleep, bares herself unknowingly when the sun warms her and her thighs are too warm to press against one another. And finally, he wills himself to turn away, to wander back to that dreary cabin that serves as a proper home, because as much as he wants, he does not deserve.

The days go on like this.

The haze of summer does not let up, and she’s made a home of a strawberry patch in a glade closer to the cabin than she’s ever been before. He watches her bask amongst the bushes, lying on her belly while the sun beats down against her hide, kisses over her shoulders with a yellowish glow that only makes her look as sweet as warmed honey, a bonfire, lovely as the fruit she steals.

Nothing changes in her even when he does bring himself to detach from the shade of the pine, force himself into the light for the birds and tiny humming bees to see. She tilts her head back, flicks her tail and smiles like she’s known he’s been there all along. Known the loneliness and tastes it on her teeth to spit it back out in refusal, but she hasn’t— not like he has, because she’s the one who speaks first.

“Are you going to eat me?,” she asks when she’s risen to her feet. His little fox does not hide herself from him; her tail sways lazily behind her, each dip and curve displayed so openly that he wonders if she sees him as a threat at all, or then, maybe the danger coaxes up an unseen heat within her.

He shakes his head stiffly, ears pressed back to his skull.

The world itself must have played some horrible joke upon him now, because all thoughts of what he wanted to say filter out into a plume of smoke. It’s maddening, how he wants to tell her he would like nothing more than to drag her back into his cabin and lick honey from her mouth, yet all that comes out is a brittle, “The strawberries are not ripe yet.”

She laughs at him, not cruel, but it still feels like teeth tearing into his throat. All hope isn’t lost, though, because even through her laughter her gaze is fond and sweet. Perhaps she’s seen him time and time again, too. It isn’t easy to hide when you’re as large and difficult to settle as König.

The fox beckons him closer with a curl of her fingers and a strawberry between her teeth. She drapes an arm over his neck to tug him down to her level and kisses him there, with the berry crushed between their mouths. Bitter as expected, but not a single complaint billows up in his mind.

This sweet fairy does not know what she’s done with that shared bite, how his mind goes doughy and sap sticky when the fruit dissipates between them and his mouth finds her own.

He wonders if she does this often, seduces larger beasts to toy with and steal from to continue her reckless romping through the forest, drift off further to the mountains and the sea, endlessly searching for the very thing he’s already found with her. It does not escape him how tightly he keeps her in his hold then, nails leaving indentations in her waist as he brings her as closely as he can, licks into her mouth until she shivers.

He would bring her flowers and honeycomb, carve little idols of her from every tree she loves if she would just—

“Will you be my mate?,” he asks, abrupt, face heating up to his very ears as he finally lets her go. A croak, a shameful one that leaves him wanting to scurry off like a rabbit, but she’s already heard it all and stares up at him with a look part doleful, part adoring. The poor thing doesn’t even know him, doesn’t know that he’s already contemplated clearing out the fox dens in the forest and chasing out the wolves to make sure that she was his alone.

If she tossed him into the river now he wouldn’t dare blame her, he would only take it out on the stupid salmon with their glistening tails, and maybe if he brought her back a treasure made of fish bone and scale he could change her mind.

But she only kisses him again, lingers right on his cheek like something a proper lover would do, before telling him that she’s grateful he’s never come to harm her, that he didn’t mind sharing his fruit on those too-hot days when she didn’t feel roused enough to hunt down the mice and the bunnies, and she even appreciated his kiss: something she tells him that had made her feel like nothing else in her life. All of the very things he’s only imagined her saying in that sweet voice she uses to whisper to the pretty flowers and the bright red cardinals tweeting back to her.

He’s never been sweet, but he believes it when she tells him that he is when they’re lying side by side in the cabin later. There’s a bruise on his shoulder the shape of her teeth and one to match of his own making on her thigh. He can’t keep himself from curling his hand around her there, thumb brushing over that purple mark he’s left as he buries his face into her shoulder and catches magnolia in her scent.

“I really like you,” she admits quietly as the night air begins to chill the sweat on their bodies, as she guides his hand up to press a kiss to his fingertips. As if she had no idea just how badly he longed to ruin anything else she’s ever said that to, set the forest ablaze and lie and laugh with her in the ash.

“I love you,” he says in turn, damning himself further as he always did to a somber oblivion. Only, this one doesn’t leave. Not even when his hand pries from her mouth to take hold of her breast and his teeth graze her skin. Her face is warm, eyes misty, like she’s just been given the most hearty helping of something delicious amidst pure famine.

She doesn’t laugh at his confession, doesn’t bat his face away from her nipple, only suggests that they bathe beneath the moon. He can not fault her for not reciting the words; this bout has only made him further intent on pulling her in to keep. He convinces himself that all it would take is time, or a rougher fuck, something. He’s never been too patient, either.

The fox curls into his lap as the water reaches them, head thrown back where she sits, impaled and ecstatic while his fingers drift to her hips, head pressed to her chest where he tells her that she has more than paid him back for what she’s stolen.

She didn’t need to lie or let him sully her out of pity anymore. Testing and prying in his own way, even as he whispers that confession to her again and again, against her clavicle and up to her neck with every languid roll of her hips.

The truth spills from her mouth like rain when she comes undone, a soft sentiment that pulls him below a warm tide, drowned out and washed away only by the words she speaks then and the way her body wraps so snug around him.

She tells him that she wishes to stay like this… for as long as she possibly can.

He carries her home like a princess from some storybook, lies her in his bed and pulls her close with a grip so tight that she whines about it being too hot— that his warmth is almost smothering, but still melts beneath him when his lips find her own again. Breaking away from her feels worse than those hangdog days he had only spent watching her from afar, longing for the things that she had only now allowed for him to feel.

But König swears to her then when her eyes lock to his and her tail begins that gentle swaying again, that no matter what she will be here forever. He’ll make sure of it.

#könig x reader #tw: hybrid

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imabiscuitinthousandworlds · 5 months

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#a biscuit's rambles #i love love love these polls i wanted to do one myself :D #polls #my polls

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clangenrising · 3 months

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Month 12 - Leafbare

The sun was warm and strong over Smokyrose’s fur. Laid out on the stone of the warriors’ den, belly full, with her kits splayed out with their heads resting on her side, she felt like those sunbeams were filled with pure joy. It was so rare that she got to spend time with the girls like this, meaning Fogkit wasn’t running around and asking a million questions. As much as she adored her daughter’s curiosity and energy, she wasn’t a young queen anymore and she was much better suited to activities like this.

Purring, she rolled over to let her belly get some sun. Fogkit and Slatekit readjusted. Fogkit yawned and stretched her legs out, shrimp-like. Slatekit mewled softly and pulled herself closer, burrowing her face firmly into her mother’s fur. Smiling, Smokyrose reached over with a paw to help tuck Slatekit against her side.

After a moment, Slatekit spoke. “Hey… Mama?” Smokyrose opened one eye and twisted her head enough to look at her daughter who was staring at her with big, golden eyes.

“Yes, my darling?” she purred in reply.

“Um…” Slatekit tucked her chin shyly, hesitating on the words, then asked, “Is daddy evil?” Smokyrose’s purr died in her chest. That was not the question she had been anticipating.

“Uh, no. No, honey, he’s not evil.” She said, voice unsteady.

“But um,” Slatekit chewed her lip. “I heard Sparrowpaw say that he had to fight him. Don’t warriors only fight bad guys?”

“I see,” Smokyrose said sadly. She sat up, curling her tail over Slatekit to reassure her. She supposed this conversation was inevitable, as much as she had hoped never to have it. “It’s… complicated, but I’ll try to explain it, okay?”

Slatekit nodded mutely and Smokyrose continued. “Warriors fight to protect their Clan, right?” Slatekit nodded again. “So sometimes they fight foxes or badgers but sometimes they also fight the other Clans.”

“Really?” asked Slatekit.

“Mhm,” Nodded Smokyrose. “And the other Clans aren’t made up of bad guys, are they?”

��No,” Slatekit shook her head.

“That’s right.”

Slatekit shifted, lips pursed in confusion. “But, so… why do they fight them then? Isn’t that bad?”

Smokyrose sighed a little, a smile on her face. “Sadly, not everything is good or bad. Sometimes it's neither or a little bit of both. Sometimes warriors fight the other Clans because they need food or because they’re scared or because they get angry.”

“But you’re not supposed to do fights when you’re angry,” Slatekit’s brows furrowed deeper. She seemed on the verge of tears. “You’re supposed to go take some breathing time and then talk about it!”

“That’s right,” Smokyrose smiled, proud of her little girl, “but people don’t always do what they’re supposed to do. As a mediator, it’s my job to try and help them remember to talk about things instead of fighting but that doesn’t always work. Sometimes one side wants to talk but the other side is too angry and just wants to fight and so we have to fight them.”

“Is that what happened with daddy?”

Smokyrose swallowed and took a moment to collect her thoughts. “Not exactly. See…” She paused. How did she explain to her perfect, precious daughter that some cats didn’t care if they hurt other people? That most cruelty was born from indifference? That some of the rogues likely didn’t have a choice to fight or not?

“The city cats who are in charge don’t want to talk about things with us, but that doesn’t mean that all of the cats feel that way. The Code says that warriors have to listen to their leader, right?”

“Yeah,” said Slatekit.

“Well, it's the same for the city cats,” Smokyrose said. “Their leader wants to fight so they have to fight us. Your father is just following the rules of where he’s from. That doesn’t mean that what he does is okay, but it does explain it, just like how Fogkit being hungry doesn’t mean it's okay for her to be snippy but it explains why she feels that way. Does that make sense?”

“I guess…” Slatekit frowned and turned her gaze into Smokyrose’s fur.

“It’s okay if it doesn’t,” she said. “Sometimes cats do things that are confusing. Your father was really, really nice to me and then he just stopped talking to me. It made me feel really confused but he probably has reasons for why he did those things.”

“But that’s mean,” Slatekit pouted. “Doesn’t he love you?”

Smokyrose swallowed thickly. “I don’t know, sweetheart.”

“Have you asked him?” Slatekit tilted her gaze up again.

“No, I haven’t had the chance.”

“You should ask him!” Slatekit squeaked. “You’re always saying that you have to talk about things instead of keeping them all quiet inside! Maybe if you talked to him he would come and stay with us.”

Smokyrose felt her chest squeeze tightly. “Oh, Slatekit,” she sighed, giving her daughter a few licks over the ears. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?!” Slatekit squeaked, starting to cry.

Fogkit stirred and sat up with a worried frown. “What’s wrong?” she asked, getting up to wrap Slatekit in a hug. “Slatekit, don’t be sad!”

“It’s okay, Fogkit,” Smokyrose gave her a few licks as well. “Remember, it's okay for people to be sad. We need to respect what Slatekit is feeling and support her.”

Slatekit was weeping openly now, her little body racked with tiny sniffles and sobs. Fogkit gave her a tighter hug but she screamed and started to struggle.

Smokyrose leaned down and picked Fogkit up by the scruff, pulling her away. “Hey, let’s give her some space, okay?” Slatekit buried her face in Smokyrose’s side and let out a long, keening wail, the kind that you gave when you wanted everyone to hear how miserable you were.

Fogkit pouted worriedly. “I’m just trying to help!”

“I know,” Smokyrose said, “but she needs space right now. We have to remember to respect her boundaries.”

“Okay,” Fogkit frowned.

Relieved that that was settled, Smokyrose turned her attention back to Slatekit. “I’m sorry you’re feeling so sad, honey,” she said gently. “Do you want anything to make you feel better or do you just need to cry?”

Slatekit sniffled pitifully and said, “Maybe just you to hold me gentle?”

“I can do that, sweetheart,” Smokyrose said, curling into a ball around her daughter with a comforting purr. Fogkit nuzzled into her mother’s side so that she could watch Slatekit’s face, tail twitching anxiously. Smokyrose sighed and closed her eyes. She wanted nothing more than to put Slatekit at ease, to bring Ghost back and have him be a model father to her girls. She wished that things were simple.

