#disenchanting requests

[onceupona-crossover]

A moodboard of Jim Hawkins and teenager/animated Morgan from Enchanted/Disenchanted. With themes of adolescence and rebellion

Requested by: @liverfever

-Mod rapunzel

[sidecharactersdomatter]

I’m currently looking for Beta Readers to help working on my Disenchanted AU, The Fairytale of my life

Here’s the information on my fic:

The rating is for General Audiences and there’s going to be occasional swearing in the later chapters.

There won’t be any relevant content warnings, but the main protagonist does have unresolved Childhood Trauma from her mother leaving her at a young age. When she reaches her teen years the unease exacerbates when she learns her biological mother died of stroke.

There will mostly be platonic and familial relationships, mainly Giselle and Robert’s journey of parenthood, Robert and Morgan’s good father daughter relationship, Morgan’s complicated relationship with Giselle, and Morgan being a good older sister to Sofie.

The Estimated length for this 12 chapter work is going to be about 9k words or more.

The Deadline for finishing this fic is before 2023 ends, December 31st.

The type of help I’m looking for is finishing the remaining 11 chapters to make sure they’re all coherent and with no plot holes. I also do need help with pacing and progressing the story since I’m trying to get out of Writer’s Block.

Summary: 10 years after the events of Enchanted, the Philips move to their new home in Grimmberg, due to financial struggles. The other struggles of the family include Robert’s new job mediating divorces mostly ending unsuccessfully, Giselle’s Fashion business was closed down by a health inspector, Morgan has trouble with her newly gained writer’s block and unresolved childhood trauma, and Sofie her 6 year old younger half sister, exhibits zero traits of being a true Andalasian. The new home of the Philips happens to belong to Morgan’s mother Elaine who passed away recently.

To anyone that’s interested in helping with the fic you have to:

Watched the Movie Enchanted

Be familiar with the sequel Disenchanted

Be extremely disappointed with how Disenchanted was executed

Also who happen to not be bots

I look forward to working with you if you happen to be on board.

Update: I might not be paying you for the beta reading just a heads up.

[doodle-pops]

A Promising Future

Feanor x human!reader

Request: Hello!!! Hope everything is okie dokie on your end!! So this is like an alternative timeline sorta thing. Could I maybe request a fic where a severely wounded Fëanor does survive the battle, but he's badly hurt, barely holding on, and a mortal!reader helps him recover? We know Fëanor would be too proud to accept any help from anyone let alone a mortal, but over time he comes to rely on the reader, and secretly enjoys being doted on? And mayyyybe little bit of romance between them...?😁 Hihii! Thank ya and take care!!!💖💖– @koyunsoncizeri

A/N: This was an interesting piece to spend a long time concocting. Most pleased with this yearning troupe—gives me life. Thank you for requesting and giving me soft Feanor.

Warnings: canon-divergent (Feanor survives), pinning (deep-seated yearning), comfort, soft content, confession, soft Feanor

Words: 2.8k

Synopsis: And it terrified him—a mortal who was able to break down his walls and leave him yearning like a fish in search of water. Who were you to make him this weak?

Masterlist | Navigation

The dim glow of the fire flickered against the modest wooden walls of your home, casting long shadows that danced and shifted as the flames licked at the logs. Outside, the wind howled faintly, a distant voice in the vastness of the night, but inside, warmth and quiet enveloped the space—save for the occasional grumbling of your stubborn guest.

“Oi, cease your movements, your wounds are still fresh.”

Nothing.

“Will you put that down? That is not a toy.”

Nothing.

“Oi, elf boy! Quit moving or you will feel this hot wooden spoon.”

Well, that did something.

Standing there in a widened stance, hand on your hips, sleeves rolled up to your elbows and a look of ‘so help me God, I will throttle you,’ on your face as you stared at the raven-haired elf trapezing your dollhouse-sized home—compared to his towering seven foot and more frame. Still covered in bandaged and faint scars from his tumble with those fiery creatures in the North, Feanor paused midway examining a jar filled with some liquids that smelt like alcohol and what appeared to be venomous creatures, to throw a look of ‘come hither.’

“You mortals,” he murmured, tilting the jar and watching the brown substance shift loosely within. “So quick to violence.”

“If only you knew,” you sighed, returning your attention to the bubbling cauldron over the fire. “I spent all morning hunting down your favourite mushrooms because you are a picky bastard, and yet here you are, prancing about my house like an overgrown child instead of resting.” You were tempted to launch your wooden spoon, freshly drawn from the cauldron, and wack his head with it, but that would only create another session of his temper tantrum.

As you stirred the soup, inhaling the fragrant steam curling from the surface. Behind you, you could still feel him, standing there, likely observing you with that unreadable expression of his. He had done so for days now—watching you as you moved, as if you were a puzzle he could not quite solve.

You heard him hum—a sound of neither agreement nor dismissal—but he finally set the jar back onto the shelf. A small victory, you supposed. “What is this concoction?”

Heaving, you focused on the heat and stirred the soup, adding in the fine herbs. “It is a cure for venomous injuries.”

“And how does it work?” he inquired, holding the jar up to the light. The size difference between his hand and the jar made it appear like a small bottle.

“If one were to be bitten by a venomous creature, consume a mouthful to purge the body of the toxins. Would you like to test it yourself?” you replied, unamused at his fascination. To this day, you still do not understand the fascination that his kind had towards humans. You were smaller, some matching the height of elven women, slower, aged and less refined—hardly any reason to be enchanted. Rather, disenchanted was a better response, yet you were stuck with one who broke the typical themes of interest.

“Once again, you mortals have sedated my curiosity—for a moment,” he muttered before seeing the jar once more and turning on his heel to scour the tiny house.

You rolled your eyes at his comment. There it was again—the ever-condescending ‘you mortals…’ followed by some half-hearted remark that barely qualified as praise. As if you should be grateful that a being as great as he had taken an interest in your primitive existence. First Thingol’s kin, and now him—a different race of elves who had a fondness for the arts, or perhaps just him.

Turning your head to catch him staring at the metalwork of your water system—which he had been learning for the last two weeks—his mouth was moving at an unrecognisable speed. Muttering calculations and theoretics of the mechanics he was taught by Aulë and Mahtan, comparing them to your craft.

“How long are you going to stare?” you called out, not breaking his focus or attention, but enough to earn you a grunt. “You are genuinely obsessed; most would not be.”

“I am not most.” Came his subtle response while he stroked his chin as though he had a beard.

Giving a small ‘humph’ and setting your spoon down, you stepped away from the fireside and began gathering the bits of mess lying around the house. “You are indeed not most,” you commented with a smirk. “You are simply an elf who had seen death which resulted in you being draped in excessive bandages. Most would not charge at three or more fiery beasts and expect to win—clearly, you are more.”

Thankfully, your head was down as you gathered the doily and withered flowers off the table, missing the ‘how dare you’ expression. Anyone else would have melted on the spot, even squeak out an apology, but you, unbothered. In the two weeks he had been within your company, you had done more damage than the Balrogs had managed—quell his pride. You could sense the heat of his glare, smouldering it was in fact, less than in the beginning, it only served as humour to your bored, tranquil days. Something that felt more like calm amusement than the wrath of a fiery storm. Tolerable.

“I will have you know that I—”

“—faced the mightiest of foes, the Great Enemy of the North, and survived to fight another day,” you interrupted, finally looking up to give him a tender smile with a small, reassuring shake of your head. “It is not something to be taken lightly.”

His arms folded across his chest—then immediately unfolded as he winced at the motion, pain flickering briefly across his expression. He tried to suppress it, his pride refusing to acknowledge his own weakness, but you had seen it.

Sighing, you step toward him. “Sit down before you rip your stitches,” you said, the amusement in your tone fading into something softer.

He did not move, prompting you to exhale slowly, tilting your head. “Fëanor.”

His jaw tightened as if warring with himself before he begrudgingly moved to take a seat on the wooden bench near the hearth. There, he sat stiffly, as if the mere act of compliance wounded him more than the battle itself.

You crouched in front of him, fingers reaching for the bandages around his ribs. He flinched—just slightly—but did not stop you as you carefully unwound the wrappings to inspect the wounds beneath. The deep gashes had closed, the flesh mending slowly, but bruises still painted his skin in shades of deep violet and blue.

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, its glow casting shifting patterns of gold and amber across the wooden walls. Shadows flickered along the grain of the floorboards, elongating the space between you and him, yet the air between you felt unbearably close. He sat stiffly on the bench, his mountainous frame oddly subdued, his shoulders still drawn taut as you crouched before him, carefully unwinding the bandages that bound his wounds.

His skin was warm beneath your fingertips, the flesh no longer torn as it had been when you first found him—broken, battered, but not defeated. Never defeated. The bruises remained, deep smudges of violet and blue painting the edges of his ribs, but the worst of the gashes had closed, and healed over time and care.

“You heal well,” you murmured barely above a breath as your fingers ghosted over the smooth, newly-mended skin.

There was a sharp exhale through his nose, shifting slightly beneath your touch. “Of course I do,” he scoffed, but his usual sharpness was absent. The words lacked their customary bite, ringing hollow in the thickened air between you.

You glanced up at him then, your face close to his, close enough to see the exhaustion lining his sharp features, the way his lips parted slightly in an unspoken thought. The firelight caught the dark waves of his hair, casting a soft sheen over what should have been wild and untamed, yet now seemed almost...hesitant. He was always a force of motion, a wildfire that consumed all in his path, yet now, he was still—unnervingly still.

His mismatched eyes, filled with the sparks of something unknown, burned into you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. He was watching you again—not as the strange mortal who had taken him in, nor as the healer who had bound his wounds. There was something else in his gaze now, something unreadable, something unwanted if the flicker of tension in his jaw was any indication.

“You should be grateful that you are here, alive,” you murmured, tilting your head slightly, the corner of your lips barely curving into a smirk. “You should count your blessings.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched.

Fëanor did not answer immediately, and for a moment, you wondered if you had finally pressed too far. He was not one to dwell on the past—his entire life had been defined by the forward momentum of his will, the sheer force of his existence too great to linger on what was. And yet, something unreadable shifted in his expression, something that did not belong to the proud warrior who had fought fire with fire, nor the brilliant craftsman whose hands had shaped wonders beyond mortal comprehension.

It was a hesitation. A pause in the storm.

He swallowed, the movement barely perceptible, but you caught it, nonetheless.

Grateful?

He should have been dead. Would have been dead, had it not been for you, a mere mortal who had found him among the scorched remains of battle, who had dragged his barely-breathing body from the clutches of death itself. He should have resented you for it.

He had been a king. A leader. A father. A husband. He had known what it meant to be bound to another, to share space, to accept care. But that life was gone, shattered long before his body ever fell to the flames. His marriage had ended long before death had first reached for him. And yet here you were—offering him care he had long since forsaken, offering him patience, offering him something he had not asked for but had begun, over these weeks, to expect.

But he didn’t. And that was the problem.

No one had dared tend to him since Nerdanel had left. No one had been allowed. And yet, you—a mere mortal, a lesser being by every elven measure—had not only mended his wounds but had dared to scold him, to tease him, to touch him with the ease of one who did not see the legend, only a man.

That should have infuriated him. And yet, his gaze continued to linger.

On the curve of your lips, the delicate line of your throat as you tilted your head, the stray strand of hair that had fallen loose from behind your ear. The hands that had time and again seen to his wounds with the care he had not deserved. The very same hands that had struck him with a wooden spoon the first time he had tried to move before his body was ready.

He had scoffed at it then. But now, in this closeness, in this unbearable stillness, he was left to reckon with a far more troubling truth.

What was this? This need?

He had come to like it.

The doting. The attention. The quiet, steady presence of you in this little home.

He had craved it.

A sickness took root in his chest, something far more suffocating than his wounds, far more dangerous than the lingering weakness in his limbs.

His hands curled into fists at his sides, his knuckles taut beneath his skin. It does not matter, he told himself. He was leaving soon. He had to leave. He had no place here.

And yet.

And yet.

His next words left his mouth before he could stop them, low and quiet, as if they had been stolen from the depths of his mind before he had a chance to cast them aside.

“Then I only have one blessing to be grateful for.”

Your breath hitched slightly, hands stilling against his skin. There was a brief moment as you searched his gaze, unsure if he truly meant what you thought he did. Enough for him to know that you understood. His expression remained unreadable, but the way he held your gaze—steady, unwavering—sent warmth curling in your chest. The space between you was unbearable now, the air thick with something unspoken, something vast and terrifying in its weight.

Your fingers, still resting lightly against his bandages, trembled for the briefest moment before you swallowed, pulling your hands away.

“The soup will be ready soon,” you murmured, standing and turning away.

Fëanor exhaled, slow and measured, as if that breath was all that was keeping him from being swept into something he could not control.

He did not stop you as you moved away. And yet, as he watched you—this stubborn mortal who had refused to let him die—he could not shake the thought that had begun to take root. That leaving this place, leaving you, would be a battle of its own. And damn anyone who prevented him—he could not leave without you. And it terrified him—a mortal who was able to break down his walls and leave him yearning like a fish in search of water. Who were you to make him this weak?

And before he knew it, the words came tumbling out before he could stop them. He did not look at you immediately. He stared at the floor, at the dying embers in the hearth, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“I am leaving soon,” he said at last, quietly.

You stilled, spoon in midair and bowl in hand, swallowed past the lump in your throat. “I know.”

A pause. Then, you felt his hand reach out to gingerly curl around your wrist, prompting the spoon to be released, as if you were his most precious glasswork—enough to keep you there.

