#That's another person in there Dex! Even if he knew what you were talking about he wasn't the one who experienced it!

[sysig]

It clearly wasn’t important to you (Patreon)

[where-dreams-dwell]

I haven’t read the book and only have vague recolections of the movie (though I remember sobbing violently at several points) but I hoped I’d love Netflix’s One Day adaption. And of course I did but one of the things I loved was so unexpected.

I love how they portrayed Sylvie.

Particularly how that relationship both ended and endured. How even at the start there were issues but the small kind you want to work on and work through. She knew her family were hard work but she was on Dex’s side and wanted him to be accepted: but still knew that her opinion was the one that mattered. Dex knew he didn’t fit it but he was trying so damn hard to, and hoped that if he kept trying it would be enough eventually. And she wasn’t this demon or harpy, even people who just met her liked her. She was a nice person.

So many times when the male lead is with another woman before they eventually get together with the female lead this ‘other woman’ is portrayed as toxic, unmanageable, cruel, snobbish, etc… or even just unpleasant to be around; someone we’re happy for the male lead to leave. Maybe it helps us to support the male leads pursuit of the female lead and not confront his poor behaviour as a romantic partner if that ‘other woman’ is unlikable and we’re happy to see her gone?

But here they made it clear: Sylvie is a kind nice woman who loves Dex, and didn’t handle the crumbling of their marriage well.

It was almost voyeuristic how we saw the breakdown of her and Dex’s marriage. It seemed so bloody real. New baby, no sleep, renovating the house, all of it building up until you’re being a bitch and you know you are, and you’re apologising after the fact for what you said but you don’t know how to talk around the fact that you still meant some of the things you said. And a partner who you know is struggling with direction and purpose, and you want them to do well, but *god* you’re the one fielding questions and having to go to bat for them every time someone asks, and as a result you never feel safe to take a break or question them yourself.

And (I don’t know how intentional this was) but Dex’s joking tone which is clearly meant to relax and reassure just came across as him not taking things seriously or being trustworthy. Sylvie lists a whole range of food options for Jasmine while she’s out for the night, clearly showing she has prepped *everything* ahead of time: she isn’t leaving Dex in charge of finding or cooking Jasmine dinner, she’s leading him by the hand to the ready made stuff and telling him now to reheat it. Kind of like he’s a child too. It really shows how capable she feels he is.

And then Dex jokes about giving Jasmine crisps. He’s clearly trying to break the tense atmosphere and joke around with his wife, but it just comes across as ‘I wasn’t listening to you, I don’t realise how much work you’ve done, you were right not to trust me to cook dinner because look what I immediately suggested, you can’t rely on me’.

In all their conversations the tone of their voices just show they’re not sure how to talk to one another anymore, that they know everything they say will be taken the wrong way and so they have no idea how to speak.

It felt like no one was particularly demonised or made into a caricature. Just two people who were different, put under stress until they broke and grew apart. And Sylvie had been responding to this state of her marriage by having an affair, so she is clearly in the wrong there and the one who causes the divorce etc, but… I don’t know; here it comes across more as a plea for help or freedom in the midst of her confusion and less a lack of care or thought for Dex and her daughter (like I remember it coming across in the movies).

Even when they have the brief mention of dramatics and anger around the divorce, afterwards she’s back in the picture as a level headed co-parent: joking around to relate to Emma, sharing co-parenting pains with HER too (‘Jasmin’s learning the violin?’ ‘Yes that’s why we’re fleeing the country’). And genuinely congratulating them in their relationship and marriage.

You don’t see many ex-wives in media who are so openly concerned about how their ex-husband is handling his second wife’s death. She’s present, caring and supportive. And keeps reaching out to him well after she could be forgiven for stepping back.

So yeah I loved all of One Day and yeah it made me cry AGAIN, but I also loved how real they made those significant relationships look. How adult and complicated and messy and ‘no one was a monster/you were both wrong in different ways/there is no right and wrong’ they played out as.

Just because she wasn’t the ‘love of his life’ doesn’t mean she was a footnote either.

[beefrobeefcal]

Let's Get Physical! feat. Marcus Pike & f!Reader

a Marcus Pike one shot | Rated: 18+ | word count: 3,883 warnings: swearing, rougher p in the v unprotected sex, fingering, talk about weight gain, belly appreciation, self esteem issues surrounding weight, reader is assumed to be shorter and lighter than Marcus, reader has long enough hair for Marcus to grip,

A/N: Okay y'all... here's the mam himself! Thank you to @rebel-held for their dedication and holding vigil for his arrival, and for @yahtiwakitakos for their love of Marcus! Thanks to @strang3lov3, @noxturnalpascal & @neverwheremoonchild for their eyes & thoughtful insight.

As soon as you’d gotten the desk next to Marcus, he knew you’d be friends. He’d transferred out of being on the field and to the home office in your state after a personal matter had him decide to transfer. Since that point, you’d worked closely together, learning almost everything you could about one another.

You’d taken to him almost immediately, but his kind and aloof manner kept you from pushing further to see if there was something more. You’d eventually fallen into a content and friendly rapport that turned into a work-based friendship.

Marcus learned about your love of reading, allowing you to collect obscure information, and you’d learned that he did not cook, opting for take out at every meal.

You’d even earned nicknames from one another. You called him Pickles after a long-forgotten joke about his last name, and he called you Dex, short for Poindexter, given you aptitude for Trivial Pursuit.

You worked side by side for four years, and in that time, you’d noted that Marcus had gained weight, but it wasn’t that noticeable – it was gradual. His clothing had always fit. He'd never had an ill-fitting suit or a too-tight dress shirt or jacket. Yes, you'd notice his weight fluctuate and increase, but he camouflaged it well with his clothing.  Sure, he’d developed a bit of a softer jawline under the scruff on his face - it enhanced his pout with those big brown eyes; and yeah, his middle looked less trim, as did his thighs…

You’d told yourself that you really didn’t notice or care – Marcus was your friend.

You repeated those lies every time he’d look up at you and ask if you were ready for lunch or pat your shoulder as he said you’d done a good job. You did notice his waistline increasing and you thought it was sexy and hot, but your own internal battle with self image and weight had tarnished your ability to admit you liked heavier men and watched to help them get heavier.

You so badly wished he was more than a friend. He was kind and sweet, and never swore, even going so far as to tell you to ‘behave’ or ‘watch your mouth’ when you left an f-bomb slip. The way his big brown eyes watched you, you wished they were imagining you naked and crying out for him, and as you’d lose yourself in this fiction, he’d bring you back to earth, asking if you’d read the latest case file.

You’d told yourself that you really didn’t notice or care because Marcus was your friend.

*****

“Morning, Dex!”, he called as he meandered to his desk. He had two coffees in his hands from your favourite coffee shop… the one that was out of the way for him to get to on his way to the office… the one he only stopped at when he either needed a favour or had bad news.

You narrowed your eyes at him and motioned to the coffee with a pointed finger. “Stop. What’s that for?”

“Just wanted to get my best girl a coffee. S’that a crime?”, he smiled, trying to force as much innocence from his eyes as possible.

You didn’t move from your position and raised your brow. He sighed and put the coffees on the desk and slumped his shoulders, letting his work satchel drop to the floor.

“I need your help.”

“I knew it.”

“But you can’t laugh.”

His last statement made you freeze. Looking up at him, his face looked slightly pained as his winced, waiting for the sign to continue.

“Out with it, Pickles.”

“They want agents to be in the field. I saw the sign last night as I was leaving, so I looked into it. Don’t get me wrong – love the office but I miss field work.”

He paused, eyes searching your face for approval. You could see the worry on him, the fear of rejection to his idea. You nodded, arms gently moving from their crossed position, and you reached for the cup closest to you on his desk and took a sip. It was good coffee and you hummed in approval.

Marcus let out a breath he more than likely didn’t realize he was holding and continued. “There’s a catch thought – I have to pass a physical.”

You just about spat our coffee out and swallowed it funny, causing you to start coughing. You waved him off, sputtering an ‘I’m okay.’ as you motioned for him to keep talking.

“Yeah… uh – so the physical.”, he said slowly, watching you carefully with a bit of worry.  “I have to pass the one I did when I was a rookie… the one we all had to pass. You sure you’re okay?”

You nodded again, trying to get the image of Marcus huffing and puffing on a treadmill, sweaty and just a plain mess… the same way you’d imagined he’d be on top of you… rutting and jack hammering you into your mattress…

“Yeah! Just peachy, Pickles!”, you croaked, the rasped out a laugh. “You want to go in the field and leave me behind? Be Mister Bigshot and meet some other prettier coworker to bring coffee?”

You were trying to tease him, but your words and the sharpness of your tongue sounded like they aimed to wound, and it wasn’t lost on Marcus.

“Well, why not come with me? We could be partners.”

Your heart fluttered at the thought of travelling with Marcus to different art crime scenes. You’d never been able to shake the stories he told about the weird things he’d investigated in the field. Yeah, there were the big things, but you were more intrigued by the obscure things he’d investigated, like the unnamed famous actor who’s inadvertently bought stolen vintage clown pornography, or the weird old grumpy suburban guy who cluelessly had a priceless - albeit mundane - horse painting hanging in his bedroom, or the time some government worker was caught at the airport with illegally imported erotic art from South America that reeked of cigarettes.

The idea had merit and you nodded, cautiously optimistic.

*****

"Look, I know what I said, but maybe...", Marcus called out from behind the bathroom door. "...maybe I am a little more out of shape than I thought." You stopped your advancement down the hallway and chuckled with a smile.

"What are you talking about?"

"It... it-uh... it fits... different."

You paused and as the cogs in your head turned, trying to decipher what he meant. It hit you and you felt heat bloom in your core and on your face as your smile exploded into a wide-eyed grin.

If what you were thinking was true, the gym clothing that was standard issue for all new FBI trainees - and would be the required outfit for his upcoming physical fitness test - would give you an eye full of how pudgy he'd really gotten. While sitting in your thoughts, your silence made Marcus nervous.

Deciding to just rip the band-aid off, he opened the bathroom door and stepped out.

Your jaw dropped.

You’d seen the pictures of him during training. The clean-shaven sharp jaw and trim toned body clad in a too big t-shirt and knee length shorts.

That was not who stood before you. His shorts, while tighter, still looked like they fit. But that poor t-shirt was pulled tight across his broad chest and shoulders, and the hem was unable to traverse his ample middle, exposing about an inch above his belly button down to the curve of his underbelly and giving you a full view of his love handles.  

His face was flushed, and his eyes pleaded with you. You cleared your throat and smiled, trying to hide the fact that your core was clenching on nothing.

“It fits!”, you managed to squeak out and Marcus look at you stupefied and held his hands open to his sides.

“Really?”, he asked in exasperation, raising his eyebrows. “You think this – “, he motioned to his middle. “- qualifies as fitting?”

“I mean, you got it on? That means it sort of fits?” You winced as you spoke, trying to keep a pleasant smile.

“Fuck!”

You jumped as he let out one the loudest ‘fuck’s you’d ever heard, and your eyes grew wide that it was him who yelled it. He threw his hands up in the air and stood with his hands on his hips, knee popped. His jaw tensed as he looked away, stuck in thought, and you took the opportunity to gaze over his body, noting the way his stomach moved with each frustrated breath and the way his shoulders pulled the absolute life out of the shirt’s seams.

You were lost in thought ogling him and didn’t notice that he’d turned his attention back to you. When you finally looked up at him, both feeling your faces heat up slightly and an awkward silence sat heavy between you.

You decided to break the silence first, clearing your throat again. “Pickles, you… you look great.”

Marcus stated to laugh, and you couldn’t help but join him.

“I know I look like a busted overstuffed sausage – “

“Oh, stop it!”, you hushed him, stepping towards him. “Okay, sure, it doesn’t fit quite the same, but nobody stays the same size their whole life.”

He rolled his eyes with a smirk and nodded. “Fine.”

*****

So far, all the equipment in his apartment complex’s gym were now Marcus’ sworn enemies. The last three hours had been filled with Marcus angrily sweating and using every curse and swearword under the sun. He was so focused on being angry that he forwent any self consciousness about his clothes not fitting.

After another failed attempt at trying to navigate the elliptical, he yelled “PISSING SHITTING FUCKING COCK SUCKING MOTHER FUCKER!!”  and stormed out of the gym. You quickly grabbed the things he left in his departure and followed him.

*****

“Fuck it! I’m not fucking doing this!”, he boomed, furiously ripping open his refrigerator and grabbing the carton of chocolate milk and chugged it.

You quietly tried to get him to water to hydrate, and contemplated asking why his swearing sounded so natural when you’d never heard him use anything harsher than ‘fiddlesticks’ prior to this. “Marcus… maybe some water would – “

He finished the chocolate milk then tossed the carton haphazardly into the sink, and his eyes aggressively looked you up and down. You closed your mouth and stood, light a deer in headlights, nervously fidgeting your hands as you felt heat bloom in your core and on your face.

“Don’t look at me like that! I know what you’re thinking!”, he barked at you, making you jump. “God dammit! You think I’m too fat and out of fucking shape to pass that physical! And you know what?”, he yelled, grabbing one of the giant pretzels he’d picked up yesterday from the kiosk in the mall. “You’re fucking right!”

He angrily bit into the pretzel and chewed, then huffed and ripped open the fridge again and grabbed a king-size can a beer. You watched, bewildered and bewitched, as he maneuvered between chomps and gulps of the pretzel and beer.

You’d never seen him this enraged and you couldn’t take your eyes off him. Sure, you’d seen him get snide or lippy when he was frustrated, but you had no idea he could turn his temper up to eleven and he had such a vast array of foul words in his vocabulary – and find it so hot. You were staring at him, seeing that once he’d finished the pretzel, his hand went to his underbelly, pitching and kneading it slightly as he downed the rest of the beer. Your eyes were then pulled to his crotch in the almost too-small shorts and the noticeable bulge that had developed there.

Your lips parted and your brows tented. Marcus kept his eyes on your face, seeing the reaction you were having to his meltdown. It egged him on, knowing that you were getting something out of this. He’d longed for the chance to get to hold you beyond the occasional side hug or shoulder bump, wanting to touch you and make you feel as beautiful as he saw you. But he’d assumed you were completely fine being friends, given the way his weight had creeped up. He didn’t want to lose you by making a move and wrecking the chance to get the pieces of you that you allowed him to have access to. He’d stayed respectful, and courteous, and friendly, all while desperately wishing he was yours. But all that went out the window the moment he felt rage course through his veins and saw you look at him like that. He wanted you to be his.

He threw the empty beer can aside, hearing its tinny landing by the sink, and stalked towards you. Taken slightly aback at how aggressive his body language was, you stepped back and were stopped by the counter behind you. Marcus crowded you, standing over you, his belly moving against you with every ragged, angry breath.

“Marc – “

His name was cut off in your mouth as his collided with yours. He roughly grabbed your waist with one huge hand while the other held your face. He dominated the kiss, his tongue pushing for entrance again your lips, and you let him in, tasting the hoppy beer and salty yeast of the pretzel. As the passion built between you, the kiss deepened, becoming more fervent and urgent. His hands roamed, pulling you closer, his fingers tangling in your hair. There was no rhythm to this kiss; it was him exploring and dominating and you submitting to him and your desperate needs.

You finally parted, panting and breathless. He looked beautiful; his eyes were dark with blown pupils and his lips were reddened.  The hand that had held your waist moved down to the crux of your thighs and pressed against your Athleisure legging-clad core. Your mouth opened and a soft, breathy whine barely sounded out. The fury in his eyes had ebbed and morphed into an aggressive and possessive need, but he watched you, looking for any sign to stop. You gave nothing but green lights.

He leaned his face closer to yours, his nose nudging your cheek. You let out a small whimper and nodded, tilting your head, and he grazed his teeth along your cheek to your jaw, then bit down softly. With his mouth on you, he growled through his teeth, “Mine.”

He pulled back and turned your around, pushing your palms onto the counter, and he stood flush with his front to your back. As he grinded against you and bit and kissed your neck, he pushed your leggings down over your ass with one hand, the other pushed between your legs in the front.

“Oh fuck… you’re soaked, baby…”, he growled, biting the back of your neck. His middle finger ran along your seam, pulling a mewling whine from your mouth.

“You want me? Tell me you want me.”

When you didn’t answer beyond a frantic nod, he said your name in a low snarl and his grip on you tightened. “I asked you a question.”

“Mar-Marcus! Please!”, you cried out, feeling his finger circle then tap your throbbing nub repeatedly. You felt him smile against your neck, his other hand palming and squeezing your tit, and he started fucking into your wet heat with his pointer and index fingers.

“You’re so gorgeous… so funny… so smart… and you’re letting this fat guy finger you in his kitchen…”

His thumb caught your clit in the haste of his hand’s movement, and you let out a surprised yelp and your body jolted. The hand gripping your breast came up your sternum and secured itself around your throat gently, forcing you upright and flush against him.

“Juicy little snatch… just gripping my fingers, baby… you - you gonna cum for me, Dex baby?”

You whined and nodded. His hand moved up and he pushed two fingers into your mouth, exerting the power he had over you. He did it because he could, because you let him. You were both learning more about the other: he wanted to dominate, you wanted to be dominated.

You came as he pressed your tongue down, almost eliciting a gag from you. It felt filthy and raw and everything you’d hoped but never thought Marcus could be.

“There is it… Good girl… You’re mine… I’m gonna fuck that into you.”, he grunted and pulled both sets of fingers from your wet holes, shoving you down flush with the counter.

You’d barely finished cumming, let alone gotten through the aftershocks making your cunt flutter as he shoved his shorts down and lined up his cock with you and pushed in.

“Jesus fuck…”, you groaned. “You’re s’fucking big!”

“You like me big… say it. Say you like me being a fat desk jockey…”

“Yes… god yes…”

“Like seeing me eat, too, huh?... like watching me get fat?”

“Yes! Please… Marcus, please!”

You felt the beginnings of another orgasm as he pounded into you from behind and filled your mind with the images of him stuffing himself stupid on take out at work while you sat on his lap and helped feed him. It was a guilt-filled fantasy that you’d never allowed yourself to fully process and accept until this moment.

Marcus pulled out of you suddenly. Fearing you did something wrong, you made a frantic and breathless ‘huh?’ sound. He picked you up, tossing you over his shoulder.

“Wanna watch your pretty face while you cum, Dex.”

You couldn’t help but smile; Marcus was ever the romantic.

He tossed you on the bed and crawled up to you, pushing your legs apart. He took a moment to look at your pussy, smirking with a smug head shake, then locked eyes with you. He leaned forward, one hand landing beside your head and his other hand grabbed your hips, pulling you closer to him, guiding his cock back into your desperate, wet cunt.

“Look at you… just gorgeous… “, he marveled with smug satisfaction as he pounded into you, watching your eyes close, brows furrow, and lips part to let out a soft pant.

His thumb came down on your clit, rubbing harsh, fast circles. “Come on, Dex… gimme one so I can watch… lemme see…”

“Marcus… I’m close…”

“I know, pretty girl… give it to me… come on… gimme one I can see…”

“Yes… right there! Right there!”