But I haven’t talked to him about it at all, she thought. What if there’s something I don’t understand? If he’s as important as they say, maybe I could get him to listen! Maybe we could put an end to the fighting!

A tenuous strand of hope started to tug at her excitedly. With the kits, she had been out of work during the critical start of their interactions with the city cats. Would things have been different if she had put her mediator skills to the test? Could an open conversation possibly resolve the conflict without further bloodshed? A kittypet was dead. That definitely made her job more difficult, but at the very least, maybe they could agree on terms for the fighting to cease.

She turned the thoughts over in her mind, tried to remember everything she could about the conflict’s details, and tried to make a plan for negotiations as she held her daughter close until she had cried all of her tears.

#clan gen #clangen #warrior cats #warriors #warrior cats oc #warriors oc #clangen oc #clan gen oc #Smokyrose #Ghost #Leafbare #clangenrising #Fogpaw #Slatepaw

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raphael-angele · 2 months

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Exotic Pets I think PJO Characters would own

Disclaimer: This post does not encourage the purchase or distribution of exotic/endangered animals to be kept in captivity. This is completely for entertainment purposes

Percy owns a Blue Mosaic Axolotl and he named it Mandy. This is because he originally thought she was a salamander. When he took it home and showed it to Annabeth, she corrected him but the name already stuck.

Annabeth has a Canary Barn Owl named Cato. She does not own this owl per se. Cato was flying near their apartment when Annabeth decided to leave some food out for him. Since then, Cato has been keeping an eye on her and following her around from the apartment to her college campus to the grocery store.

Grover has a Kinkajou he named Jumper. Again, he does not particularly own him. Jumper just happened to jump onto his shoulder while he was taking a hike through the woods one night. Jumper was hungry so Grover gave him some food. Every now and then, Grover would go back and feed him.

Nico (besides Cerby) owns two melanistic foxes named Aspen and Amber. No one knows the true origin of these foxes, all the campers know is that they just showed up out of no where and follow Nico around. Despite what they think, Aspen and Amber are actually very friendly and they only get defensive if you intend to harm Nico (besides Percy. They hate Percy for some reason).

Jason has a Racoon Dog named Jojo. Jason found Jojo while he was out for a walk. It was raining and it looked like Jojo was injured. Thankfully, they weren't that far from camp so he took him back and gave him a warm bath and treated him. Once Jojo was fully healed, Jason tried to release him back out there but he wouldn't leave

Piper has Anna's Hummingbirds. She built a bird house one time with Leo and hung it outside of the cabin. Next thing she knows, hummingbirds are inhabiting it. Two paticular hummingbirds she sees are two Anna's hummingbirds she named Luna and Aurelia.

Reyna (besides her two dogs) has a Serval Cat she named Aenea. Reyna does not own her but she goes to feed her every now and then and lets her take shelter during storms or when she wants

Bianca has an Unkindness of Ravens. Not one, not two, an Unkindness. EDIT: She was on a quest with the hunters one time and the ravens warned her about where they were going, where they should go, etc. The ravens got attached to her, being the daughter of the dead. And she eventually got used to it, but some of the hunters still get jumpscares when they wake up and see Bianca being surrounded by dozens of ravens. Two Ravens in particular, she named Argus and Sergio. These two are in charge of looking after Nico. Yes, she can speak to them; Yes, they are also messenger birds.

Thalia has a Sugar Glider named Jason. She found him on the shelf in her cabin looking for food. She was about to help him down when he flew to the drawer beside her bed. She took him to Annabeth to figure out what he is. She gave him some food after that and thought that he reminded him of Jason.

Hazel has a Chinchilla named Amy. Amy (short for Amethyst) looks like she's purple but really, she's a mix of grey and blue, which is why she looks purple. Amy was actually a gift from Frank.

Will, scarily enough, has an Edit 2: Sunbeam Snake he named Bowie. Again, no one knows where he came from, they just walked into the Apollo Cabin and freak out when they see the snake slithering around the cabin and they just go, "Oh, don't worry, that's just Bowie". Bowie only likes being held by the Apollo kids and Nico.

Leo has a Tarantula named Felix (Fix for short). Oddly enough, Leo was never scared of spiders, if anything, he loves them. The Athena Cabin always asks for his help to get rid of spiders. He found Fix crawling on his work table, almost getting killed when he interfered. He scooped him up and sent him back into the woods. The next day, he found him again on his table. He kept putting him back till he gave up and made a little space for him

#might reblog this and make more #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson headcanon #percy jackson #grover underwood #annabeth chase #reyna avila ramirez arellano #will solace #nico di angelo #bianca di angelo #thalia grace #jason grace #hazel levesque #frank zhang #leo valdez #greek mythology

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duckprintspress · 1 year

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Celebrate Lesbian Visibility Week with these 21 Book Recommendations!

This week, April 24 – April 30th, is Lesbian Visibility Week! To initiate our celebrations, we asked Duck Prints Press contributors what their favorite books including lesbian characters were, and we got a huge outpouring of suggestions, 39 books in total! We’ve got so many recs that we’ve decided to split them into two posts. Join us today for Part 1 of “Our Favorite Lesbian Books,” featuring recommendations by @hairasuntouchedaspartoftheamazon, @hullosweetpea, @alecjmarsh, @annabethlynch, @shadaras, @tryslora, and @dei2dei.

This is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone

A Restless Truth by Freya Marske

Ship It by Britta Lundin

The Traitor Baru Cormorant by Seth Dickinson

On a Sunbeam by Tillie Walden

Always Human by Ari North

D’Vaughn and Kris Plan a Wedding by Chencia C. Higgins

An Accident of Stars by Fox Meadows

Empress of Forever by Max Gladstone

She Who Became the Sun by Shelley Parker-Chan

The Unbroken by C. L. Clark

Girls Made of Snow and Glass by Melissa Bashardoust

Gideon the Ninth by Tasmyn Muir

Patience & Esther: An Edwardian Romance by Sarah Winifred Searle

This is What it Feels Like by Rebecca Barrow

Hani and Ishu’s Guide to Fake Dating by Adiba Jaigirdar

Girl Made of Stars by Ashley Herring Blake

She Drives Me Crazy by Kelly Quindlen

Home Field Advantage by Dahlia Adler

Nothing Burns as Bright as You by Ashley Woodfolk

One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston

You can learn more about these books by visiting our full post on Wordpress, which also includes the summaries!

Did you know that this post has a Part 2? CHECK IT OUT for 20 MORE lesbian book recs!

Why not celebrate lesbian visibility week by finding your new favorite book? Check out our recommendations!

Who We Are: Duck Prints Press LLC is an independent publisher based in New York State. Our founding vision is to help fan creators publishing their original works. We are particularly dedicated to working with queer authors and publishing stories featuring characters from across the LGBTQIA+ spectrum. Want to always hear the latest? Sign up for our monthly newsletter! Want to support the Press, read about us behind-the-scenes, learn what’s coming down the pipeline, get exclusive teasers, and claim free stories? Back us on Patreon monthly!

#book recs #lesbian visibility week #lesbian books #wlw books #queer books

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soldrawzz · 1 month

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"Fox Chase" - A Super Short Moomin FanFic

A friend of mine and I were chatting on instagram when we came across an ADORABLE little video of a red fox kit prancing in some wildflowers (fox zoomies, so cute!) It got me thinking and in a spur-of-the-moment move I wrote a super short Moomin Valley oneshot Fic. My friend encouraged me to share it here for others to read. I'd like to invite anyone who feels compelled to doodle/draw/sketch for this lil fic idea to go ahead and do so (I might try as well at some point). Be sure to share it with me if you do so I can see what amazing stuff you came up with!! HAPPY SPRING EVERYONE!!

FIC BELOW

Moomintroll awoke earlier than usual. A whisper called out through his dreams from deep inside him; Something Needed To Be Seen. Rather than roll over and sleep away the feeling he rose from his bed, stretched with a yawn and peeked tired eyes out his foggy window into the early morning light. The sun hadn't quite made it over the mountain peaks yet. The valley was blanketed in a thick fog, obscuring most in view beyond the forest tree line. The whisper grew stronger within, compelling him to abandon the cozy warmth of his room and walk out into the stirring world.

Something Needed To Be Witnessed.

With a sigh Moomin pried open his window, stepped over the frosted ledge and slid down the makeshift ladder, landing with a gentle 'thump' upon the dewy grass. Away he marched across the bridge, glancing sideways to greet his blurred reflection and off he went into the beckoning woods.

At first he wandered aimlessly, admiring the shifts and swirls of the fog as he stumbled over logs, tiptoed around melting patches of snow, until the tug from inside drew his attention to a small animal trail. The trail was only slightly overgrown with dormant weeds; he was certain he hadn't seen it before winter and surely wouldn't have otherwise noticed if not for the nagging feeling demanding he follow it, sooner rather than later. Onto the path he stepped, pace hastened until a ways away Moomin found himself led to a clearing along the hillside. A gentle breeze rustled the early spring flowers ready in waiting for the mist to clear, to meet the rising sun. Still more the feeling called to him, Witness Me, See Me. Moomintroll stepped into the clearing and the world fell silent. The early birds roosted and waited, the trees stood tall, still. He forced himself to breathe, slow, deliberate breaths despite every fiber of his being screaming to hold it in for fear of drowning out the now bellowing call; Watch, See, Observe.

Moomin crouched low to the ground, the grass tickling his chest and chin as he met the moist earth, and waited. Sunbeams broke through the clouds, drifting lazily above the clearing. The fog began to clear in patches as the steam from the heated earth forced it up and away. The purple and pink flowers began to pop into life, opening bit by bit to the inviting warmth of the greeting sun. Still Moomintroll waited, waited. Watching...

A rustle in the trees, A Call, A Cry, A Whistle, A Tune. A song grew in his heart, familiar and longing, loving. He knew now what was coming before he saw but still he waited as his mind and heart caught up with his line of sight. In the distance, across the meadow a small green figure approached the field. Soft footsteps, barely audible, made their way to the edge of the clearing and halted mere inches from the buds.

The figure slid something heavy off his shoulders, dropped it beside his feet and proceeded to remove a pair of old, time worn boots. He then removed a tall green hat from his head and placed it up against the trunk of an adjacent tree. Moomin clasped his hand over his mouth as the figure stepped cautiously into the clearing, carefully weaving between patches of pink and purple, head whipping back and forth like a deer screening the horizon for signs of threat or disturbance in the otherwise tranquil meadow. The coast was clear. Moomintroll was not spotted. He observed as the pull in his heart, the humming voice in his head began to bellow to Watch, To See. His urge to rush upon his friend only just outweighed by his curiosity at the site of Snufkin gingerly sneaking his way to the center of the field. The boy in the tattered green cloak took one more look around before glancing upward to the sky, almost directly into the sun, standing firm and rooted, as if to dare the sun to beam down on him with all it's might. He took in a deep, audible breath, held it. The voice within Moomin suddenly went quiet and he looked on in puzzlement...

The boy raised his arms above his head, stepped forward a few inches with a single toe and with a shout as high as a whistle and jolly as an elf, Snufkin rolled! Cartwheeled into the flowers! He leapt and bounced and ran in a circle, bounded back to chase a tail that was not there. He doubled back and ran from one end of the clearing to the other, laughter like blue bells tinkling in the morning sun. And the world breathed! The birds chirped, the trees swayed, the breeze whipped Snufkin's hair about his face, tugged at the snowy tufts of Moomin's fur as he stared in bewilderment through the tickling grass.

Moomin stifled a startled laugh, the call in his heart returning in full force, changing it's tune. Join Me, Come, Let's Play! And Snufkin danced on in the Spring-filled meadow, relishing the sun and singing back to the breeze, to the trees, to the birds and the bees. A newfound courage overtook Moomintroll, drove him to leap into the clearing and cartwheel into his friend.