“I do not wish to go.”

Your breath stuttered.

Slowly, hesitantly, you turned to face him. He finally lifted his gaze, and in that moment, Fëanor, the great and mighty warrior, the King of the Noldor, was just a man. A man who had lost everything and had, in the most unexpected of places, found something worth holding onto again.

And for the first time, he admitted it.

“I do not wish to leave you.”

A quiet stillness settled between you. The weight of his words hung in the air, unspoken yet undeniable.

You studied his face—the proud tilt of his chin, the flicker of uncertainty in his mismatched eyes, the way his fingers still curled lightly around your wrist as if hesitant to fully commit to what he had just confessed. It was not an easy thing for him, you knew. He had spent so long burning, consumed by his own fire, forging himself into something untouchable. And yet, here he was—revealing something raw, something fragile, something he had likely never intended to say.

You exhaled softly.

“Then don’t.”

He blinked. Just once. As if startled by the simplicity of your response. No grand proclamations, no desperate pleas—just a truth laid bare, plain and unembellished.

His grip on you tightened just slightly, as if testing whether he could believe in it.

You tilted your head, your voice quieter this time. “Stay, if that is what you want.”

There was no demand in your tone, no expectation. The decision had always been his to make—would always be his to make. And for a man who had spent a lifetime consumed by choices that had shaped empires and shattered worlds, perhaps this—this—was the one choice that truly mattered.

His lips parted slightly, something unreadable passing over his expression.

Then finally, his fingers slipped from your wrist, only to settle against your hand instead, turning it palm-up in his grasp. His thumb brushed absently over the skin there, his gaze still searching yours as though waiting for some unseen force to pull him away.

It never came.

“…Then I will stay.”

Not forever. Perhaps not even for long. But for now.

And somehow, for a man who had always burned too brightly, too briefly, that was enough.

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @sakurayaxd @ladyenchanted @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @aconstructofamind @addaigio @lamemaster @hermaeuswhora @elficially-done-with-life @feanorynz @6esi @the0twst0shrimp0mc @ella-error505 @will-0-wsps @xximmortalkissxx

If you wish to be tagged, click the Taglist Link to join.

[crowley-anthony]

I have somehow hit hit 15k followers which is insane. This also happens to be my 15th year on tumblr so it's 15 in 15! Therefore, I'd like to give something back to my followers and mutuals to say thank you <33

❤️ - Send me a character or ship/dynamic and a colour (three colours max) and I'll make a colourful gifset similar to this style.

📚 Send me a fandom, character or ship and a one word prompt and i will make a gifset around it (i.e. 'bucky barnes + babygirl' or 'blackbonnet + hands' etc..)

✨ MUTUALS ONLY: Free range - request whatever you want!

(This is for my followers so you must be following me to request something).

Please find fandoms I am willing to create for have created content for here - you can check my gif tags to see what sort of content I usually create.

If you're unsure if I like a character/ship please ask :) Or search my blog with the name (some ships I may have tagged 'name x name').

Tagging some of my favourite blogs (I'm sure I've missed someone so I'm sorry) ❤️

a-d

@aenslem, @ayo-edebiri, @anyataylorjoys @alivedean, @aemondtargaryenn, @andremichaux, @andrew-garfielld, @anyatudor, @abigaillazaar, @agathaharknes, @bo-kryzze, @bunnykaye, @bellamysgriffin, @bakerolivia, @bettycooper, @buffysummers, @bladesrunner, @clarkgriffon, @clairesbeauchamp, @charliexspring, @crowleybrekkers, @crowlixcx, @cilly-murphy, @cherylblossom, @chrrispine, @catabasis, @clarke-griffin, @drtbrennan, @damn-salvatore, @davinaclare, @brooksdavis, @disenchanteds, @capinejghafa, @djarin, @crowleyholmes, @astaerion, @blakbonnet, @cobbbvanth, @cressidascowper, @cheugyphobe, @art-donaldson, @benoitblanc, @anyataylorjoy, @audreys-hepburn, @buckysbarnes

e-g

@forbescaroline, @gwenpendragns, @fawad-khan, @evan-buck, @elinordash, @eddiediaaz

h-k

@jeonqkooks-main, @jakeyp, @kelseas-ballerini, @ivashkovadrian, @izzy-hands, @jackswolfe, @jynerso, @jackytaylor, @jacobglaser, @heartbellamy, @hexcoreviktor, @jesperfahxey, @indestinatus, @kiekiecarrera

l-o

@laurabenanti, @leojfitz, @laurens-german @nessa, @mcbride, @mauraeyk, @nataliescatorccio, @pensbridgerton, @muldery, @oliviairodrigo, @narliee, @ohtendril, @ngatwa, @mikewheeler, @nothuggingyou, @miwtual, @milkovichy, @mcgregor, @niccolofares, @nicola-coughlan, @miss-carter

p-s

@pedrorascal, @poguelands, @richardgrimes, @rosamundpkes, @sheryl-lee, @rainbowcrowley, @seeleybooth, @shaunashipman, @samwwise, @stars-bean, @saryasy, @rosettyller, @scullysconstant, @padme-amidala. @shlofolina, @star-kovs

t-z

@the-borgias, @trueloveistreacherous, @ughmerlin, @underthebluerain, @userlaylivia, @useryoumna, @violet-bridgerton, @wandamaxiomff, @whichcouldmeanothing, @wearecrowley, @zoya-nazyalenskys, @userlizziesaltzman

[zablife]

A Nice Dinner with Tommy

Tommy Shelby x gf reader

A/N: Date night at a fancy restaurant, requested by @mayfieldss. Part of my Corrupt a Wish challenge. This is being reposted bc it went under heavy revision. Apologies to those who couldn't read or reblog when it was set to private.

Divider credit: @saradika-graphics

Warnings: drinking, mention of infidelity, drugging Corrupt a wish reminder: If you think this story has a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention. Proceed with caution!

It had only been two days since leaving Tommy's side, but he was insistent he wanted to see you again. "Choose the time and place, darling. I want tonight to be special," he promised in a dulcet tone.

Your heart skipped a beat at the warmth emanating from his voice. He had never been so willing to indulge you before. Normally Tommy dictated everything in your relationship. It was the primary reason you'd grown disenchanted with him and accepted the advances of another, an Italian far more interested in pleasing you than Tommy ever was.

However, you couldn't deny the danger to both of you the longer the affair continued. Unable to bear the thought of bloodshed, you knew it was best to settle back into your life with Tommy, even if your feelings for him had changed over time. And lovely, kind Angel had accepted your lies about moving away to care for your ailing mother, ignorant to the tears shed for him after your goodbyes.

It had been a convincing performance and one you never wanted to repeat. The mendacity ate away at your very core, hollowing you out until you felt like a shell. It made you anxious and paranoid as you attempted a casual demeanor this evening, wondering if Tommy had seen the telltale look of deception in your eye when you last met.

The thought still haunted you as you entered the ornate dining room of your favorite restaurant, Tommy waiting at a beautifully set table in front of the large windows, arguably the finest table available in the entire establishment.

"Good evening, darling," he welcomed you cordially, holding out the chair like the gentleman he'd always been in your company.

"Hello, Tom," you managed with a slight lump in your throat. Reaching for the cocktail glass waiting before you, you took a generous swig before looking up at him.

"Something wrong?" he asked, returning to his seat and placing his napkin on his lap with a flourish.

"No," you shook your head, managing a tight smile in return. "I'm so pleased you liked my suggestion."

"Whiskey sours, a beautiful woman sat at my table...what more could a man ask for, eh?" he hummed good naturedly.

You nodded in silent agreement, fingers brushing over the calligraphy on the menu before Tommy reached for your hand suddenly. You glanced about the room to see if anyone had noticed his display of affection, turning back to find his brow knit with concern at your obvious unease.

"Tonight is about us," he assured you with a light squeeze. "Just you and me."

You relaxed into his touch, mesmerized by the look of adoration in his eye. Allowing yourself to sit back and enjoy, you listened as Tommy ordered the most expensive items for both of you.

After the waiter left, you leaned forward to Tommy. "So extravagant, what's the occasion?" you asked innocently.

"I wanted this evening to be memorable," he smirked, eyes darting to a far corner.

Your gaze naturally followed, scanning the room for the person he sought. "Are you looking for someone?" you asked, aware of the rising quiver in your voice.

Ignoring your query, Tommy looked you over slowly. Cocking his eyebrow at you suspiciously, he observed, "I couldn't help but notice you chose your favorite restaurant at their busiest hour."

"What do you mean?" you muttered, feeling his thumb rub forcefully over the back of your hand.

Tommy offered a mirthless chuckle as he replied, "Were you afraid something might happen to you, my love?"

"I-I..." you stammered, attempting to pull your fingers from his punishing grasp.

He nodded to himself with conviction, eyes closing momentarily as though he relished the certainty. His opposite hand moved slowly and deliberately toward the silver teaspoon, taking it up with a flourish before tapping it sharply against his crystal water glass three times.

At that precise moment everyone in the room stopped talking, eating or otherwise making noise. A short, but eery silence passed before they rose in unison and filed toward the exit, faces expressionless as though they were in a trance.

As the last woman passed your table you attempted to grasp at her skirts, pleading, "Where are you going?"

Tommy's sapphire eyes sparkled in the candlelight as he observed the look of horror on your face. "Not what you were expecting?" he ventured. "Perhaps Angel Changretta does things differently, but I prefer privacy when dealing with delicate matters," he informed you cooly.

Eyes brimming with tears you willed yourself to remain calm despite your hammering heart. "Tommy, I can explain..."

He raised a hand to stop you from speaking, shaking his head lightly as a look of disappointment washed over him. "It's alright, darling. I want you to know I don't blame you," he uttered softly.

"It was a mistake, a moment of bad judgement," you rushed out in one great breath, hoping if you confessed now he would forgive your indiscretions. "There's only you, Tommy," you added, but the sentiment fell flat even to your own ears.

"I blame myself," he continued as though he hadn't heard a word you said. "It was my fondness for you that blinded me to your betrayal and what kept me from doing what needed to be done," he mused, ice blue eyes locking you into a cold stare.

You gulped as you watched every ounce of affection drain from his face, understanding now that tonight was not about love or forgiveness, but revenge.

Taking both your hands in his, he searched your face for the answer to an impossible question. "I can't let you go back to him and you can't remain here. So what am I to do with you?" he pondered.

You fought the urge to struggle beneath his vice like grip, tears streaming down your face as you appealed for mercy.

"Let me go," you pleaded. "Please, Tommy, if you ever loved me, you'll let me go." You felt your entire body begin to shake with involuntary tremors as you awaited his reply.

Miraculously, Tommy released your hands allowing you to flee. You stifled a sob as you wrenched your dress from under the table, lurching forward with a cloudy feeling consuming your mind.

It was then you realized your limbs were heavy as stones, legs uncooperative as you tried to run. The attempt left you doubled over in a choking fit, unable to draw even the slightest breath. Clutching at a nearby tablecloth when the dizziness worsened, you only succeeded in pulling the linen and tableware along with you. Falling to the floor in a heap, you watched helplessly as china and glass shattered in a million jagged shards all around you.

The crash was followed by an even more menacing sound, the methodical thump of Tommy's approaching footsteps. The glint from his shoes cruelly mocked you, a surge of sickness overtaking your form as he loomed above.

With unexpected tenderness, he leaned down to brush the hair from your ashen face. Thumb and forefinger stroking your jaw, he sighed heavily as he witnessed your agony. You swore you saw a hint of remorse flash in his eyes before he turned stone faced once again, but you could no longer trust your fading vision.

"No one touches my property," Tommy whispered harshly, fingers digging into your flesh for emphasis.

His breath felt hot against your face, but you were unable to turn away from him. However, it would have been useless to deny his claim. The despair of that thought consumed your mind just as your body went limp at his feet.

Tag List:

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@callsign-fangirl

@theshelbyclan

@red-riding-wood

@polishcrazyone

@elenavampire21

@little-diable

@lyarr24

@the-fangirl-diaries

@kmc1989

@stilestotherescue 

@helen06dreamer

@chaosinkest1996 

@pietroxreader 

@galactict3a

@ietss

@mostly-marvel-musings

@writeroutoftime

@yolobloggers

@outlanderuniverse

@anilovessadbooks

@tremendousstarlighttragedy

@elliaze

@leenieweenie

@snickersmee

@niktwazny303

@call-sign-shark

@brummiereader

@cillmequick

@mischievouslittlecreature

@justrainandcoffee

@ryecosse

@garrison-girl-08

@copinghex

@dandelionprints

@look-at-the-soul

@cillianmurphyfanatic

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@babayaga67

@babaohhhriley

@kmhappybunny240

@rangerelik

@polishcrazyone

@shelby-fangirl00

@thomashelbyswife

@mythos-writes

@writeroutoftime

@thegreatdragonfruta

@peakyltd

@holacia3

@novashelby

[stellarbit]

Two Faces pt 2

Word Count: 12.5k Pairing: fem!reader x Bad Batch, light Tech and Crosshair nods Warnings: SFW, bitch of a mother, crosshairs mood swings, Summary: You arrive back home with Clone Force 99 to prepare to be your senator sister's stand in at an upcoming event. Letting the Batch learn more about who you actually are. Part 1 note: hope y'all like it, thank you all who sent in requests for it and suggestions. I live laugh love for this shit man.

“Ensure our guest arrives safely on her homeworld. Report back once the Gala is at an end.” Lama Su instructed Clone Force 99, his inky gaze shifting to where you stood in line with them at the steps to the Marauder. “You are most welcome here on Kamino. You have an open invitation should you find a need for it.”