His thumb hit just the right angle and you fell apart as he pistoned you on his cock. Your hand reached up, gripping the arm above your head, and you arched your back in pure bliss.

“There it is… there you go… fuck, good girl… look at you… so god dammed pretty…”

The noises you made sounded alien coming from your mouth. You’d never heard this cacophony of whines, cries, mewls and moans come from your body before, and Marcus was revelling in it. He removed his thumb form your oversensitive nub, and he brought him body down onto your as he continued to thrust into you. His weight felt amazing; it was everything and ore than what you could have hoped, and you needed more of it on you. You hooked one leg on his hip, then brought the other one up, trying to lock your ankles. Marcus was too big, his love handled waist too wide and his thrusts now to frantic to get a good latch.

You raised your head and captured his mouth in a messy kiss, and he interlocked his fingers into yours. He panted into your mouth as you made eye contact; gone was the ferocious and angry man who’d fucked you in his kitchen and back was Marcus: sweet, funny, soft Marcus.

“Come on, Pickles.”, you whispered against his lips with a wry grin.

The surrendering groan that tumbled out of him matched perfectly with his out of rhythm thrusts.

“You gonna let me cum in you? Please?”, he panted, hips stuttering.

Nodding, you desperately whined, “Yeah… yes, please… please… c-cum in me!”

Marcus dropped his forehead onto yours. With a few more snaps of his hips with corresponding grunts, he let out a string of groans and panting breaths, then stilled in you.

You were both breathing hard, and his fingers flexed and relaxed repeatedly in yours as he came down from his high. Your mouth found his again briefly, then he pulled back and looked you in the eyes. His brows furrowed and his eyes softened further, as if the weight of what had just happened suddenly dawned on him and he was worried this was it for the two of you.

“Hey… hey hey hey…”, you soothed, hand coming up to cup his cheek, a soft smile on your face. “It’s okay… I’m okay.”

He nodded, still unsure, the blurted out, “I like you so much, Dex. I wanted this for so long…and I wanted it to be special, and – “

“It was special!”, you beamed with a smile, loving how adorably flustered he looked in contrast to before. “You hulked out and railed me in your kitchen!”

He stopped and looked at you, dumbfounded. Slowly, a smile peaked out on one side of his mouth. “You liked that.”, he huffed out in a laugh. “Dex, you kinky girl!”

You laughed and playfully slapped his arm. “Knock it off, Pickles!”

He pulled his softening cock from you and kissed you, both of you giggling.

Marcus pulled away and teased, “You liked getting railed by a fat guy… in the kitchen…”

“Yeah, I did!”, you challenged with a smile. “And I hope that fat guy does it again!”

His breath hitched and he swallowed, looking away for a moment. “So, you’re okay with…?”

He couldn’t finish saying what he wanted to. Years of poor self esteem and heart-breaking moments with other women wouldn’t let him, nor did that part of him want to hear your answer in case it was rejection. Your hand guided his face back to you.

“I wouldn’t have let you if I wasn’t.

His smile softened. “How about a date first?”

You couldn’t help the heat and shy smile that bloomed on your face, and he watched as you melted into his words.

*****

Marcus walked into the office the next Monday, carrying another two coffees from your favourite place. You were preoccupied with one of your coworkers but shit him a smile before returning your attention to the file before you.

He placed the coffees down, hung his coat and bag, then noticed the collection of tupperwear containers with a sticky note on them.

Getting takeout is fine, but this is a sampling of what I can do for you. Xoxo Dex.

He opened a few of the containers and in them were homemade versions of his absolute favourite take out meals. He brought one to his nose and inhaled, just as your coworker left the room. You walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his middle, patting and squeezing his belly.

Marcus deciding he wasn’t ever going to need to pass a physical again.

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[ravs6709]

Don't Worry Yourself Sick - Fedex

Word count: ~0.8k words

@kamikothe1and0nly hi!!! you asked for fedex sickfic and i delivered (well kinda, its less sickfic and more feels but)!! takes place right during neverseen, right after the fitz gets stabbed by bug, but before they head off to exilium!

sorry if its on the shorter end, am attempting to get back into the flow of writing again

warnings: none

Hope you enjoy!

•~•~•~•~•~•

Dex sat hunched over on the bed, fiddling with one of his gadgets. Several others were strewn all over around him. Fitz's back hurt just thinking about how uncomfortable the position looked.

"Dex?"

No response. Fitz took a few step forwards, his knees buckling. He managed to grab a piece of furniture to stabilize himself, but not before stubbing his toe.

Dex whipped around, startled. "What are you doing here? You should be resting."

Fitz raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you be resting too?"

"I'm not the one who almost died."

"I just need to drink that gross tea one more time, I'm basically recovered."

Fitz took another step forward, his knees buckling briefly again.

"Looks recovered to me, Wonderboy."

"I haven't walked in days, I can not be blamed."

Dex rolled his eyes, moving his inventions off to the side. "What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for Keefe," Fitz replied.

"He's with Sophie, deciphering his memories or whatever," Dex said, not looking at him.

Part of him wanted to go join them. Maybe him being Sophie's cognate would help. But if he went there, they'd both fuss over his condition. Instead, he sat down on the newly-made available free space on the bed. Dex turned to him and raised an eyebrow at him, but when he didn't say anything, Dex turned back and picked up the Twiggler. He'd never really sat around Dex like this before, since Dex usually worked alone. Fitz found himself just a little bit entranced by his habits: humming, the occasional cursing, all as if he'd already forgotten that Fitz was sitting right there.

He probably should have been more annoyed at the accidental ignorance of his presence, but honestly, he found it almost refreshing. 

When Fitz started noting the slight red flush on Dex's cheeks, he tore his eyes away, a blueprint catching his eye. It was all wrinkled as if it'd gotten wet and crumpled and tossed around, with harsh scribbled written all over. He recognized that invention. It was the cube that had blown up and gotten Fitz accidentally stabbed. All the scribbles were questioning why it ended up resulting in injury. Heart heavy, he looked away, and while the other blueprints didn't look nearly as worn down, they all had lots of scribbles. He was no technopath, but he knew this must have been the work of dozens of late nights.

Fitz looked back at Dex, his face still flushed. "It wasn't your fault, you know that, right? I told you, I don't blame you."

Dex started as if remembering there was another person in the room. "Yeah yeah, so you've said. Still, I need to do everything I can so that it won't happen again."

"You work too hard, you need to rest."

"Everyone's been working so hard. I don't---I don't want to talk about this with you."

Fitz sighed, but understood. He would never understand what Dex Dizznee had gone through, knew that even now, Dex didn't really like him. Instead,  he put a hand on his shoulder, and said, "You've been doing well so far."

Dex stilled. Even with the cloth of his shirt separating, Dex felt warm to the touch. Fitz moved his hand up to his forehead.

"Wonderboy?" Dex asked, his voice a groggy murmur. As Fitz expected, his face was feverish. He even leaned into the hand for a half second, before pulling away, a scowl on his face, but way too weak.

"You're sick," he said.

"'m not," Dex replied. "You're sick."

An amused huff came out. "I'm getting Physic."

Dex raised an eyebrow. "And have her ask why you're out of bed too?"

"Oh. Damn it. But I'm making sure you go to sleep. Do you arrange your stuff any particular way?"

"Nah, just shove it in a corner."

He picked up all the papers and neatly put them in a stack, resting them on the nightstand, and carefully placing the half-made inventions on top. He grabbed a full Bottle of Youth and passed it to Dex. "Drink up, recover fast."

Dex smiled. "You don't have to nurse me back to health."

Fitz smiled back. "We'll all need you at full strength."

"Yeah, I get it." He downed half the bottle, then put it back on the nightstand. "Oh yeah, Keefe stole your dragon, kinda just threw it at me and told me to keep it hidden for now."

Fitz held Mr. Snuggles close. "I'm getting back at him for that... it's comfortable, and I don't want to get back up."

"Just sleep here, bed's big enough."

Fitz raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"

"Ugh, just accept before I take it back."

"Nope---you made the offer!"

"I'm so gonna regret it. I blame the fact that I'm sick."

They both went under the covers, carefully spaced away from each other. Still, Fitz felt that this was the closest they'd been so far. Maybe they could even get closer.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Kotlc taglist: @my-swan-song, @stellarune, @impostertamsong, @subrosasteath @autistic-daydreamer

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[kotlc-deleted-scenes]

Keeper Summer Week #6

Third Deleted Scene from Neverseen

I removed this scene—even though I knew all of my shipping-obsessed readers would love it—because it felt like I was having the characters be aware of the flirting/romantic tension in a way that didn't feel natural to their personalities. I realized that just because I was incredibly familiar with all the crushes between them didn't mean that all of the characters were. Some were a bit more oblivious—and others weren't quite ready to act on that knowledge. So I cut this to stay true to where the characters were emotionally at in that moment. (Those with sharp eyes may notice that Fitz's hair stayed green for a bit longer in this draft—and the rules/process of matchmaking was slightly different.)

—Shannon

They were halfway across the bridge when Fitz shouted, "Wait!" 

His green hair made him look like an alien as he ran to catch up with them.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" he asked Sophie, then noticed everyone watching them. "Telepathically?" 

What's up? she transmitted as she opened her mind to his thoughts.

I just wanted to say that if you can't sleep tonight—or if you wake up with nightmares or something—call for me. I've heard your transmissions from halfway around the world. I should be able to pick them up from across the river. 

But what if I wake you? 

Who cares? 

"Are you guys done flirting over there?" Keefe shouted. "Is this how it's going to be now that you're Fitzphie?" 

"Stop calling us that!" Sophie shouted back. 

"That's right," Fitz agreed. "We're Sophitz!" 

He grinned at her as her brows shot up. And then…he hugged her.

It wasn't a tight hug or anything. In fact, there was probably enough space to fit another person between them. 

But still—FITZ WAS HUGGING HER. 

Figured this ought to shut Keefe up, he transmitted, killing the moment. 

"Call me if you need me," he said out loud. 

Sophie turned and walked away, keeping her eyes on her feet as she crossed the rest of the bridge and ducked inside. Della was kind enough to head straight for her room. Unfortunately, Biana didn't let her off the hook so easy. 

"So, what was that about?" she asked. 

Sophie went for distraction. "I'm just worried about my family." 

"I know," Biana said quietly. "I'm sorry. I hope they're okay." 

"Me too." 

Sophie was almost to her room when Biana added, "But that's not what I mean, and you know it. Are you and Fitz…?"

Sophie waited. 

If Biana wasn't going to say it, she certainly wasn't. 

Biana narrowed her eyes. "You're going to make me bring up the hug?" 

Sophie cringed. 

This was dangerous territory. 

Biana had almost not become her friend because she thought Sophie was using her to get to her brother. And Sophie would never do that—but she also wouldn't have minded if Fitz noticed her on his own. 

Biana didn't need to know that. Especially since the truth was so much less exciting. "Fitz was just trying to annoy Keefe," Sophie mumbled, attempting not to let her disappointment leak into her voice. 

And maybe it worked, because all Biana said was "Hmm." 

Then again, when Sophie turned to leave, Biana called after her. 

"You know I don't care, right? If you and my brother…I mean, it'd be weird, but…" 

"We're friends," Sophie insisted. 

"I know. But just in case…” 

“Um. Okay." 

Sophie wondered if it were possible to have a more awkward conversation. Apparently, it was, because Biana had to go and ask, "What about Dex? And Keefe?" 

Now those were dangerous questions. Well, not the Dex part—but Keefe? 

“They're also my friends."

Biana arched one brow, clearly not convinced. 

"Aren't we all supposed to be waiting to be matched or something?" Sophie asked, trying to steer away from the trickier subjects. 

Not that being "matched" was any less weird. It was one of the strangest parts about being an elf. The elves had a complicated matchmaking system, and not following it had huge consequences. They claimed it was to ensure proper genetic diversity in their offspring, but the whole thing felt super unfair, and like a disaster waiting to happen. 

"I guess that's true," Biana agreed, looking somewhat mollified. "Can you believe we'll have to register next year? Well, assuming we're not still on the run." 

"Next year?" Sophie asked. 

"Yeah. We register when we enter Level Four at Foxfire. I mean, we don't get our matches right then or anything. That's not until we finish Level Six. But we register early so the matchmakers have time to prepare our lists." 

"That's…really soon." 

"I know." 

Biana didn't seem nearly as freaked out by this information. She even laughed at Sophie's stunned expression. 

"Good night, Sophie." 

"Night," Sophie mumbled, stumbling blankly back to her room.

[whoredmode]

For the ask meme:

5 for Shaundi

9 for Pierce

12 for something Anteros believes about Johnny

Send me a character and a number and I'll tell you

5. a headcanon that's all but canon, and that's a hill I will die on

shaundi is the oldest in her family. idgaf whatever the DLCs imply she’s the cool big sister ok! she loves her little sisters so so so much and she misses them all the time. i’ll die on this hill.

semi-related i hope like post-srtt when she has a little more free time she can get back in regular contact with them. i think part of her homesickness during srtt, aside from just generally missing stilwater, is that she misses her sisters.

9. a missing scene that definitely happened

ok this goes for both pierce and shaundi but there was for sure like a solid couple of days right after sr2 where the two of them were trying to figure out who anteros’ boyfriend was. bc anteros accidentally let it slip he was dating someone, and the two of them are nosy as hell. pierce starts orchestrating this whole plan about how they can snoop and catch him with this mystery man but somehow it just ends up with them following him. obviously whenever anteros and troy are out in public together, troy’s disguised. so when they see anteros with Just Some Fucking Guy they’re a little disappointed. were expecting someone cooler.

later on they have their own separate moments with troy during srtt like hey so were you and anteros…..?

also another one i think about A Lot is during sr2 when pierce is left in charge of watching dane while johnny and anteros leave to scope out the hotel akuji is at. just the questions i’m left wondering about this unseen moment. like what did dane say to pierce? did he get under his skin? did dane leave his business card for pierce? it haunts me

12. something they believe about [other character] that isn't true

i think for a long time anteros believed johnny resented him. for how thing’s went with aisha, for lying about partnering with troy, for just kinda involving everyone in his own personal problems (dex) and keeping things from them. these issues definitely come to a head in srtt with troy returning to the gang, but the thing is. it’s complicated. johnny never truly hated anteros. he could never. anteros still respects johnny’s opinion most of all, and the two went through hell together in sr2. you don’t just throw all that away, especially not when you’re them.

perhaps the underlying theme of their dynamic is that sometimes the person you trust the most will inadvertently do something that hurts you, and learning how to deal with that is crucial for the health of the relationship. they have trouble talking about this sort of thing for a long time, but after the events of srtt they become a lot more open and willing to sit down and work things out. their friendship is so deeply important to both of them. i mean, by the time the GooH-inspired side story takes place, johnny is the one who immediately says he’s gonna save him. they’d die for each other.

so yes, while i think anteros believed johnny must’ve hated him for a long time, it was never the case. if anything, johnny cared so much that he knew he wanted to fix things even if he couldn’t express it quite right for a long time.

[xbullseye]

@defectivexfragmented

Dex knew his moral compass didn't exactly point due north. When his therapist encouraged him to find a role model, of sorts, someone whose goodness he could strive to emulate, he knew she'd meant an ordinary person like a first responder or a suicide hotline operator, and that had worked fine for him for years. She probably hadn't meant an actual superhero, but after the attack on New York, of course he'd latched onto the Avenger who couldn't miss.

He'd followed the stories about Hawkeye obsessively (the only way he knew how to have an interest in something, really), and letting the hero guide his actions had worked better than anything else ever had. He'd hesitated to dig deeper into Clint Barton's life. For some reason, it had seemed important to keep a distinction between the Avenger and the man, like it might jinx it if he ever met his hero or came to see him as a real person. Most people just weren't that good. He didn’t want to lose that trust he had in Hawkeye's goodness.

That had come crashing down around him when he'd seen Clint on a tour of an apartment building. Dex hated the whole process of moving. It disrupted the careful order he needed to keep his mind quiet and his darker impulses in check, but it was a necessary evil. He hadn’t even been positive the man in the hooded sweatshirt had been Clint Barton at first. He’d tried to talk himself out of the notion. Then he'd broken the rule about prying into his personal life, done some digging, and found out that Barton did, in fact, own the building.

And that was the problem with breaking a rule. It led to breaking another, and another, and another, until he was in so deep he couldn't stop himself. He’d called the building manager and signed a lease the next day. Within a week, he was moving in, and then he'd gone on a deep dive of Clint Barton's entire life. He’d even been in his apartment a couple times while he was out, rifling through his things like they would help him get to know the man. 

He wanted, badly, to actually speak to him, but it was frustratingly hard to run into him. Dex's work schedule for the FBI was rigid and often demanding, which was exactly what he needed. By comparison, Clint’s seemed sporadic, and he hadn’t been able to nail down any specific times he came or went. It was always swiftly and with something to keep him from being noticed, a hood or sunglasses. It didn’t take a genius to realize the other tenants didn't know who he was, and Clint didn’t want them to.

After weeks of failing to run into him by accident, he’d been forced to come up with a different plan. It caused him almost physical pain to deliberately shut his keys behind a locked door-- Dex, who hated a crooked picture on the wall or a train that was a minute late. They were neighbors though; it made sense to knock on this door over any other, on a day when he was sure Clint was home and the building manager wasn't. He offered a slightly sheepish smile when the door opened. "How good are you at breaking and entering? I, uh… just locked myself out."

[minniethemoocherda]

Sins of the Past: Visitation

Summery:  A collection of drabbles set in my modern au where the Bad Batch raise Omega after rescuing her from the abusive hands of their mother. In this chapter, Omega meets her father, Jango Fett for the first time. 

A/N: Loved the new episode! So happy to see Gungi again! Sorry my updates have been a bit all over the place. I'm hoping to have more regular updates now that I've got inspiration from season 2! I hope you guys are still interested in this story as I've got lots of plans! Xxxxxxx

Ao3

They had been sitting in silence for at least ten minutes when Jango finally spoke.

It was strange to know that the man sitting in front of Omega was her father. She had always known she had one somewhere in the way that everyone had a father. But she had been so focused on meeting her brothers that she hadn't really given the idea of her father much thought growing up.

Nala Se had told her his name, ethnicity and other supposedly important genetic factors, but she had told her very little about what he was actually like as a person. Omega had gotten the impression that whilst Nala might not have loved Jango (and honestly Omega wasn't sure if it was possible for her mother to truly love anyone) the woman had cared for him in her own distorted way.

Her brothers had never talked bad about him in front of her but she knew that all her brothers, both half and full, didn't like him very much. And from what little she understood, it was for a very good reason.

It was odd to see her own golden brown skin, broad nose and deep eyes reflected back at her. Like looking into one of the funny mirrors at a carnival Wrecker had taken her too once.

They were at a restaurant that Hunter would call 'fancy' and Tech would call 'terribly overpriced per cubic centimetre of food'. Server's carried small plates of even smaller meals that looked like grape jelly. She appreciated that he'd made an effort, but honestly she would have preferred to have gone to Dex's diner.

Jango had exchanged awkward plenaries with Hunter when her older brother had dropped her off at the restaurant, but beside that this was really first time he had spoken to her since they had arrived.