Snufkin fell to his knees with a gasp, and stared down the troll in shock. He panted, winded, eyes wide and frenzied; Moomin's own bashful but hopeful. The boy lifted himself from the ground, brushed off his coat with a long sigh. Moomin looked around confused as the silence between them seemed to still the breeze and a cloud passed over the sun, it's shadow engulfing the entire pasture and accentuating the last of the mist that still clung to the treetops. Where did the voice go? What happened to the song?

"Well then..." Snufkin finally spoke after a long pause. "Best get ready." His voice was stern, scratchy from lack of use. How long had it been since they'd seen each other? Spoken to one another? As Moomin glanced up the clouds cleared, the sun returned, willing away the last of the fog to feed the hungry needles of the pine trees. A small hand reached out to the troll. Moomin, shyly, took the hand and hoisted himself up, dusted off his portly belly and made to apologize for disturbing his friend's (very odd) ritual....

"To the boulder and back!" Snufkin roared and OFF like a bullet he ran to the far end of the field. Moomin nearly toppled again in his bewilderment. Chase! Chase! Run, Tag, You're It! The voice rang out and without a second though he dashed away after his friend, never to overcome him, for how could he really? A wild spirit like Snufkin couldn't be caught, couldn't be tamed, but to be invited into the revelry when the song beckoned them, how could Moomintroll resist the chase? Spring had finally come. Welcome Home, a mirthful voice rang out, and Moomintroll couldn't tell whether or not it was his own.

(The End)

#moomins #moomin valley #moominvalley #moomintroll #snufkin #fanfiction #fanfic #moomin #soldrawzz #snufmin #snusmumriken #mumintrollet #solwritezz #Snufkin is the fox in this scenario #moomin gotta chase the boy

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iapislazuli · 1 month

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more anthro wc designs, this time from an au ive been thinking of? asc protags, nightheart, sunbeam, and frostpaw. trying to come up with a more human like society that mirrors the cats in the books is tricky but fun. ive settled on something a bit like modern fantasy

some worldbuilding notes under cut ->

cats have the "kit" suffix (flamekit, sunkit, frostkit) until they begin Apprenticeship, the cats' word for going to school, at around kindergarten age. Their names then get the "paw" suffix (flamepaw, sunpaw, frostpaw) until their graduation ceremony, when they're given their full name, which they unveil by opening their diploma. Their schooling lasts twelve years, until they're about 18 years old. Some cats go to even more schooling for more tricky skills, like doctors and such.

The cats have surnames, which are a combination of their parents suffixes. For example, Nightheart's parents are Sparkpelt and Larksong, and so his full name is Nightheart Songpelt. The other two are Sunbeam Tailheart and Frostpaw Clawfeather

The cats begin in General Apprenticeship (equivalent of primary/elementary school) where they learn stuff like reading, writing, and other basic skills of their clan (ie swimming for riverclan). then around age 11-12 are assigned a Mentor, who begins tutoring them in more specific skills.

Creatures that are threats in the canon series (adders, foxes, badgers, dogs, twolegs) are now fantasy monsters of various kinds. Twolegs are giants, dogs are werewolves, adders are basilisks, etc

"star" is a title like "sir" or "doctor". Leaders aren't the only cats given a "star" title (for example, Squirrelflight isn't a leader, she's an important scientist), however a cat must have been given a "star" title to be the deputy or leader of the clan. like you'd call someone Dr (name), "Star" is appended to the front of the name, for example: Squilf's full name would be Star Squirrelflight Stormheart.

Leaders still get nine lives, however they live MUCH longer than Mortal cats. Leadership is seen as a burden because you will become almost immortal and outlive most of your loved ones

ermm thats it... i made all this up mostly for funsies and cuz i like cat people :3

#dia noises #dia doodles #warrior cats #sunbeam #nightheart #frostpaw

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aristocratic-otter · 4 months

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Hey all. Well, I've got a little bit to share. I've been back to work and trying to work in time to write this week, with very limited success. And I can't post what I'm working on for Snow Fox right now, as it's pure smut, lol. Saving Simon Snow and The Heart Under the Well are still under review until my brain unblocks about them. So here's just two snippets. Thank you, @alexalexinii, @nausikaaa, @that-disabled-princess, @iamamythologicalcreature, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @artsyunderstudy, @ileadacharmedlife, @hushed-chorus, @whatevertheweather, @prettygoododds, @shrekgogurt for the tags!

From Stars, Flowers, and Children:

I roll forward and, cupping handfuls of water to pull me along, I descend towards the bottom.

Baz leads me a long way, it seems. We both have to surface to breathe twice before he finds what he wants to show me. And, in the meantime, the water is peeling away layers of pain and sadness from me like I might peel the outer layers from a wild onion Baz foraged for us.

I feel washed clean on the inside, not just the outside. Swimming through the coral, watching the tiny colourful fish dance in and out of sunbeams, feeling the cool pressure of the water on every inch of my skin…it’s all so wonderful that I could burst from the sudden joy beating at my ribcage.

From TikTok Dancer:

Dev snorts in disgust at the idea of taking a nap, but Niall regards me sympathetically. “Still can’t sleep on planes then?”

“No. Hence hotel room, nap, etc. Capisci?”

“Look at you!” Dev crows from the back. “Talking like an American already!”

“Fuck off, Dev. That was Italian.” I roll my eyes.

A few tags/waves hello and I'll say good-night (I really need to make a copy/paste tag list, note to self): @bookish-bogwitch, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @ic3-que3n, @j-nipper-95, @larkral, @nightimedreamersghost, @rimeswithpurple, @raenestee, @tea-brigade, @theearlgreymage, @stardustasincocaine

#co/ws/awtwb #six sentence sunday #snowbaz #tiktok dancer au #Age of Sail Au

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ravenvsfox · 8 months

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something electric in the blood

hey woah it's my birthday again! this year I've decided to subject you all to the tfc superhero au that's been in my back pocket for 2 years. feedback would be a very chill birthday gift, but I'm also just happy to be here (not letting this story languish in a textedit file)! ok! rock on etc

________

Neil’s mother could call a monsoon down from a crisp blue sky. Her power was tearful and tormented; she was always wreathed with rainwater, a grey veil obscuring her face.

Neil’s father was righteous electricity. His power was a fork in a wall socket. He went off before he was even born; his lightning struck his mother dead from the inside out. A killer before he even entered the world—a born murderer.

Mary spent the first few months of her pregnancy wishing quietly for a miscarriage, petrified of a fatal lightning strike from the storm brewing inside her. Lucky for her, Nathaniel was never anything like his father. (He takes solace in this many times, when he’s old enough to understand how dangerous his powers can be.)

Long before he was Neil, he could cradle sunbeams in each hand, whistle for hail, and bend fog around his enemies like blindfolds. He could cover his footsteps with peals of thunder as he ran, and wash away crime scenes with downpours.

When his mother was killed, he struck their car with lightning over and over, and watched the white flames burst the windshield and warp the metal. He set the beach on fire all around him, staggering and tearing his hair, smoking the sand into glass and then cutting his feet to pieces as he ran.

He kept running for months after that, his powers spilling like loose change out of a hole in his pocket. And he was so determined to survive that he no longer had a say in which parts of the weather he wanted, like—instead of checking specialty books out from the library, he was pulling down entire shelves by accident.

Now, in the final stages of his weather sickness, he finds himself screened behind fog and ice most of the time, tidal waves dragging anyone who comes close, sunlight pouring in and out of his body like fever. Most urgently, an electrical storm is always very, very close to the surface; lightning is thick in his nose, tickling his throat, writhing half-formed above him in the veins of clouds. He’s afraid it will make a weapon of him, when he’d give anything to be something else.

Read on AO3

_______

The stranger finds him in an abandoned mall, at the tail-end of his breakdown. Neil had filled the first floor up to his waist with rainwater, filtered down through the caved in ceiling—a shattered skylight that he had ripped lightning through like a hacksaw. He'd beckoned clouds down over all of the windows and finally slept, exhausted, in the eye of the storm.

The man appears out of the blue, drenched, in the foodcourt-turned-swimming pool. Water laps around his belt and bleeds up his shirt. His hair is plastered to his forehead and his expression is unreadable. Neil peers at him steadily across the water. Reflections of the graphic 90s wall decals float innocently between them.

“Neil, I bet.” He wipes his wet hands on his shirt. Through the water, Neil can see his boots grinding against broken glass. “Call me Wymack.”

Neil unfolds his legs, letting his feet dangle from the table he’s perched on. He waits patiently for violence. “How do you know who I am?”

Wymack smiles, half-cocked, maybe a little pissed off to be up to his waist in Neil’s mess.

“Not every day that a storm eats a shopping mall.”

“I asked how you know who I am,” Neil reiterates, “not if you have eyes.” His voice is raw from misuse. Everything is kind of echoey and green, in this washed-out mall of his.

“Alright smartass. I’ve had you flagged for a while,” Wymack says. “I keep tabs on supers who I think might be a good fit with my Foxes. We’ve known the general shape of you since you flattened that barn in Ohio.”

He narrows his eyes. “There’s no way you could connect me to that.”

Wymack raises an eyebrow. “You’ll notice I said flattened. As in levelled. As in hailstones the size of kittens. In the middle of August. Who else has that kind of power? A functioning dairy farm, Josten. It was a slaughter.”

Neil flinches. “Fine,” he mutters. “I know. Why are we talking about it?”

“A ruined barn, a glass beach, a total whiteout in the middle of a grocery store, this castle in the clouds you’ve hooked up for yourself? Seems like a pattern. Seems like a breakdown, actually. My job is to step in when a super loses their shit, and I think we both know you fit the bill.”

“So what happens now?” Neil asks slowly. He’s struggling to keep his voice even, but he can feel thunder brewing, metabolizing in his gut. “You take me to superpower rehab? Give me dampeners and lock me in a basement? Fuck off.”

Wymack looks unimpressed. “Talking out of your ass must be another one of your special powers.”

Neil scowls.

“Look,” Wymack starts, wading two steps closer. “I’m offering you an opportunity to be a part of a team of people like you. We all know the heroes and villains model is psychotic, but shit, powers are made to be used. We use ‘em. Find people, fix things. Or break things, if they’re not working right.”

“You’re vigilantes,” Neil says.

“No,” Wymack says, breaking out in a wicked grin. “We’re government mandated. Barely. My team is powerful. It’s in everyone’s best interest to let them hunt criminals so they don’t become them.”

“You left out the part where we’re all already criminals,” an entirely new voice says. It takes a moment for Neil’s eyes to adjust to the fact that it belongs to someone standing directly in front of him, having materialized seemingly out of thin air.

Neil clambers backwards, and a little taser beam of lightning ricochets perilously close to the water they’re all standing in.

This new stranger is so close that he can see the tawny colour of his eyes. He’s short, nearly chest-deep in the water, with a shock of blond hair and a chalky, sullen face.

“Jesus, Andrew,” Wymack complains. “How long?”

Andrew’s static expression twitches, and he’s a foot to the left without straining a muscle.

“Don’t fucking pause me when I’m talking to you,” Wymack says, nonsensically.

“Were we talking?” Andrew asks. “I forget.” He circles Neil carefully, nearly soundless in the water.

Neil frowns, still in the slippery process of righting himself on the table. His shoes screech against a flaking metal chair.

“Speed?” he demands. It comes to mind immediately, the way Andrew is sort of flitting like a hummingbird, punched out of reality and then clipping back in somewhere else. Neil has always been obsessed with the straightforward usefulness of super speed.

Andrew’s gaze turns shrewd.

“Wrong brother.”

“Excuse me?”

“Settle down. He’s green, Andrew,” Wymack interrupts. “He doesn’t know shit about the Foxes.”