Since your sister’s appearance, Lama Su’s demeanor shifted from gritted tolerance to that of a generous host. Time spent at your mother’s side taught you a politician’s patience was rarely forthcoming.

You attempted a practiced smile, the kind drilled into you from birth. “That’s something I will truly keep in mind.” Lama Su bowed his head slightly and dismissed himself, retreating back into the hangar doors.

Left alone, neither you or any of Clone Force 99 budged and a heavy silence settled over the group. From the corner of your eye, you noticed a few heads turn your way. Looking anywhere but directly at them, you piped up, “Ready whenever you are, Sergeant.” Despite Tech’s reassurances that everything had worked out 'better than predicted,' falling back into rhythm with Clone Force 99 was proving more difficult than you had hoped.

Hunter was the first to move. “Alright then, let’s move out.” He turned and you all followed, with you trailing after Crosshair as the last of the group.

Midway up the stairs Crosshair turned and extended a hand to you - an offer of assistance and perhaps a peace offering. A gesture you walked right by. Crosshair retracted his hand and, mostly, kept his frustration in his throat.

They’d told you about their ship, a modified Omicron-class attack shuttle, but being on it was certainly a different experience. The smell alone disenchanted your anticipation. Touches of the different men were strewn throughout. A knocked over stack of history magazines, food wrappers, half used tins of gun oil, and what looked to be sliced up target practice sheets. It was fairly easy to see who left what, but oddly enough there was hardly a trace of Echo.

Tech caught your hesitant inspection and directed you to the passenger seats. “Sit here during take-off.” Tech pointed to a seat equipped with restraints. “Once we make the jump into    hyperspace, it will be safe for you to navigate the ship.” You silently took a seat, pulling the over-the-shoulder restraints into place.

Tech left for the pilot’s seat, Echo already in position as the copilot. Hunter positioned himself in front of a navigational screen, between the cockpit and your seats, while Wrecker and Crosshair accompanied you in the restraint seats. The restraints barely accommodated Wrecker’s size, causing his arms to push into your space as he sat on your left. Across from you, Crosshair stared you down.

In the hours between the confrontation with your sister and packing onboard the Marauder you’d deliberately avoided Crosshair. He, on the other hand, tracked you with that hawkish watch of his and didn’t take his eyes off you.

His watching you, deciphering you, was a part of him processing the shifted dynamics. Much like you trying to piece together how Tech found out your identity, Crosshair ran through your weeks together, over and over, searching for all the clues he’d missed. He searched your face as if the specks on your face would tell him. 

Mostly, he kept counting the scars on your face. One nicked across your nose, likely from his elbow cracking you across the face. Another cut through your eyebrow with a matching one sat on top of your cheekbone. Admitting to himself, it was difficult to discern which of his many blows might have caused these specific marks.

A large part of him actively ignored the thought of what bruises may be hidden beneath your clothes..

He grit his teeth as he watched you continue to pointedly ignore him. He thought bitterly, If you’d just told us from the beginning I wouldn’t have been so severe. Your eyes cut to him with a look as sharp as his. Crosshair narrowed his eyes, a silent challenge between you. Your only response was a twist of your mouth, looking away in disinterest. 

“Care to share what’s on that pretty little mind of yours?” The sneer in Crosshair’s voice had you closing your eyes, summoning your remaining patience. “Or do you want to keep us all in the dark?”

You rolled out your jaw, nodding through a deep breath. Settling on the sorriest excuse for a smile, you responded, “It must be difficult to never know when to shove off.” Your words elicited a low growl from the sniper, adding genuine enjoyment to your expression. 

Wrecker sat still, gripping his ill fit restraints and keeping his good eye on you with a sideways look. Unlike his brother, Wrecker had made no attempts to push you up to that point. While roughing up a reg during training was standard for him, realizing it had been you all along left him uneasy. The memory of how you had fought against his grip when he had you by the throat now churned his stomach.

The entire vessel shifted and blue light cascaded through the ship. “We’ve made the jump into hyperspace.” Echo announced from the cockpit.

Crosshair shoved himself free of the restraints and stalked off for the front of the ship. You attempted to follow suit, but your restraints didn’t release as smoothly.

Frustration got the better of you and you rammed your hands twice into the bars before Wrecker gently released the safety device. He crouched down to your eye level, anxiety pulling at him. “Listen, I didn’t know it was you under that armor.” He shook his head lightly. “And I’d do it again with any reg… But I-I’m sorry it was you.” Wrecker’s eyes searched the floor for something else to say.

His expression tugged at your heart just enough for you to cave. “Wrecker,” you leaned forward and touched his shoulder. “I’m not mad with you, you couldn’t have known and, honestly, would be weirder if you had.” Wrecker kept his gaze averted, guilt still eating him.

“I take offense to that.” Tech chimed as he walked over.

Ignoring him, you gently turned Wrecker’s face to you. “The only reason I’m upset is that you would ever think this was a game to me.”

His eyes went wide and his head snapped back. “No, no! I never said that!”

“Then why lie and play soldier?” Crosshair said simultaneously from his seat next to Hunter. Crosshair placed a toothpick in his mouth and reclined.

“Crosshair, stow it!” Wrecker snapped, pivoting on the balls of his feet. “You’re just making it worse.”

 You truly believed that coming from anyone else, the question might not have stung so sharply. But coming from Crosshair, it made you want to scream.

“You know what?” You took a deep breath and stood, gently nudging Wrecker aside. As you exhaled, you clapped your hands together, your attempt to stay calm crumbling as your voice escalated to a yell. “I’m sorry. I am. I am sorry for going along with your mix-up!” 

Crosshair grit his teeth and tensed in his chair, a snake ready to strike.

Puffing your chest out, you thrust a finger at him, “I wasn’t playing soldier. I want to join my sister’s guard, so my mother sent me to train. If no one knew I was here and I got the training, I was going to do just that.” You groaned at the thought. The edge in your voice ebbed as you lamented, “Letting you think I was my sister seemed like an easy alibi. I’m sorry I lied to you, but I’d do it again if I had to.”

The topic begged the question, what will happen now that they know?

Tech, not fully grasping the situation, interjected, “Requiring you to mask your presence suggests this wasn’t a decision she was happy with.”

That was not a road you wanted to go down with them. Waving the comment aside with a flippant hand you replied. “She had a different plan for my life. This was just her making sure I knew what I was getting into.” You were surprised at how convincing your tone sounded.

Hunter turned away from the navigational screen, leaning back with a foot propped up on his knee, clearly skeptical. “She had to have known you’d get the kriff kicked out of you with us—or worse. Why not just send you to train with your sister’s guard?

Your chest tightened at the question. “Mother only wants what’s best,” you lied smoothly. Gesturing towards them all, you added in a lighter tone, “Besides, why train with guards when I can learn from the elite?”

Leaning against the back of Hunter’s chair, Echo looked incredulous. “Have you ever even stepped foot in a training facility before?”

You hummed an affirmative, holding your breath, but with the eyes of unconvinced soldiers on you, you quickly exhaled and admitted, “No.”

“In that case,” Tech said, pointing a finger at you. “I’m impressed you managed to only get your nose broken once.”

“We broke your nose?” Hunter sat upright suddenly, surprise in his voice. You resisted the urge to touch your nose or glance at Crosshair.

“I chose this,” you stated firmly, pressing a hand to your chest. “I had chances to back out, and I came anyway. I’d rather you treat me like the clone you thought I was than look at me with pity.” You gestured towards Hunter, whose face was an odd mix of pity and concern. “Honestly, I’d prefer that,” you added, nodding towards Crosshair.

You had hoped the small gesture would serve as your own olive branch, but a glance at Crosshair told you it hadn’t worked. He maintained a tight-lipped frown, his expression stubbornly aggravated. The standoff between you two lingered until you took a step towards him, and he rose from his chair, meeting you halfway with a defiant stance.

“What more could you possibly want from me?” you demanded, hands flaring palms up. There was a raw satisfaction in shedding the veil of polite politics and expressing your true feelings. Voicing your frustration felt liberating, like stretching long-dormant muscles.

Crosshair tilted his head down to meet your gaze, the toothpick rolling to one corner of his mouth. His voice was low and steady, “You attacked me.”

Fury surged through you as you snatched the toothpick from his lips. “Attacked you?” you nearly shouted, incredulous.

Leaning in, Crosshair scrutinized your seething expression, face flushed and fists clenched. Then, unexpectedly, a barely there smile cracked his scowl. Now he was just having fun.

“Crosshair.” Hunter warned as he slowly started to rise. 

“You heard me,” Crosshair retorted swiftly, emphasizing each word, “You. Attacked. Me.”

Echo was too slow to intervene as you grabbed the lip of Crosshair’s chestplate. He snorted dismissively, and you were consumed by a silent, burning rage. Something primal snapped within you, and without words, only a fierce growl escaped you as you lunged at Crosshair, hands driven by pent-up anger.

Crosshair began to laugh, a mocking, bitter sound that only fueled your rage as Hunter grabbed him and pulled him back. Echo swiftly moved between you two, his arms outstretched to create a barrier. Your fingers slipped from Crosshair’s armor as you reached desperately past Echo, trying to get at the sniper.

Hunter, his frustration evident, shoved Crosshair further away and then spun around, pointing a finger sharply at you He then turned to address both of you, his voice raised over the commotion. “How many times do we have to break you two up?” His tone was stern, a mix of reprimand and exasperation reflecting the strain of repeatedly managing your confrontations.

As Hunter pushed Crosshair further away, Crosshair shot back a snarky, taunting remark. "If she could keep her hands to herself, we wouldn't need breaking up."

With a low growl, you threw the toothpick still clutched in your hand, watching it strike Crosshair squarely in the face. It was a minor victory, but seeing his annoyance flare was satisfying. Stepping back slightly, no longer trying to shove past Echo, you fixed Crosshair with a taunting smirk. “Ah, so that’s what’s bothering you. This is the first time a woman’s touched you without a medkit.”

Hunter, witnessing the petty exchange, rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Enough!" he barked, hand chopping in front of him. "We’re on a mission, and I need you two to not kill each other. If I have to keep you separated until we reach our destination, I will."

Notching his hand at his hip, Hunter sighed. Looking at you he shook his head. “Well, you certainly don’t act like a Senator.” Amusement lifted the tattooed side of his mouth.

“Or a soldier,” Crosshair added sharply, slipping another toothpick into his mouth. He watched you a second longer before giving a light scoff, “But good to know our little kitten has grown claws.”

‘Little kitten’ heated your face but Echo guided you away before you could take the bait. “If you haven’t stepped foot in a training facility,” he said, ushering you towards the front of the ship. “What about the cockpit of an attack shuttle?”

And with that you were distracted, allowing for the rest of the journey to pass in relative peace. Aided largely by the fact that you and Crosshair now had a ship and four soldiers between you. 

As the ship began its descent, Tech started detailing the time differences and adjusting for the local standard. Wrecker, seated beside you, yelled, “Yeah, yeah, we can tell it’s late.”

“Or really early,” you quipped, nudging him playfully. Truly, you hadn’t kept track. It turned out to be late into the evening.

Echo and Crosshair had swapped seats, positioning Crosshair in the copilot's seat and further from you. Sitting across from you, Echo leaned forward slightly, curiously asking, “Who do you think is receiving you?”

“Receiving me?” You parroted in confusion.

Wrecker nudged you playfully, flashing a grin. “Yeah! Who’s waiting for ya at the platform?”

Your eyebrows shot up as you glanced down, realizing you hadn't considered this. Normally, no one 'received' you unless your sister was visiting home. You managed a smile, easing into the conversation. “That’s not really a tradition of ours.”

“That’s odd,” Tech said, extending his neck out and raising his voice to ensure you heard him. “I read that the planet’s governor, that is your mother, is well known for her welcoming of distinguished guests.”

“Well, I’m not a guest,” you responded sharply, a hint of bitterness in your voice. With a forced laugh and a casual flip of your hand, you added to cover your misstep, “That is, I’m not just a guest, I’m family.”

As the ship landed and the restraints remained locked in place, Crosshair spoke for the first time in hours. “Looks like you’re wrong about that.” His tone made you strain against your restraining bars in attempts to see outside.

You were unable to see anything but the sky view of the hangar. But you were sure of it, if anyone was there it was your sister. The thought flipped your stomach.

As soon as the restraints unlocked—and Wrecker helped free you—you dashed for the exit. Crosshair was at the mouth of the exit when you pushed past him, hurrying down the stairs. Your chest heaved with anticipation as you spun around, searching for a familiar face, but your sister was nowhere to be seen.

As you were about to have words with Crosshair, your attention snagged on the sight of three clone troopers walking around the ship. Approaching you were two unmarked clones flanking a Clone Captain distinguished by teal blue markings.

CT-7569, the Captain assigned to your planet. The clone presence was meant to be a show of good faith by the Republic, but your mother treated them as ornamental. They ‘maintained peace’ by bolstering your mother’s security and accompanying important trade vessels. CT-7569 usually escorted your mother - you found it made her presence more tolerable. In the end, you and the Captain spent many mindless political gatherings in each other’s company.

As the Captain approached, you wracked your brain trying to recall the name he went by. Embarrassment set in as you realized you might never have known his name, despite having memorized his designation number long ago.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you stepped forward with a genuine smile. “Captain,” you greeted warmly.

“Good to see you back, Miss,” the Captain replied as he halted a few feet away, his men positioning themselves to his sides. His helmet shifted slightly, his gaze drifting past you. “I was wondering if you’d return. I hardly believed it when they said you went to Kamino.”