"So... do you play any sports?"

"I play soccer." She said. Usually when one of her brothers asked her about her love of soccer, she would ramble on to her heart's content. But that was with her family. The man in front of her was a stranger. And she vividly remembered the first point of Hunter's lecture on stranger danger. Do not overshare.

"That's like British football right?" Omega nodded. When she didn't say anything, Jango kept talking to stop another ten minutes of awkwardness silence. "Growing up my boys were all on the football team! Well erm the ones that lived with me were."

"Tup didn't. They were a cheerleader."

"Oh right yeah. You would think after raising so may kids I would be better than this." Jango chuckled tried for a joke, but they both knew it felf flat. Because yeah after having thay many children, Omega thought he really should be better at this.

She glanced down at the menu in front of her in a poor excuse to end the conversation. She didn't understand any of the meals written on it. The words looked like some of the French Hera had taught her, but she had didn't recognise any of them. It reminded her of the trick questions Nala would set her that intentionally didn't make sense and weren't expected to have an answer.

Remined of Nala Se made her feel sick she didn't want to throw up like she had when she met Hunter.

"Can I go to the bathroom?" She asked.

Jango nodded and Omega fought back the urge to sprint as she made her way to the bathroom.

Once inside, she locked herself in one of the stalls. Like the restaurant, the bathrooms were also fancy, with each stall having its own basin.

Omega splashed water on her face in a poor attempt to shock herself out of her panic. When that didn't work tried she tried the breathing exercises that Mr Kenobi taught her to calm herself down. Thankfully, they were much more successful and after a few minutes she had managed to breathe herself out of a potential panic attack.

With her mind now clear, she got out her mobile. It was simple flip-phone but most of her classmates didn't have one yet and it was one of the fee things that made her feel kinda cool.

Omega knew if she called Hunter to pick her up he would be there in a heartbeat. But she was surprised with herself that she didn't want too.

When she came back, Jango had put his leather jacket on. For a brief moment, she panicked that he had been planning on abandoning her there.

But when he heard her approach, he turned around with a smile of a smile.

"Let's get out if here." He said, thumbing towards the door.

Omega grinned, relived that they no longer at to eat at the stuffy restaurant.

They headed outside where Jango went straight for a motorbike parked on the side of the street. He swung his leg over the seat and placed an oddly shaped helmet on his head.

"What are you waiting for? Hop on!" He said.

"I don't have a helmet." Omega told him although she really did want to go for a ride. She'd never been on a motorbike before.

"No worries. You can borrow Boba's." Jango rummaged around in the small case at the back of the bike. He then pulled out a smaller green helmet and held it towards her.

"Will he mind me borrowing it?" Omega asked.

Jango shrugged which wasn't much of an answer. Still she slipped it over her blonde curls and climbed up the bike frame to sit behind him.

As Jango sped off, she clutched her arms around his middle to stop herself from flying off. Her hands barely encompassed his sides. Jango was broader than her brothers, his stomach a solid slab of muscle. There wasn't that same instant warmth she had felt the first time Hunter had held her in his arms, but there was a familiarity there non the less. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine that she was holding one of her brothers instead.

They sped around the local park. The trees were started to grow back their spring coat of leaves after the cold of winter. And a flock of Canada geese landed in the nearby pond, on a pit stop before they made the long journey East. Feeding the geese, Omega spotted Caleb with his mother and grandfather.

He pointed in excitement and even though Omega couldn't hear them, she could make out that Caleb was begging his grandfather for a motorbike when he was older much to his grandfather's chagrin.

Omega waved as they passed by, this time making out Caleb's whoops of hello. She had never felt more cool in her life.

They must've been driving around for about an hour before Jango headed back towards the restaurant. Even though they hadn't exchanged a word, she felt closer to her father than she had an hour ago.

She didn't love Jango, not yet. She wasn't sure if she even liked him. But she had to admit that he was cool. And for now, maybe that would be enough.

As they pulled up outside the restaurant, Omega saw that Hunter was already waiting outside, he body practically vibrating with anger.

"And where have you been?" Hunter demanded, marching over to them. "The waitress told me you disappeared an hour ago!"

He startled to a stop, his vision must've caught up with his anger as he took in the sight of Omega climbing down from the motorbike.

"You took her on your motorbike?" Hunter growled in disbelief.

"Relax. She had a helmet on. I've been taking Boba for rides on it since he was born. I wouldn't have taken her if it wasn't safe." Jango said, non-repulsed by Hunter's anger.

"Yeah. It was actually kinda fun." Omega said, feeling the need to stick up for her father who wasn't aware that he was one unthought out word away from having his head ripped off by Hunter.

"Well I'm glad you had fun." Hunter said through the gritted teeth of a forced smile as he turned to Jango. "Next time tell me before you take somewhere besides our agreed location."  

Jango gave him a salute of acknowledgement. He then tugged the helmet off of Omega's head, ruffling a hand through her curls.

"See you soon kid."

And with a quick nod to Hunter, Jango sped down the street into the glare of the evening sun.

As soon as their father disappeared over the horizon, Omega felt Hunter relax beside her.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked softly, his voice now void if anger.

Omega nodded, leaning into his side.

"I am kinda hungry though."

Hunter wrapped his arm around her, gazing down with their brown eyes that she was thankful to Jango for, otherwise she never would've had such amazing brothers.

"Come on, we can stop at Dex's on the way home."

[anyathefandom]

My chaotic thoughts on To Those Fortunate Enough part 2:

@burned-lariat

Disclaimer: Let me start off with saying I should be ashamed with how much of a Wallace apologist I am. Like this man has gotten his son involved with the mob and his son has trauma now because of that and yet here I am saying "I can fix him!!"🛐

Dex basically said "I'm going to pin point how much you both fucked up as parents and you will deal but before I do that let me eat this burrito. Getting exsanguinated by your grandfather takes a lot out of a person🤷‍♂️"

At least he's eating, Wallace thought, The more he focuses on recovery, the less he'll want to dig up a buried hatchet.

"I'm not going to let it go."

Me:

Any stories I could've told him had to do with your family," Wallace retorted, "Talking to him about you meant talking to him about Helena. He'd ask about her, and then ask about his family through you both, he'd get curious and seek them out, and then he'd be gone for good. I couldn't just let that happen."

"You think so low of me," Dex sighed, feeling his heart ache a bit, "You honestly believed I'd be super curious about my mother's family when all I wanted to know about was my mother."

Me: I mean I get Wallace's pov of not wanting Dex to know too much about Irina when he was a child because kids are naturally curious and he most likely would've wanted to know about Irina and her side of the family that he hasn't met but I think when Dex got well into his teens he should've been given the whole rundown about the cassadines and who Irina is because he definitely deserved to know at that point. Like Wallace should know resentment would've been building up against his mother the longer he went without much information on her.

"Too damn bad," Wallace scoffed, "I know you're still bitter over me not telling you about your mother, and clearly you still carry some resentment over the past, but to accuse me of not caring about you, of not being as good of a father as I can be? That hurts. I love you, Dex, I always have. How could you treat me like this?"

Me: oof and this one those times though I can't stand beside Wallace because he's just dismissing Dex's feelings over the traumatic situations he's dealt with and if that hurt I know damn well it gutted Dex. Poor baby.😔

Okay so now their fighting about the past and this whole time I'm just going " It's time to call up Kevin because y'all need family ✨ Therapy ✨" their both doing a whole lot of deflecting and pointing fingers at the other so things are definitely not getting resolved between them at the moment. There's just so much heart and misunderstanding between them.😔

"There had to be another way. You could've convinced Helena to raise me as an assassin, you could've gone with us anyway. We could've had new identities, we could've been a family living somewhere else."

"Helena would've found us-"

"You don't know that."

"You don't know what she was capable of. Getting you out was the only thing I could do."

"You didn't even try. You just…caved to that woman and got rid of me. You didn't bother reaching out to me, you didn't attempt any escapes to reunite with me. You chose to stay in the compound because your fear of Helena meant more than your love for me."

Me: And this is why I said Wallace should've gave Dex the rundown on his mother's side of the family because if he knew all the things Helena has done he would've been more understanding of what Irina had to do to ensure Dex's safety.🙈

I just wanted my mom and my dad. I…I wanted you two to be around, to love me and care for me the way every kid deserves. Instead, I got a mother who was physically absent and a father who was emotionally absent. All your claims about doing what you did for me or to protect me mean nothing because at the end of the day, you both hurt me and I deserve to feel that hurt."

Me: Good for him for telling them that they hurt him and he deserves to process his hurt regardless of all the excuses they were giving him.

So now dex has passed out and irina is on her way to the hospital with him but Wallace basically said: I'll go check on my son in a minute first I got to go light sonny's shit on fire for putting my son on a meat hook"😂😭

[quoteablebooks]

Genre: Fiction, Adult, Romance, Contemporary

Rating: 3.5 out of 5

Content Warning: Sexual content, Medical trauma, Medical content, Chronic illness, Body shaming, Infertility, Fatphobia         

Summary: Stacey is jolted when her friends Simon and Emily get engaged. She knew she was putting her life on hold when she stayed in Willow Creek to care for her sick mother, but it's been years now, and even though Stacey loves spending her summers pouring drinks and flirting with patrons at the local Renaissance Faire, she wants more out of life. Stacey vows to have her life figured out by the time her friends get hitched at Faire next summer. Maybe she'll even find The One.

When Stacey imagined "The One," it never occurred to her that her summertime Faire fling, Dex MacLean, might fit the bill. While Dex is easy on the eyes onstage with his band The Dueling Kilts, Stacey has never felt an emotional connection with him. So when she receives a tender email from the typically monosyllabic hunk, she's not sure what to make of it.

Faire returns to Willow Creek, and Stacey comes face-to-face with the man with whom she’s exchanged hundreds of online messages over the past nine months. To Stacey's shock, it isn't Dex—she's been falling in love with a man she barely knows.

Another laugh-out-loud romantic comedy featuring kilted musicians, Renaissance Faire tavern wenches, and an unlikely love story.

*Opinions*

I had heard about the Well-Met series a couple of times, stating that they were fun romances that were interconnected with the Renaissance Faire in Willow Creek. When the reading challenge I was doing this month needed a book with the word ‘game’ or ‘play’ in it, I figured this was a great time to jump in and see what all the fuss was about. I had a great time with Stacey and the rest of the players in Willow Creek, but the book was missing something to make it something that will make me remember it in a couple of months. 

Well-Played follows Stacey, a permanent fixture at the Willow Creek Renaissance Faire for four weeks every summer. While Stacey loved the Faire, she feels as if every other part of her life has stalled out. She lives in an apartment over her parent's garage, she is a receptionist at the dental office, and while everyone else on social media seems to have grown up and gotten out, Stacey feels stuck. During a night of feeling bad for herself, and a couple of glasses of wine later, she emails her fling from the Faire in the hopes that they might be something more. To her surprise, he messages back and they spend the eleven months between the Faire season getting to know one another in a very personal way. The problem is that she isn’t talking to who she thinks she is on the other side of the screen. Can a relationship survive that was started on such shaky ground or will Stacey find that she is just as stuck in Willow Creek as she always thought she would be?

I almost wished that the summary of the novel didn’t give away the twist that Stacey was not communicating with Dex via email and text. Because I already knew that it wasn’t Dex, I was just waiting for the eventual blow-up over the untruthfulness on Daniel’s part. Thankfully, Stacey figured it out before she embarrassed herself, but I would have liked to figure it out alongside her. The fact that it was found out so early made me hopeful that the third act stressor would be external and not miscommunication, but alas I was disappointed in that regard. Nothing that happened in the novel was overly annoying, but I found myself wanting something a little more again and again while I was reading. 

DeLuca does a good job of characterizing that feeling of familial obligation versus wanting to take care of the people that you love. Both Stacey and Daniel deal with this, though it is more obviously a burden on Stacey. She gave up her prospects after college to take care of her parents after her mother’s rapidly declined. However, now she feels as if she is stuck in Willow Creek, unable to leave because what if her mother becomes sick again? As someone who works in a healthcare adjacent field, the trauma that lingers after any sort of health crisis is not something that is talked about enough, especially if the sick individual pulls through. People are expected to just be fine because the patient is fine, which is not realistic. However, even what Daniel was dealing with in terms of his cousins and always being on the road, no matter what he wanted, is something that a lot of people can relate to. I think that was well handled throughout the novel, especially the way that it is resolved at the end in Stacey’s case.

The relationship between Stacey and Daniel was very cute, but I think that she forgave him far too quickly every time he messed up. While I hate the miscommunication troupe and am happy that they talked about what happened, Stacey needed to be mad at that man for a little longer. He lied about pretty important things multiple times and after like two days she is like “I forgave him but I don’t know how to reach out and say that”. Girl, no, but mad a little longer, please? I did appreciate that Daniel was so respectful when she said “I need space” he gave it to her and while he said his peace after each argument, he was also willing to leave her alone if that is what she wanted. As a woman who would be so embarrassed she would die by grand romantic gestures, a man who is respectful of what a woman says is so much more sexy. That being said, there was nothing about their relationship that I will remember after this book is over. 

Overall this was a nice read and I am interested in reading the rest of the companion novels, but not memorable. However, sometimes a fluffy romance with some sex scenes is what you need. This is a 3.5-star read rounded down to a 3. 

[niennandil-me-writes]

Goretober 5: Self-inflicted

CN: self-harm

[takes place right after our Aberrant oneshot]

He woke up with his hands gripping the leather-wrapped haft of his weapon. It was a familiar feeling. One he had been yearning for the last weeks. One that flooded him with a relief he hadn’t even known he could still experience.

And as soon as he opened his eyes to look at Dex, there was that familiar chastising, a glare that existed only to him.

“I will take care of that,” Teo told the blade as he sat up. “I know. I know she’s my responsibility.” He’d been made to accept that, even though he’d avoided it for a long time. “I’ll make sure she won’t do anything stupid again.” His right hand wandered up the haft to the axe head, brushing over the flat side. “Must run in the family, making stupid decisions.”

His fingers traced the engravings, images he knew by heart, though they had faded years ago. Then he frowned, turned the axe a bit. “You know I don’t mean you with that.”

He hadn’t talked to Dex in what felt like eternity, not since he had been taken from him, and now, just like with Dexter in Aberrant, the words were hard to find. “I’m just glad to have you back.”

And he was. He realized he was smiling, even though he hadn’t even killed anyone since waking up yet. “You know I’m lost without you. Couldn’t even make it a week. I’m a bad person, you know that better than anyone, but I get a whole lot worse when I don’t have you around.”

A second passed, then he smiled. “Well, it’s true.” His fingers wandered from the blunt metal slowly to the edge. Fingers covered in scars dancing over the blade, then back to the engravings, scars of their own.

“I should get something to clean those,” he said. “Haven’t taken care of the engravings in ages.”

Because he didn’t want to think of the past. Because the images of a peaceful garden didn’t fit what he did with this weapon. Because he didn’t want to look at his own reflection in the polished metal...

“You might be right about that.” His fingers wandered back to the edge, and this time he was less careful. A drop of red appearing at his fingertip, running down his hand and then falling to the ground. He sucked in the air through his teeth, smiling.

“I missed you,” he said, as more lines of red joined the drop, flowing down his arm and the metal. He watched his own blood flow over the twin blades. Engravings turned into riverbeds for the red streams. Scars torn open all over his fingers and the palms of his hands, as he held Dex close, caressed the blades.

“I don’t care,” he said at the warning that he might lose a finger. His words were muffled as he pressed his lips to the flat side of the axe. Kisses that tasted of steel and his own blood, and then pain as he moved his mouth to Dex’ blade.

“I don’t care,” he murmured again at another warning. There would have been something beautiful about dying like that, especially now that he couldn’t die by the hand of another person he loved anymore. He pushed those thoughts away and kept kissing him, tried to ignore the cut at the exact point of the scar on his lips.

He pulled back and looked at Dex, now fully covered in his blood.

“No, you’re right,” he said. “I can’t die now. I have to...” And he paused as he realized what he was saying. “I have a reason to keep going now.” He gave out a short joyless laugh. But he smiled again. “Haven’t had that in a while, huh? But you were right. I have to do this for her. I might be a horrible father, but I have to at least try to make this right by her.” He stroked his hands over the blade again, but more gently this time, only nicking his skin. “And if she found a way – no matter how bad it was... then I’ll find one, too, somehow.”

He tilted his head. “Wouldn’t say that’s it. I haven’t had hope in a long time. But with you back, who knows.” He stood up, took a piece of cloth from his coat to clean the blood off Dex. “But first, I still have a job to do. I’m already two weeks behind because I took time off to find you. And I don’t want to sit through another lecture from that demon. Besides...” His smile turned into a sharp grin. “I really, really need to kill someone right now.”

[thelavendernarwhal]

Is This Technically Party Crashing? - WIP

Hey, remember when I said this story was rotting in my WIPs? Will it still kind of is, but I’m posting a little preview to maybe boost my motivation. As I’ve said before, creative burnout is very real at the moment, but that won’t stop me.

(And shoutout to @mynamisfab for inspiring me to get back to this idea. I have the story fully planned now :D)

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

This was the kind of warmth Keefe could get used to. You could pile however many fluff blankets onto your bed as you want, but it would never beat the coziness of another person. Keefe had long since gotten over his pride when it came to being a little spoon, so many more mornings were spent with Dex’s arm lazily draped over his waist while he curled into an armadillo-esque ball. That heat was a reminder that Keefe wasn’t alone and he would never need to be again.

Sadly, if they didn’t get up soon, Ro and the triplets would mock the two of them endlessly for ‘their extra snuggle time in the morning’ and Keefe had a bit of a problem to discuss before that happened. Keefe gently turned over himself so he was facing Dex, still dead to the world as usual. He didn’t know if it was a Dizznee thing or if it was due to the younger trio’s loudness, but Dex slept like a rock on anesthetics. Part of Keefe did feel bad about needing to get him up; after what sounded like one hell of a Regent briefing, he conked out fast with his face smushed into his pillow with hair flung in all directions around his face that would form one hell of a bedhead the next morning. If he didn’t look to have had a bad day, Keefe would have pointed out how cute it was, but it was clear that Dex just wanted to sleep and not do anything else for the near future.

With no other options, Keefe started by nudging Dex’s shoulder to no success. Eh, not that he expected that to work. “Hey, Dex… It’s time to get up.” He quietly said, cupping his boyfriend’s face in his hands causing his features to scrunch a little.

“No thanks.”

Only he would wake up like that. “Sorry, but you don’t have a choice.”

“But, why?” Dex rolled so he could bring himself more upright. Not completely upright, but getting up was a slow process for the still tired, non-morning person.

“I need to talk to you about something and I am sure that you’d rather have me waking you up than one of the other people here.” After a few times of one of the Dex’s siblings busting into his room and an even more terrifying instance of Juline being the one to get them up, Keefe knew it was a convincing reason.

Although, Dex didn’t miss the first part of his statement. “You need to talk about something? Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just Number One Dad back at it again.” With a groan, he was fully up.

“What’d he do this time?” Dex asked, leaning against the headboard.