His eyes flicker to Wymack and back. He glitches, and Neil’s neck is wrenched to the side by an open-handed slap to the face. His vision blurs. Lightning strikes the roof.

“Interesting,” Andrew murmurs.

“Christ,” Wymack exclaims, “what have I told you about antagonizing volatiles?”

“You can manipulate time,” Neil breathes, holding the back of his hand to the pain-flushed apple of his cheek. Andrew snaps his fingers and disappears.

“He can manipulate my patience,” Wymack says, turning a slow, sloshing circle in the water to scan the balcony overlooking the food court. His eyes focus suddenly, and Neil follows his gaze to find Andrew lounging at the top of a long-broken escalator. Wymack sighs. “Quit showing off.“

Andrew blips directly behind Wymack, who trips a little bit, slapping his hands uselessly into the water to find purchase.

“Could you turn this to ice?” Andrew asks coolly, stirring the water with his index finger.

Neil shakes his head. “Once it’s out of the atmosphere I can’t really do shit with it. What else can you do with time? Reverse it or—“

“There’s only one button on my remote,” Andrew says simply.

“Not that I’m not enjoying these pleasantries,” Wymack says. “But I’ll take an answer now, Neil.”

“You called me a ‘volatile,’” Neil accuses.

Wymack rolls his eyes. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Every single one of my Foxes was classified as a volatile when I found them. It’s not an ugly word.”

He thinks of his father splashed through the news attached to that word, of being hunched over a police scanner full of dirty voices hissing volatile spotted, in pursuit of volatile, volatile resisting arrest. It was always about putting down anyone with powers before they could even think about being empowered.

“Depends on who’s using it,” Neil says. He shivers, and it snows a little, a miniature avalanche like something off of a disturbed tree branch. Andrew puts his hand out into the flurry, producing a fistful of slush that he promptly chucks at Wymack. It collides wetly with his chest, sticking there momentarily like a pathetic badge.

Wymack looks skyward. “Give me strength.” He seems to realize that the sky is Neil’s domain when a few more errant snowflakes catch in his hair, and he shakes them off, disconcerted.

“If I come with you,” Neil starts. “Can I stay anonymous?”

“Sure. We’ll get you a mask,” Wymack says, stone-faced. Neil can’t tell if he’s joking or not. He squints. Wymack sighs. “Look kid, I don’t care what you’ve done up until exactly now. You leave here with us, we officially work together. That means I accommodate you. I get you what you need to function. A place to sleep. Doctor visits. Dampeners if you need them.” Neil bristles, but Wymack powers on. “And in return, you work for me. Help us keep things balanced.”

Neil looks at him for a long, searching moment, feeling the snow blowing out of his chest, a sudden spring thaw. His sneakers are soaked, and the thought of a place to sleep where the weather can’t find him is so tempting.

“Fine,” he says. “I’ll do it. But how do I know—”

He’s barely spoken when he feels a strange vertigo, a retreating, phantom pressure, and he realizes he’s been transported instantaneously to the back of a car. It’s indescribable, the absence of even a blink between one set of surroundings and the next. He feels like he was in some sort of virtual reality and his headset was ripped off.

“Fuck,” he gasps.

“You ask too many questions,” Andrew says.

“You moved me here?” he demands. Andrew looks at him blankly, as if this should be obvious. “I can walk,” he grits out. “Don’t waste your powers on me.”

“I was tired of your babbling,” he says. “You already agreed to come with us. The Foxhole needs us more than you need your self-punishing little enclosure.”

Neil glowers out the window, his fingers itchy on the unlocked door handle. A dozen metres away from their spot in the faded tarmac grid of the parking lot, Wymack is wedging open the defunct automatic doors at the mall’s entrance, emerging in an absurd flood of rainwater.

“If the ‘foxes’ are so capable, shouldn’t they be able to take care of themselves?”

“You would think,” Andrew says wryly.

Wymack wrenches the handle on the driver’s side door, but it just snaps back into place, locked. Andrew twirls the car keys on his middle finger.

“Enough,” Wymack says, long-suffering. He raps on Andrew’s window until his fingers jangle, and he and Neil realize at the same time that the keys are now dangling from his wrist. (Andrew’s middle finger is still raised.)

Climbing inside the belly of the car, Wymack jabs a button on the console and the headrests whack down and catch Andrew and Neil both on the crowns of their heads.

Andrew makes an affronted noise. “We have a guest,” he says.

“We have a time crunch,” Wymack says. “Not that that’s ever meant anything to you.”

“Renee will take care of it.”

“She shouldn’t have to,” he argues, turning the key in the ignition and pulling out of the parking lot before the tide from the mall can roll out to meet them.

“What does Renee do?” Neil asks.

Wymack meets his eye in the rearview mirror. “She deals with a frankly inhumane amount of bullshit, mostly.”

“I meant—“

“I know what you meant,” he gripes. “I was getting to that part. You’re going to have to learn at least an ounce of patience if you’re going to—“

“She’s a shifter,” Andrew says.

“A shapeshifter,” Neil repeats incredulously. He’s so frantically jealous for a moment that he has to bite down on his tongue.

“She can turn into pretty much anything with a face,” Wymack says.

“You’re joking.”

Wymack rolls his eyes. “I wish I was.” He takes a hand off the wheel to jab a thumb at Andrew. “You think one of him is bad, imagine three of him underfoot.”

They lapse into silence for a moment as Neil considers this. Scrubby spring scenery whips past, Wymack taps an absentminded tattoo on the gearshift, and Andrew sits utterly, perfectly still at Neil’s side.

“What do the rest of the Foxes do?” Neil asks, badly feigning nonchalance. He’s calculating how much of this could be useful to him, the ways he could co-opt supernatural speed, stopped time, or a thousand disguises. The possibilities are staggering.

“They should probably tell you themselves,” Wymack says, slanting another knowing look at him in the mirror.

Andrew snorts.

Neil narrows his eyes. “What, are they bad?”

Andrew glitches into the passenger seat, and Wymack nearly loses control of the car, clipping the horn with one flailing hand. “Last time he got too comfortable with the secret identity reveals, Kevin made him walk out into traffic.”

Neil absorbs this like a punch to the stomach, thinking of miscalculated lightning and swift punishments, a father with a bolt in each fist.

“Don’t listen to him,” Wymack says, “It’ll rot your brain.”

“I’m telling the truth,” Andrew says simply. He flicks a circle of beads dangling from the rearview, and less than a second later, they’ve disappeared.

“Jesus suffering christ,” Wymack says. “Put those back.”

“What?” Andrew says blankly, and Neil considers that any of these glitches might represent minutes, hours, or days where Andrew has been suspended, alone, in time.

He wants to ask him how long he can stay outside of time, if he ages in the infinite space between seconds, or if it’s as peaceful as it sounds to be the only moving thing in the universe. Instead he asks, “How do you make someone walk into traffic?”

Wymack sighs. “Well, if you’re Kevin, you get inside their head and tell them what to do.”

Andrew glances backwards. “Your worst nightmare, I would imagine.”

Neil’s neck is hot with anxiety just thinking about it, but he sets his jaw, defiant. “You don’t know me.”

“No,” he agrees. “But I know what someone who’s afraid of their own powers looks like. And I know how easy it would be for Kevin to set you off like a firecracker.”

Neil wordlessly rolls down his window and calls down a hailstone the size of a baseball.

“No more powers in my car,” Wymack snaps, deftly forcing Neil’s window up so he has to snatch his hand back, dropping the ice out into the street. “Honestly, it’s like I’m running a daycare.”

“You don’t have a power?” Neil asks.

“I have the almighty ability to withstand annoying questions.”

“Excuse me if I’m curious about how a powerless stranger tracked me all the way to nowhere, where my—where no one else thought to look, just to enlist me into his knock-off suicide squad.”

“Well first of all, let’s make one thing absolutely fucking clear,” Wymack says, twisting in his seat, one hand steady at the bottom of the wheel. “Just because someone can’t—or won’t—use any superpowers, it doesn’t mean they’re powerless. If you listen to a word I say to you today, let it be that. Got it?”

They watch each other for so long that Neil starts to feel uneasy. The car should’ve drifted off the road by now. Maybe Andrew’s correcting their course by increments. Maybe Wymack actually has a banal, embarrassing kind of GPS power that keeps wheels to pavement.

“Fine,” Neil says, clipped.

“Good. If you call Abby powerless, I guarantee she’ll give you an earful about nursing school.”

“Who’s—“

Andrew makes an irritated noise, and when Neil looks up at the sound, he’s disoriented again by an instantaneous shift in light. His head snaps to the right, and he finds Wymack dumped unceremoniously beside him in the backseat. Andrew is busily turning the engine off up front, and a sleek, black parking garage is spread out around them, like a high-tech hangar in a sci-fi movie.

“Chrissake,” Wymack says. “Give me the keys.”

“You have them,” Andrew says tonelessly, and then he disappears. Wymack sighs and starts working on disentangling the keys that have just been magicked onto one of his earrings.

“Does he move other people around like that very often?” Neil asks.

“When the mood strikes him,” Wymack says, kicking the door open and swinging a leg out. Outside of the car, he continues, “he used to say that things have different weight, when they’re paused. All that shit like gravity, velocity, friction—they function differently when time isn’t affecting you.”

“He told you that?" Neil asks. Wymack nods. "Huh. Wouldn’t have thought he’d be so forthright.”

“Amazing what sobriety can do to a person.” Wymack holds up a hand before Neil can speak again. “More on that later. We have a facility to tour.” They’re approaching the subtle seam of a door in a broad expanse of wet-looking dark concrete. Neil hadn’t even been able to make out that it was a door until it was close enough to touch.

“Right now?”

“You have something better to do?”

Neil shrugs. He was kind of hoping to be shown somewhere dry and windowless, but he can play house-tour.

Wymack puts his thumb to an inconspicuous tab jutting out of the near-invisible door-frame, the mechanism beeps and clicks, and the the wall sinks inward.

“That was the main lot, this is the atrium.” The door folds itself away like a bird’s wing, and Neil follows his host into a dark hexagonal space, black walls and cubbies like something from a locker room, everything lit up at the seams with artificial techno-orange. “We usually meet here before a mission, gear up and ship out.”

Neil rolls his eyes at Wymack’s back. Between the faux-military slang and the wannabe spy movie facility, the benefit of the doubt is already stretched paper-thin.

The hallway ahead is long and uniform, with identical corridors extending in either direction every ten paces. They come across a series of matching but modified outfits behind glass, displays full of black, orange and white leather, bulky looking jackets, masks, caps and gloves, boots and holsters.

“Gear,” Wymack says, lingering at the farthest case, a petite, broad-shouldered suit with a full mask, strappy vest, and brass knuckles on a hook. Wymack taps the glass. “Each of these cases opens up into a personal changing room. You’ll get a custom suit. Probably something water-proof and—“ he purses his lips against a smile. “Shock-resistant. Hope you like rubber.”

Neil examines a suit with thick, elbow-high gloves and an ornate half-mask. “I don’t really care what I wear.”

“Glad to hear it. Some of my Foxes were not so flexible.”

“Someone say flexible?”

Neil looks up just in time to see a shape drop from an air-duct overhead, like paper spit from a printer. When it hits the floor, it’s a person.

“What the hell,” Neil says flatly.

The newcomer grins. He’s tall and wiry, and his hair is gelled up into deliberate-looking peaks. Even with a complete, three-dimensional heft to him he seems stretched out, like a teenager still growing into his legs. He offers Neil a friendly hand. “Matt Boyd. And you’re the new recruit, Neil, right?”

He nods, accepting the handshake. He glances meaningfully upward. “That can’t be more than a half-inch gap.”

Matt laughs, obviously pleased. “They don’t call me Flex for nothin'.” His hand becomes putty in Neil’s grip, and when Neil tries to extract himself, Matt has him in hand-handcuffs.