You edged closer, lowering your voice to a hiss. “How do you know about that?”

“You left with the Governor and Senator, but only they returned. Seeing as how that flight log only showed a trip to Kamino… well it wasn’t hard to figure out.” He chuckled, the sound echoing slightly inside his helmet as he reached up to remove it. The familiar features of the Captain started showing, all wrinkled by an amused smile. “So, how’d that conversation go?” he asked, referring to your discussion with your mother about your plans. His gaze then darted past you, doing a double-take. “Wait—is that the Bad Batch?”

You gave an empty blink. “The what now?” A smile wobbled your lips. They certainly never mentioned that.

CT-7569 nodded, letting out an impressed laugh. “Experimental Unit 99. They call themselves the Bad Batch.” His eyes held a touch of shock before he shifted to a questioning look at you. “This is definitely a story I want to hear.”

“Captain,” Hunter greeted, stepping up beside you with Echo on his other side, while Tech positioned himself next to you. Wrecker and Crosshair presumably took places behind you, maintaining their distance. They all kept their helmets on, reminding you of the edge ‘regs’ put them on.

CT-7569 straightened up, his accompanying clones mimicking his posture, and he replaced his helmet. “I’ve heard good things about your squad, Sergeant. Good to meet you, men.” He extended a hand to Hunter, and they clasped each other’s forearms in a soldierly greeting.

“Thank you, sir.” Hunter nodded

As the Captain and Hunter exchanged pleasantries, you desperately thought back for the Captain’s name. You had faint recollections of hearing it in passing or his men occasionally dropping formalities. Those snippets were vague but persistent, hinting you were just a syllable away from full recognition.

The Captain looked back to you and the name clicked in place. He began telling you something, but your thoughts were far from his voice. Instead you were lost in the thought of having treated the clone before you, a soldier who offered you kindness when that was beyond the scope of his mission, as just a nameless soldier. You were always polite and grateful for their support and the respect you had for clones inspired you to protect your sister, but you’d rarely thought of who they were beyond soldiers.

And with him, you were practically friends.

“Miss?” The Captain’s voice finally reeled you back in. When he saw your focus return he said, “The Governor gave no orders for your arrival, but we can take the men to our barracks wing to settle in.” Pivoting to his men, he began giving orders to escort Clone Force 99. 

You quickly cut in.

“Howzer,” The name immediately silenced him. He seemed caught off by the sound of his name on your tongue.  “There is plenty of room in my wing. I’ll show them up.” 

He opened his mouth to respond, but you pressed on, “The Governor didn’t issue orders because their mission requires discretion. An empty wing is more suitable than a barrack on full display.” You’d taken some liberties speaking for your mother, but he didn’t need to know that. Instead you added, “Which reminds me, why are you here if she gave no orders.”

Howzer chuckled warmly. "I spotted an inbound ship from Kamino on the flight manifest this afternoon. I figured it was you and couldn’t resist the chance to see you limping off of a ship.” The sentiment made you laugh. He added, nodding his head, “Just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“She held her own,” Hunter came up beside you with a hand on your shoulder. “Even got the better of one of us once.”

“Twice.” You quickly corrected, earning a disgruntled noise from the sniper behind you. The curious tilt in Howzer’s helmet, from behind you and back, made you smile.

“Well then,” Howzer relaxed, a smile in his voice. “We’ll leave you to it. I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow.” He turned to depart, but you reached out and grasped his arm to stop him. He looked from your hand to your face.

“Thank you, Howzer,” you said earnestly, sliding your hand down to his and giving it a warm squeeze. “For being my friend.”

His helmet shifted back slightly, caught off guard once more. After a brief pause, he nodded and returned the squeeze gently. “No need to thank me,” he responded lightly.  “Just a perk of the job,” he addressed you by name and you could have heard the wink in his voice. You realize he might have never said it before. Howzer turned away with his squad following. As they walked off, one of the troopers elbowed him lightly, only to receive an aggressive shove in return. 

“I think I might be sick.” Crosshair murmured from behind you.

You snorted, looking over your shoulder at him. “Feeling queasy, huh? Maybe it’s just your batch going bad,” you teased, giving a playful nod to the nickname you had just learned. Crosshair groaned and Echo coughed to hide a laugh. Bad joke.

“Oh, c’mon.” You gestured for them to follow. “Let’s get to bed.”

Your family home was an architectural marvel built into the side of a mountain, its expansive windows offering a panoramic view of your planet’s capital city below. The residence had been in your family for generations, serving not just as a home but as a political hub, given your family's long history of public service. Though not every generation produced a Governor, there always seemed to be someone who utilized the sprawling estate as a political stage. Under your mother and sister’s tenure, it had practically transformed into an embassy.

Nestled on the quieter, mountain-facing side of the house were your private quarters. Your room, located at the end of a secluded corridor, offered a reprieve from the politics of the main halls. The other two rooms along your corridor remained mostly unoccupied, reserved for the occasional guest, a benefit of your mother's preference to keep you out of the public eye.

You paused at the door next to yours, explaining the solitude of your hall. Extending a hand towards the spare room, you said, “Either room can accommodate your squad, but feel free to use one or both.”

The group exchanged looks, weighing their options. Echo mumbled something about needing a break from the usual barracks scent, but ultimately, they decided to stick together. Their loyalty to one another reminded you of the times your sister would stealthily retreat to your room during her political campaigns. On especially tough days, she would stay the night, and in the early, dark hours of the morning, you would both slip away to the nearby hot springs.

The memory used to be a safe haven for you. Now it left you feeling oddly cold.

After bidding the boys goodnight, you retreated to your room. Setting aside a bag for the morning, you prepared for a much-needed early soak in the warm springs.

Waking well before dawn, you were eager for the comforting waters. From the back of your closet, you retrieved an old rope ladder with patches of fabric woven into it—evidence of years of repairs. Hardly necessary now, the ladder had been a crucial part of your escapades during your younger years, when you were more tightly bound by your mother’s expectations.

Your room opened onto a quaint veranda, bordered by sturdy stone balusters. This railing, carved from the mountain itself, served as your usual escape route.

As you’d done numerous times, you tied the rope off and unfurled it over the ledge of the terrace. Peering down, you were reassured to see the ladder hanging just a few feet above the   ground. Despite the 100-foot drop, a few firm tugs on the knots confirmed it was secure. Bag slung over your shoulder, you straddled the railing, preparing to make your descent.

“That would not be advisable.”

The unexpected voice sent a jolt through you, your arms instinctively gripping the railing to prevent a startled fall. Pressing your face against the cold stone, you scanned for the source of the interruption.

The veranda wrapped around the building, with each room opening onto its own curved section. There, leaning casually against the railing of the adjacent balcony, were Tech and Hunter. Hunter rested his elbows on the railing, a cup of caf hanging between his hands, while Tech leaned his hip against the railing, also sipping his drink. Both were wearing a set of black casual clothes, a long sleeve shirt and pants. It was Tech who had called out to you.

Tech adjusted his goggles, scrutinizing the rope ladder with a critical eye. After a moment, he relaxed slightly and nodded to himself. “The multiple repairs, along with the current condition of the rope, significantly compromise its integrity. If you attempt to climb down, the likelihood of the rope failing is high. You would fall from approximately,” he paused, his gaze measuring the drop, “68 feet.”

“You don’t know that,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as you climbed back onto the safety of the veranda.

“Care to test that theory?” Tech retorted, an amused challenge in his tone, though he already knew your answer.

Instead of responding, you walked over to the stone wall divider, where vines clung and crawled up its surface. Grabbing one, you used it for leverage to hoist yourself onto the railing and then climbed along the railing to their side of the veranda.

Hunter, witnessing the muscle memory in your movements, took a leisurely sip of his caf. "Does that come from having a sister too?" he commented dryly, watching as you landed beside them.

You snorted, “More from young rebellious years.” Glancing around, you noticed the absence of the other men

“Still asleep.” Hunter answered your search, gesturing a thumb over his shoulder. Hunter stood to face you, half sitting on the railing and looking you over with a raised brow. “What exactly were you doing?”

You nodded towards the treeline and the forest beyond. “There’s a hot spring not too far up the mountain.” Tech set his cup on the stone handrail and pulled out his datapad, tapping a few buttons as you continued, “My sister and I used to sneak out from time to time for a dip.”

Tech, always the analyst, chimed in, “I am picking up a heat signature a kilometer out.” He pivoted, scanning in other directions. “This mountain must have volcanic properties to create such a natural phenomenon.”

Impressed, you hummed in agreement. “You’re not wrong—”

“I seldom am,” Tech interjected, still focused on his device.

“—the mountain was once a volcano,” you finished, matching his flat tone.

Tech, now fully absorbed in geological data, murmured, “Fascinating how such places become sanctuaries over time.”

Hunter half-sat on the railing as he watched the sky beginning to lighten. Following his line of sight, you asked, “Are you two always the first ones up?”

“We’re terrible sleepers,” Hunter replied, throwing a knowing glance at Tech. “Tech’s brain doesn’t have an off switch.”

Tech rolled his eyes as he switched from his datapad to the device on his forearm. "And his heightened senses make him easy to disturb," he explained, tapping a few buttons before squinting at the screen. "So, yes, to answer your question—Hunter and I are usually awake before the others."

You heard Crosshair before you saw him. “Not for long with your prattling.” Crosshair appeared, pushing through a fabric curtain. Despite the dim morning light, he squinted as he joined you outside, his gaze shifting between you as if searching for an unsaid clue. Finally his eyes looked you over and he sucked on a tooth, asking, “Here with our orders so soon?” You didn’t miss the lighter tone in his voice. He was joking with you.

Well that’s a good step.

The early hour dampened your mood for bickering, so you forced a smile instead of biting back. “You are as lovely in the mornings as I’ve dreamt.” you quipped, immediately regretting your choice of words by the look he shot you, avoiding his smirk by pretending to brush dirt off of your sleeve. “On the note though, we can expect a droid with our instructions sometime-”

“Mistress?!” A panicked,metallic female voice echoed from your quarters. 

“Now, apparently,” you huffed, impressed yet annoyed by the droid’s timing. “Just a second, 9-E!” you called back to the protocol droid now audibly clattering through your rooms. The three men barely had a moment to react before you turned back to the ivy-covered wall. “Another reason to be glad you stopped me,” you tossed over your shoulder as you climbed.

By the end of the next hour, your family’s silver protocol droid was leading you and the Batch to your mother’s salon. It was the room she formally received visitors in and her typical venue for confrontation. You were particularly worried about the latter category.

“9-E,” you said, holding the droid back by the shoulder just before reaching the salon's doors. The droid swiveled its head to face you, and you gave its shoulder a reassuring pat. “I need to speak with my mother alone. You can come by afterwards, okay?”

The droid seemed to fuss for a moment but ultimately nodded, its voice a mix of concern and programmed calm. “Try not to provoke her this time, Young Mistress. She is in good spirits this morning,” it advised before waddling away. 9-E had been a loyal fixture in your life, often acting as a stand-in nanny. You respected its reverence for your mother, which is why you spared it from witnessing the more challenging family moments.

“What exactly are we walking into?” Hunter mumbled to you.

“Nothing to worry about.” You reassured, but you had a feeling your face didn’t match your tone.

Pushing open the heavy salon doors, you stepped into a room bathed in morning light, offering a panoramic view of the capital. The salon was meticulously arranged with luxurious decor that spoke of your family’s political heritage. At the far end, your mother, the Governor, stood two steps up by a large window, her silhouette framed against the cityscape.

The tall woman stood in a deep purple dress with an overcoat of similar color, all with golden embroidery. Her eyes combed the lot of you as you approached, her expression undeniably cold. There were no witnesses present so there was no show to put on.

In fact, the lack of guards or attendants did not bode well for the conversation.

You paused at the base of the steps leading up to where she stood, the rest of Clone Force 99 arrayed slightly behind. They all stood firm with their helmets tucked under their arms.

“Good job on the prompt return,” she said, cold yet perfectly polite, as if she were addressing a droid rather than her daughter.

“I would never keep you waiting,” you responded, maintaining the formal veneer.

Her lips twitched in what might have been a smile on a more congenial face but came off as a grimace. “You’ve already done so,” she said crisply. “Come here.”

Not wanting to further prove her point, you immediately ascended the steps. She reached out abruptly, her fingers clamping around your chin with a firmness that bordered on painful. Slowly, she moved your face side to side examining the marks, some still pink, on your face. Her lip curled. “The only thing you had going for you,” she murmured disdainfully, releasing your face with a sharp flick of her wrist.

Turning her gaze on the men assembled a step below, she gestured towards you without looking back. “Surely, the Prime Minister instructed you not to coddle her.”

Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech exchanged uncertain glances. From where they stood, it did not look like they coddled you. Crosshair and Echo kept their eyes on your mother. One was coiled for her next move while the other knew better than to take his eyes off an unpredictable politician.

Hunter didn’t recall Lama Su giving that directive and he didn’t have the political finesse to know what answer your mother wanted to hear. His eyes slid to you once more, before answering with cautious formality. “We trained her as rigorously as any member of the Republic's forces, Governor.”

Your mother's attention drifted downward contemplatively before returning to you with a subtle nod. Waving a hand at you, she managed a disappointed smile as she addressed Clone Force 99. “And that is all an elite clone force is capable of?” She held up a finger, considering something for a moment. Without further comment, she moved gracefully around to your back.