It was weird to know what a good dad was supposed to be like and then have a piece of crap waiting for you at home. Alden had always supported Keefe when he was little, giving him some amount of familial love and Kesler barely batted an eye at his new quote-on-quote son-in-law when Dex told him about their relationship, so when Cassius continued his school of parenting after everything they were put through, it was a bit jarring. They’d gotten to the point where they mostly avoided each other at home and for the most part, Keefe was fine with that, but old Pops decided that he had a deal to make.

“Well, he was a bit concerned that his one and only son hasn’t picked up a match list after being registered for a few years. Y'know, people talk and all that.” Keefe started.

Dex rolled his eyes. He didn’t bother to sign up for matchmaking in the first place and Keefe found himself really wishing he did the same. “That’s his problem? You made me worried there.”

“No need. He thought the best course of action was to sit me down for one of our many father-son heart to hearts and he gave me a little choice.” Dex looked over for him to go on. “He said that I could move out.”

“That’s great! But there’s a catch, right?”

He knows Keefe too well, really. “He’d only do that if I picked up a list and held a Winnowing’s Gala.”

“There we go.” Dex sighed, but wasn’t phased.

“Any ideas?”

“Objectively, it could be worse.”

Keefe smiled fondly. “At least, one of us is objective here.”

“Please, everyone knows you’re the evil master-mind.” The ginger noted, sweeping his hair away from his eyes, that was, in fact, sticking up in all directions. “On paper, it’s one night of awkwardness and you’re off the hook.”

“Then riding off into the sunset with puppies and rainbows and kittens.” Keefe added.

“You know what I mean.”

“I know. I just also know how it’ll look to everyone else. You might as well put up a sign saying ‘Keefe Sencen; hot on the market and definitely is on board with this plan.’ We both know Cassius will frame it that way.”

Once he was done, Keefe slunked into a combination of his pillow and Dex’s side. As much as he wanted to convince himself that it’d only be one instance of suffering and then it’s over, it wasn’t that simple. Holding this party would be telling the world that the blond was looking for a partner when that couldn’t be farther from the truth and, if Keefe had learned anything in his life, many people wouldn’t be warded off with a ‘no thanks’. What he really wanted to do was put all of this junk to rest by telling anyone he was perfectly happy with the love of his life and no one was going to change that. The pair’s friends were well aware of their relationship to the point that they apparently had a running bet on when they would get together, so they wouldn’t have to worry about those guys and anyone else who wouldn’t accept them wasn’t someone Keefe wanted in his life anyways. The only problem was that Cassius would go nuclear if his kid was out publicly because “it’s not just his reputation on the line”.

Seeing his mental spiral, Dex started to get both of them out of bed. “But, after that, you don’t need to play along. What’s he going to do, look extra disappointed in his meetings?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do this actually important assignment because my son is such a sad sack.” Keefe imitated Cassius’ voice, making it sound as whiny as he could. But, before he could continue his impersonation, a loud knock came from outside their door signaling that their privacy would soon come to an end if they didn’t hurry up soon.

[wanderinginksplot]

Hi! Coul you do a Hunter x Jedi FemReader fluff. Myybe They are reunited after a long time and they hang out in secret.

Hey! It took a few days, but here’s where this prompt took me:

Hunter + Jedi F!Reader + Fluff

“Steady!”

“Watch the far side - it’s tipping!”

“We need another few troopers over here to help balance it!”

“It’s too heavy!”

“Stop, men,” you ordered, your calm voice cutting through the clamor with ease. “Let me get it.”

Lifting the heavy crate with the Force was simple, one of the first things you had learned to do in the Temple. From there, transporting it to the correct section of the hangar wasn’t any more difficult, and you accomplished the task with ease.

“Still showing off, General?” a rough voice asked from just behind your ear.

You turned around, already smiling at the familiar face. “Sergeant Hunter,” you greeted. “I had no idea you were on-planet.”

He shrugged, the movement flowing with grace that would have made even a Jedi jealous. “We picked up a new member for the Batch. We needed to have him cleared on Coruscant before we could risk taking him into action.”

“And?” you asked, already thinking about how you could help. Force-healing wasn’t your strong suit, but you could pull a few strings to get the right padawan to the GAR headquarters. If Hunter needed something, you would do everything in your power to get it for him. He had saved your life often enough to deserve that dedication from you.

“And he’ll be fine,” Hunter reassured you. Gesturing to the flurry of men working to unload your gunships - each one painted with a flattering caricature of your profile with a lightsaber held out in front of you - he asked, “How did the mission go?”

You shrugged. “It went as well as can be expected, I suppose.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means- Well, it…” you sighed. “This war never seems to have a true victory. There are always losses, and those sacrifices don’t always make sense given what little is accomplished in return.”

Hunter raised an eyebrow. “That’s what we’re made for. Sacrificing.”

You hated hearing that, no matter how often it had been repeated by the Kaminoans, the GAR, and the Jedi Council. These men weren’t a product and their lives weren’t something they should expect to lose simply because they had been created rather than born. They had names and personalities, painted their armor with patterns in your favorite color, and some troopers even asked for permission to use your handprint in their designs. Hunter’s casual defense of what you saw as the fatal flaw of the Jedi Order made your stomach lurch and your spirits drop.

“So they keep telling me,” you agreed, mustering a smile for Hunter. “It was a pleasure seeing you, Sergeant. It has been far too long.”

"Wait," Hunter called and you paused in turning away. "What did I say?"

His earnest question only served to make you feel worse. "Nothing, Hunter. The problem seems to be with me. I just need some time away from the war, the loss."

Hunter's eyes cut a neat contrast against the darkness of his tattoo. "I can't help much, but how about some time spent with an old friend?"

"I have to go make my report to the Council," you hedged.

"After that, then," Hunter suggested. "I'm not gonna twist your arm about it, but you're the one who said it's been too long since we saw each other."

You gave a small smile at that. "That's true. Meet me at Dex's Diner tonight?"

"Comm me when you're leaving the Temple," Hunter instructed, giving a respectful nod as the two of you parted. 

As soon as you had finished with your report and washed the grime of a long mission from your skin, you contacted Hunter and started your journey to Dex’s Diner. The small restaurant had been a Coruscant staple for years, but it had recently seen a huge surge in business. Not only did Dex make fantastic food, but he served meals to anyone who wanted to buy them. The Besalisk had a firm open-door policy, especially where clone troopers were concerned. Off-duty clone troopers were a common sight in the diner, laughing and mingling with Coruscanti civilians.

Hunter was already inside, having secured a booth tucked away in the corner. While clone troopers were far from rare at Dex’s Diner, Jedi were seen less often, especially since the war had begun.

Still, you slid into the booth across from Hunter and gave your usual order to the serving droid. Surreptitiously, you input your credit information as well, paying for the entire meal before it had the chance to deliver a total.

“What is that smile?” Hunter asked, offering one of his own.

“Nothing,” you said, waving off his question. “So, what have you and Clone Force 99 been up to since I saw you last?”

Hunter blew out a breath. “It’s been - what? A year since we saw you?”

“Yes, nearly that,” you agreed, trying to keep the edge of sadness from your voice. Early in the war, you had been on a series of missions with the Bad Batch and had planned to keep working with them, but a member of the Jedi Council had sensed your attachment when you returned planetside. You had been reassigned and ordered to cut ties with the enhanced troopers before the attachment grew stronger.

You had reluctantly done as you were told, but saying goodbye to Clone Force 99 had been difficult. In retrospect, that was likely a good sign that you were indeed getting attached to these troopers. However, that hadn’t stopped you from meeting Hunter today, the first time you had ran into him since following that order. It was with a surge of guilt that you realized you had taken care not to let any other occupants of the Temple see you leave. You hadn’t wanted them to ask where you were going…

“Hey,” Hunter said sharply, drawing your attention back to him. “Where did you go?”

“Nowhere in particular,” you excused yourself. “I’m sorry, I missed what you said.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Hunter told you. “I just sat here and watched you get lost in your own head. Stay out of there. After all, I don’t get to see you every day.”

“Fair enough,” you conceded. “How have things been going for you out there?”

Hunter shrugged. “Pretty well. We haven’t found another Jedi who works with us as well as you did, but the few we’ve been assigned to have been competent.”

From Hunter, that was high praise indeed. “And who have you been assigned to?”

“Well…” he mused, “We did a few missions with General Unduli and you know we usually work with Commander Cody and General Kenobi. We did just finish a mission with General Skywalker, though.”

“And how did that go?” you asked, smiling at the thought of the GAR’s most unorthodox squad working with the Jedi Order’s most unorthodox Knight.

Hunter rolled his eyes dramatically and launched into the story of rescuing one of Skywalker’s troopers who had been captured by the Separatists. It was horrifying to think of one of the Republic’s soldiers in enemy captivity for so long, but Hunter nearly had your sides splitting when he talked about Captain Rex brawling with Crosshair, Tech leaping onto the back of some winged creature, and Wrecker demolishing an entire Separatist fleet.

“I bet Wrecker was thrilled!” you said to the last point, still laughing.

“He was, of course,” Hunter agreed, sending a soft smile your way. “He’ll forever be looking for ways to top that mission, so I guess I have Skywalker to thank for that.”

“Oh, I needed this,” you sighed, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye.

“Want to talk about it?” Hunter asked. “I get the feeling you haven’t been happy about much lately.”

“Oh-” you stammered, his insight stunning you for a moment. “I don’t know if there’s any particular reason…” 

“If you had to think of one, then,” Hunter suggested. 

You blew out a thoughtful breath, trying to gather a year’s worth of abstract thoughts and quickly stifled smiles into a cohesive summary. “It’s… hm. It doesn’t feel… right, to laugh and joke when soldiers like you and your brothers are working so hard and so seriously to win battles. It seems- seems almost like ignoring their sacrifices. People are dying every moment, and being happy feels… frivolous, somehow?”

“You aren’t sacrificing people, if it makes you feel any better,” Hunter told you consolingly. “Just clones.”

You had stood from the table before you knew what had happened. Hunter stared up at you in surprise, a rare expression from a man whose senses allowed him to predict behaviors so well. 

“I don’t think this meeting was a good idea,” you told him bluntly. “I’ll see you later.”

“Wait-” Hunter started, trying to rise from the table, but he was interrupted by the arrival of the serving droid. The droid, oblivious to things such as tense silences, began busily unloading its tray of food onto the table, its position trapping Hunter in his seat.

You watched in silence as the table was set to the precise specifications that the droid had been programmed to deliver. Hunter, avoiding your gaze, fiddled with his silverware, ruining the droid's perfect symmetry with only a touch.

When the droid had finished and rolled away, Hunter looked up at you, confusion and guilt mingling on his face. He gestured to your plate. "Please?"

You eased back into the seat after a moment of thought. Hunter couldn't know why you were upset if you didn't give him the benefit of an explanation.

To give yourself a moment of thought, you unfolded your napkin and spread it across your lap. When you were done, you made direct and unblinking eye contact with Hunter. "It hurts me when you talk about the troopers like their lives have less meaning. Like they deserve nothing more than death to achieve a goal."

"That's what we were told all our lives," Hunter countered carefully. "At least the regs were told they could die in sacrifice for the Republic. We were told that we deserved to die because we were different."

The disgust and self-loathing in Hunter's last word made you reach out and cover his hand with yours. You made no effort to influence him - you respected him far too much for that - but you tried to convey your sympathy with a touch.

"And now you know that isn't true in the slightest," you reminded him. "I can't change a moment of your past, but we can all impact our shared present to create the future we deserve."

Hunter's warm fingers flexed under yours as he flipped his hand over to weave your fingers together. 

"That's why you're the Jedi we keep asking to be assigned to," he said with a fond smile. "You don't see us for what we can do for you, for the Republic. You just see us."

You raised your eyebrows at that, your heart feeling lighter than it had since the early days of the war. "As if the Bad Batch could be tied to a single Jedi…"

"For you?" Hunter pretended to think about it. "I think we could give it a try."

With a shared smile, the two of you turned your attention to the food you had ordered. Neither of you commented on your hands, still intertwined on the table between you.

---

A/N - I originally had a different ending in mind, but I liked this one too much to change it. I’ll leave it up to you to decide what happens when Hunter realizes that you’ve already paid for your food! 

Thanks for the request, @dreamingofclones! I hope you enjoyed!

[rowansparrow]

Juke Box Hero: A Rose Story

This is SO STUPID LMAO But I hope you guys like it anyway. I’m back on my bullshit and I am here to provide you with a little story based off THIS POST. Anon, thank you for your service, because this was very, very fun. 

This snippet takes place during Chapter Seven of BAON, during the flashback when Reader is meeting Rex for the first time and Rose and Co. are stuck cleaning up the barracks. You don’t necessarily have to have read it for this to make sense, but the right context might be neat. 

Also, for timeline purposes/in BAON, Tup and Dogma technically never met Rose, as they weren’t part of the 501st before he died, but I’m including them in this because I make the rules and I wanted to. 

Also Denal’s here because I think he’s a funky dude and deserves more content.

The clones deserve to dance and have fun and who’s gonna write them doing that if it ain’t me? 

Rating: Mature-ish? There are some dirty jokes and swearing but mostly it’s Just fun shenanigans with Rose and Bros. 

(Also I spent a TON of time picking everyone’s songs so pls tell me what you think of my selections lmao).

I’m tagging everyone from the BAON tag list in case you’re interested. Enjoy!

In retrospect, perhaps Rose should have put a stop to the loth cat situation – or as Hardcase called it, Operation: P.U.S.S.Y. He claimed it was an abbreviation for “Petting Unusually Sweet Strays, Yeah!”

“You have to call it something else.” Rose had said at the time, staring at the loth cat cradled protectively in Hardcase’s arms.

“But you’re not saying no?” Hardcase prompted eagerly, already bouncing lightly on his heels.

“Just…” Rose pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just… clean up after it? And if it breaks anything, it’s on you, and for the love of Force, don’t get caught.”

Now, as the Lieutenant surveyed the disarray that had befallen the barracks, and the company of very disgruntled subordinates, he was reconsidering his earlier leniency.

“I feel as the acting SIC, you’re the one who should be taking the flak for this, not the entire company.” Jesse grumbled, glaring at Lieutenant Rose over his shoulder as he scrubbed at the floor of the barracks.

“Don’t look at me. I’m not the one who brought a pregnant loth-cat into the barracks in the first place.” Rose replied, straightening up for a moment where he’d been hunched over, his back cracking as he moved.

“Well, you didn’t fight me very hard on it!” Hardcase protested. “And I didn’t know Beans was pregnant at the time! I didn’t even know she was a girl!”

His explanation only earned him several slugs to the arm from nearby vode.

“And just because I’m second-in-command does not make me exempt from the Captain’s wrath.” Rose added. “You didn’t get the dressing-down, you just have to carry out the punishment with me.”

“Hang on, I thought we agreed the cat’s name was going to be Road Rash?” Coric asked.

“That’s unladylike.” Said Denal. “And rude. She can’t help her scars.”

“And Beans is ladylike?” Jesse raised an eyebrow.

“She likes it! And her kits looked like beans when they came out too!”

Rose shook his head fondly at his men as they bickered. At least they weren’t complaining anymore.

In truth, he was surprised the situation had been managed as long as it had been. They’d lasted almost a full three weeks without anyone figuring out they were hiding a cat in the barracks. Of course, the kittens made it much harder, and they could only hide them in overturned helmets during inspections for so many days before the helmets started to mewl.

And once Beans threw a tantrum over not having her kits with her, it was game over. She’d knocked over an entire can of armor paint in her wrath, and blue pawprints and large paint puddles coated the durasteel of the barracks, and a few of the bunks had claw and bite marks in the fabric.

“It’ll take us an hour, maybe more, to clean this whole mess up.” Fives complained, looking around the barracks forlornly. He had a nasty scratch just under his eye from finally snatching Beans up in her rampage. “Kriff. I was excited to go out tonight.”

“Not to mention after we finish here the Captain said we had to go take over latrine and canteen detail from other battalions.”

“Then I guess you better get scrubbing.” Kix said absently, thumbing through medical requisition forms on his datapad and sitting cross-legged on one of the few bunks that didn’t have blue paw prints streaked across it.

“Why aren’t you helping? You’re part of the company too.” Echo said. “Fives and I are ARC troopers, if anyone here should be exempt from company-wide punishments, it’s us.”

“I’m not helping because I didn’t participate.” Kix replied, not looking up from his ‘pad.

“The kark you didn’t, you delivered the kits!” Fives snapped.

“Well, Captain Rex didn’t catch me, so.”

“That’s because you went and hid in the medbay and didn’t warn the rest of us he was coming.” Tup muttered under his breath.

“Not true. I sent Jesse a comm.” Kix said, finally looking up only to shrug and return to his work. “Which he didn’t check, and that’s not my fault.”

“It doesn’t matter who was involved and who wasn’t involved.” Dogma piped up. “Clearly, because if it did, I wouldn’t be here either.”

“We know.” Said Jesse and Fives in unison.

Rose sighed, his eyes drifting forlornly to his bunk. He spotted his footlocker sticking halfway out from underneath the durasteel, and he lit up. He opened it quickly, pulling out a beat-up radio he’d gotten at a market stall during one of his first deployments. He’d had to trade a droid popper and half his rations for it – Rex had not been pleased about it when he found out – but it was worth the two-day latrine rotation he’d gotten as punishment.

He’d already downloaded several songs off the HoloNet, along with a few channel recordings of past BoloBall games. Even if he knew who won them, it was still something to listen to on long stints on cruisers.

“What’cha doing, Lieutenant?” Tup asked, peeking around the corner as Rose straightened back up, fumbling with the little radio for a moment and propping it up on one of the bunks so the music could fill the whole room.

“No. NO! No.” Jesse jabbed a finger at the Lieutenant as he saw him set up the radio. “No. Absolutely not. I have had enough of your osik-brained, Force-forsaken, whack-ass music to last me a lifetime.”

Kix chuckled, rolling his eyes at the other trooper. “You listen exclusively to electronic dance music. Even when we aren’t at 79s. You have no room to talk.”

“This is better than that.” Rose promised, dialing up the volume. “This is the kind of stuff you’d find on the jukebox at Dex’s Diner.” He grinned. Dex was personal friends with General Kenobi, and was one of the few Coruscant establishments that was friendly to clones, as long as they behaved themselves. Rose had gone there with his brothers a handful of times, and even Anakin had dragged his Padawan Ahsoka, Rose, and Rex along once.

“You have a radio?” Dogma frowned. “Isn’t that contraband, sir?”

“Relax, it’s an old prewar-era radio, it’s not hurting anything.” Fives drawled, knocking Dogma lightly on the shoulder. “What’re you gonna play, sir?”

“Let’s see…” Rose filtered through his downloads, and grinned wider, pressing play.

Immediately, soft music rang through the barracks, and Jesse smacked his head against the bunk, groaning loudly.

“I’m begging you, Lieutenant.” Jesse said. “I’m begging.”

Rose was already swaying his hips, bending over to grab Jesse by the chin.

“On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair, warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air.” Rose serenaded him.

Jesse swatted Rose’s hand away, and Rose turned, swinging around on the side of the bunk and pointing to Fives this time. “Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light. My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim, I had to stop for the night.”