“You could escape anything,” Neil marvels, half-gawking at the unseemly image of Matt’s taffy-stretched, bisected hands, slithering back and becoming whole.

Matt looks sideways at Wymack, still smiling. “He is fresh. Still has the capacity for surprise. That’s kind of nice, actually.”

Neil’s shoulders hitch upwards, defensive. “It’s been a while since I’ve met new supers.” His mother had kept him in the most oppressively average and un-stimulating hideaways she could. If he ever met supers it was by accident.

“Well that ends today, dude,” Matt says. “We see crazy new shit pretty much all the time.”

“I’m starting to get that.”

“Your thing is weather, right? You got a demo in you?” Matt asks slyly.

“You don’t have to do that,” Wymack says quickly, but Neil is already feeling his way skyward.

They’re underground, but he can still kind of always sense the atmosphere, whispering in from outside through filtered air or natural light. It’s as simple as finding a loose end and tugging.

He blinks, and suddenly, the hallway is a wind tunnel. It’s just a little air show, but still, the gusts are so intense that Wymack has to take a step back and steady himself against the wall. Matt whoops joyfully, his immovable gelled hair whipping back. He uses his stretch powers to balloon outward like a parachute, and the wind catches his rubber body and drags him twenty feet down the hallway.

Neil rolls his neck, satisfied, and the wind dies out. “If we were above ground, I could give you a real show.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Matt says, jogging breathlessly back towards them. “Man, we’re going to work so well together. You can be the wind beneath my wings.” He quirks a genuine smile at Neil, who relaxes in spite of himself.

“Don’t you have crime to stop?” Wymack asks drily, and Matt rolls his eyes.

“I mean, if I can’t stop some trouble, I can always make some.” He swerves unnaturally out of the way, laughing, when Wymack reaches out to cuff him over the head. “See you soon, Neil,” he calls, taking one enormous stride to the very end of the corridor, around the corner, and out of sight.

“Everyone shows off for newcomers,” Wymack says, pushing steadfastly ahead. “Please don’t give them the weather-works every time.”

Neil shrugs. “He asked for it.”

“Yeah, and you’re a real people pleaser, huh?”

The tour trundles on, through the tunnelling halls of a facility that is slowly revealing itself to be as well-appointed as it is well-hidden. They pass through a wide-open common kitchen area with enough dining space for twenty; an enormous training gym outfitted with targets, mats, a reinforced spectator box, and a fully stocked library of weapons and armour.

There are a couple of available sleeping quarters, spartan, but outfitted with sturdy furniture, clean bedding, and storage like Neil has never even thought to ask for; a lounge with a beaten-looking couch and chairs, a smaller kitchenette, an entertainment system, and a pool table; and a professional-grade medical station, equipped to hold what looks like the entire team at once.

Neil meets a laser-focused Abby Winfield in the med bay, where she’s tending to a surly Andrew look-alike with a bruise-mottled grimace on his face. Aaron’s gaze darts and slices like a bird unsettled from its perch when Neil enters the room.

Neil asks him if he ran into someone’s fist, but he doesn’t rise to the bait, just casting a haughty look down Neil’s rain-soaked jeans as he hops from the exam table. Abby seems to realize what’s coming a moment before it happens, because she waves a still uncapped tube of ointment in one hand and says, “Aaron, don’t, I’m not—“ but he’s already blazed from the room, head-spinningly fast.

Wymack shrugs an apology for their intrusion, and Abby sighs, offers Neil a surprisingly generous smile, and shoos them from her office—but not before promising a full physical exam for their newest team member.

Neil swallows his instinctive horror to being examined in any capacity, and forces himself to follow Wymack out from the exposing light of the medical hall. From there, they find their way to an imposing set of steel double-doors at the heart of the labyrinth.

“Mission control,” Wymack says, scanning them seamlessly inside. Neil can tell from the quality of his voice that this is the tour’s grand finale.

It’s a massive space, tech-ed out, and the obvious hub for the entire operation. There are sprawling screens full of moving data, a huge table, lit up from within, with stray files and blueprints littering its surface. There are also towering rows of black filing cabinets lined up against the far wall, a computer system too complex for Neil to understand most of its controls, and a couple of inconspicuous doors leading to what must be private offices.

“We do most of our planning here.” Wymack gestures towards the network of screens and keyboards. “Comprehensive database, files on every super in the country, past battle strats,” he nods towards a white-board over by the meeting table. “Individualized training schedules. My office over there.” When Neil follows his sightline he finds a woman standing in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes level and keen. Neil waves awkwardly, and her mouth pulls charmingly to the side like a swept curtain. “And that’s Dan Wilds,” Wymack finishes.

“The most important part of the base, right boss?”

“If you say so,” Wymack says, but he's smiling.

“Nice to finally meet you, Neil Josten. Gotta say, I was pretty impressed by your glass beach.”

He tries not to grimace at the thought of it. “Thanks,” he says. “It was accidental.”

She laughs good-naturedly until he doesn’t join in, and then she raises both eyebrows. “‘It was accidental,’ he says. Like he didn’t change the geography of half the East coast.”

“It’s not modesty,” Wymack says. “He really doesn’t know what kind of trail he’s been leaving.”

“I don’t really like to look—back,” Neil says.

Dan’s eyes glint. There’s something sturdy and well-balanced about her, like a broadsword. “Well. Amen to that.”

“Wait, why did no one tell me he was here already?” someone exclaims, bursting in from the double doors behind them. Dark-haired and animated, the new guy is wearing a hyper-casual graphic crop top and joggers, and when he sees Neil properly, he says, “oh christ, your aura.”

“He means to say, hi, I’m Nicky,” Dan says.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, for sure, hi, I’m Nicky,” Nicky says, waving a distracted hand. “I can’t believe how fucked up you feel.”

“Excuse me?” Neil says, face burning, caught (as he often is) between anger and shame.

“I feel what you feel,” he says, with some relish. “No wonder we’re having inclement weather.”

All of Neil’s gauges go haywire—instant panic. It’s even worse than Kevin’s supposed powers of compulsion. The thought of all his hard-won habits, straight-faced lies, and tooth and nail emotional regulation being undone by a little empathy is too terrible. Like a bad joke.

Wind whistles in his ears. Dan winces sympathetically as Nicky makes a wounded noise and grabs his own skull, staggering backwards. A wave of energy flows visibly through the air from his body, and Neil feels it impacting his own chest. Suddenly, he feels calm and docile as a lamb. He sits on the floor exactly where he is.

“Hey,” Wymack snaps.

“Nicky, stow the powers, okay. You know most of us vollies aren’t empath-compatible,” Dan says.

“I’m sorry, I—“ Nicky’s eyes screw shut. Immediately Neil is in control of his body again, and he slides sideways, panting. “I wasn’t ready.”

“What did you do to me?” Neil demands. Somewhere above ground, thunder grumbles.

“I’m sorry,” Nicky says again. “It’s an instinct sometimes, I swear I can’t help it.”

“He gave you an emotional sedative,” Wymack says, crossing his arms. “Nicky can manipulate feelings.”

“But I don’t,” Nicky interrupts. “Usually. I didn’t expect it to feel like a war-zone in here all of a sudden.”

Neil stands, and starts to stalk threateningly towards Nicky, but a hand closes in his collar and lifts him clean off the ground.

“Let’s not escalate things,” Dan says, holding him easily aloft. “Nick, will you promise to turn off the charm when Neil’s around?”

Nicky puts his hands up in surrender. “Done and done.” Softer, he says, “It’s actually—nice to meet you Neil.” He smiles sheepishly, and Neil shakes his head in dull disbelief. A total stranger just took the full force of the storm at the centre of Neil’s consciousness, and he’s still smiling at him like he’s not a monster.

Dan sets Neil carefully back on his feet, and he shrugs out of her grip, putting several paces between himself and everyone else.

“I understand powers that happen without your consent,” Neil says slowly. “But if you mess with my emotions again I’m not responsible for what’ll come out of the sky.”

Wymack holds up a staying hand, moving between them. “Alright, alright, enough posturing for one day.”

Nicky looks flushed and upset, but as Neil watches, the air around his body shifts and undulates as a new wave of power is compressed inwards. His expression slackens, hazy. “It’s okay. I don’t intimidate easy.”

Neil blinks at him. “You can turn your powers on yourself?” he asks, putting his own discomfort on ice.

Nicky smiles. He seems to be following Neil’s mood at a distance, matching him beat for beat. Neil’s not sure if it’s a byproduct of his abilities or a true personality trait. “Sure. I can chill myself out if I can’t sleep, get pissed before a fight. I don’t do it very often though, it can get intense. Draining.”

“How do you know if what you’re feeling is real? How does anyone around you?”

Nicky’s smile twitches. Neil suspects he’s stepped on a nerve. “It’s not a memory thing. My power lets people know its been there. It’s why I can’t tell anyone to forgive me, or love me, or anything. They would know better.”

“Eh, I know better,” Dan says, walking close enough to rope Nicky in by the shoulders. “But I do it anyway.”

“Aw shucks,” Nicky says, clearly pleased.

“And you’re—super strong?” Neil asks, eyeing Dan’s thick upper arms.

‘Something like that. I can nudge gravity where I want it.” She looks slyly at Wymack and he uncrosses his arms, taking a step backwards.

“Don’t do it.”

“Come on, not even for the new guy?”

“Dan,” Wymack warns.

“Alright, fine,” she says, hands up. She looks to Neil. “Just know in your heart that I can lift the boss with one finger.”

“It’s a real crowd-pleaser,” Nicky agrees, perching on one of the many data-projecting desks, capped with swirling, changing screens. “But what about you, Stormy Weather? What’s your story?”

He frowns. “I thought all of you knew everything.”

“We’ve seen the highlights reel,” Nicky says. “We don’t know you, though, not yet.”

Not ever, Neil thinks. He plans to treat this like a workplace that he clocks in and out of. After hours, he’ll stay warm and remote in a fog where no one can find him. It’s safer that way.

“I know him,” Andrew says, and Neil looks over to find him cross-legged at the centre of the conference table. The interior glow makes him look haunted, lit ungenerously from below. Andrew tosses a baseball-sized hailstone into the sleek stretch of floor in front of Neil. Preserved, somehow, from when Neil summoned it in the car. “He’s a storm chaser with an attitude problem.”

“Where the hell did you get that?” Dan asks. Then, pinching the bridge of her nose, “never mind, actually. The less I understand the monster, the better.”

“Excuse my cousin Andrew,” Nicky starts. Andrew looks away, apparently bored. “He thinks it’s funny to scare people shitless.”

“I don’t see him laughing,” Neil says tightly.

“His sense of humour was dropped on its head as a child,” Nicky replies sadly.

“Okay, I’m calling it,” Wymack interrupts. “I’m sure you’re exhausted, Neil. Whole lotta new faces today. You’ll meet Kevin, Renee, and Allison when they get back from mission.”

“When will that be?” Neil asks. He’s already paranoid that the shifter will appear to him without him knowing it.

Wymack shrugs. “When it’s done. In the meantime, I don’t want any more gratuitous powers in my base. No throwing shit, no lightning bolts, no—“ Andrew blinks across the room, perilously close to Neil’s side, jaw craned up to examine his face. Neil looks down instinctively, and finds Andrew’s eyes boring into his own. “No pausing me, Minyard, I’m dead serious. If I have to repeat instructions for you again it ain’t gonna be pretty.”

“What was that?” Andrew asks, but Neil’s pretty sure he’s fucking with him, because Wymack just sighs.

“Get out of my sight, all of you.” They all start to disperse, Dan back into Wymack’s office, Nicky over to the doors that lead hall-ward, Andrew into thin air. Wymack catches Neil’s eye. “Get some sleep, okay? See Abby for pills if you need ‘em. We’ll get you something dry to wear.”

“Thank you,” Neil says stiffly.