Her hands felt cold and foreign, you barely resisted the urge to lean out of her probing touch. With pressure she slid her hands over your shoulders and down your back, probing for vulnerabilities. Occasionally her hand grazed a bruise, at which you tensed but didn’t react further. Then, her fingers found their mark—just behind your shoulder, a spot still tender from Crosshair drilling into you.

As the pain sharply cut through your muscle, you instinctively jerked forward. Your mother's firm grip on your shoulder kept you in place as she pressed harder into the tender spot. The discomfort escalated until a grunt of pain escaped you, at which point she finally eased up. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed movement among the clones.

"There we are," she crooned, her voice chillingly soft as she pushed you toward the troopers. "My apologies for questioning your efficacy."

You hardly stumbled, but cleared your throat against the still present ache in your shoulder. Straightening out, you kept your eyes averted. You’d withstood your mother’s treatment your entire life. You let yourself believe it served a purpose. Whether it was to raise you to her standards or simply to prove her point. This felt different. Humiliating you served no purpose at this moment. After a lifetime of this, you thought, perhaps it’s just what you deserved. 

Finally, you looked at Clone Force 99 thinking you’d find them at attention, trained into stoicism. Instead, they no longer stood in line. 

Crosshair was further out than the others, mid-step, nearly mid-bite and restrained only by Wrecker's firm grip on his shoulder. Wrecker himself stood uncharacteristically still, his usual demeanor replaced by seriousness. Wrecker was holding Crosshair back, but you’d be forgiven to think he was urging his brother on. Beside him, Hunter and Echo mirrored each other’s posture, frowning with fists clenched at their sides, looking like they were about to snap. At the end of the line, Tech maintained the most composed state, though a slight frown tugged at his features as he held a finger to the light on his goggles.

Theirs was more of a reaction than most who had witnessed a glimpse of your mother. These men barely knew you and they didn’t think you deserved this.

They didn’t deserve to see this.

You offered a smile to the men who barely knew you. None of them moved as you tucked your hands behind your back and faced your mother. 

She didn’t bother meeting your gaze, rolling her eyes away as to not entertain whatever confidence struck you. “The Gala is tomorrow evening, you will be briefed later.” Later, her always had a vague way of leaving you waiting. “Make yourselves scarce until then.” She waved you off, turning to face the cityscape again as if you and the situation at hand were little more than a minor inconvenience in her day. 

You gave a respectful bow and swiftly made for the door. Without hesitating, you passed directly between the members of Clone Force 99, not waiting to see if they offered any form of courtesy to your mother before following you.

You all stayed silent until you made it back into the corridor.

“Now you see the reason for the rope ladder.” You said lightly as you led them away.

Echo quickened his step to match yours, a look of concern - if not anger - on his face. “What happened there? That woman is your mother?” He gestured incredulously back towards the salon, shaking his head “She’s... she’s cruel.”

“Always has been.” you replied with a shrug, not bothering to hide your truth anymore. “I’m just sorry you saw it.”

“Someone like that shouldn’t be leading people.” Echo asserted.

You didn’t stop walking, but managed to side eye Echo. “She’s not like that with others.” That answer didn’t calm the cyborg.

Tech chimed in from behind, his datapad beeping softly. “It’s surprising she hasn’t been exposed on the Holonet with that kind of behavior.”

“You’ll understand once you see her tomorrow. There’s no surprise in it.” you scoffed, leading them further away from the scene.

The group murmured amongst themselves, clearly troubled by the encounter. Wanting to shift their focus from your mother, you planned to seize the opportunity presented by the early morning chill in the air.

As you approached your rooms, you spun around, effectively blocking their access to their quarters with a playful stance. They all looked so somber.

“Enough of that.” You said sternly, but there was a lightness in your chest that you hadn’t felt in ages. They remained in similar shades of uncertainty. 

The absurdity of it all hit you —the idea that your mother, with just a small show of herself, could unsettle a group of battle-hardened soldiers. These men faced deadly threats without flinching, yet here they were, shaken by the woman who raised you. The stark contrast between their usual bravado and their current discomfort was ridiculous, really.

Laughter burst from you, resonant and unrestrained, filling the stone corridor. Echo muttered something to Hunter that you didn’t catch, but it only fueled your amusement further. Your sides began to ache, pulling at a tender bruise, yet you continued to chuckle through the discomfort. For a moment, you thought you’d never be able to stop.

Wrecker’s brows were the first to lift as he surveyed his brothers’ reactions. You covered your mouth with your hand, another laugh threatening to bubble out. Crosshair and Tech shared a look of confusion and evident disturbance. The sight of Tech’s furrowed brow and slightly open mouth pushed you over the edge again.

As the last waves of humor receded, you clutched your sides, threw your head back, and expelled one final, drawn-out sigh. A lazy smile spread across your face as you met their gazes once more. Shaking your head, you teased, “You face droid armies and risk your lives every day.” You gestured dismissively towards the direction of your mother’s salon. “And one measly Governor ruffles your feathers?”

A short pause passed and Tech said in a flat tone, “I think I am glad to not have had a mother.” Echo groaned, covering his eyes with his hand, but you found the sentiment funny.

To shake the residual tension, you sighed, “Listen, I really don’t want to dwell on her right now. Instead…” You slid back a few steps, nodding over your shoulder with an adventurous glint. “Come with me to the hot springs?”

Wrecker perked up first. "The hot springs?" His interest was evident as he shared a smile with his brothers, but Hunter remained reserved, arms crossed, his expression tight.

"They're worth the hike," you coaxed, waving them to follow. "It's not far, and it's the perfect way to unwind."

Hunter's brow furrowed as he considered the risks. "We don’t know when the Governor might call us back. It's best not to stray too far," he advised pragmatically. With a heavy sigh, he added, "I'll stay back, keep watch for any messages."

"Same here," Echo interjected, raising his scomp-link arm slightly. "Besides, long soaks really aren't my thing anymore."

You looked hopefully at the remaining three. Wrecker pumped his fist in the air, clearly eager. Surprisingly, Crosshair, despite his sour look, gave a shrug. "I’m in," he said, placing a toothpick bobbing between his lips.

Tech pulled his datapad out, but gave a quick wave. “I will join as well. I'm curious about the natural phenomenon." He paused, pointing a finger at you. "However, we're definitely not using your ladder."

That comment drew a wary look from Wrecker. "Ladder?" he asked.

Which made sense once the lot of you stood at your veranda’s railing. Tech and Crosshair were down to their blacks, the closest You’d just finished pulling up your ladder when Wrecker stepped back. “On second thought, you guys go ahead. I’ll stay here.” He said uneasily.

You spun on him. “What?!” 

Hunter clapped him on the shoulder, chuckling. "Come on, Wrecker, it's not that high."

Tech stepped up beside you to peek over the railing. “That’s about 20 feet too high for his comfort,” he clarified, diagnosing Wrecker’s hesitation. “He's not great with heights.

Wrecker rubbed the back of his neck, his discomfort apparent. “Yeah, I’ll pass this time,” he admitted, resigning himself.

“Alright,” Echo interjected, heading back inside. "Let’s go find some food then," he suggested, inviting Wrecker to join him in a more comfortable pursuit.

Hunter pushed off from his spot leaning against the railing. “You three have fun, but don’t be too long.” He followed after Echo and Wrecker, pausing at the doorway to your quarters to sigh, “Just don’t kill each other.”

The annoyed sound Crosshair usually made at such comments didn’t come. Looking as bored as ever, Crosshair was busy scoping out the ground below. His lack of response felt underwhelming. He passed a cool look at you before silently grabbing for the bag he and Tech brought. From it he pulled a grappling hook and a descent device.

Tossing the device at Tech, Crosshair tossed the bag over his shoulder. “I’m going down first.” He pointed a finger at Tech. “You get to carry her down.”

The three of you ventured to the hot springs, Crosshair notably silent for the duration of the journey. Once there, Tech immediately scoped the surrounding area. The hot springs were a true miracle of the mountain. Nestled at the bottom of a hollow, a handful of pools steamed off into the branching hanging above. The pools were all interconnected, hot water bubbling between them and lapping against the smooth stones lining their boundaries.

This quiet nook, forgotten by all but you, was your sanctuary. The cloud forest and warm waters felt like a personal sacrament, and sharing them with someone, especially Tech with his eager fascination, filled you with a sense of happiness. A feeling that quickly vanished upon looking at Crosshair. The residual smile fell from your face. He wasn’t looking at you but his face was one of disinterest.

The spectrum of Crosshair you’d witnessed over the course of a few days made you realize how little you truly knew the men of Clone Force 99. You’d expected their reaction in various shades of Tech’s reaction. Annoyance and skepticism you’d prepared for, not this sudden coldness.

Only a few hours prior he’d seemed at least cordial for the first time since learning the truth. Now, he seemed unable to even look at you.

 When it came time to shed your outerwear, Crosshair’s reaction was sharp. A sweeping look of you sent distaste across his features, and he turned away, leaving abruptly. Tech dismissed it as just another example of Crosshair’s stubborn nature, but to you, it felt deeply personal.

You checked yourself before entering the waters. Outside of a few bruises he would’ve known about, there was nothing scandalous about your bathing suit.

Moving from his perch at the edge of the pool, Tech dipped into the waters next to you. He shook his head, gesturing to where Crosshair had stood. “Problem?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, determined not to let Crosshair's attitude dampen the moment. Leaning back against the warm rocks, you turned towards Tech, who was now unguarded and bare in the water. “Perhaps one,” you said with a light tone, your eyes inadvertently scanning his exposed skin.

Your eyes roved Tech’s bare upper body, thankful for your already present flush from the springs. As Tech lifted his goggles to defog them, you peek beneath the water's surface and your face heated at the realization that he was completely nude. Once his goggles were back in place, he caught your gaze. “And what would that be?”

“You are naked,” you pointed out, an amused undertone in your voice.

Without missing a beat, Tech replied, “And your clothes are transparent.” His response made you snap your attention to your own attire. To your horror, Tech was right - the wet fabric had gone see-through.

Tech glanced down at himself, seemingly puzzled, then shrugged. “As I have never partaken in such recreation before, I merely followed your example” The bubbling waters filled the brief silence that followed. Tech’s gaze flicked from your chest back to your eyes, his expression marked by genuine confusion. “What is the issue?” he asked.

Not even a shadow of understanding graced his face, he was devoid of any of your engrained reservations. It occurred to you that perhaps the social nuances of nudity were lost on clones. What use would trivial embarrassment serve for soldiers?

Tech’s gaze dropped to your chest again, but you saw nothing lewd in his attention. In place of the lechery you’d expect, his expression only held curiosity - as if your skin could tell him what you weren’t. Here was Tech, a battle seasoned soldier, sharing a moment of innocence with you free of the judgmental social expectations you were trained to abide by. The realization took away the anxiety you felt.

Chuckling, you managed to speak through your amusement, “They’re not supposed to be transparent, you know.” Your humor softened into a warm smile as you observed Tech’s puzzled expression. “It’s generally good practice to wear something a bit more... substantial when you’re swimming.” You waved a hand over your transparent clothing. Winking at him you added, “Or at least when you're in mixed company.”

Tech absorbed this information, his head tilting slightly as if filing away a new data point. “Ah, social norms?” he queried, more intrigued by the learning opportunity than embarrassed by his faux pas.

“Yes, exactly,” you agreed, your smile lingering. “But honestly, don’t worry about it. It’s just us here, and it’s actually quite refreshing to just relax about it.” You appreciated his unguarded state, a rare departure from his usual precision.

Nodding in understanding, Tech’s slight smile suggested he was becoming more comfortable with the situation. Adjusting his goggles he cleared his voice. “I will take note,” he responded, his voice carrying a hint of amusement now joining yours. A hue of pink came to his complexion - whether it was due to the warm waters or the new information you weren’t sure.

You watched him for a moment, the scientist in him always observing, always analyzing. It was endearing and made him all the more fascinating.

 “Speaking of relaxing,” you said cautiously, curious about his thoughts beyond his duties. “Have you ever thought about what you’d like to do when the war is over?”

Tech paused, his gaze drifting off across the steamy water. “I haven’t given it much thought,” he admitted slowly. “There always seems to be another mission, another objective. But, I suppose...” his voice trailed off as he considered the question more seriously.

“An adventurer, maybe?” you suggested playfully, watching his reaction.

Tech looked at you, surprise registering on his face before it softened into contemplative curiosity. “An adventurer,” he repeated, rolling the idea around in his mind. His smile reappeared. “Exploring new planets, studying uncharted ecosystems without a firefight waiting around the corner—that does sound appealing.”

Your conversation drifted into a comfortable silence you both relaxed into. Eventually Tech announced it was time and you got to work heading back. You gave yourself plenty of credit for keeping your eyes above Tech’s waist as you gathered yourselves. Enough credit to indulge yourself in fully devouring the sight of him in his blacks as he led the way back to the grappling line.

Tech tugged his damp blacks into more comfortable angles before crouching in front of you, offering to carry you as he had on the way down. The first time you’d protested, this time you gladly climbed on board.

Securing your arms around his neck you chuckled, “And this really isn’t heavy for you?”

Tech scoffed, bouncing you into position as he stood. “You should not be surprised. After Wrecker, I am the strongest of my brothers.” Your brows raised at his use of ‘brothers’ as well as the fact of his strength. “Any concern is unwarranted, I am more than capable of carrying you.”

Your reply came in securing your still damp hold on him and that was enough for Tech to launch you both towards your veranda above. 

Showcasing his tactical skills, Tech expertly got you up and over the railing without so much breaking a sweat. 

"You were right," you exhaled, releasing a breath you hadn't realized you were holding as Tech helped you down from his back. Laughing lightly, you admitted, "You were right to carry me." Referring to your initial push to rappel on your own.