Fives grinned, joining in even as he stumbled slightly over the words.

“There she stood in the doorway. I heard the mission bell and I was thinking to myself, this could be Heaven or this could be Hell.”

Kix was drumming his fingers on his datapad, nodding along and singing under his breath.

“Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way. There were voices down the corridor, I thought I heard them say…”

“This is too slow.” Echo griped, rising to his feet and stepping over Dogma, who was still stubbornly scrubbing away at the barrack floors and refusing to engage even as the rest of the clones began quietly singing along with the chorus.

The ARC Trooper fiddled with the dial for a moment, scrolling through Rose’s music and selecting another song, already grinning as the chanting started through the speakers and eventually rippled through the ranks of the 501st.

“STOP.” Jesse barked, trying to kick Fives as the other ARC trooper hopped to his feet, stomping his feet and chanting along. “STOP, I HATE THIS ONE!”

Rose and Hardcase were chanting too, and Coric had started clapping his hands on an overturned bucket, a few shinies clapping their hands together as Echo shook his ass, kama swaying as he climbed up onto a nearby table. He scooped up a mop, pulling the handle to his mouth.

“I can’t stop this feeling, deep inside of me.” He pointed to Kix, grinding against the handle. “Girl, you just don’t realize what you do to me.”

Kix gave him the finger, and Echo pointed to Fives, who was still chanting with the others but was now holding up his helmet, recording the whole thing. Echo amped up his performance.

“When you hold me in your arms so tight, you let me know everything’s alright. I’m hooked on a feeling!”

Tup whooped from where he’d moved to sit on one of the bunks. Dogma shot him a nasty look, which he ignored in favor of watching Echo strut on the table.

“I’m high on believing that you’re in love with me. Lips as sweet as candy, its taste is on my mind. Girl you got me thirsty for another cup of wine.”

“Wait, wait, wait, I have a good one.” Fives shoved his helmet at Hardcase, letting him take over recording as he scrambled to the radio, quickly turning the dial once again and elbowing Echo off the table as fast, loud, angry guitars shredded through the barracks.

Jesse seemed to perk up just slightly, and any of the 501st troopers who were still trying to actually clean – save for Dogma – had abandoned their supplies and had elected to dance instead, crowding the table and forming a makeshift mosh pit.

Fives was nothing if not a showman, and when he snatched the mop from Echo, he performed.

“When I get high, I get high on speed. Top fuel funny car’s a drug for me, my heart! My heart! Kickstart my heart!”

He stomped his foot hard on the table, flipping his head back and running one hand messily through his hair.

“Always got the cops coming after me, custom-built bike doing 103, my heart! My heart! Kickstart my heart!”

Rose laughed, watching as Fives looked at the helmet Hardcase was hoisting up over the crowd, singing into the camera and rolling his shoulders back.

“Ooh, are ya ready, girls? Ooh, are you ready now? Woah, yeah! Kickstart my heart, baby give it a start. Woah, yeah! Baby! Kickstart my heart, hope it never stops. Woah, yeah, baby yeah!”

The clones joined him for the chorus, and then Fives dropped to his knees like he’d seen rockers do on the HoloNet, high fiving the nearest vode. Dogma was still stubbornly trying to clean up the barracks, but had moved on to one of the far corners, only giving the rest of his battalion the occasional side-eye.

“Skydive naked from an aeroplane, or a lady with a body from outer space, my heart. My heart! Kickstart my heart.” He wiggled his hips as he straightened back up, biting his lip through a grin and dropping his hand to his hips and shaking his fist obscenely, as though he was jerking himself off.

“Say I got trouble, trouble in my eyes, I’m just looking for another good time, my heart. My heart! Kickstart my heart!”

Before Fives could do something else profane – or possibly attempt to crowd-surf and give Rose a handful of incident reports to fill out, the music suddenly shifted, and all heads turned to the radio.

Kix was smirking. He’d divested himself of the top half of his armor, instead electing to shimmy his way up onto the table in just the upper half of his blacks and lower armor plates. Fives exited, rejoining the crowd as Kix leveled a sultry look at the camera for just a moment before turning his back on the crowd.

“Clean shirt, new shoes, and I don’t know where I am goin’ to. Silk suit, black tie, I don’t need a reason why.”

He spun quickly, switching his grip on the mop handle as though he was holding a woman in his arms, dipping it low towards the crowd as he sang.

“They come a runnin’ just as fast as they can, ‘cos every girl’s crazy ‘bout a sharp dressed man.”

Fives and Echo were howling with laughter, and Hardcase wolf-whistled loud enough that Rose’s ears rang. Even Jesse had finally joined in, nodding his head along to the music and trying to bite back a grin. Tup had left the crowd to instead attempt to pull Dogma in, and Denal had rounded up a few newer members and was trying to push them closer to the front.

Kix unzipped the top half of his blacks, doing a slow strip-tease in time with the music.

“Gold watch, diamond ring, I ain’t missin’, not a single thing. And cufflinks, stickpin, when I step out I’mma do you in.” Kix shrugged out of his blacks and rolled his hips along the mop handle, dropping his ass low and slowly dragging himself back up, grinding against the handle.

“They come a runnin’ just as fast as they can, ‘cos every girl’s crazy ‘bout a sharp dressed man.”

Fives actually pretended to faint, falling backwards into Echo, who was laughing so hard that he fell over with him.

“ALRIGHT!” Dogma shouted over the music, elbowing his way through the crowd with Tup following anxiously behind him. Dogma firmly stopped the music, hands on his hips as he turned to face the rest of his brothers, who’d begun to boo.

“We have orders,” Dogma reminded them. “This is a punishment, not a party. When we finish here, we’re supposed to clean the shower block, and then we’re supposed to report to the mess hall and take over the canteen cleanup shifts.”

“We know the orders, Dogma.” Rose said, putting a hand on the younger trooper’s shoulder. “There’s no harm in having fun while you work.”

“I’m the only one still working.” Dogma grumbled.

“Alright, alright, we’ll turn it low for now, and we’ll finish up in here, then we can bring the radio with us when we move to the refreshers and canteen. Fair?” He asked, turning to the rest of the men. There were a few muttered responses, and Rose raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, I couldn’t quite make that out.” He said. “We are cleaning this mess up, correct gentlemen?”

“Sir yes sir!” They all answered quickly, hurrying back to work.

Rose chuckled, shifting the music to something a little calmer, the gentle piano wafting through the barracks as they continued to clean up.

Denal’s head perked up as soon as he heard the piano start, and while he didn’t climb up onto the table like his brothers had, he smiled to himself, turning back towards the spot he was scrubbing and singing to the durasteel floor.

“I'm sailing away. Set an open course for the Virgin Sea.”

Echo hummed, closing his eyes and rocking back on his heels for a moment, listening to his older vod croon.

“'Cause I've got to be free. Free to face the life that's ahead of me.” Denal continued, his voice soft but steady. “On board I'm the captain, so climb aboard. We'll search for tomorrow on every shore and I'll try, oh Lord I'll try… to carry on.”

Somebody whistled, a few scattered claps ringing through the barracks. Coric picked up where Denal left off.

“I look to the sea, reflections in the waves spark my memory. Some happy some sad.” He sang. “I think of childhood friends, and the dreams we had.”

Tup glanced to Dogma, who was practically seething as he scrubbed at the same spot on the floor that he’d been working on for the past several minutes. “You like this song, don’t you, Dogma?”

“No I don’t. Shut up.”

“Join in. They won’t mind.” Tup encouraged.

“No.”

“We live happily forever, so the story goes. But somehow we missed out on that pot of gold.” Sang Coric. “But we'll try best that we can to carry on!”

The music picked up, and Jesse shot Rose a look.

“This is a deceptively fast song.” He said.

“It sneaks up on ya.” Rose chuckled.

The barracks devolved into chaos once again, the clones all screaming along to the lyrics, even the ones who didn’t know the words picked it up quickly, encouraged by their brothers.

Despite the distractions, they finally finished cleaning the barracks, and Rose plucked the radio from where he’d stashed it, leading the way down the hallway towards the refreshers. The 501st were especially rowdy in the quiet halls – most of the barracks were empty, the clones who weren’t being punished for loth-cat related shenanigans were taking advantage of the shore leave.

When they opened the door to the shower block, they encountered a few members of the 212th already in there, cleaning up.

“Pack it in, lads.” Rose announced. “We’re taking over for you.”

“What? Why?” Boil asked, leaning on a mop and raising an eyebrow. “Did you get in trouble?”

“Yes.” Hardcase replied sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“All of you?” Waxer poked his head out from inside one of the refresher stalls, Crys and Wooley pausing from where they were wiping down countertops.

“Yeah, it’s Hardcase’s fault. As usual.” Jesse said, strolling over to Boil and plucking the mop from his hands. “We’re supposed to take over your shifts.”

“Good, I was hoping to get to 79’s tonight before last call. I hear they’ve got purple spotchka.” Boil said excitedly, glancing at Waxer over his shoulder.

“We can help you finish.” Waxer said, immediately raining on his brother’s parade. “There isn’t much left to do anyway.”

“You sure?” Rose asked. “It’s technically a punishment -.”

“Nah, it’s fine, there really isn’t much left, aside from the toilets.” He grinned. “But you boys can handle those.”

“Fair enough.” Rose chuckled, nodding over his shoulder to his men. Fives, Echo, Jesse, and Hardcase were in a heated four-way battle of rock, flimsi, cutters in order to determine who had to clean the toilets first.

“What’s that?” One trooper Rose didn’t recognize asked, pointing to his hand.

“It’s a radio!” Rose said cheerfully. “I’m err… technically not supposed to have it. But we’ve been listening to music while we worked.” He set it up on the countertop. “Do you have a favorite song…?”

“Spitter.” The 212th trooper supplied helpfully.

“Spitter.” Rose repeated, chuckling to himself and wondering how the hell he’d earned that name. “Do you have a favorite song?”

“I don’t know the name of it.” The trooper admitted shyly. “But – but it’s the one they play on the hits channel all the time. I hear it playing in the admiral’s quarters on the Negotiator all the time.”

“I know that one!” Waxer said excitedly, nodding to Rose. “It’s the one Commander Cody likes. You were playing it in the hangar a few weeks ago when our flight detail overlapped.”

“I remember.” Rose smiled, and turned the song on.

Immediately, every head, including Dogma’s, perked up at the familiar tune. Fives clapped his hands together, getting them started.

“When I wake up, well I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who wakes up next to you.”

The younger trooper, Spitter, lit up and followed it up.

“When I go out, yeah I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who goes along with you.”

Waxer elbowed Boil, trying to get him to join in, but the other trooper shook his head and crossed his arms, rolling his eyes even as Waxer sang.

“If I get drunk, well I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you.”

Their voices carried through the refresher’s tiled walls, and Jesse picked up where Waxer left off.

“And if I haver, yeah I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who’s havering to you.”

When the chorus rolled around, everyone joined in, their voices bouncing off the walls around them.

“But I would walk five hundred miles, and I would walk five hundred more, just to be the man who walked a thousand miles to fall down at your door.”

“When I’m working,” Kix began, offering a hand to Wooley and giving him a playful spin. “Yes I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who’s working hard for you.”

“And when the money comes in for the work I do, I’ll pass almost every penny on to you.” Wooley laughed, shoving Kix away with a grin.

“When I come home,” Tup piped up quickly, before someone else could. “Oh, I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who comes back home to you.”

“And if I grow old,” Crys smirked, shaking his shoulders at Fives, who punched him playfully in the arms and joined in, singing the line in unison. “Well, I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who’s growing old with you.”

The chorus returned, and they sang with even more feeling than before, dancing and tossing their heads back, shouting along to the words and nearly drowning out the music itself as they sang.

As the final verse approached, Waxer sidled up next to Boil, giving him a hopeful look. His brother sighed, scrubbing a hand bitterly over his face and reluctantly joined in.

“When I’m lonely, well I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who’s lonely without you.” He sang.

“And when I’m dreaming,” Echo called. “Well I know I’m gonna dream, I’m gonna dream about the time when I’m with you.”

“And when I go out, well I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who goes along with you.” Fives followed.

“And when I come home, yes I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who comes back home with you.” Denal said.

Tup took a deep breath, preparing to finish off the verse, but he was cut off.

“I’m gonna be the man who’s coming home,” Dogma’s voice was shaky as all eyes turned to him, and he finished in a squeak. “With you.”

The room erupted in cheers, Fives catching Dogma under his arm and giving him a noogie as the chorus rang out once again, everyone shouting along to the lyrics together.

When the song ended, and the cleanup was done, the 212th parted ways with the 501st, the brothers patting one another on the back and jeering affectionately at one another now that the song and dance was done.

“If you finish with everything before final call, catch up with us at 79’s.” Boil called over his shoulder. “We can give the vode there a run for their money with our rendition of that song.”

“Count on it.” Rose chuckled, giving the other company a little salute before leading his men on towards the canteen.

The canteen, blessedly, was empty, and most of it was already clean. All they really had to do was wipe everything down, mop, and then make sure the kitchen was well-prepped for the next day.

“I didn’t know you had it in ya, Dogma.” Echo said affectionately, knocking his younger vod playfully in the shoulder as they walked.

“Let’s just get this over with.” Dogma muttered, his ears burning as he pushed into the canteen, grabbing the cleaning supplies from the nearby supply closet.

“Who’s turn was it for a solo?” Fives asked, watching as Rose started to set up the radio above one of the food windows so it could project into the entire cafeteria.

“I think Dogma should go.” Kix grinned. “Now that we know he’s got some pipes.”

“Absolutely not.” Dogma said immediately, not looking up from where he was wiping down tables.

“I can go first?” Tup offered, raising his hand sheepishly. Dogma shot him another stern look, but Tup was already wandering over to the radio, moving the dial and tentatively pressing play.

Upbeat music filled the canteen, and the other troopers cheered as Fives ushered Tup over to the nearest table, boosting him up on top of it and then thrusting a mop into his hands. Hardcase was already fumbling with the helmet again, trying to get a recording as Tup tapped his foot along with the beat, nodding his head as he found his rhythm.

“I get up in the evening, and I ain’t got nothing to say. I come home in the morning, I go to bed feeling the same way.”

Fives was leading other troopers in pounding the surrounding tables in time with the drumbeats while Echo was leading another group to clap in time.

“I ain’t nothing but tired! Man, I’m just tired and bored with myself.” Tup flashed the camera a grin, reaching up and pulling his hair tie out, shaking his wild curls loose around his head. “Hey there baby, I could use just a little help.”

Jesse whistled, and Dogma had stopped cleaning and was watching his brother, the slightest smile pulling at his lips.

“You can’t start a fire, can’t start a fire without a spark. This gun’s for hire, even if we’re just dancing in the dark.”

Tup shook his hair out of his eyes, tossing his head back and jerking his hips.

“Messages keep getting clearer, radio’s on and I’m moving ‘round my place. I check my look in the mirror, wanna change my clothes, my hair, my face!”

He swayed his hips again, and Hardcase shoved the camera at Kix instead so he could join in the clapping.

“Man, I ain’t getting nowhere, I’m just living in a dump like this. There’s something happening somewhere, baby I just know that there is.”

He hopped off the table, instead taking Dogma’s hand and dragging him towards the makeshift stage.

“You can’t start a fire, you can’t start a fire without a spark. This gun’s for hire, even if we’re just dancing in the dark.”

He pushed the mop into Dogma’s hands instead, beaming at him as he scurried off the table, sprinting over to the radio and quickly changing the song.

Immediately, slow guitar started but quickly escalated into heavy drums and fast riffs. Dogma’s cheeks turned a darker shade, and he looked frantically to Tup, trying to climb back down off the stage.

“No, no, come on!” Fives shouted, trying to body block Dogma from getting down. “Come on, you got this!”

The lyrics began, and Dogma sang along, his mouth barely moving, voice almost imperceptible.

“Another head hangs lowly, child is slowly taken… and the violence caused such silence, who are we mistaken?”

“Come on!” Tup called to him. “You LOVE this song! Let ‘em hear it!”

Dogma grit his teeth, his voice gaining strength. “But you see, it’s not me, it’s not my family, in your head, in your head they are fighting.”

He stomped his foot on the table, practically snarling out the words. “With their tanks, and their bombs, and their bombs, and their guns, in your head, in your head they are crying.”

He threw his head back, and for not the first time that night, the radio was drowned out by cheers.

“In your head! In your head! Zombie, Zombie, Zombie. What’s in your head? In your head? Zombie, Zombie, Zombie!”

Dogma climbed off the table quickly, his ears and cheeks burning but a small smile was on his face, even as he was smothered by Hardcase, Fives, Tup, and Echo swarming him with hugs and rubbing his head affectionately.

Jesse climbed up onto the table next, picking up the discarded mop and clearing his throat.

“I would just like to dedicate this song to the gorgeous woman I picked up at 79s last week.” He drawled, nodding once to Kix, who was hovering knowingly by the radio. He nodded once to the helmet, which was now stationed on a nearby table, still recording. “Darling, you had the best pair of tits I have ever seen in my entire life, and you had the mouth of an angel and the coochie of a devil.”

Fives whistled, and Coric snickered. Rose rolled his eyes.

“So, babygirl, this one is for you.”

Kix turned on the radio, and Jesse grinned.

“Shot through the heart, and you’re to blame. Darling, you give love a bad name.”

Guitar rang out through the mess hall, and Jesse bit his lip, rolling his hips as he leaned slightly off the edge of the table.

“An angel’s smile is what you sell, you promised me heaven then put me through hell. Chains of love got a hold on me, when passion’s a prison, you can’t break free.”

He dropped into a crouch, singing directly into the camera.

“Whoa, you’re a loaded gun, whoa, there’s nowhere to run, no one can save me, the damage is done!”

He jumped to his feet, the table shaking under him as he landed.

“Shot through the heart, and you’re to blame. You give love a bad name. I play my part and you play your game, you give love a bad name!” He turned his back on the crowd, dropping low again and slowly rising, shaking his ass. “Yeah you give love…”

He looked over his shoulder, tossing the camera a wink. “…a bad name.”

The music changed abruptly, and for a moment Jesse looked pissed. “What the hell, ‘Case?”

But his expression shifted as Hardcase rushed to the table, pushing his brother out of the way and taking the mop from him. The crowd cheered all over again as Jesse climbed down, brothers slapping him on the shoulders as Hardcase’s song started up.

“We finish strong, right vode?” He asked cheekily.

“We still have to finish cleaning!” Dogma called back.

Hardcase only smirked in response, and sang quickly to keep up with the lightning fast lyrics.

“Backstroking lover always hiding ‘neath the cover, can I talk to you, my daddy say. He said, you ain’t seen nothing ‘til you’re down on a muff and then you’re sure to be a-changin’ your ways.”

He cupped his codpiece, bucking his hips forward into his own hand.

“I met a cheerleader, was a real young bleeder, all the times I can reminisce. ‘Cos the best things of lovin’ with her sister and her cousin only started with a little kiss, like this!”

He swung his arms wide, shaking his ass in time with the music and stuck his tongue out, having the time of his life.