“Don’t thank me yet. Tomorrow we see how you play with others, and that’s never pretty.”

“Is that a threat?”

Wymack looks tiredly to the largest screen in the room, beyond the place where stats and mission details are spinning in space. “More of a promise, really.”

Neil follows his gaze to the focal point of the screen, where a hundred thousand tiny golden lights are scattered into a world map like beads. Supers, embroidered into the dark fabric of the world, punched into time by some celestial power source or trick of science that they'll never understand.

All that running, all that wishing to disappear, and he was always just a dot on this map. There was never a reality where he was going to be able to hide forever. Not even in the eye of a hurricane. Not even in an underground bunker. And if he can’t conceal his powers, he might as well control them.

He looks back at Wymack, feeling like a season on the cusp of changing, a monsoon shaking itself dry. “Let’s get started.”

#I've been tinkering on this for years and for what!!!#my weather boy neil must finally see the light of day #the foxhole court #aftg #tfc fanfic #andreil #mine #if ppl want a second chapter speak now or forever hold your peace #anyway love you

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idonthaveanyurlideas · 2 years

Photo

some other beam drawings <33333 my beloveds <3333

[Image ID: Three digital drawings of Hellmouth Sunbeams. The first shows Wya77, a teen with fair skin and wavy brown hair wearing its Sunbeams uniform and holding a big ice cream cone with five scoops on it. The second is a digital drawing drawn over a real life picture of a hospital waiting room, depicting Hahn Fox, a Black woman with purple squid tentacles for hair and wearing a one-piece swimsuit, board shorts and reef shoes sitting down with her legs crossed and an arrow poking out of her collarbone. Next to her, Kaj Statter Jr., a plus-size Māori and Indian person wearing a button shirt tied up to expose xir stomach, long pants and pirate boots is sitting down. Xe is holding onto a bow. The third picture is also drawn over a real life picture, this time of a game of chess. Nagomi Nava, a mixed Japanese and Filipino woman is sitting with her head in her hands looking frustrated at the game. Emanating from the left half of her face, Passenger, a shadow creature, is curled around to take the position of the other player, with multiple glowing red eyes looking towards the camera. Next to Nagomi are the words “doesn’t understand why she’s losing” and below Passenger are the words “me, has been eating the pieces while she’s not looking”. /end ID]

#cw multiple eyes #my art #blaseball #hellmouth sunbeams #wya77 #hahn fox #kaj statter jr #nagomi nava #passenger #i am love them

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cloneloverrrrr · 4 months

Text

𝗦𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗜𝘃𝗲 𝗡𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗛𝗮𝗱 ⠀

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟵 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝟭 ⠀

𝗥𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀:🔞 𝗠𝗶𝗻𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗗𝗢 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁 𝗠𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: 𝗖𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗪𝗼𝗹𝗳𝗳𝗲 𝘅 𝗙𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿, 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘁, 𝗖𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝗙𝗼𝘅, 𝗯𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗳 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝗢𝗖 𝗙𝗶𝗻𝗻, 𝗯𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗳 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗢𝗖 𝗳𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗹𝘆 , 𝗯𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗳 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗪𝗼𝗹𝗳 𝗣𝗮𝗰𝗸, 𝗥𝗲𝘅, 𝗙𝗶𝘃𝗲𝘀, 𝗧𝘂𝗽, 𝗔𝗿𝗳 𝗧𝗿𝗼𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗿 𝗛𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 6590

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗣𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗘 𝗗𝗡𝗜 𝗶𝗳 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂- 𝗢𝗖 𝗶𝘀 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗴𝗻𝗮𝗻𝘁, 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗢𝗖 𝗵𝘂𝗿𝘁 𝗯𝘆 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗿𝘆 𝗰𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗱,𝗪𝗼𝗹𝗳𝗳𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗮 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗻𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝗺𝗮𝘆 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗮𝗰𝗿𝗼𝘀𝘀 𝗮𝘀 𝘀𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘀𝗲𝘀𝗶𝘃𝗲, 𝘀𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗦𝗠𝗨𝗧 𝗦𝗠𝗨𝗧 𝗦𝗠𝗨𝗧, 𝗽𝗿𝗮𝗶𝘀𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸, 𝗣 𝗶𝗻 𝗩 𝘀𝗲𝘅, 𝘂𝗻𝗽𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗲𝘅, 𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝘀𝗲𝘅, 𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺𝗽𝗶𝗲, 𝗮𝗻𝘅𝗶𝗲𝘁𝘆, 𝗴𝘂𝗶𝗹𝘁, 𝗢𝗖 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗺𝗲𝗱, 𝗸𝗶𝗱𝗻𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗳𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗻, 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿 ⠀

⠀

𝗟𝗠𝗞 𝗶𝗳 𝗜 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 ☺️

This has been in the works for weeks & tbh I wasn’t even sure I would continue the story I had lost so much inspiration & had major writers block 😣but here it is I know it’s long but the story behind this is long so there will be a PT 2 at some point 🤣

Big shout out to my angels @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @hellhound5925 for always being there for me , being like my biggest ever fans & ofc adding in their own parts to this chapter LYBOTHSM🩷

I apologise now if anything I’ve wrote triggers you or this isn’t really what you want to see on my blog, even if you don’t like it plz be kind✨

Cute moodboard made by my lovely @lune-de-miel-au-paradis 🥰

Dividers by the my best boo @idontgetanysleep & PS IMISSUUUU🥲

A couple of weeks passed blissfully since the news of your pregnancy came to light. Many happy wishes had been sent yours and Wolffe’s way , from your family, members of the Senate, clones and Jedi Masters alike.

As the days went by Wolffes protective instinct over you only grew stronger and the times he wasn’t here became full of anxiety awaiting his calls. Just to know he was safe, yes the clone wars may be over but that did not stop the crime families or the rouge sith sympathisers and knowing general Grievous was still out there was a cause for concern.

Your father had made you aware of proud he was, his heart was full and wanted to announce it to the galaxy. And once the 104th returned to Coruscant he would be holding a grand party in beautiful old Hall not far from the Jedi Temple to celebrate your news.

Wolffe and 104th had been sent to the outer rim an issue regarding the Pyke Syndicates but that’s all you had been told. Your mind span in circles forming such worry but for now you had to push that to one side and focus on the Holonet interview with Commander Fox regarding the issues surrounding Coruscant, crime was only getting worse and the crime families seemed to prosper without Palpatine. Many unhappy that the clones now have freedom who will protect their planet.

“Ready for this interview mesh’la?” Fox’s voice was soft, calming.

You watch as he takes an obsencnly large gulp of caf.

Brow raised as you let out a small chuckle.

“I’m ready but judging from your caf intake I’m not you sure are Fox” You playfully swat at his shoulder as you both make your way to the front of the senate building.

A sea of crowds protesting loomed behind the Corrie guards, a mass of questions and shouting filled the air. The day was warm, as if lightning had blossomed into the most steady of comforting yellow and orange glows casting its sunbeams on everything it touched, the sky was painted a bright blue decorating the high rise towers with such elegance.

Uneasy breaths hitched in the back of your throat you began to fidget with the hem of your robes, the closer you got to reaching the podium the greater the nerves became. Alas you stood straight aligned your posture and maintained eye contact with every living being stood before you. Fox took his place beside you oozing such confidence, his stance almost domineering.

“Citizens of Coruscant and the Republic I am Senator Crystal Lontac , I am here today with Commander Fox leader of the Coruscant Guard. I want to discuss your concerns over my most recent bill that successfully passed. Clones and their rights…”

You were abruptly cut off by a Rodian man shouting profanities.

“Sir myself and Commander Fox can assure you and every single person here you will be safe and the Coruscant Guard will do their upmost to protect u-“

Ranting and raving from the horde became too much, your senses became flooded in an overwhelming panic. Your heart hammered against your ribcage, a thunderous beat that reverberated through your body, matching the rhythm of your escalating panic All sound seemed to drown away becoming distorted. Clutching at your chest, your fingers trembling, as if trying to keep the racing organ from leaping out of your body there and then.

Through all the chaos you felt a set of eyes bore into you yet unable to pinpoint who they were coming from. Those eyes they followed you - followed each movement you made whilst delivering your speech. Or lack of. Your stomach turned and an uneasy feeling lingered in your aura. Fox was quick to notice the worry painted across your face.

“Thorn have your men take control of this situation now” Fox ordered his trooper sternly via comm.

A sudden dull pain sentaches down the side of your body from something colliding with it, causing you to trip and stumble against the cold steps. Their unforgiving nature creating a pain, sharp like blades. You can already feel the blood vessel under your skin giving way, the black and blue hue will make itself known underthe skin in a matter of hours.

You stiffle out a whimper and fight back the tears that prick at the corner of your eyes and threaten to fall just as you did a moment ago.

"Crystal are you alright ?” Fox rushes to your side scooping you as glass bottles rain down around you both. An angry mob waging their assault on you, a situation you need to remove yourself from. Tear gas falls as the sound of blasters stunning anybody unruly enough who threatens to get get too close.

A sense of calm washes over you as your taken to a small room back within the Senate building, you hear the shrill noise of your comm going off- a hologram is waiting. You allow Fox to answer it your hands shaking uncontrollably, your mind elsewhere. Unable to focus.

Wolffe pops up expecting to see the face of his cyare, yet he is greeted with his Vod. The expression on his face instantly sours.

“Where is she? I’ve just seen that fucking interview- where is she Fox? Answer me!” His brows furrowed and his stare narrows the longer it takes Fox to answer.

“She’s ok Vod, just shaken as you can img-“ Fox’s voice quiet.

“Don’t make me fucking ask again.” The harshness in his tone shocked you and Fox alike.

He lets out a small sigh and walks over to you holding the hologram in his gloved hand smiling down as he places the device infront of you.

Wolffes gaze scans your face.

“Mesh’la I’m so sorry I was not present when this happened I.. I can inform General Plo to send me back to Coruscant.”

Through the blue of the Hologram you can see his eyes widen,a glint of concern and a look dark enough to kill.

“I promise you I am ok” you speak softly trying to blink away those stinging tears.

“The baby…?” His words stumble as he rubs the back of his neck a slight attempt to hide the worry under the disinterested confidence he portrays.

His words force you to grab at your stomach for a brief moment.

“Fox is taking me to see Kix shortly. Come back soon?” You flash him that delicate yet alluring smile, the one that had him hooked the day he first set eyes on you.

“For you mesh’la always. Only a few more rotations” A small smirk tugs the corners of his lips.

Maker you had missed him, his touch, his scent, the heat he radiates, the arrogance he oozed everything about him. His eyes once more become soft before he turns to Fox.

“Keep your channel open brother I have news regarding the Pykes and the family who seem to be controlling Coruscant”

“Affirmative” Fox’s tone now serious. You cant help put ponder what their conversation means.

The days fly by, some mundane whilst others had been hectic from your rather disastrous interview. The the trip to Kix was a pleasant one, it took your mind off everything if only for a short while , yet it hurt your heart knowing your lover was not present with you. Wolffe was with you via hologram but you needed to feel his presence, you needed to feel the way he runs his fingers through your hair, the way he holds you close whispering those sweet words you needed to hear.

Knowing Wolffe was returning back to Coruscant and the large party your father has planned you decided it was time to leave work and focus on the next few days. Your life had been manic and all you wanted was to relax in long hot bubble bath. The sharp beep of your comm breaks the silence in your office.

“Hello mesh’la” Wolffe greets you.

“Good evening my love” those words dance off your tongue. Wolffe knows you smile with more than your mouth, he can hear it in your voice, in the choice of your words. It was beautiful to him.

“We are on route back to Coruscant, I trust you won’t get into any further issues with the general public?” Sarcasm laces his tone.

“I trust you won’t be late as I’m sure you are aware we have a party to attend Commander” you retort. The way you emphasise his rank sends that familiar tingle rushing through his body straight to his already hardened sex.