Tech straightened to roll out his shoulders. "I would get used to it if I were you," he remarked, a playful edge to his voice.

Dropping the bag from your shoulder, you squinted at Tech. “Get used to what?”

With a confident tilt of his head, Tech smiled. "The fact that I am typically correct." His tone, imbued with humor and self-assurance, sent another flutter through your stomach.

A familiar voice came from the open doors of your quarters. “I am glad to see you are taking your duties seriously.” Your sister’s voice spun you around. Her eyes were focused on the forest beyond, leaving it to guess whether she was addressing your or Tech.

Stepping out from among the drapes, she wore a floor-length light purple dress, cinched at the waist with a golden chain and her hair pulled back by an opal comb. The sight tightened something in your chest. Given that you were summoned to be her stand-in, her presence at home was unexpected. “I didn’t think you’d be here,” you admitted.

She glanced over Tech as she stepped towards you, with her attention lingering before she finally looked at you. “The hot springs?” She asked with a raised brow.

“We had the time,” you replied simply.

Humming thoughtfully, your sister pretended to smooth her dress, keeping her focus on you as she dismissed Tech. “You may leave us, trooper.” Her newfound, cool demeanor you’d first witnessed on Kamino was jarring to say the least.

Tech didn’t immediately leave, but looked at you first. His eyes darted between yours with something like concern and a silent question in his attention. Acutely aware of your sister’s scrutiny, you offered Tech a smile of assurance. He returned the gesture with a nod and promptly excused himself. 

He was most likely still in earshot when your sister asked in a cool tone edged with criticism, “What are you doing, sister?”

“Waiting on Mother’s instructions.” You hadn’t expected to sound as snippy as you did.

By the way her eyebrows settled, neither did your sister. Maintaining eye contact, she waved a hand at the doorway behind her. “I meant with the clones.” She shook her head, frustration furrowing her brow. “This stunt of yours is going too far.”

“This stunt of mine?” You recoiled slightly, genuinely confused. “What do you think I’m doing?”

Your sister began pacing the veranda, rubbing her forehead and shaking her head in frustration.. “I thought you were getting some-” Her hand whipped around flippantly, “-Latent rebellious phase out of your system,” she scoffed, looking skyward before fixing her gaze back on you. “But now I’m beginning to think you…” Her voice trailed off as she stopped, pinning you with a stern look. 

She approached with hands outstretched to capture your face. Her warm palms gently pressed on your face, a cherishing touch. “Negating your duties to this family is one thing. Fraternizing with lab experiments is another.”

Lab experiments.

The connection wasn’t instantaneous, after all, it was unthinkable that your sister, who had always been the epitome of compassion, could utter such a callous phrase. When her meaning sank in, you took a step, perhaps the first one ever, away from your sister. The morning sun caught on golden threads sewn through your sister's dress, giving her an off putting halo that chilled you.

Throughout your life, where your mother’s efforts were indifferent, your sister exemplified compassion for others. To hear her now, casually dehumanizing an entire race, was like seeing a stranger in her guise. Hearing your mother through your sister, wearing such a familiar face, gave you pause.

Something fractured inside you, and it sharpened your voice to a jagged edge. “How could you say something like that?” 

Suddenly, her face softened into the warm grin you adored. With a sound of concession her hands waved around her head in submission before falling to her sides. “I’m just saying you were born for more than this.” Pulling you close again, she planted a kiss on your forehead, like you were a wayward child.

A vein of anger pulsed through you as you shoved her off. “And what exactly was I born for?” You challenged, barely restraining the bite behind your tone.

Your aggression didn’t dim her smile; she brushed off your rising ire with one calm word, “More.”

“Now,” she announced, clapping her hands together as if to dispel the tension. “I’m here to ensure everything is in order for the Gala.” Without checking to see if you followed, she began walking back inside, detailing the timeline for the next day. She never looked back, so accustomed was she to your lifelong habit of trailing behind her.

Anchored in place, you watched her disappear into your quarters. ‘Lab experiments’ kept turning over in your thoughts.

Beyond the sisterly love that always bound you, it was her opinions, thoughts, and motivations that you so sought to protect. She aimed to improve people’s lives and be the voice of your planet’s needs. Without her selfless, kind drive—or even the calculating leadership of your mother—you knew you could still support your people and protect your sister by becoming her shield.

But this new facet of her, the glimpses of a harsher woman unknown to you, troubled you. Supporting your sister and raising her voice above your mother’s was one thing. Supporting a voice that echoed your mother’s was another entirely.

Compared to participating in whatever pageantry your mother and sister had planned, scaling the ivy-covered wall beside you looked was the more appealing option. 

Your sister called your name, finally prompting you forward. You could dwell on your family after the event.

The Gala was to be held in a hall open to the public, whereas the rehearsal took place in the privacy of a separate, more secure hall. Typically the venues were one in the same but with your standing in, necessary precautions were taken.

While you managed the rehearsal, Howzer briefed Clone Force 99 on the layout and security protocols of the structure.

Having finished surveying the building’s perimeter, Howzer led the squad up a switchback staircase carved into the mountain. “This is the last access point to the building and, coincidentally,” he noted as they reached the top stair, “a backdoor for tomorrow.”

The stairs led to a rocky outcrop that overlooked the hall where the event would be held. The hall was dimly lit, with staff attending to last-minute preparations.

“It’s an impressive structure,” Hunter remarked, walking to the edge of the outcrop. He knelt down, scanning the windows and balconies below through his binoculars.

Based on Tech’s research, neither the Governor nor the Senator had heat on them. The entire estate was designed to be impenetrable, and as far as Hunter was concerned, everything was in order and controlled. Hunter stood to face Howzer, rolling a shoulder towards the estate behind him. “This seems pretty straight forward, why the extra security?”

Howzer thought, nodding through a long inhale, “The Governor doesn’t do anything without necessity.” He paused, but could only shrug, “But I can’t say. She hasn’t indicated any specific threat.”

Having been on a similar line of thought as Hunter, Echo was the next to question with a question. “Why are clone troopers stationed here anyways?” Clone troopers went where there was unrest and instability; conditions that did not describe your planet. Yours had been stable, if not outright prosperous, in the war so far. 

“This planet exports more raw energy than most planets in the Mid Rim combined.” Howzer explained. “From what I’ve been told, when the war started and sides were being chosen, the Republic wouldn’t risk losing this planet’s energy supply so they’ve done everything possible to placate the politicians here.”

He continued, “Plus, having Clone troopers escort the major energy shipments? It’s a smart move for keeping away Separatists and pirates.”

For most of the afternoon, Crosshair had kept his attitude subdued. Whether it was due to a lack of commentary or abundance of restraint was anyone’s guess. Eventually, his patience waned, and he couldn’t help but interject, his voice dripping with disdain.  “And where does being a glorified bodyguard come into play?” There was no curiosity in his question, only pure condescension.

Howzer shifted his weight, a muscle feathering over his jawline. Looking Crosshair over he mused, “Seeing as how we’re in the same boat for the next two days,” Scoffing, Howzer turned his attention back to venue below and continued, “Why don’t you let me know when you figure it out?”

That earned a laugh from Wrecker. Almost knocking Crosshair off balance, Wrecker knocked him with an elbow and chuckled, “He gotcha there, Cross.”

A snarl rippled over Crosshair’s lips, twisting into a mean smile. “So you enjoy playing lapdog for a few prissy politicians?”

“Prissy is one way to put it.” Tech added under his breath as he lifted his scanner in the air.

A smile softened Howzer’s features as he noticed a familiar figure stepping out onto a balcony. "Like I said - it has its perks," he said, his gaze fixed on the scene below. The two of you were discussing something with your sister holding a datapad between you while 9-E trailed you.

Crosshair followed Howzer's gaze, his annoyance cooling slightly as he spotted you on the balcony. The sniper clicked his tongue and stepped back from the ledge.

Tech, still fiddling with his scanner, noticed the change in Crosshair and found you. He watched you for a beat, glancing between Howzer and you, before tucking his device away. “It looks like they are nearing the end of their preparations. This would be a good opportunity to head back.” It was all the prompting his squad needed to start moving towards the stairs.

Howzer didn’t immediately move, his eyes dropping away before locking back on you. “Tell me something,” He said, voice dropping low. “How’d she take it?”

The question sent a pulse of silence through the men as they exchanged looks. Howzer  faced the group, tapping the scar that marred his left cheek. “I saw her face.”

“Running to her defense?” Crosshair's voice was sharp, tinged with scorn.

Echo passed Crosshair a disapproving shake of his head. Sounding impressed, Echo was the one to answer, “She handled herself like a soldier.”

That was the answer Howzer expected, but still his shoulders fell. Howzer's expression softened slightly, though a hint of sadness lingered. "Prissy doesn't even begin to cover her on a good day," he muttered, more to himself than to the others.

In the limited time the Captain was stationed on your planet, he’d caught on quickly enough to your family dynamics. 

Initially, the Senator had seemed the most approachable. She was amiable, respectful, and appreciative of the clones' efforts, contrasting sharply with the Governor’s dismissive air. Whereas, you were distant, something Howzer took as alignment with the Governor’s sentiments. Rumors even made their way through the barracks that it was the Governor that kept you away, that she deemed clones unworthy of her daughter’s company. Howzer shut the insubordination down, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought the same thing.

It wasn’t until the first conference Howzer attended with your family that his perspective changed. The conference kept the Governor distracted and gave you the first real chance to approach him. Your humor surprised him, your unabashed admiration for the clones even moreso. After an evening with you, he found himself in your company at every opportunity. While your leash was tight, more so than you probably even realized, you definitely knew your way around your restrictions.

Once Howzer heard how the Governor spoke of you and your ‘lack of ambition’ Howzer understood he only saw a small part of the whole. After a time she grabbed your arm so hard you winced, he worried about what she did when there weren’t witnesses. In the end, Howzer decided it wasn’t his place to comment. Even as a Captain in the Grand Army of the Republic, he was only a clone trooper.

So, he kept things professional, maintaining a safe boundary with you. Yet, he indulged your questions about training and duties, even encouraged you to get training if that’s what you felt your path was. When you didn’t return from Kamino, that safe boundary quickly felt like a noose on your neck.

Your safe return felt like a second chance. Howzer wouldn’t be a silent bystander again.

“You know,” Howzer addressed the group but looked directly at Crosshair. “We were made to take hits. Clones are trained all our lives to take this well.” He walked past the men, bumping into Crosshair on his way, adding, “Makes you wonder, doesn't it? What taught her to handle it so well?”

This was the first time a reg left Crosshair silent and the first time he resented his ability to see so far off. He didn’t want to look at you.

That evening, you returned well after dark. Exhausted, your feet ached, your back was sore, and your mind thoroughly numbed from your sister’s constant instructions. You didn’t even bother with the lights as you made your way through your quarters.

Slumping down on to the edge of the bed, you began pulling at the tight shoes your sister chose for you. As you bent, a twitch ran through you that flared pain in your shoulder. It reminded you of all the reasons your shoulder was sore and why you were staring at a pair of ugly, golden slippers.

A burst of rage sent the slipper soaring into the wall ahead of you. Unsatisfied, you ripped the other off and chucked it toward the open veranda doors, where it landed just short of the outside. 

Annoyed with yourself, you retrieved the shoe, and as you neared the door, you caught the drift of voices outside. With soft steps, you continued onto the veranda for a better listen.

Hunter’s stern voice made it through the wall first. “Crosshair, calm down.”

“No,” Crosshair snapped, his voice as furious as when you had headbutted him. “He knew who she was and didn’t say anything. He got us into this situation.”

Great, you inwardly groaned. They’re talking about me. Discomfort bloomed in your chest, sending prickling anxiety up your spine. They were fighting because of you.

Echo interjected, his tone just as firm. “The Prime Minister got us into this, not her. And you’re only making it worse with your attitude. Keep it to yourself. We have a mission to do and she certainly doesn’t need it,” he snapped, footsteps receding as he presumably walked back indoors.

As you strained to hear who was left, Tech’s reasoned voice floated over. “I hardly see how my knowledge of her identity caused any problems.”

“Oh, don’t act so innocent.” Crosshair fumed. “You knew, and because of your silence, I—We could’ve handled things differently.

Tech sighed, a mix of frustration and resignation in his voice. “I merely respected her decision to train without interference.”

“And look where that got her,” Crosshair retorted sharply, his voice dripping with bitter sarcasm.

At that you sucked in a small breath. 

Tech started to push back when Hunter finally stepped in, “We’re done here. Tech, Wrecker, inside. Crosshair, stay out here and cool off.”

From the sounds of it, the others retreated inside and the solitary grumbling confirmed it for you. As softly as possible, you walked to the railing. You swallowed what you could of your anxiety and leaned over the balcony to peer around the ivy wall.

Sure enough, there Crosshair was, head in hands, leaning on the handrail. Catching him in this small moment of silence felt like seeing something you shouldn’t have. The moonlight illuminated him, bouncing off his hair enough to give him a glow. He was beautiful.

“What could you possibly want?” You jumped when Crosshair’s sharp tone cut through the silence. He dropped his hands and met you with an irritated look.

The first thing that came to mind spilled out, your nerves getting the better of you. “I want a lot of things.”

Crosshair shifted his weight onto one elbow, twisting in place to see you better. “What?” The tone in that one word sounded like a larger, more insulting question.