“See-saw swingin’ with the boys in the school and your feet flyin’ up in the air. Singin’ hey diddle diddle with your kitty in the middle of the swing like you didn’t care.”

He walked backwards along the table, rolling his shoulders back as he moved.

“So I took a big chance at the high school dance with a missy who was ready to play. Wasn’t me she was foolin’ ‘cos she knew what she was doin’, and I know love is here to stay when she told me to walk this way!”

The rest of the 501st joined in with him, repeating the chorus of “Walk this way! Walk this way! Walk this way!” over and over again, Hardcase taking over again as the next verse began.

“School girl sweetie was the sassy kinda classy, little skirt’s climbing way up her knees. There was three young ladies in the school gym locker when I noticed they was lookin’ at me.”

He ran his hands along his thigh, mimicking raising a skirt.

“I was a high school loser, never made it with a lady ‘til the boys told me something I missed. Then my next-door neighbor with a daughter had a favor so I gave her just a little kiss, like this!”

“Do you think he has any idea what he’s singing about?” Kix asked Rose, leaning back against the counter and chuckling.

He watched as Hardcase went back to grabbing his own crotch, dry-humping the air and hummed.

“I’d say most likely.”

“See-saw swingin’ with the boys in the school and your feet flyin’ up in the air. Singin’ hey diddle diddle with your kitty in the middle of the swing like you didn’t care.”

Hardcase grinned, and to both Kix and Rose’s utter chagrin, Hardcase actually did dive off the makeshift stage and attempt to crowd surf.

“So I took a big chance at the high school dance with a missy who was ready to play. Wasn’t me she was foolin’ ‘cos she knew what she was doin’, and I know love is here to stay when she told me to walk this way!”

“I’m not patching you up!” Kix shouted over the roar of the music. Rose chuckled, turning the volume nod down as the rest of the 501st shouted in protest.

“Alright, that’s enough for now.” The Lieutenant said, taking control once more. “We can listen to it quietly in the background, but we really do need to wrap up cleaning.”

“Why? Got a date tonight?” Jesse asked with a raised eyebrow. Rose punched him lightly in the arm, and they got back to work once again.

They worked in relative silence, the occasional voice humming or singing along to the music, but they remained productive right up until one of the final songs Rose had downloaded cut through the speaker. The piano wasn’t as rich-sounding as it was through a regular speaker, but even through the tinny cadence of the beat-up radio, every single trooper in the canteen bolted upright, eyebrows raised. Rose smiled knowingly, and turned up the volume once again.

Fives beamed, sitting down on top of one of the tables and laying back, one leg bent and the other stretched flat, a hand behind his head as he sang up at the ceiling.

“Just a small-town girl, living in a lonely world. She took the midnight train going anywhere.”

Jesse leaned back against the wall on the other side of the canteen, closing his eyes as he joined in.

“Just a city boy, born and raised in south Detroit. He took the midnight train going anywhere.”

Echo kept mopping, but was grinning as he picked up the next line. “A singer in a smoky room, the smell of wine and cheap perfume.”

Kix grinned. “For a smile, they can share the night, it goes on, and on, and on, and on.”

The rest of the 501st joined in together, their voices carrying in perfect harmony.

“Strangers, waiting. Up and down the boulevard, their shadows searching in the night. Streetlight people, living just to find emotion, hiding somewhere in the -.”

“Night!” Hardcase shouted, straining every muscle in his chest and neck as he struggled to reach the high note.

Tup picked up the next verse, climbing onto one of the tables and dragging Dogma up with him once again.

“Working hard to get my fill, everybody wants the thrill. Paying anything to roll the dice just one more time.”

Dogma smiled, nodding his head along to the music. “Some will win, some will lose.”

Tup threw his arm around his brother, and the two of them sang together. “Some were born to sing the blues!”

Rose’s voice carried from over by the radio. “Oh the movie never ends, it goes on and on, and on and on!”

“Strangers waiting, up and down the boulevard, their shadows searching in the night. Streetlight people, living just to find emotion, hiding somewhere in the -.”

“NIGHT!” This time, it was Dogma, of all people, who rang out with the high note, and the explosion of shouts and cheers was deafening. They were screaming along to the lyrics, dancing and jumping and shouting and swaying in time with the song.

“Don’t stop believin’! Hold on to that feeling. Streetlight people! Don’t stop believin’, hold on-”

“WHAT IS GOING ON IN HERE?!”

The booming voice was so powerful, it could be heard even over the shouts of all the clones. Echo was closest to the radio, and quickly shut it off as the song and dance stopped immediately, every clone scrambling to stand at attention.

The Jedi that filled the doorway was massive, an imposing shadow in the entrance to the canteen. He zeroed in on Tup and Dogma, who had been standing closest to the entrance, and stormed towards them.

“Who is your commanding officer?!”

“Me, sir.”

The Besalisk Jedi turned, spinning on Rose immediately. He stalked over to the Lieutenant, jabbing a meaty finger into his chest, hard enough to send him stumbling backwards.

“What is the meaning of this?” He snarled.

“Sir, we were assigned cleaning detail.” He explained. “We were just finishing up.”

The Jedi bared his teeth. “Doesn’t look like much cleaning was taking place to me.”

He surveyed the rest of the troopers, but turned his head back to Rose.

“What is your designation?”

“CT-7673.” Rose recited immediately, keeping his back ramrod straight at attention, even though the Jedi was deep in his personal space. He knew this man. General Krell had quite the reputation through the GAR, and Rose had no clue what he was doing outside of the Jedi Temple this late at night.

“Who is your commanding officer?”

“Captain Rex, sir.”

“Not a clone! Is there a malfunction in your design?!” The Jedi bellowed. A few feet behind him, Hardcase flinched at the sudden loud sound, but Rose held still. “Your general, CT-7673! Who is your Commanding Officer!?”

“General Skywalker, sir.” Rose said instead. The canteen was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.

He turned his head, noticing the little radio on the table and picked it up, the device small in his massive hands, raising an eyebrow at Rose. “Contraband, disturbance of the peace, behavior unbecoming of an officer, insubordination.” He hissed. “That’s plenty of grounds for a court martial, Lieutenant.”

“Sir.” Fives spoke up, taking a step towards them. “Proper chain of command designates General Skywalker as the one to hand down a court martial order, sir.”

He narrowed his eyes, his voice dripping with contempt. “With all due respect, sir, you do not command this battalion, and cannot order a court martial on the Lieutenant.”

“Fives.” Rose snapped, whipping his head around to face Fives. “Stand down. Now.”

The ARC Trooper shrank back, his hands curled into fists at his sides, and the General turned back to Rose.

“Be that as it may,” he began icily. “You can rest assured this breach of conduct will not go unreported.”

“Yes sir.” Rose replied stiffly.

General Krell pulled back at last, surveying the battalion. “I want this canteen spotless, and not a word out of you in the meantime!” He ordered. “And I don’t think you’ll be needing this anymore.”

With one quick motion, he smashed the radio in his hands. Rose heard a soft, hurt sound somewhere behind him, but ignored it. He didn’t look away from the General.

“Dismissed.” Krell growled, turning and stalking towards the doors. “And as for you,” He turned, jabbing one large finger at Fives. “I’ll be mentioning you in my report as well. Pray our paths do not cross again, clone.”

And with those words, he left the canteen.

Rose relaxed, but only minimally so. The silence hung heavy over the 501st, and everyone quietly shuffled back to work.

Rose gripped the mop handle tightly as he worked, his knuckles turning white. His chest burned, a tight, constricting feeling wrapped around his insides. It was a feeling he’d never felt before – anger, sadness, humiliation, resignation – all rolled into one hateful ball, coiled in his gut.

“Finished with the kitchen, sir.” Came Tup’s small voice. He’d put his hair back up, the tight bun back to regulation standards. Dogma was standing stiff beside him, still not entirely relaxed yet. “And the um – the canteen area’s just about wrapped up as well.”

“Very good.” Rose said with a small nod. “I’ll report back to Captain Rex, let him know we’ve finished for the night.”

“Sorry about your radio, sir.” Hardcase murmured, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s alright, ‘Case.” Rose smiled, but his eyes were sad. “It was – it was old, anyway. Just a silly thing.”

Fives bristled, his jaw setting as he tossed the bucket he’d been holding back into the supply closet with far more force than necessary.

“We aren’t supposed to leave base for the rest of the night, right?” Denal asked, arms folded across his chest as they finished the last of the cleanup. “Guess we could play Sabacc or something back in the barracks?”

There were a few murmured agreements, and the 501st shuffled back towards the barracks. Rose was still thinking about the General, and had a bitter taste in his mouth. They hadn’t been doing anything wrong, really.

Was it such a crime to enjoy oneself? To simply exist?

Fives and Echo fell into step on either side of Rose, the ARC Troopers bracketing their Lieutenant. “I bet Echo and I could rebuild the radio.” Fives offered. “Might take a little bit, but even if we can’t, Kix is real good at bartering stuff down in the markets. Remember when he got us those HoloDisc movies for just a tube of bacta?”

“We could find another radio for you?” Echo suggested hopefully. “Or maybe,” he lowered his voice slightly. “Maybe Y/N could find you one?”

“Let it go.” Rose said, picking up the pace and pulling away from the ARC Troopers. They reentered the now far tidier barracks, and Rose gravitated back to his footlocker, starting to close it up and push it back under his bed. The metal clacked slightly against the edge of the bunk, and he paused, the tinny sound echoing in his ears.

He knocked the footlocker against the bunk again, listening to the little noise again.

Kark it. He was more than just a mindless flesh-droid. He was a person. A human being. And he liked music.

And he wasn’t about to let anybody take that away from him.

“I never got to do a song.” He announced, straightening up and putting his hands on his hips.

“You can’t be serious, sir.” Dogma said, shaking his head at him. “Haven’t we gotten in enough trouble?”

“I’m sure the General’s slithered back to the Temple by now, where he belongs.” Jesse replied, turning back to the Lieutenant. “We don’t have a radio anymore, sir.”

“We don’t need one.” Rose said, pulling his footlocker back out and propping up one leg on it. He tapped his foot against the metal, the rhythm settling, nodding his head along. He took a deep breath.

“Standing in the rain, with his head hung low. Couldn't get a ticket, it was a sold out show.”

Fives recognized the song, and started tapping his foot along, drumming his hands on an overturned weapons crate.

“Heard the roar of the crowd, he could picture the scene. Put his ear to the wall, then like a distant scream.” Rose climbed up onto the table. “He heard one guitar!”

Jesse slammed a bucket from earlier down against the supports of a bunk, the loud clang mimicking the strum of a guitar.

“Just blew him away. He saw stars in his eyes, and the very next day, bought a beat up six string in a secondhand store. Didn’t know how to play it, but he knew for sure, that one guitar!”

Another clang, this time from Kix repeating Jesse’s motion, and Echo, Denal, Coric and Fives were all drumming on overturned buckets and crates.

“Felt good in his hands! Didn’t take long to understand, just one guitar, slung way down low, was a one way ticket, only one way to go.”

Tup and Hardcase had picked up a brush – typically used for scrubbing their blasters and armor down – and were knocking it against the durasteel wall. Dogma had rounded up the others, a look of sheer determination on his face as they clamored around the bunks and tables, smacking their fists in rhythm with anything they could get their hands on.

“So he started rockin', ain't never gonna stop. Gotta keep on rockin', someday gonna make it to the top!”

Rose stomped his feet, and the rest of the 501st joined him for the chorus.

“And be a juke box hero, got stars in his eyes. He's a juke box hero!”

“He took one guitar,” Rose sang, while the rest of the battalion echoed “juke box hero, stars in his eyes” around him. “Juke box hero, he’ll come alive tonight.”

The singing quieted down, listening for a moment to see if anyone was coming, and Rose grinned, starting again and pitching his voice low.

“In a town without a name, in a heavy downpour, thought he passed his own shadow, by the backstage door.”

The clones took position, preparing to resume their makeshift instruments as Rose picked up in volume.

“Like a trip through the past, to that day in the rain. And that one guitar, made his whole life change! Now he needs to keep on rockin', he just can't stop! Gotta keep on rockin', that boy has got to stay on top!”

Once again, shouts rang out as his brothers joined him for the chorus, their voices louder and more determined than ever, refusing to be silenced.

“And be a juke box hero, got stars in his eyes. He's a juke box hero, got stars in his eyes. Yeah, juke box hero, stars in his eyes. With that one guitar, he'll come alive, come alive tonight.”

As they finished the song, Rose panted softly, glancing down at his commlink again. He decided he was going to go off base after all. He wanted to see you, and nobody, not his Captain’s orders, and definitely not some karking General like Krell, was going to stop him.

“Dismissed.” He said curtly, and took off out the door without another word.

~

SONGS USED (because they’re all bangers and you should listen to them): 

The 501st (introduction): Hotel California Echo: Hooked on a Feeling  Fives: Kickstart My Heart Kix: Sharp Dressed Man Jesse: You Give Love a Bad Name Coric and Denal: Come Sail Away Dogma: Zombie Tup: Dancing in the Dark Hardcase: Walk This Way The 212th and 501st: I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) The 501st (Canteen finale): Don’t Stop Believin’ Rose and the 501st: Juke Box Hero

TAG LIST (Aka everyone on the tag list for BAON):  @fat-zygerrian @ladydiomede @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @threevie @cheesemachine44 @bubblyacey @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @loverofclones @starwarsgarbage @hockeyjedi13 @crazygirlwithasword @dar-manda-rjct @gotomarvelgal @baba-fett @whore4rex @bubblegumcat229 @generalcannoli @hellothere501stlover @in-the-crosshairs @vaderthepotater @for-the-love-of-clones @babyhowzer @imrealatedtothe501st @chewychewyque @bobafettuccini @baba-fett-writes @chromia7567 @coffeeandtodd @thedomesticatednerd @kirinpl @djarrex @a-c-lee @embarrassedauthornerd @kaorikoizumi @the-girl-of-rain-and-shadows @sammi9498 @theroguesully @salaminus

[ravs6709]

An X-Ray Ain't Needed To See Within- Dex Study (ish), Minor Fedex

Word count: 7.9k words

Ao3 link here.

Aaaaaaaand here I am, nearly a whole month late, but my kotlc secret santa gift from @song-tam 's exchange is finally done!

@an-ungraceful-swan I'm your secret santa!!! So sorry for being as late as I am (the shit going on in my personal life was unreal) but I hope this near 8k fic will make up for the wait!

Because I was told to just "surprise you", I let the brain pick out a concept and spun it around in my head until this fic was made

That is, I took the vague premise of a fic from a different fandom -> the idea that every person is to be entrusted with taking care of someone else's heart—quite literally. Other than that, it's basically a canon rewrite of books 1-4 (ish, not all through 4) from dex pov with minor (pre-relationship) fedex

Warnings: depiction of the kidnapping/torture scene from book 1, bug stab Fitz scene from book 4, descriptions of heart anatomy (not too graphic but still fair warning), brief mention of vomit

Hope you enjoy!

•~•~•~•~•~•

"What's that?" A young Dex asked his mom. He'd barged into his parents' room without warning them, and saw Juline holding a heart in her hands, singing softly while Kesler held her hand with one hand, holding a different heart in the other.

"They're hearts," Juline said, but Dex knew that much.

"Why?" There were a whole slew of questions, like why the hearts were beating despite not being connected to a body, or why they were coloured in different shades of blue and green and yellow even though they should have been red, or where they even got a heart from. Dex was just barely older than a toddler, and while elves were born with some understanding of the world around them from birth, he’d never seen this before.

Kesler and Juline shared a look, and Dex didn't like that his mom was starting to frown. Was this supposed to be a secret?

"I don't want him to know everything yet," Juline said.

"He'll have to know eventually," Kesler said, "and it's not that bad."

Juline raised an eyebrow. "Tell me you weren't terrified when you first held a heart in your hand. I know I was."

"Fine, yes, but we'll help him adjust. The risk is minimal, very few have--"

"But she was one of them. Kesler, please," Juline said, her voice quiet, "We'll wait until he's older, okay? He’ll already have enough on his plate as is."

Kesler closed his eyes and took a breath, then squeezed her hand. "Sorry, I didn't think of her--okay. We’ll wait."

"Wait until I'm old enough for what?" Dex asked.

His parents both startled, turning to look at him, as if they'd forgotten he was right there.

Juline hummed, letting go of Kesler's hand so that she could trace gentle lines across Dex's face. "I'll tell you a little bit, but I won't tell you the rest until you're older, okay? Once it’s relevant to you."

"How much older?"

"Three years," Kesler answered.

For Dex, that sounded like a really long time. But as young as he knew he was, he was old enough to be able to tell when there were certain topics that made his parents upset. Abilities were one of them. Discussing the triplets with the other elves was another. He didn't know all the details, but he knew that the other elves didn't like his parents and they thought his siblings were wrong, and he knew they didn't like talking about those things in front of him.

Dex nodded. "Okay."

Juline held the heart out to him. "When you grow older, you'll have a heart to take care of."

The heart in her hand was a myriad of colours, it reminded him of Slurps and Burps with all the random splotches of colours all over it.

"Does it bleed?" Dex asked.

Juline smiled at him. "No, it doesn't. Do you want to touch it?"

He nodded, curious. When she held the heart out to him, he gently traced a finger along an artery. It was warm. It really was beating, and he didn’t imagine it. 

“It represents the heart of another elf."

"Another elf?"

"It represents your dad's heart. It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"Dad's heart?" Dex looked at Kesler, who had a fond look on his face. He was cradling a heart of his own in his hands, this one lacked the same colourful whimsy, but the various shades of blue with hints of colour had Dex thinking that it suited his mother. He opened his mouth to ask if elves always married the person who held their heart, then realized that was a stupid question because the elves didn't like his parents' marriage.

"Will I get a heart to hold too?" Dex asked.

"Yeah. You will."

•~•~•~•~•~•

What Dex assumed to be "several years later," Dex woke up and found a teal heart on the nightstand beside his bed. Blue-green, with hints of navy and gold that seemed to trace along where the blood would have flowed had the heart been in an actual body.

He'd had full intention of just lazing in bed for the entire morning, but he knew he had to tell his parents. He took the heart in his hands, beating softly, a rhythm unfamiliar to him. He walked to his parents room--they were already awake, Kesler preparing for work, while Juline was gently carrying her husband’s heart.

"Dex?" Kesler asked, "what's up--oh."

"It's about time he received his heart to hold," Juline said. "Dex, come sit down on the bed."

He sat down. Despite how he'd seen them direct plenty of fond looks towards their own hearts, neither of them seemed particularly excited to talk about his heart.

"To have a heart means to take care of it. But there's more to it than that, isn't there?" Dex asked.

"Let me be blunt with you," Juline said. She looked pained, her turquoise eyes slightly dull. "You must take care of your heart. If you do not take care of it well, the person who that heart belongs to will die."

To the average elf, it would probably have an initial shock. Elves lived forever, as far as they all knew. Elvin deaths were rare, a few wanderlings planted, but still, only a few.

To Dex, he himself had never witnessed a death. He had never known, never had been in this world long enough to know, but still, he knew, he knew that his family was haunted by a death from before he was born, and that because of it, he rarely ever got to see his aunt and uncle because they isolated themselves from everyone else. He'd never be able to grow up knowing her.