You chuckle softly knowing the effect you will forever have on him.

“I don’t want to miss a thing” his gruff voice quivers with softness.

“You will be back soon and I am counting down each second Wolffe” you said, the smile beaming evident in your words yet again.

The comm ends and you spin yourself around on your office chair, that cloud nine feeling is back.

You stand up from your desk looking out of the large windows, the hectic life of the planet goes on and on. Each person in the crowd moves as if unseeing hands drag them this way and that, pulling their eyes to one thing and then another, your thoughts drift from your lover to the worries of raising a child then to the little drama of your chosen attire for the party your father will be hosting. Leaving your office within the Senate, Fox and Thorn accompany you to your apartment- the norm.

Once reaching home you say your goodbyes to the clones, yet you were feeling intimidated almost as if those eyes that had been peering into your soul at the interview were only a few small steps away.

You jostle those thoughts out of your mind as much as possible so you take yourself off to the shopping district. Minding your business as you walk out of a small boutique two large figures brush past you in the bustling streets. You smile and mouth a sorry as you continue to walk back to your apartment building, but the feeling of someone behind you , watching you creeps in only stronger than before.

You suck in a sharp breath, the dread only intensifying.

“All alone Miss Lontac?” A tall striking man with glimmering green eyes appears from behind you, something about him and this situation has your blood running cold, but his features are soft … tranquil.

You blink, your brows furrow before you can even utter a word, he smiles at you.

“Senator Lontac… I saw your interview” he chuckles dryly.

“Oh- yes I’m so sorry erm yes I’m alone just off home. I guess everyone in this galaxy saw that disastrous thing” you stutter attempting to cover up your nerves, lacking the protection of your usual clone escorts. Oh maker how you wish and pray to the gods Wolffe was by your side.

“By yourself?” His eyes search yours, captivating yes but something about them seems dark something you can’t put your finger on. He flashes you a smile, his green eyes shine against the evening glow of the neon lights.

“Y-yes I have to get home I need some rest there is an event I must attend tomorrow Mr…. ?” you smile back fidgeting with your shopping bag.

“Finn”

“Let me walk you back Miss Lontac, a pretty thing like you should not be alone even on the surface of Coruscant”

Your nose scrunches in distaste for a few seconds before you realise, you quickly feign a smile.

One hand behind his back he ushers you forward to walk to which you accept his invitation. General chit chat flows as you find talking to him easy, you speak about the party your father is holding for you, about the silly worries of which dress you plan to wear yet nothing in too much detail. In no time your stood outside the bronze entrance doors of your apartment building.

“Well Crystal Lontac I thank you for letting me accompany you on your walk back, however I must admit I am at a loss as to why your partner , the one who is head of the Coruscant guard is not with you in the evenings considering the crime and violence this city is facing” his tone was more dry.

You watch as he leans against the door calmly a wave of cockiness surrounds him.

“My partner..?” Curiosity dripping in your voice.

“Yes your partner he must be defective for leaving such a beautiful girl like you all alone”

“Commander Fox is a friend, we work closely together he is nothing more. My partner Commander Wolffe will be home soon. He is aware I can handle myself….. Finn” your tone was calm, your eyes unflinching.

Finn lets out a small chuckle as he tussles his platinum hair slicking it back in a cocksure manner.

“Ah I see this Commander Wolffe is your romantic partner?”

You pause before answering him, a smile sigh escapes your lips as you gave Finn the side eye struggling to hide your blatant annoyance by his stand off-ish question.

“Yes he is my partner and he will be home soon, he’s due shore leave for a while. Thank you for walking me home, it was very kind of you. Enjoy the rest of your evening Finn”

You turn your back to this tall man and walk through the lobby, something in you has your head turning back to the large doors. You watch as he smiles and waves you off before walking down the brightly lit streets. Wolffe had taught you to trust your instincts , that your gut was always right. The hairs on the back of your neck suddenly prick up, the hair follicles on your arms rise to meet them. Those eyes they are back, piercing into your body, like a seeping darkness. You can feel their sickly intent, enough to make your nauseous. Skin crawling you shrug it off and make your way into the safety of your home.

In the comforts of your apartment you set your purchases down in your bedroom and wander off to the fresher ready for that long hot bath you’ve been so badly craving. Outside the sky was dark, littered with coal coloured clouds and celestial bodies. You watched the steam filling the room, the whiff of lavender carries lightly and smoothly across the air invading your nostrils. Slowly you sunk down in your large tub, soaking in the heated water, feeling it hug every inch of your skin so gently. Breathing in the aroma was a heady combination of bliss and relaxation, to take each subject off your mind for a short while.

An hour passes by, an hour of calm and content. An invigorating feeling soothed your muscles and your over thinking mind. You stood in front of the mirror in the fresher wiping away the condensation completing your usual pamper rituals you studied body your hands drawn to your stomach. You smile to yourself remembering you need to get dressed, maybe eat something, drink some water but the excitement of seeing Wolffe after what feels like an eternity is too over powering.

Finally you step out of the fresher throwing on a white satin night dress barely covering much skin, you plod through your apartment and the noise of the keypad on your door alerts you to your lovers presence.

“Your late again” came your soft voice from the front room.

Laying back against your plush sofa with your eyes closed completely relaxing your body which was in a state of seventh heaven made all that more over-joyous with the battle hardened Commander home. A smile graced your full soft pink lips.

Wolffe began rigorously removing most of his armor until he was just in his blacks before turning his attention to you sprawled across the silver coloured fabric, a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched you gracefully climb up from your sofa and walk over to him. His stern expression seemingly melting as he came into arms reach of you, the woman he adored, loved and would do anything for. He wasted little time in pulling you into his embrace, slamming you against the wall lips hot heavy and desperate against yours.

“I’ll make it up to you” he whispers into your neck.

A small breathy gasp escapes your parted lips as you pull him so close, the air around you stills as his rough fingers creep up the delicate skin of your fleshy thigh eliciting a moan as he cups your cunt.

“Mesh’la…. Fuck I’ve missed you” his words as eager as his cock to slide into you and prove just how much he missed you. Your hands glide down his muscular body, ghosting over the thick bulge between his legs. Maker you are craving him.

“Do you feel what you do to me mesh’la?” he whispered in your ear. “Do you feel how fucking hard I am for you?”

“I want you” you mewl out as he presses his palm against your throbbing clit.

Wolffe picked you up effortlessly walking back over to the sofa , his teeth bare, lips only slightly curved into a seductive smile. His eyes bore into you, the gaze between you both never once broke. Your legs clamped around his waist tightly reciprocating his possessive hold on you.

"You're my brightest burning star, you're my perfect desire. His words so soft yet laced with lust.

“It’s like I can feel you under my skin, Fuck- mesh’la it’s heaven to me” his lips graze over yours as the words spilled so beautifully rolling off his tongue.

Wolffe held your elbows softly as he guided you down to the sofa while he took his place standing behind you, admiring the contours and dips of your body. Your light skin complimented by the chalky satin that clung to you.

He bent your body over as he removed the flimsy fabric allowing it to fall down to your ankles, your hands firmly grasping the plush sofa’s back rest. Two large calloused hands fasten round your ass, the hold was harsh but you hungered for it, it felt good and Wolffe knew this.

Your wavy black hair fell gracefully down your back, and this position only enhanced every curve, everything that made you unique and perfect, oh so perfect for him.

At last after gazing across your bare body , Wolffe brought himself to look down to your tight pussy, gleaming wet, embellished by the soft pink hue on your ass cheeks left only mere moments ago by his harsh grip.

The room was filled with your content sighs and small moans.

“Wet already for me” his chuckle was dark.

“Let me show you just how much I’ve missed this cunt” he rasps.

A rough hand ran up your back as his gaze continued to lavish you. His fingers curled tightly around your hair, fisting it, the light tugging had a sharp gasp falling from your lips. The other hand took his rock hard cock placing the tip on your entrance pushing himself in slowly at first, shuddering every inch he got deeper.

A low growl ran deep in the back of his throat.

His immense length throbbing inside your tight walls, and from this angle he can see the flawless sight- your small pussy splitting open around his girth, this sparked something feral, something primal inside of him.

His tip bumped against the edge of your walls, the sting shot through your body like white hot pokers, and in that moment you both know neither of you could no longer resist.

Wolffe pulled out for a brief moment looking down at the sight of your dripping pussy gaping only slightly, then he forcefully slammed himself back in. Barely just starting, your lovers pace turned relentless. He wanted you more than he could ever speak in words, more than he could show, he needed you —and you needed him too.

“Wolffe…” you whispered strained and huffed

“harder… please, harder…”

A dark desire wickedly gleamed in his eyes as his gaze swept up and down your body. An ethereal vision he will never grow tired off.

“Fuck— you like that don’t you ” he hisses

“You like the way I fucking ruin you” he grunts in pleasure, firmly placing his large hands against the soft flesh of your hips.

“Oh Wolffe- oh fuck yes”

Between your moans and groans you gasped for air.

At the prurience of your command, Wolffe sped up his already inhumanly fast vicious fucking, watching as your body writhed and squirmed so pathetically under him.

He releases a deep breath and in a barley controlled voice he murmurs filthy praises and curses. His jaw ripples with unrestrained tension as your lewd moans only get louder.

Music to his fucking ears.

Fucking into you even faster, Wolffe tugged slightly harder on your hair, drawing screams and panting oh so deliriously entranced by satisfaction.

Your walls clamped so desperately around his cock as a heat licked the base of your spine, your legs began to wobble, your heart skittering. The pleasure was intense and so overwhelming, the air in your lungs thick your body vibrating with such a irresistible rapture.

Strings of strained obscenities fell from your mouth followed by praises and more desperate pleas for Wolffe to fuck you harder.

That pleasurable haze sweeps over you as finally reach the point in which you are unable to speak, only a shaking mess of whines and sobs. Your moans so loud filling your apartment, your body dancing as tremors and waves of your orgasm overtake you, sending you to heaven. Your cunt twists in delight as you soak his pounding cock with your milky cum.

“Listen to how wet your cunt is for me mesh’la” his voice was low and gravely.

Your pussy clamped and tightened around his cock crying out his name over and over, it was too much. Wolffe rams deeply into you one last time completely dominating your pussy and with that he came so hard his vision blurred while white dots danced across his pupil’s. Wolffes entire body jerked, pulsed and twitched as he emptied himself coating your walls with his release, leaning his scar decorated body flush against yours sinking his teeth into the crook of your neck panting violently.

Blissful moments passed, your bodies and breathing as one in sync. Wolffe began to slowly draw out of your sensitive core, keeping a steady hold of you as he flipped you over like a pillow and placed you on his lap as he rested back into the soft sofa.

“I love you mesh”la” he whispered into your pulse point.

His hand drifted down between your thighs, and he began to play with the cum that had leaked out of your pussy, his fingers began to work their way through it in soft and slow teasing motions, before gathering it up and slipping it back inside you with a touch so gentle it was like an aphrodisiac, the drug to your most perfect high.

In the hours leading upto your party a wave of nerves washed over you. You clutch your stomach studying yourself against the large mirrored wardrobes, the soft floating light ensemble with a creamy silvery sheen as if woven from starlight hugs your petite body without any fault. The sparkly material folded in a special sue generis manner crossing your breasts starting from the neck, leaving the belly and the entire back exposed- wrapping around your curves with such grace as it drapes over your shoulders , covering your neck and connecting at your core, before flaring back around your hips hitting the floor leaving little to the imagination.

Wolffe stood behind you, stoic and dashing in his grey officers uniform. His calloused hands placed firm around your stomach. His lips graze across your bare shoulder blades as he inhales your sweet floral scent, the one he loves and the one that intoxicated his nostrils so appealingly all those many months ago when he first laid eyes on you.

His tone low, husky.

“I have something for you”

He removes his hands from your body and into his trouser pocket taking out a small grey box.

“May I?”