Swaying from the balls of your feet to your tiptoes and back, you considered tossing yourself from the balcony rather than saying another word. Staring out over the forest beyond you were slow to think of anything. Hesitantly, you started, “I want… this Gala to be over.” You turned a smile on Crosshair, hoping the humor would crack his scowl. 

It didn’t.

“And I want to apologize.”

That caught his attention. His sour expression pinched with confusion. He straightened, resting his hand on the railing. “For what?” he asked skeptically.

Taking a sidestep in his direction, you took another jab as lightening the mood, crooning, “Don’t get your hopes up, it’s not for headbutting you.” His face didn’t change and the grip he had on the railing went white, spiking that prickling anxiety again. Crosshair said nothing, pushing away from the railing to leave. 

“Crosshair, wait!” You scooted to where the veranda met the dividing wall.

“Save it.” He growled without looking back.

His walking away, dismissing you, not giving you the time of day - all of it broiled a rage deep seated within you. A rage that had been festering inside you since childhood. The very same flood of rage that sent your shoes flying earlier. One of which you still held in hand.

Chucking the slipper as hard as you could, it found its mark on the back of Crosshair’s head. At an abrupt halt, he stood frozen, then slowly faced you. Where the moonlight once brought out a beauty in the man, now darkened an already angry glower.

“What was that for?” His voice was dangerously low.

Refusing intimidation, you curled your fingers into the air in front of you. Through gritted frustration, you said, “Because I’m tired of you being an ass! You’re angry with me so just-” Your hands fumbled in front of you, making angry shapes as you worked out the last words, “Just say it!”

Crosshair said nothing, going silent as he took two long strides, gripped the railing with one hand, and vaulted himself around the wall with fluidity. You managed to get out of his way as he danding on your side without a sound. He didn’t move any closer, but even feet away he stood over you. 

Not backing down, you were the one to close the distance, doubling down by saying, “Say it to my face.” He dodged the finger you thrust in his face.

The two of you stood like that, on the cusp of something angry, for almost a moment too long. As if neither of you had fully thought this through. Thought through what to say or how to say it. Especially seeing as your typical mode of conflict wasn’t on the table.

His jaw clenched a few times before he spoke and, much calmer than you expected, Crosshair said, “You should have told us who you were.”

Your frustration bled into desperation. “Crosshair, please, this isn’t a game to me. If I wanted to train, I had to-” On instinct you reached for his arm but he stepped out of reach before you made contact.

You both froze with your hand still hanging between you. Simultaneously, the two of you broke eye contact to look at your hand and when he didn’t swat your hand, you reached for him again. And again, he evaded you.

“Crosshair.” You said slowly. “What is going on?” His avoidance seemed like anger, but his sidestepping made you think again. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I...” Crosshair’s voice trailed off as he fell back a step, something flickering in his eyes. He tried to look elsewhere, but you stepped into his line of sight. A little jolt ran up his neck, almost taken aback by your persistence. What little control he had over himself seemed to be slipping.

Careful of the boundary you toed, you held his gaze while extending a hand to him again. His eyes didn’t falter, but the breath he held told you he knew what you were doing. With the caution of handling a wild animal, you gently touched his forearm. The muscles in his jaw went tight at your touch.

In a voice reserved for your sister, gentle and patient, you pushed softly, “It’s more than not telling you, isn’t it?”

The moonlight softened Crosshair’s brown eyes to a pale hazel and revealed a flicker of whatever fight he had with himself. “If I had known who you were-”

“You wouldn’t have trained me?” You cut him off, too eager to know his inner workings.

His mouth opened just enough for him to say, “That’s not it.” For only a second, had you blinked you’d have missed it, his eyes scanned your face.

You didn’t need to ask to know it was marks on your face he sought.

“No.” A dawning realization tilted your head. You weren’t sure if you were flattered or offended. “You wouldn’t have used me like a punching bag.”

Like a child caught in trouble, those pale hazel eyes widened. This was, perhaps, a shared realization.

“Are you avoiding me because you’re ashamed?” Crosshair didn’t respond, his silence a confirmation as he looked away, unable to meet your gaze. 

“I… I don’t want to hurt you,” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not more than I already have.”

His confession pushed your hand from his forearm to his hand, balled into a tight fist.

“Look at me,” You urged gently, wedging your fingers into his. “Crosshair.” For a long moment, he remained still, then slowly, he found your eyes again.

You shook your head with a weak smile, the weight of his guilt adding to your own. Squeezing his hand you made your own confession. “I am sorry-”

“Don’t-”

“No.” You said firmly, squeezing again. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you all into this. I just…” A crack in your voice made you pause. Coughing through it, you continued, “I just wanted to be more than I am.”

Red hot shame burned tears into the corners of your eyes. The hold you had on his fingers, sat loose in yours, suddenly felt like an imposition. For weeks he was forced to be in your company. Now you forced him away from his duties to be another unwilling participant.

You slipped your hand from his at the thought of doing anymore damage. Your retreat made it no farther as an armored arm slung around you.

Crosshair pulled you close, trapping you under his chin. The sound of crickets was dampened by his breathing and drowned out entirely when Crosshair spoke.

“Don’t apologize to me or anyone else for that matter.”

The moment was fleeting. Before you could fully register or react to his words, Crosshair let you go, stepping back to give you space, his expression perfect neutrality. The feel of his arm lingered around you and kept you speechless as he lightly swiped a thumb over your eye. 

When all you managed were a few blinks, his lips pulled slightly to one side. “That’s not a good look for you.”

Warmth spread through your chest when he made a swipe over your other eye. You chuffed at the soft gesture, but gently pushed his hand away. While your touch still lingered, you playfully tugged his hand to the side, as if inviting him to dance.

Angling a smile up at him, you asked, “And… who can’t keep their hands off of who?”

Crosshair’s smile vanished as he rolled his eyes and groaned, pulling his hand back. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

You palmed away any remaining tears, chuckling as you stepped back. “Oh, get over yourself.”

There was a beat of silence before you both laughed. It was the first time you heard him laugh softly. The lingering warmth from your brief, shared laughter made the cool night air more bearable.

“As fun as this is,” Crosshair drawled, taking another step away. He flashed you one last disarming smile before turning on a heel to leave. “I think someone needs her beauty sleep.”

Your stomach fluttered as you watched him walk away. Seeing him so relaxed and even playful made his tease feel unexpectedly charming.

With a light laugh and a wave, you called out, “Go away, Crosshair.”

Alone on the veranda, you wrapped your arms around yourself, absorbing the night’s calm. The day had been the longest you’d had in a long time. And at the end of it all - you somehow felt good. Making amends with Crosshair made you feel hopeful that whatever tomorrow brought, you were ready for it.

Whether the men of Clone Force 99 knew it or not, they were changing your life forever.

taglist: @bruh-myguy-what @havocsix2havoc5 @thebadbatchfan @rhyscosmos @euphrosyn3 @a-rose-of-amber @reader3 @gingermeowmeow @noraantilles @tbbtechlover @fruityfucker @sparks0918 @patat-gurl @locamoka-blog @gvnthesia @astralqueenoc @the-adventures-of-alex-aurelius @faborriku @galaxyquirks @bimboshaggy @starlightaurorab @commanderblood @froggygal @bbuckysbeardd @baddest-batchers

[poisonsage808]

okay so i have like,, , two ideas (on John Munch x reader👉🏼👈🏼) 1. a hc list of John & Reader's first kiss (and or making out) 2. John & Reader just finished their date. but its raining outside (and John, being ever-so the gentlemen, kinda just. hovers his jacket over the reader?? idk if that makes sense,, ) andd maybe a 'lil kiss? sorry if the first idea isn't as specific as the second one, but don't pressure yourself into doing them both!! (have a lovely day!!)

a/n: darling nonny i'm so sorry, i misread the first request and was too far into it to start over. i sincerely hope this suffices <33

warning: one mention of intoxication, a bit suggestive but wholly sfw

There's a myriad of kisses Munch likes to bestow on you, all depending on the type of moment being shared

• Knuckles

A quick, reassuring gesture. Usually when people are around, specifically ones he either doesn't like or know but refuses to part with you without some form of affection

• Nose

For when he's being playful. John leans in, he waits for you to close your eyes then plants a soft kiss to the tip of it. Your reaction, be it annoyance or fondness, makes him smile all the more

• Hello

It doesn't matter if it's been five minutes or five hours, he sees you again and he's pulling you into a brief, but sweet, kiss. "Hey you," he murmurs against your lips

• Shoulder

He's tired, exhausted. His head finds solace in the crook of your neck and he sighs, weary but content. He kisses your shoulder in appreciation, a silent thank you for letting him lean on you

• Shut up

Be it angrily, passionate, overly fond or overdue, one of you has been ranting for far too long. It doesn't matter who initiated it, you both forget what was being said and lose yourselves to the kiss

• Cheek or Temple

Also quick, he's leaving the room or passing by or was staring at you appreciatively and simply felt like it

• Worry lines

Your eyebrows might be pulling too tight, you're lost in concentration and don't realize how coiled you've become. His hands steal your cheeks and attention, lips pressing a gentle kiss

• Drunk

After drinking with everyone sometimes he wants to slip a little deeper in that feeling, that warm, dizzying, comforting one that you heighten exponentially. You worsen his inebriated state, keeping him wholly dependent on your lips

• Forehead

Could be that Munch is holding you and unwilling to separate far enough to reach your lips, could be he's feeling sentimental and tender. He wants to stamp a kiss there and breathe you in at the same time, closing his eyes and allowing the tranquility of it all wash over him

• Neck

Entirely on purpose, believe his mischievous smirk. He likes the little details, the response your body gives him in return, breath hitching, goosebumps, giggles. He likes it a little too much

• Goodbye

Neither of you talk about it much, but you both know there's always that chance he could get hurt or, worse, not come back at all. Genuinely the hardest thing he has to do is kiss you goodbye yet, somehow, he always manages. It's one gentle, lingering kiss that's followed by a firmer, more passionate one that has potential to get carried away. “Bye baby,” he says after stealing just one more

• Apology

He's sorry, he's said it out loud but it's not enough. He won't feel forgiven until you kiss him. A peck will do, one that might say you're still mad but you still love him

• Lips

If he's held at gunpoint and asked his favorite thing about you, it has to be your lips. The smile they award him, all the things they say, the way they move when you're nervous or thinking. Sometimes he purposefully avoids kissing you on the lips because he knows he won't be able to stop, doesn't want to.

John either looks at them for far too long before giving in, or aims right for them. Words don't fail him, ever, but your lips never fail to make him speechless. So his kisses there will tell you everything he can't

♡ Movie Moment ♡

John’s too disenchanted by his time on Earth to look at the scene before him and admit it came right out of a damn movie. The rain was horrendous he tells himself as he puts his jacket over your shoulders, not at all endeared by the way you laugh and fail to cover your head from the droplets.

“You’re gonna get us sick!” He says after he chases after you.

“It’s not my fault it’s raining!”

“Yeah right, I don’t know what you get up to when I’m not around. You probably did some hocus pocus to trap us in a storm.”

Rushing underneath an awning, he crashed into your sudden stop. His arms automatically shot out to grab and still you, keep you close.

“Smooth,” you purred, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Now what were you saying? I trapped you?”

He hummed, quirking a brow at your accusation. John spares a hand to wipe your cheek, knuckles catching water droplets and pushing them away pointlessly. You said something, likely another quip, he knew because he saw your lips move but the words didn’t meet his ears. He doesn’t even hear the rain, the splashing puddles underneath cars anymore. Before he even realizes he’s doing it, he leans in. You meet him halfway. It’s a soft, unhurried kiss that slows time.

Right out of a damn movie.

[enweasley]

Restricted Section ; Finn Weasley x Sallow!Reader

AN: HII! So I haven't seen this being done much (or even at all but I barely looked) where people would write fanfics of their own characters in Hogwarts Legacy, so I decided to do so! Quick introduction to the character:

This is Finn Weasley; He's in Gryffindor and has a very loyal but mischievous personality. He's also pansexual! He LOVES herbology but he loves solving mysteries and exploring secrets even more - even if it's super dangerous. However, he will go to any extent to keep others out of danger (ironically). Finn can be really harsh to people if someone hurts him or the people he cares about. He's not perfect, though, he has some flaws. He does have a short temper and can say pretty horrible things without meaning to. He can also be quite reckless and finds it hard to accept other people's love and care, leading him to forget to keep himself from getting hurt.

That's all for now, but I'll probably add more to his story as time goes by!

(Please excuse any grammar mistakes, I'm trilingual and grammar from 3 languages can mix me up a lot C:)

--

Summary: The new student needs your help sneaking into the restricted section for something 'very important'. However, he doesn't expect you to cover for him when you get caught.

Warnings: Swearing, small panic attack, gets a little heated at the end. Kinda cheesy but we love that :)

Reader's gender is never specified!

--

"Excuse me! Y/n Sallow, right?" Interrupted from your game of wizard's chess alone, you turn around to be met with a pretty tall red-head. You couldn't help but think about how gorgeous he is, but you swallow your excitement.

"Yeah, that's me. You're the new kid aren't you?" You disenchant your chess game and give him your full attention. "I watched your duel with Sebastian in the Clock Tower, you're really good!"

Finn seems to flush at your compliment. During his short time starting in 5th year here in Hogwarts he's gotten plenty compliments on how he's been able to learn and execute spells so quickly, but for some reason your compliment had a special affect on him.

He chuckles lightly. "Thank you, I'm just trying to catch up quickly." He couldn't seem to keep his eyes from wandering over your features. "It's Finn, by the way. Finn Weasley."

"Oh, another Weasley! Well it's lovely to meet you! Did you need anything?" You ask politely.