"Did cousin Jolie's heart..?"

"Her body was in a condition where she could have lived," Juline said, looking away. "But her heart–her heart had been burnt too much in the fire."

"Oh," he said, because what else could he say?

"To take care of that heart, you must keep it physically safe. But not just that, you also need to keep it emotionally safe too. An emotional or mental issue can be just as severe as a physical one."

"So I'll need to keep it around me often," Dex understood.

Kesler nodded, reaching out to ruffle his hair. "It'll be fine. Elf hearts aren't too fragile, so don't stress too much, okay?" Then looked down at his heart that was Juline's, the blues looking slightly pale. "You'll be able to recognize signs beforehand." He traced along an artery, and Dex watched as his mother closed her eyes, the tension releasing from her shoulders. Vibrancy flowed through like blood, painting it. "I know you'll take care of it well."

•~•~•~•~•~•

On occasion, Dex noticed how the heart would react differently. It wasn't at any regular occurrence, though it always seemed to last a few hours at a time. When that happened, he held the heart closer, turning it over in his palm. It tended to have a slow, steady pulse; the beat of a drum, the tick of a clock. Slow, steady, controlled, but during the odd moments the heartbeat would grow faster and weaker, like panic seeping into his bloodstream sometimes, when it made his skin all clammy and pale. It was the gold of the heart that would fade first, then the navy, though the teal always seemed to stay intact. At least though, the heart didn't get clammy like his hands would. No gross sweat or blood, just a beating heart.

He wasn't sure why, but sometimes he got the feeling that the elf the heart belonged to was kind of lonely. He'd seen Kesler's heart, bright and vibrant. Even Juline's had its own sort of uniqueness to it. The heart he held was beautiful, a piece of art, but distant. A painting that was not allowed to be touched after having been made.

Dex wondered how old the other elf was. The heart in his hands was smaller compared to his Kesler's or Juline's, so maybe it was possible that they were around Dex's age? He'd hope so. He'd be starting Foxfire at some point, it'd be nice if he had a friend there. One that wouldn't mind Dex being the son of a bad match, one who wouldn't be too judgmental.

•~•~•~•~•~•

When Dex started Foxfire, he had high hopes. Hopes that were quickly crushed. As he walked in the hallways, he could sense gazes following his path. No table ever wanted to let him sit there, so he tried finding random corners in the hallways to eat by himself, until one of his mentors noticed and took pity on him, allowing him to eat in that classroom. There was Stina, who openly insulted his family, so he got his revenge only for the situation between them to escalate.

And then there was Fitz Vacker. His first meeting with Fitz wasn't special, he happened to be with his dad and sister as customers for Slurps and Burps, and just like all the stuffy nobles, both him and Biana Vacker cringed at the sight of his family's apothecary. Maybe he wouldn't even have remembered him if he wasn't a Vacker. There were tons of people who shopped at the apothecary only to never acknowledge him in Foxfire. But then he saw Fitz again. And again. And again. In the hallway on his way to class. In the cafeteria as they waited in line to get the same food. The winner of the splotching tournament--had been, for years, if the screaming was to be believed.

Fitz was everywhere, popular, so many of the girls had a crush on him. He heard non-stop mooning about whether the heart they held would belong to him. Top marks, perfect looks. Dex was sick of it. Fitz wasn't special.

It made him almost want to hate the heart that he held, that teal heart that matched his eyes. He scoffed at the thought that the person whose heart he held was Fitz, or even Biana. Yet it was still a beating heart, his to nurture, and no matter how much the colour irritated him. Somewhere out there, there was someone who was relying on him. The thought alone pushed him forward.

•~•~•~•~•~•

During his next year at Foxfire, a new elf named Sophie Foster came out of nowhere. She lived with Aunt Edaline and Uncle Grady, she was an elf that once lived with humans. If that weren't cool enough, she didn't seem to care about his family and their status. Yeah, sure, it was because she didn't really know anything, period, but she still took the information in stride and chose to be friends with him.

And she was kind of cute. And smart, and totally fun--she'd gotten on Stina's bad side and destroyed Lady Galvin's cape. And...

And of course she liked Fitz. Because of course she did. Why wouldn't she? The perfect guy.

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Is that a--is that a heart?" Sophie asked.

They were taking a break in between one of Sophie's alchemy tutoring sessions, and Dex had grabbed his heart to unwind.

"Yeah? Why do you sound surprised? Don't you have one of your own?"

"No???"

Huh. That was weird. "Wonderboy didn't mention it to you or anything?"

"No??? Is this a normal elf thing?"

"Each elf gets a heart to take care of, it represents the heart of another elf. It's important, because breaking the heart means killing the elf."

"Oh. Am I exempt from this, because I don't remember a heart? Or did I accidentally kill an elf?"

"You're probably fine. While the elf who holds your heart isn't the only elf who can take care of your heart," he began, "the fact that you haven't died yourself says something. Besides, elvin deaths are super rare, remember? I can't remember the last time there was a Wanderling--Wylie Endal's mother, maybe?"

There had been a change in her facial expression, but Dex decided not to press. The Council actually explored that, ensuring there was no risk of attachment. Besides, the elf that Jolie loved--Brant, if Dex recalled his name correctly--was still alive as he proceeded to take care of his own scarred heart. That's what his mom had told him when he'd asked.

"Huh," Sophie said. "Well, whoever's heart I was supposed to take care of, I hope they're doing well."

"Yeah," Dex murmured, "me too."

•~•~•~•~•~•

Sophie started hanging out with Fitz and Biana, much to his annoyance. Like, going to his house on a constant basis hanging out. She even had him promise to keep the Wonderboy bashing to a minimum.

(But she also considered him her best friend, so he supposed he could take it as a win.)

•~•~•~•~•~•

Sophie. A Vacker. Or, potentially a Vacker. Grady and Edaline had cancelled her adoption, and she could be adopted by the Vackers. Siblings with Fitz and Biana? Gross.

Maybe he was too harsh on Sophie when he'd told her not to trust them. But she didn't understand—they didn't look at people below them and view them as equals. And it was proven as such, when Stina, of all people, exposed Biana for only having befriended Sophie because her dad told her to.

I told you so, he wanted to tell her so badly, but they were in Study Hall. Do you see what they're truly like—

"Dex?" A voice called out, and he nearly jolted as he realized that Fitz was talking to him. Ugh.

"What?" he asked, the acid in his voice so strong even Fitz flinched as if he’d been burned.

"You need to be with her."

"You two are the ones who caused this mess—"

"She won't talk to us. She needs you."

Dex almost started screaming at him for cutting him off, but the words made him freeze. He paused, took a deep breath. "Am I supposed to put in a good word for you? Newsflash, Wonderboy, I'm not doing that."

Fitz sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Just be there. I don't-- I don't want her to be alone."

And that got Dex standing up, immediately grabbing his stuff. Damn it, leave it to Wonderboy to get him to realize that Sophie's comfort meant more than his own petty sense of righteousness.

When he made it to the cave at Havenfield, something felt off. He took a few tentative steps forward. Another few steps, and a voice that sounded like Sophie's rang out in his head, telling him to run. Before he could even think, someone grabbed him from behind, shoving a cloth over his mouth.

No, he thought. Sophie. He fought against his captor and...

•~•~•~•~•~•

He woke up, restrained. Everything was dark and he could barely breathe and it was burning it was burning—

In the off moments where he was awake and not burning until he fell unconscious again, he would barely be able to muster worried thoughts. His parents, how were they doing? The triplets.

Sophie. Sophie, who must be somewhere close and was also in the same situation and she was being tortured too. His heart. The one he normally held wasn't with him since he kept it at his house when he attended Foxfire, but what about the elf who held his heart? Did the elf care?

He fought against his restraints, managed to break free of them.

He'd barely made it two steps before a voice said, "One more step, and the girl dies."

"We should just kill him anyway," another voice said. "He's useless to us. A hindrance."

Dex sank back onto the chair, feeling absolutely useless for not being able to do anything.

•~•~•~•~•~•

When he woke up, he was in some unfamiliar area with Sophie, no kidnappers in sight. Turned out that they were in the Forbidden Cities. But that was fine, they were safe. Well, for now. Apparently there were a lot of secrets that Sophie had kept hidden from everyone. A telepath.

He'd also at some point manifested as a technopath. Huh. He was relieved that he had an ability, but ugh, did it have to be technopathy? It wasn't nearly as cool as telepathy.

The kidnappers had come again, one of them wielding a fucking melder, and as he was shot by it once, twice, and he was incapacitated on the floor, he could vaguely see Sophie trembling in rage as they all fell over. He couldn’t move, talk, or even see, but he knew when Sophie had picked him up to leap despite them being too injured and—

•~•~•~•~•~•

When Dex woke up again, he was laying in a bed. He had half a mind to just sink into the soft comfort of the bed, but as he woke up, all his senses awakened: the burns on his skin, the sting from the melder.

"Sophie," he gasped.

"Hey, relax," a voice said, and Dex opened his eyes to see Keefe staring at him. "You can't get out of bed yet."

"But Sophie--"

"Foster's alive," Keefe said, "she's alive, and Elwin's going to see her before he comes to see you."

Dex tried to pull himself into a sitting position, but it hurt too much, and Keefe had to help him out. "Is she okay?"

Dex watched as Keefe paused. His eyes closed, as he took a deep breath. He turned away, then back at him, and Dex had a feeling that he wasn't going to like what his answer was going to be. As if delaying to increase the weight of impact, turning to the desk next to him and picking up a heart.

"This is the heart I hold, it belongs to Foster," Keefe said. "I realized it when... well. You'll see."

Dex sucked in a breath. The heart, brown and gold and red looked so frail in his hands, just barely beating. The entire left side was nearly transparent, from ventricle all the way up to the aorta. He could actually see the red flow of blood, slow but not steady.

"The light leap," he realized. He remembered being carried, remembered being leaped. All of him was intact, not a single cell faded away, and he wasn't conscious enough to provide his own concentration to leap them. Sophie she-- she put everything into him.

"Foster's alive," Keefe repeated, "and Elwin's going to see her."

Dex stared at the heart that Keefe had, desperately hoping that she'd be okay. Looked at every heartbeat, to see if each pulse would become slower paced. So when the heart was still faded and Elwin had walked into this room, he was worried.

"Sophie's sedated, and I can't lie and say that she's okay right now," he explained before Dex could start rapid-fire asking questions, "but I can't do much else for now without waiting to see if what I've done for now will let her heal. So for now, I'll work with you."

Dex had been to Elwin once or twice for minor incidents at Foxfire for his elementalism class, and while getting healed wasn't bad, it wasn't really something he liked per se. However, there was no trace of discomfort as he could only focus on Sophie. His eyes couldn't leave the half-faded heart.

Elwin's gaze followed his own. "That's... a weird heart. Sophie's, I'm guessing?"

Dex nodded.

"That's probably good to keep close, given Sophie's already high attendance at the Healing Centre."

Elwin had said it as a joke, but neither him, Dex, nor Keefe felt like laughing.

"Are you going to tell her about the heart?" Dex asked.

Keefe paused, surprisingly hesitant considering what he knew of him. "You two are close, have you seen the heart she has yet? Would you say it reflects me well?"

"Sophie doesn't have one with her," Dex said. "She's got no memory of ever seeing a heart like that."

Though, now knowing what he knew, Dex guessed that the Black Swan probably had her heart? Since no human would be so accepting of a living, beating heart.

Keefe blinked. "Oh. Then... I guess I won't tell her yet. Don't tell anyone else either? At least-- not until she gets her own." He looked back up at Elwin, and Dex had forgotten that he was even there. Elwin nodded.

After the worst of Dex's injuries were healed, Keefe and Elwin left to go see Sophie, while he was ordered to rest for a bit. He knew that sleep wouldn't come easy, but the stress of everything had kicked in and eventually he was knocked out. At some point, the door had opened, quiet but enough to rouse him into consciousness. He was too tired to open his eyes. Footsteps approached the bed, close, stopping a few steps away. There was the sound of a heart beating, maybe. He could feel his own heart in his chest beating in time to the sound.

"It’s you..." A whisper sounded out. Quiet, low, familiar.

He wanted to open his eyes and see who was there, to see if it was who he thought it was (not that it made any sense at all for him to be here), but it was nice and warm in bed, his heart feeling warmer than ever as he drifted back to sleep.

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Dex!" Bex called, running up to him and hugging him. His two brothers joined the call, all of them shoving to hold him close. Dex wrapped his arms around them.

His parents stood slightly off to the side, their skin paler than he remembered. Both of their hair was messy, and he could see as they clung to each other's hands.

"Don't leave us ever again," Rex cried, smearing his tears on his shirt. Neither of the other two triplets made fun of him for crying as they both fought back their own tears.

Dex could only nod, his throat too choked up to speak. He could only hope that would be true.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Weeks passed, and slowly, Sophie recovered from having almost fading away. He'd spent his fair share of the time alternating between hanging near Keefe to stare at Sophie's heart, and taking care of the heart that he had.

His own heart... during the kidnapping, what had it looked like? Did it mirror his state too? Had there been burns all over it? He could vaguely picture someone cradling it, oh so confused as to what was going on. Did they panic? He supposed that no one had been able to connect the timing of it all back to his disappearance, given that nobody came in rushing to tell him.

Then again, who would have wanted to admit that they held Dex Dizznee's heart?

•~•~•~•~•~•

For the next few weeks, everything went back to normal. Sort of. He visited Sophie to help her with the animals at Havenfield, helped his dad at the store, sat in his room and tinkered with gadgets—this time using his ability.

He'd tried working on a variety of inventions, his major priority having been a device that would somewhat replicate telepathy.

He also had a side project, he wondered if it was possible to be able to know the heartbeats when he was not with the heart.

His parents were concerned, rightfully, but they were getting way too on his case. Between them and looking after his siblings, he felt suffocated.

But other than that, things were back to normal-ish (if he ignored the nightmares and the constant dread he felt).

...until Sophie found an alicorn, then suddenly she had a whole bunch of secrets she couldn't tell him, and she was so busy that he could barely even see her. Both Fitz and Biana weren't coming to Foxfire.

The heart he had, it was doing something weird, and it had him panicking. It was slightly swollen, the arteries and veins bulging a faint red, not unlike the way the veins in his hands would when he clenched his fists trying to hold back his anger at the triplets for breaking yet another thing of his. But that kind of anger was situational, just a brief moment. Maybe at worst, lasting a day, if he was having a really bad day.

The heart represented an elf's physical and mental state. He didn't know much about how hearts worked physically, but Dex had the feeling that the problem with the other elf wasn't physical. Obviously though, everyone would go through a variety of feelings, and not every feeling could be reflected from moment to moment.

So the problem was clearly mental, and it was clearly huge. The weird bulging persisted for one, two, three, more days.

"So, just the three of us?" Marella asked during lunch. "Again?"

Sophie and Keefe had ended up in detention, so the group at the lunch table was the smallest it'd been in a while.

"Something's clearly up," Dex said.

Marella rolled her eyes. "Obviously. The Vackers not being here is proof of that."

The group fell into an awkward silence, and not even Jensi's generally uplifting demeanor could ease it.

"The heart I have has been acting weird," Dex said suddenly.

Matters of the heart were generally kept private, but he didn't want to keep it to himself, and he didn't really want to tell his parents yet, even though they'd probably have some kind of solution.

"Weird how?" Jensi asked.

"It's getting all bulge-y, it's kinda gross."

"Mine's been paler than normal lately," Marella said. "Not quite shrinking in on itself, but curling weirdly. It almost feels like it wants to hide away. Been like that for a few days now."

Nobody said anything else after that, and they went back to eating their lunches in silence.

•~•~•~•~•~•

The whole elf heart scare had him working harder on his invention. He couldn't keep the heart on him at all times, it was too fragile to do so. But he needed to know. Needed to know if the heart would burst.

When it was revealed that Alden's mind had broken, when his wanderling had been planted and he'd learned that Fitz was blaming Sophie, he almost thought that it'd be another thing for Dex to hate Fitz for.

He thought back to the heart, ready to burst, and Fitz's explosive anger. This much... this much he didn't think he could hate Fitz for, even if he was being an ass. He thought of his parents trying to keep him in his house, the triplets telling him what they'd been like while he'd been proclaimed dead.

Fitz's own manifestation was a stranger to him in the sense that Dex had never been in that state before, but understandable nonetheless. If he didn't dislike Fitz, if they'd became friends, maybe Dex would comfort him.

But Dex did dislike him, and they weren't friends, and so Dex turned all his attention towards the heart. It was the only thing he could really do, while Sophie had her own things to do and Keefe was helping her.

Nothing he did seemed to work, but whether the other elf had gotten over it or if circumstances had changed, the swelling had eventually gone down and the heart looked normal again. The beats were slightly unsteady, but the heart didn't look like it was ready to burst.

(He tried to not think about the timing of it all.)

•~•~•~•~•~•

Someone decided to be a snitch and tell Dame Alina that he'd manifested as a technopath. Ugh. He blew up on Sophie a bit, and then learned from Dame Alina that the Council had told her.

The Council.

The Council? They cared about his ability? Enough to have his mentor be Lady Iskra? The most famous technology who invented like... everything cool.  Sure, his ability wouldn't do much, but he got to work with Lady Iskra.

•~•~•~•~•~•

He finished the heart monitor, and then began to work on a panic switch for Sophie, because the kidnappers would come again. He knew it. He made them both into rings, and he gave Sophie the panic switch ring. And yeah, he knew that a ring wasn't the greatest, but it was the best option he had.

He could see it on her face though, that she wanted nothing to do with it. Half of Foxfire were talking about their matching rings, but that wasn't the point. The point was that Sophie needed other ways to be able to reach out. Not just to Fitz via telepathy, but also to him.

Because he was important too. She was his best friend. He was her best friend, as she'd called him. But lately, he didn't feel like that was the case.

•~•~•~•~•~•

His next invention was an ability enhancer. Sophie was going to heal Fintan, which was definitely going to be dangerous, and she needed to be able to have every card in her favour. An Ancient's mind wouldn't be easy to penetrate.

But when he told her about his invention, she didn't want it. She didn't seem to trust him. But she trusted Fitz, enough to let him past her blocking apparently. Because they had a "connection."

What about her connection with him? Did they not matter?

"Seriously?" Fitz asked, staring at the circlet. He couldn't for the life of him tell if that was curiosity or disgust, but when Keefe grabbed it out of his hands, he forgot all about that.

Dame Alina told him to put it away and for them to all be quiet, and he was hurt that Sophie didn't even consider using it.

I think... A voice said in his head, and he jolted when he realized it was Wonderboy. I think it's cool, but it's too risky.

Seriously?

This entire task is risky, he thought, carefully trying to not think of anything too awful.

I know. But that's exactly why we can't use it yet.

Was that Fitz's way of comforting him, or what?

We can't rely on technology to replace telepathy in this situation.

Wonderboy, get out of my head, he thought bitterly, turning his gaze down to his notebook as reread all his notes on the circlet.

...surprisingly, Fitz left without another word.

What was even the point of that? He didn't understand, he would never understand. What would someone as privileged as him know what Dex was feeling, to be able to even attempt comforting him?