You wordlessly nod a yes watching him from the mirror as he takes out a dainty yet sparkling cluster of celestial stars pendant. The elongated tips of the north, south, east and west dazzle in the light. Gently he places it around your slender neck , his cybernetic and honey eyes fixated on how it sits neatly into the open area of your chest.

“Wolffe-“ His words cut yours off as he slowly pushes aside your curly raven locks and placing a tender butterfly kiss against the shell of your earlobe.

“Remember I said you were my brightest burning star? I want you to have this as a reminder that you’re the star at the center of my universe. The light in the darkness” he whispers.

“Something I’ve never had and something I never want to loose”

After each word he places kiss after kiss against any part of you his lips can reach, you shudder as his hands roam across your chest, fingertips dance across your arms up your neck and across your jawline. Your body quivers with warmth and endearment.

A giggle breaks the bewitching silence.

“We are going to be late let’s go” you turn around kissing his nose before taking his hand leading him to the door.

A knock has you curious as to who this could be. A natborn dressed smartly in a black tux holds out a small bunch of your favourite flowers Alderaanian flame roses- another preference of your late mother. Still a very hidden secret from Wolffe and the rest of the galaxy. One day you will bring up the courage to really delve into your past and those skeletons in your closet. You thank the driver as Wolffe places the exquisite flowers in a stained glass vase upon a table in your front room, accentuating the aesthetic of the your apartment. The place Wolffe calls home.

A large speeder awaits you both outside your apartment building , as you and Wolffe climb in the nerves stir and rumble inside of you that you fail to notice a figure lurking in the shadows watching your every move. Stalking his prey.

“Mesh’la your father seems to have gone all out here am I to expect this and more once we arrive?” A hint of sarcasm runs through his dry tone.

“It appears my father has taken a leaf out of my mothers book” you speak fidgeting with your dress.

Wolffe notices the aura around you changing slightly and kisses your temple.

“I don’t know much about your mother mesh’la…”

Craning your neck you gaze out at the city, the energetic streets below bustling to the brim continued its normal routine as the starry black sky vibrantly glowed. You let out a deep sigh.

“Another time Wolffe not now” the tone of your displeased voice makes for a rather quiet ride over to the old hall.

He keeps a firm grip of your hand a voiceless way of saying it’s ok we can do it in your own time. Like Wolffe this is something you’ve never had and do not want to loose.

Upon arriving at your destination you are greeted by members of the Wolf pack dressed in grey suits and the Corrie guards in their striking crimson armor, each clone may of resembled one another but they were very different in their own unique way. A bashful smile erupts across your alluring face. Walking in hand and hand with Wolffe you noticed heads turn, you heard gasps and murmurs from the many guests , smiles and cheers as you past by. Once again the harsh overwhelming feeling hit you hard, the sorrowful feeling runs through your body. You could only wish your mother was here to share this news.

Server droids buzz around frantically, laughter and music fills the old halls, a large table covered in quite an assortment of rather delectable looking platters and the smell of Ne’tra gal (Mandalorian Black beer) hit your nose. That and tihaar (Mandalorian spirits) were always your fathers favorite. Mandalorian customs aren’t shy of delicious food and drink.

Your father approached with a bitter sweet smile on his face. Aay’han, you had heard him once call it. The bittersweet moment surrounded by those you love to celebrate while remembering those who aren’t with us. Your beautiful mother to be exact. Most women would be sharing the excitement of their pregnancy with their mother. Unfortunately this is not something you are able to do, and it pains you.

Looping one arm in yours, your father turned to the guests and raised his glass, “K’oyacyi! (Cheers)

An ear splitting sound of cheering and clapping fills the large vintage room, the twinkle of the lights, the smells of the Arallutes flowers decorated around each table, and the faces of people you loved and cared for left a feeling inside one could not describe. You took time out to speak to nearly every guest, Aliit members from Mandalore attended, many members of the senate, a mix of clones from the 501st and the Wolfpack, of course the Corrie guards had been assigned as protection for each person in the room- especially you.

In the far corner you noticed Tup with a familiar lady… Tiva-sa, this brings joy to your heart.

“Well well well and when did you two plan on telling me?” You tease placing your drink down on the table as you eye them both.

“My beautiful best friend it’s hardly news to your announcement” the pretty twi’liek giggles wrapping her arms around you.

For a long while you both hold each other, you embrace Tiva-sa and her kindness, her warmth. You thank the maker for a best friend like her.

“Mesh’la I am so happy for you and Commander Wolffe you both deserve only the best” Tup comments placing his arms around you both.

“I will leave you two to enjoy the evening” you smile softly before walking off to the large dance floor.

You notice Wolffe having a conversation with Fox, by the looks of it this does not show as the average chat, it’s deep. Your mind very clearly elsewhere you fail to notice your father stood behind you.

“Darling ad’ika you remind me of your mother, she would be so very proud of the amazing young woman you have grown to be” his words break for a moment , strained and soft, not his usual tone.

“Wol’ika will protect you once I am gone, he will protect the Aliit and the future.”

“Thank you kag'buir “ and with that he places a light kiss upon your forehead and saunters off to the rest of the guests.

You stand there frozen, a glassy stare at the large grand room and it’s inhabitants, completely submerged by your thoughts and emotions, you feel yourself becoming lightheaded in need of fresh air- you try your upmost to push these feelings aside and enjoy the evening but once again it is becoming too much.

As you take yourself out to the balcony your hands grip the cold rough railings and you feel your breathing steadying, your mind calming once you gaze up to the starlight and the silvery moon above. The shadows of the buildings structure dance upon the ground you stand on. Amid the perfume of the summer blooms from the gardens of the surface levels, feeling the cool of the evening air wash over your body. Inside comes the music of laughter and joy the promise of a new life brighten your dreams.

Those eyes are back and watching you. The hairs on the back of your neck stand and prickle, with no warning a smooth familiar voice appears to your side.

"All alone again Senator..." the voice tails off, slithering its way into your mind causing your heart rate to spike. The sound of your racing pulse beats in your ear drums drowning out almost everything around you. A feeling of dread crept up from the pit of your stomach.

"Commander Wolffe does not seem to know the meaning of taking care of such a beautiful lady"

“Fuck you look a sight in that dress”

Venom. It drips from the words and enters your blood steam paralyzing your for a moment.

“Finn…?” The shaking in your voice was as evident as the shaking in your body.

Finn watched with a dangerous glint in his eyes as you feebly attempted to shuffle away from him only to be frozen in place. He steps closer and closer boxing you in to the railings. Inhaling your delicious scent a slender finger slowly runs across your bare shoulder and down your arm. Panic begins to surge in your blood. You rear back from him as much as you possibly can.

A pathetic attempt.

His fingers snag your wrist yanking you towards him into his chest, the strong smell of whiskey permeating from his mouth invades your nostrils causing your stomach to churn.

“Ah ah ah pretty thing, I urge you not to make this any more unpleasant than it needs to be” a cocky yet cruel grin tugs at his lips.

His grip loosens on you as he slams you into the railings, the thunk of the cool metal bars sting against your lower back. You yelp before protectively clutching at your stomach.

“Take her.” He demands to the large shadows either side of you.

Every fibre of your being tried to scream, but a gloved hand began to snake around your throat pulling your necklace with brute force from your exposed neck whilst the other covered your mouth, muffling your cries. The delicate pendant Wolffe had gifted you only hours earlier dropped to the floor with a soft clunk. You watch as Finn splashed a wicked smile across his face before everything around you began to wane into a dark inky black mass as the tears stream down your cheeks.

The fear became a bitter taste in the back of your mouth you could not rid. Only becoming stronger.

A dull roar of what sounded like blaster shots accompanied by the faint sounds of voices crept into your ears yet your mind stayed blank- thoughts now being lost to the beyond. Fading away.

Cheerful music rings out in the halls, guests indulge and celebrate the night away yet something in Wolffe’s gut tells him that time is not on his side. The conversation between the two Commanders suddenly interrupted by the Commlink on Fox’s wrist beeping.

“Sir we have a situation outside”

A short uncomfortable pause.

“Four terminated however no signs of a struggle. Some of the guests have been asking where the Senator is..”

“Copy that- I want a perimeter sweep of the area that includes a search for Senator Lontac then report back to me.” Fox was calm and collected. Yet annoyance simmered deep down inside of him.

“Sir yes sir!”

There it was again that short and rather uncomfortable pause.

“Where is Crystal?” Alarm flickers across his face as his eyes scan the large bustling room.

A muscle clicks in Wolffe’s jaw, a tendon in his neck so strained ready to burst at any moment. He can feel his control slipping.

“Ner vod- I ain’t seen her for awhile not since she stepped outside…” Fox points out.

His words cut off almost instantly by Wolffe’s harsh tone.

“The fuck you mean she stepped outside? When? With who?” He hisses through clenched teeth scowling at his brother.

The pure weight of Fox’s gaze forces Wolffe to shove past him before he can reply. His feet carry him quickly to the dimly lit balcony. Not a soul around - just your sweet scent he adores lingers in the air. Yet something glistening catches Wolffe’s well trained eyes. His heart sank, a dull aching pain washed over him in waves. A vibroblade to the gut.

The celestial carcanet- the one he used to describe his love for you now laid fragmented upon the chilly stones that looked over the planet below. Wolffe returns to the hall filled with oblivious company tightly grasping the pretty pendant that once sat so perfectly around your elegant neck.

A firm hand grabs Wolffe’s shoulder and his eyes snap open only to see the concerned look upon Fox’s face. He holds Wolffe’s glare and a look is exchanged between the two war hardened men.

“I’m on it brother whoever has taken her will feel our fucking wrath”

Fox turns to face the troopers entering the large hall. The warbles of many comms fill the rather quiet gathering of clones. Splashes of red catch the eyes of the remainder of the Wolf Pack. Comet, Boost and Sinker dash over like a gundark was hot on their heels.

“Commander what’s going on?” Boost speaks as his face searches each of his brothers.

Silence.

“Commander where is Crystal what’s happened?” Sinker asks with urgency.

Hound makes his way past the two other members of the Corrie Guard with grizzer panting away next to him.

He removes his helmet placing it under his arm, letting out a small sigh of exasperation. His face was painted with a troubled expression.

“Commander Fox, Commander Wolffe a search has been conducted but we have been unable to locate the shooter … or Senator Lontac.”

“Wolffe.. Fox … what’s going on?” A voice from behind Hound breaks the low rumble of conversation.

Rex closely followed by Tup, Fives and Jesse enter the group.

“Four of our own dead. This necklace a present I had given her earlier this evening was on the ground… the chain snapped and she is nowhere to be seen.”

The ache in Wolffe’s chest bled like a raw wound. A heavy stone like feeling descended into his stomach. It fucking hurt - more so than when he lost his eye.

“Crystal is.. gone?” A tear pricks at the side of Tups eye as he takes in those last few words Wolffe spoke.

“She…. She is like my sister we have to find her” his voice strained.

“We will Vod” Fives attempt to calm Tup sadly failed.

Each clone stands closely knitted together, mixes of blue, grey and crimson glow under the twinkling fairy lights that garnish the large hall, as they await instructions from their Commanding Officers. Fox sends Hound to inform your father of the current state of affairs.

Wolffe strategises the best plan forward, ignoring everyone around him, unable to truly focus. Everything seems like a blur and the fucking maker is testing him tonight.

Fury darkens his vision and his thoughts. The warmth he felt in your presence- gone. Now only a cold expanse like the dark of space. An anger he is struggling to control. Wolffe knows it and you know it. He would fucking kill for you and he won’t stop until he finds you.

He turns to face Fox, his hand clasped tightly around the broken chain that sat so beautifully around your neck, his jaw clicks once more. Pure pique overtakes his usual uninterested demeanour.

“I would burn this galaxy for her” in a barley controlled voice, Wolffe’s words where a statement.

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