•~•~•~•~•~•

As the healing proceeded and Dex was just stuck at home, he couldn't just sit and rest. His siblings were running around screaming as though everything were normal, but everything was not normal.

He alternated between holding the heart, fidgeting with the ability enhancer and looking at his panic switch. When the heart started beating fast, somehow Dex knew that something was wrong. And even though he knew he wasn't capable of helping at all, he rushed out to see his parents—

—only to find his dad just as distressed as he was.

"Dad, what's wrong?" He asked, trying to swallow his panic.

Kesler only said one word, but that was enough: "Everblaze."

He started rushing out, grabbing all his alchemy supplies and Dex followed after him.

"No," Kesler grabbed his shoulders, and Dex froze. "You can't come."

No no no absolutely not. "You'll need every alchemist."

"I said you can't come, Dex. And that's final."

They're in danger, he wanted to say, and he had no idea if he was talking about Sophie and the others, or the elf whose heart he held.

When Kesler left, Dex didn't even take off his shoes. He kept staring at his ring, wondering if Sophie would call for him.

...of course, she didn't.

The next few hours passed by in a blur, even though he was just holed up in his room. He kept himself busy, and was surprised when his dad came back, Councilor Terik accompanying him. What was a Councilor doing in his house--his room? It was even weirder when Kesler nodded at him and left the two of them alone.

"Dex Dizznee, the technopath. I see you've got quite the workstation here."

Dex bowed, flushing at his words. Was that supposed to be a compliment? An insult?

"Dame Alina mentioned that you were working on an ability enhancer?"

"Y–yeah. I am. It's untested, and—"

"Can I test it?"

"Um," Dex said, not knowing how to reply to that. "I designed it with telepathy in mind specifically, so it wouldn't work on you."

"I see. I think your inventions have great potential, Mister Dizznee."

"Really?" Dex asked, beaming. A Councilor thought he showed potential? "You think it'll work?"

Councilor Terik smiled at him, a thin, wan smile. "Maybe not an enhancer. But... an ability restrictor, possibly."

Dex could tell what he was talking about. If Fintan didn't have his pyrokinesis, he wouldn't have set Everblaze.

"But that's not what I wanted to ask you about. The Council would like your help in the creation of weapons."

He mouthed the word, hating how it felt on his tongue. Weapons. Elves didn't usually use weapons.

...but Dex had a weapon used on him, and he could still remember the shock of the melder—

"I'll do it," he said.

His own inventions, needed by the Council. To think the Council would want help from a Dizznee. If only Stina could hear this, see that Councilor asked for his help specifically, had thought he displayed potential in his talents. No one would talk bad about him or his family again.

"I'll get back to you on what kind of weapons that we will want soon. I'll also be bringing up the restrictor with the others, so it may be possible that we'll ask you to create one."

Dex nodded, and Councilor Terik left.

•~•~•~•~•~•

No. No no no, it couldn't be like this. They'd told him that the restrictor would be used on people who needed their abilities taken away, and Dex had imagined those black-cloaked figures, those murderers.

He didn't think it'd be used on Sophie.

He watched as she convulsed in pain, falling to the floor, curling up. A few cries had escaped her, and nothing could be more haunting than that.

Apologies spilled from his lips, and when Sophie looked at him, she looked so broken.

"I'm not having anything more to do with this," he said to the Council, "I'm not helping you with that."

"And need I remind you that disobeying a direct order from the Council is an exile-able offense?" Councilor Emery asked.

He didn't care if he went to Exile. Not if it meant this.

"It's okay, Dex," Sophie said, "Just do what they're saying."

"How can you say that?" He asked, his voice cracking.

How could she bear that pain? Bear her abilities being taken away, becoming Talentless, and knowing it was due to the hands of someone who proclaimed to consider her his best friend? How could he live like this? It was a betrayal. And he couldn't do anything, he couldn't fix it, because they threatened to exile his family.

He thought... he truly thought he was helping. Making a difference. Being useful.

But never in his life did he feel more useless than he did now.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Sophie drank slumberry tea. A sedative. Something he knew she refused to use. He visited Sophie, apologizing uselessly, and he came across the others--her friends. They were Sophie's friends, not his.

Unsurprisingly, none of them were able to meet his eye. None of them jumped him, beat him or anything like that, and he supposed that was the best he could ask for. For a moment, he thought he'd felt Fitz's gaze on him, and he wondered if Fitz was going to transmit in his brain again like he did earlier. When he looked at Fitz, he turned away, and his mind remained silent.

...he wasn't sure why that hurt, considering he didn't like Fitz, and Fitz sure as hell wouldn't like him. It's not like anything he could have said would make things better.

(But anything, anything, would feel better than the ashamed glances directed at him.)

•~•~•~•~•~•

He had Sophie promise to use her panic switch if she needed anything, but he didn't think she'd use it so soon. She wasn't at Havenfield. He leaped there as soon as he could, and saw Everblaze burning.

A pyrokinetic, holding a ball of fire ready to be thrown at Sophie and Grady. Dex didn't think, he ran and tackled the elf. It bought Sophie a few seconds, but the elf had grabbed him by the throat, his voice that had haunted his nightmares. Fingertips searing his skin just like his memories.

With the help of another invention he made, he was able to send Brant--he was pretty sure he was Brant, based on the little he'd heard--reeling, and they restrained him. He was ready to make sure Brant was captured, but Brant knew about the Black Swan's ambush.

He didn't hesitate to take off that circlet from her head, throwing it into the Everblaze. The Council could exile him, that's fine with him. But he refused to let anything happen to his friends.

•~•~•~•~•~•

After everything, the Council would be after them. Sophie was planning to run away to the Black Swan, and he knew that he wouldn't let her go without him. They left for there, Keefe, Fitz, Biana too. It was weird, being roommates with Fitz and Keefe. He hadn't exactly been friends with them--eating lunch together at Foxfire had always been more about their mutual friendship with Sophie.

The riddles unfortunately did not stop, but at least they were assigned a mission. Of course, that didn't stop them from doing their own snooping.

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Did Mr. Forkle ever give you your heart?" Dex asked Sophie.

"I did try asking once," Sophie replied. Her face scrunched in annoyance. "He said it'd be a distraction. I mean, come on, I get to be the freaky brown-eyed elf with lots of abilities, and they think I can't take care of a heart? I feel bad for whoever's heart that is, I'm sure the Black Swan's too busy to notice every detail."

"I'd feel bad for them too," Dex said, trying not to think about how Keefe's mom was a part of the Neverseen. That heart would definitely need a lot of comfort.

"Are you two talking about hearts?" Fitz asked, walking into the room, holding a heart in his hand.

Huh. He never thought he'd actually see Wonderboy holding one. It was on the smaller end, blue and rusty copper and bits of green.

"Oh, that's cool, can I touch it?" Sophie asked.

Fitz's eyes flitted to him for a moment, then nodded.

"Is it hard to find out whose heart belongs to who?"

"Depends," Dex shrugged. "If the elves are already close with each other, then they're more likely to figure it out."

"It's not a documented system like Matchmaking is, so there are plenty of elves near ancient who probably have no idea who their heart belongs to," Fitz added.

"So I'm guessing it'd be stupid to ask if you knew who your heart belonged to?" Sophie asked.

Surprisingly, Fitz tensed. Both him and Sophie started staring into each other's eyes. Probably having a telepathic conversation. Gross. He waited a minute before he pretended to gag, and the two jolted.

"You should... tell them," Sophie said quietly.

"I know," Fitz replied, his voice just as soft, "but they won't be ready to hear it. I don't want them to feel obligated."

Ew, they were still ignoring that he was there. And what was that about what Fitz said? Feel obligated? People would give the world to be able to brag about holding Fitz's heart, even if it wasn't romantic. But like everyone had a crush on him anyway, so how on earth would it be an obligation?

He was surprisingly loyal, got angry and spiteful like everyone else, that golden image just a coverup. Not as perfect as what they all thought him to be, but he was a good friend. He was willing to run away from his perfect life and perfect family, to side with Sophie. To do everything in his power to help his world.

And that, Dex could respect.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Dex had spent days practicing working on the lock from Exile so that they could rescue Prentice. He was a little worried when Sophie's directions were apparently taking them to the surface. Even more so when the lock was changed, and they couldn't even access the inside of the cell.

The Council even showed up, trapping them. Things were escalating, and Mr. Forkle was ready to turn himself in. But not if Dex could help it. He'd brought several different small cubes with him, in case anything happened. The first filled the room with burning green mist, the second squawked and served as further distraction.

The third was zapped by Councilor Zarina, and--

It was going to explode.

"Everybody get down!" He screamed, but the room was too loud and no one could hear him.

No one but Fitz, who grabbed it and flung it away from them all. But not in time for the explosion to send him flying, landing right on the sharp horn of an arthropleura.

He was running before Sophie could even scream stop, was already kneeling at his side. Dex reached for his chest to stop the bleeding, only to see that one of his hands had already been stained with blood without having even touched him yet. It dripped down his palm, originating from one of his rings.

No.

He hadn't known his ring could do such a thing, but he knew what it meant.

Fitz got sent flying because of his own gadget. And he wasn't stupid to not realize why his ring that monitored the heart would suddenly start streaming blood staining his hands. He hated that he couldn't tell which of the blood came from Fitz, and which came from the monitor of his heart as it all mixed together. He just knew he had to fix this. He had to, because he couldn't let Fitz die like this. The blood was thickening from the venom, and it didn't look good.

Dex took his chance and leapt out of Exile with Fitz, where an elf with a sparkly mask was waiting.

"You're back quicker than I thought, where—oh." She froze when she saw Fitz in his arms, and they both carried him to the medical room. "Are the others still there?"

He nodded. "He needs a physician, can you get them?"

The other elf was hunting through cabinets, pulling out several vials and bottles and salves. "Physic, resident physician. I'll take care of him from here. It'll be really messy."

He opened his mouth to protect that nothing that he could see could be messier, she repeated that he should go, and she'd give updates.

He reluctantly agreed, and went to wash his hands dry of the blood. But the ring was still bleeding, and when he picked up the heart, it wasn't in great condition either. The gold lines were black with venom, and it had left a bloody mess on the nightstand. He grabbed a basic first aid kit and a bunch of towels and sat on the floor by the fireplace, carefully tending to the wounds on the heart. He hoped that bandaging the heart would help slow down the bleeding in Fitz's body. If nothing else, he could do this much.

Now that he looked back at the heart, wasn't it obvious that it belonged to Fitz? Teal like his eyes--something which had long bothered him, but he'd grown used to, gold like his image he always portrayed.

Fitz's heart, huh. That's whose heart he held.

When the others arrived back, they all stared at the bloody heart in his hands, but they said nothing. He didn't say anything either, taking comfort in every beat, because every heartbeat was proof that Fitz was still living.

Mr. Forkle told them that Fitz had stabilized, and they all rushed to his room. And oh. He looked even worse than Dex had thought. Black spiderwebs painted his chest. It looked even worse than it had on his heart earlier. Maybe his heart would've reflected it too, if it weren't currently bandaged.

"Oh, you have his heart?" Physic asked, turning to Dex. "That'll make his recovery from near death go smoother. You should've told me earlier."

"I only just found out," he mumbled, reluctantly handing her Fitz's heart.

"Good thinking for bandaging it. I had thought that the bleeding had gone down easier than expected."

She went back to treating Fitz, and it was messy and the vomit was disgusting, but he couldn't bring himself to leave. He had to stay. Once Physic was no longer needed in the room, he decided that he and Fitz should probably talk.

Fitz looked at him, and Dex didn't know if he wanted to meet his gaze or look away. He settled for looking at his neck.

"How long did you know?" he asked after a few seconds.

"Know what?"

"Don't play dumb." He picked Fitz's heart off the table from when Physic left it there. "This."

"A while... your kidnapping."

Dex tensed. Since then? He knew since then? Though, with the burns, maybe it wasn't hard to figure out.

"And you never told me?"

"Would you have wanted to hear it?"

He let out a breath. It wouldn't. He would've hated it. He would've hated the irony that the elf he'd hated most held his heart.

His silence must have been enough of an answer, as Fitz didn't say anything else.

"I'm sorry," Dex said, trying to keep his voice from cracking. The heart in his hand both comforted him and pissed him off at the same time. "I almost got you killed."

"You were trying to get us out of there," Fitz said, smiling weakly at him, "and we made it out. You don't have to blame yourself for this, you wouldn't predict Councilor Zarina's electricity."

"Not just that. I'm sorry for hating you so much. I'll try to hate you less."

Fitz blinked. "Why do you hate me?"

He almost wanted to roll his eyes, it felt like such a stupid question. But it wasn't like he had a good reason to hate Fitz at this point either.

"You're everything I'm not. I hated it."

Those few words couldn't represent the waves of emotions that had flooded him for years, but he didn't know how to say it.

"I..." He said, knowing he was going to sound stupid for saying it, "I wanted you to notice me."

The heart in his hands skipped a beat.

"Do you-- do you want to try being friends?"

Friends. With Fitz Vacker. If the Dex from a few years ago heard that, he would've laughed.

"I'll try," he mumbled. "I don't promise anything more. If nothing else, your heart is in my hands."

Fitz's weak smile turned bright, blinding him. Dex turned away, not knowing how to react to that. He wasn't sure how to react to the twitch of Fitz's arms either, as if he wanted to ask for a hug.

"Rest well, Wonderboy," he whispered, as he rushed out of the room.

Thump. Thump-thump.

Fitz's heart beat steadily in his hands, and Dex thought that his reluctant words would probably end up a reality.

•~•~•~•~•~•

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[bookwyrminspiration]

How do you think Sophie's family/friends would react to female to male Sophie Foster? Like if it were while she was in the Lost Cities.

oo that's an interesting one! trans sophie, specifically in the lost cities (i'm assuming in the canon timeline with all the other worldbuilding still intact). I don't know if they have the concept in the Lost Cities--I mean I think it's entirely safe to assume that queer elves exist whether or not Shannon writes about them, you just can't erase us.

(note: I will be referring to Sophie with that name and =they/they pronouns for this post simply because name and pronouns are a whole other deal)

I think their immediate family and friends would be supportive, if a little confused, but understand that whatever they're talking about with gender means a lot to them. The elven world follows so many traditional stereotypes when it comes to gender--like hair length, dresses, etc.--and all apparently at will, as Della (i think it was her, might've been Edaline) said that Sophie didn't need to wear dresses if they wanted to wear pants instead, as it was actually the capes that signified nobility and not the dresses. This leads me to believe that there has been at least one other person who has rebelled against the dresses and prefers pants, hence that answer came so easily to Della; it wasn't her first time thinking about it. However, as it never went into practice for Sophie (another thing about her wardrobe that I'll mention in another post. to the person who sent me an ask about it: I saw it! I'll get to it!), it does make me think there would be a little bit of a rocky transition into wearing more traditionally masculine clothing.

it's worth noting that just because they may be ftm, they don't need to change their wardrobe and throw away all their dresses, I'm just including this because we've seen mentions of Sophie disliking the more poofy/obviously feminine clothing throughout the series, so they seem like they might be someone who would want to change their presentation a little.

to get a little more into specifics: I don't think any of their friends or family would be hostile towards them, maybe unintentionally a little dense, but well-meaning. Edaline would be very open and welcome to their transition, whatever that entailed (if anything), and mostly grateful Sophie was comfortable sharing that with her. I think Grady would be protective, the kind of person to question them just a little bit to make sure this was something they really wanted (not because he didn't believe them, just because he'd recognize the difficulties and wouldn't want them to go through it without due cause). I don't think Sandor would particularly care, mainly concerned with keeping them safe and only thinking about it so far as to make sure they feel safe emotionally with him. He'd recognize it as not his place to question or judge, and he doesn't need to know how their gender works in order to respect and protect them.

onto the friends! I think Biana and Dex would be the most supportive upfront and ask the fewest questions. Biana might even take this as a chance to help figure out how Sophie wants to look and figure that out with them. it's right up her alley, as she loves doing others up, and it's a bonding opportunity too, a chance to let Sophie reintroduce themself to her. And maybe she'd take the opportunity to take all those lovely gowns off Sophie's hands...you know, out of support, not at all because she wants them for herself (insert knowing wink here). And then Dex is already used to living outside the norms of society, so seeing Sophie decide to do what they wanted and to stop trying to fit in to a feminine role would just make his ecstatic. Because he knows what that's like and he'd enjoy seeing one of his close friends stick it to the system--and he'd also be very supportive of their journey. I imagine he'd help with whatever technical aspects of transitioning Sophie would want, helping them access resources and all that.

i think Keefe would be a little caught off guard, but once Sophie explains how they feel and he can feel their emotions on the subject, I think he'd be very enthusiastic about them doing what they wanted. he might berate himself for not putting the pieces together sooner, as he could literally feel their discomfort with themselves throughout the years and yet he just brushed it off. I kind of get the vibe he'd help Biana with assisting Sophie in finding their style, but focus more of the appearance aspect over the clothes. Teaching them how to actually wear the clothes together and style their hair and all that. he also feels like he'd start being a little rougher with them, playing around with them and teasing them the way he usually does with Fitz as he works to unlearn the way he perceived them before. Speaking of Fitz, he feels like the kind of friend who would be like "why would you do that?" but only because he doesn't fully understand what they're talking about. Not that he wouldn't be supportive, he'd just need a little more guidance and assistance understanding what they want. he's had a very traditional mindset for a lot of the series, but I think his love and respect for Sophie would be more than enough to challenge his understanding of gender so he could support them. if they had already dated at this point in time, he might want to talk to them privately about that just to understand if that's why things didn't work out or if he'd done something wrong, but that's another conversation.

then there are the other, more sidelined friends, all of whom I think would generally react the same. I think Linh would just go with it and not ask questions, but be pleased that Sophie feels more themselves, perhaps sharing a story of her own about coming into herself and her power and accepting herself as she was. i don't imagine Tam would have much of an outward reaction, being like "why are you telling me this, I don't care" but internally reworking how he thought about them. And I imagine he'd be a little protective, seeing Sophie go outside the norms of society even more. He was scorned by society for years, so that's a subject close to his heart, so while he might not think much of it or how it will affect their relationship, I think he'd be more protective of them, just like from the background. Then Marella would probably take it in stride and say something like "I always knew there was something off about you" but not in an insulting way, just being like ah. that's what it was. you were always a little different and I couldn't figure out why you acted the way you did, but this makes sense. It might answer a question about Sophie she didn't even know she had. Maruca probably wouldn't think much of it, instead focused on the Black Swan and fighting. I imagine something similar with Wylie, both of them going okay that's not my problem, happy for you but also there's some things we need to work on. They'd use their name and pronouns and support them emotionally, but I don't think they're close enough to them to have more of a reaction. it's just...not a priority to them.

this is getting long so I'll stop there for now, but there's also the thoughts of how the black swan, neverseen, council, and elven society as a whole would react to their gender things. I think Sophie would have an excellent support system built up, they're friends and family loving them more than any confusion that might get in their way.

this was a very interesting ask!! so thank you for the opportunity! got a lot longer than I expected it to, but I enjoyed it!