Finn almost forgot why he was talking to you in the first place, but managed to remember before already humiliating himself in front of you. "Right, yes. This may sound quite forward, but Sebastian told me you're really good at sneaking around. Is there a chance you can help me sneak into the restricted section of the library tonight? I can't say why, but it's very important."

You were a bit surprised at his request, but kind of prideful that you were the first person he was led to for it. You smiled widely. "Of course! I'm surprised my brother didn't take you himself. Meet me at the grand staircase at 9. Don't be late!"

"Wait- Don't you wanna know more about why I need to sneak in?" He asked perplexed.

"Nope. I'll take any opportunity for sneaking around. Either way, you don't seem the type to burn down the castle or anything. Plus, you said you can't say why you need to sneak in."

He mentally facepalmed himself. How could he forget he just said that? Maybe he just wanted to talk to you longer. "I'll see you at 9!" You smile at him and walk away.

You take a long breath after turning away from him. Holy shit he's cute.

-

You're both crouched at the railing of the stairs looking down onto the central hall at exactly 9pm, analysing the prefects walking around and guarding the doors of the library.

"Okay," you whisper. "First of all, we need to go invisible. Have you learnt the disillusionment spell?"

Finn looks at you like a lost puppy, his head slightly titled. You almost had to tell him how cute he looked, but held back.

You pull your wand out and whisp it over your head and body. The wand leaves a blue trail of light before all there was left was your aura.

You continue whispering to the lost boy in front of you. "This is the disillusionment spell. It doesn't turn you completely invisible but it's better than being completely exposed."

You point to his hand holding his wand. "May I?" He nods hesitantly.

You slowly hold his fist clenching onto his wand and do the same movement you did on yourself over him. Finn could barely focus, the feeling of your soft hand on his summoning an army of butterflies in his stomach. You couldn't help but feel the same tingle in your stomach too.

Clearing your throat, you speak. "That's the movement for the spell. Just think of it and do the movement."

He did as you said, and suddenly you were both just two ghosts staring at each other's remains.

Finn chuckles enthusiastically. "This is awesome!" He whisper yells.

You laugh at his excitement, wishing you could see his freckled face through the spell.

"Okay, let's go. Stick close to me." You begin to sneak down the stairs, through the hall, and quickly side past the prefect turned away from the library door. You can feel Finn following closely behind.

After you both get into a safer corner of the library away from Madam Agnes's sights, you remove the spell off you.

"Here's the plan," you start. "You go get the key from Madam Agnes's desk draw over there, I'll distract her."

Finn nods. As you start to turn away, Finn grabs your arm gently and looks at you with his adorable puppy eyes.

"What if you get caught?" He sounds worried. You can't tell why he'd be worried about you, though.

You give him a cheeky smile. "Me? Get caught? You should worry about yourself, Weasley." He chuckles, shooing away the blush creeping into his cheeks after hearing you call him by his surname. "C'mon, let's go."

As you throw a book across the room, Finn conceals himself and scurries to grab the key. You quickly do the same and meet him at the entrance of the restricted section.

Exposing yourselves from the spell, you watch him unlock the gate before you walk in.

"YES!" Finn cheers, surprising you both with a tight hug. There's a pause before he realises what he's doing and slowly pulls away, taking his warmth away with him. "Sorry... Got excited."

You laugh sweetly at him. "I don't mind." He continues walking down the stairs of the forbidden room, but not before shooting you a relieved smirk.

"Lumos." You cast, making the eery room brighter and less intimidating.

As you squeeze between abandoned bookshelves and over piles of junk, you reach a collapsed set of armour. "Repai-" Finn begins to cast before a loud screech interrupts him.

Almost out of thin air, Peeves flies through the wall in front of you. He almost knocks you down, but Finn's quick reflexes catch you before you hit the ground. You find yourself wrapped in his arms, yours tightly around his neck.

"Shit, are you okay?" Finn asks you breathlessly, his worried eyes glaring into yours.

"Yeah yeah, I'm fine-" But once again you were interrupted by the same squeaky, loud voice of the poltergeist.

"I'M TELLING, I'M TELLING," Peeves squeals mockingly before flying straight upwards towards the main floor of the library.

Your heart squeezes into itself. You've never been caught before, why now? Your uncle is going to kill you if he finds out you were sneaking around the castle, and in the restricted section of all places.

You didn't realise your breath was quickening until you felt arms lowering you onto the floor and rough but warm hands palming each side of your neck.

"Hey, hey. You're alright, sweetheart. Take a breath." You hear Finn's soft voice whisper in your ear. A little voice was in your head screaming How do you expect me to breathe when you're making my heart beat even faster??

You breathe deeply before letting out a small chuckle. "I'm okay. I'm fine. Just go get whatever you need to get. I need to deal with Peeves before he gets us both in trouble."

Finn looks at you as if asking you if you're sure. You just nod and sprint after Peeves, the last thing you hear is a distant "Repairo" before making it back to the library.

"PEEVES YOU STUPID POLTERGEIST." You try catching him, forgetting he's a literal ghost as your arms flail right through him.

"Y/n Sallow." You jump at the voice of Madam Agnes behind you. You slowly turn around while Peeves chuckles menacingly at your head hung low in shame. "And to think I'd get a break from the Sallow siblings, you come running along. Wait until your uncle hears about this."

"No. No no no-" You get interrupted by her. "That's enough. You're a bright student, you should know better than to go sneaking around the restricted section especially after curfew."

"But Madam Agnes-"

"And Peeves here tells me you were with someone else." Peeves twirls and rolls around mid-air, celebrating your punishment. "Please tell me you were forced to come here by someone's hand instead of it being your own choice."

There's a pause. You could never snitch on Finn like that. You only just met him but you know better than to put his record at risk on his first week of school here. This was your own choice anyway, you weren't forced. Finn helped you down there, so you're gonna help him.

"No. I came here all alone." You said in a low but stern voice.

Madam Agnes sighs at your lie, but she knew how stubborn you and your brother were, so she let it slide.

"Detention after classes tomorrow. You're going to sort the books to their respective places until they're all done. It doesn't matter if it takes you all night." Your shoulders slump. "Peeves, escort her to her common room, please."

With a sigh from you and an evil chuckle from the poltergeist, you begin your walk to your common room. At least Finn's in the clear now.

Little did you know, Finn saw the whole thing from behind one of the shelves. He couldn't help but let a grateful smile reach his lips.

--

The next day, Finn runs to the library to find you after his classes. It's already dark out by the time he finishes his extra tasks and from talking to Professor Fig. He doesn't know why he's in such a hurry, but he won't let his confidence escape him just yet.

Once he's in, he find the library to be completely empty, not even Madam Agnes in sight. He hears distant curses and shuffling coming from the second floor and he can only assume the source being your complaining.

As he follows the sounds of frustrated mumbles, he finally finds you at the end of the second floor in a dark corner holding a bunch of books to shelf up. He smiles at the sight of you awkwardly balancing everything in your one hand and walks over to you, taking a pile of books from you.

"Need help there?" He looks at you with a teasing smirk.

You look at him with a grumpy face. "Oh haha, Weasley. I can handle this on my own, thank you very much." You snatch back the books he took from you, instant regret flooding your features as you immediately struggle to balance them.

Finn immediately takes them back from you and effortlessly holds them over his head, extending his arm upwards far from your reach.

"Hey- Hand those back, Weasley." You try hopping to reach the books he so graciously stole from you.

He chuckles at your efforts while you claw up his chest and shoulders, trying to tug down his arm. After a harsh tug, Finn loses balance of the books he's holding and he tries catching them but ends up stumbling forwards.

The books fall to the side as Finn catches himself on the bookshelf, trapping you between it and himself.

You lock eyes with him, your hands clutched tightly onto the thin material of his shirt over his chest. You're both breathing heavily, chests almost touching with every breath.

You can feel Finn hesitate as his hands slowly reach to cup the back of your neck, his thumb over your cheek. No matter how much you willed yourself to, your simply could not take your eyes off him.

"Thank you." He whispers. Your eyebrows furrow.

"For what?"

"For covering for me." His stare snapping between your eyes and lips. "I heard you in the library after we got caught."

"You mean after I caught got?" You tease.

Finn smirks at your remark, his hold on your neck squeezing for a second. "Whatever you say, sweetheart." The nickname melts into your ears and into the rushed beats of your heart.

"Hey, Finn?" The use of his first name makes the blood rush to his cheeks, his breath hitches.

"Yeah?"

"You dropped my books."

"Shut up." Finn lets out in a desperate breath before pulling you into him, his lips roughly but passionately meeting yours.

His other hand shifts from the side of your head to tangle into your hair, tugging it lightly. You let out a little whimper, but that's all it took for Finn to deepen the kiss even more, his tongue slightly grazing yours. Breaths were escaping through your noses, desperate for air but never desperate enough to separate from each other.

Your fingers weave through his long, soft ginger locks. Your other hand clutches desperately onto the collar of his shirt.

You both finally pull away from each other, your hands gliding down to rest on his chest.

"Fuck." Finn leans his forehead on yours, leaning in for another quick peck. His hazel eyes are glazed over, looking into yours like they hold the world. He slowly brushes a strand of your hair behind your hair, memorising your face as you memorise his.

"I was hoping you'd do that." You chuckle breathlessly. Finn laughs with you, his eyes holding nothing but love as they stare into yours. "Oh yeah?" You nod, your nose lightly touching his.

"Now help me with these books, Weasley. You're still responsible for my detention." You playfully push him away and start picking up the books he previously dropped.

"And I'd do it again as long as it ends like this every time." He smiles at you cheekily.

"Do it again and I'm telling Sebastian you used a love potion on me."

And with that he got to work helping you sort the books out.

[shortnsweetgf]

hey everyone! my comissions are open! you can request them here on dms or on my kofi!!

don't be afraid to dm me or send an ask if you have any questions :)

reblogs are appreciated

you can also find some of my designs on my redbubble!

tagging some friends under cut

@hollandweather @theladyinwhite13 @imperpetuallylost @bodybetters @daisjohnsons

@thegreatimpersonator @imtheiliad @maygrantgf @lonelychicago @hitsdifferents

@disenchanteds @antlerqueer @finnickodaiir @arobarbie @quinnigallagherjones

@shortnsweetbf @veryworsthalloween @octoberconstellation @ohnoballoons

[wanderingskylooker]

Theorizing about Super 4 ages (Super 4: Headcanon)

Post written by a non expert in the legal age matters, if something is wrong, probably I am wrong, thanks (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠).

Based on @salemigre → My thought on the age of the super 4´s ! (Ps: Alex’s section has a third part which works as an answer to Salemigre’s original post.)

I am not sure which their exact ages are, probably between 16 and 20; from 15 to 25 at most. This is going to be a completely personal opinion post, so the general idea is that they are around 17.

Sometimes the children’s shows portray characters of a very low age behaving like older kids or even independent young adults just to match the audience’s age. I won’t take this possibility into account.

Gene

Technopolis probably has the coming of age the same as the most common worldwide legal age of adulthood, 18; 20 is another possibility, but that difference doesn’t matter.

Why do I say that Gene is an adult? There’s a chance of him being actually over 18, but I am more into the idea of him requesting emancipation. The legal emancipation is a permission given to a minor, of 16 years or older, to become responsible for their choices and decisions, have adult legal rights and let them become independent in general, without the need of the tutors supervision to act. In my opinion, Gene is exactly the kind of person to do something like that.

(Ep: Gene, Techno-Explorer - Part 4)

Twinkle

The fairies are the hardest to guess, because they are not only fantastic beings, but because they are inconsistent between the cultures in which they appear. There are multiple possibilities, depending on which they are based in, but I have chosen three:

Related to the natural cycles. The Enchanted Island overflows with nature, so is likely for them to age due to their connection to a special plant or the whole forest. Maybe feelings too, but it seems like these last ones are more connected to the balance of the realm, rather than just the fairies.

The strength of their magic powers. Other ideas relate their aging to the increasing of their powers, which could work with normal fairies, and especially applies to the Grand Fairy, but not Twinkle, because she is extremely powerful for her age.

16-18 coming of age. The modern stories portray fairies quite close to normal human beings with powers, giving them a coming of age adequate to fit the story. There’s no further explanation.

Whether possibility is the right one, and even if she might be the youngest (at least that’s what the Super 4 wiki says, I don’t remember watching it on the show), 16 or so, I don't think she is underage among the fairies. In the episode Origins - Part 2, the last thing Twinkle was doing before be expelled from the fairies, was take the final fairy exam, which sounds to be an event to celebrate a coming of age if you ask me, so by the beginning of the Super 4’s team adventures she was about to become an adult, and even if she didn't pass the exam, it wasn't due to she didn't have enough magical power, but because she is messy and happened to do a spell which the teacher (the Fairy Queen) disliked, at least that's my thought.

(Ep: Disenchanted Island)

Ruby

With Ruby we have two options, the one based on the real world and the one on Gunpowder Island’s rules.

The one from the real world is the period. The first time a girl had her period she became a woman. I’ll just send to thrash this option and explain why.

We are not even sure if they have it. I know, it seems obvious, but things like this are ignored in children shows, and if magic, aliens and dinosaurs exist, why shouldn't the period doesn't exist? Maybe it isn't just ignored, maybe it simply doesn't exist. But okay, let’s think it exists and it is not the coming of age of the pirates. Before the 20th century, in England the legal age was 21, and the aspect of the pirates don't make me think they are any younger than 40, so probably for the pirates the legal age (legal I don't know for what, it’s not like they have age limits to become a captain, drink or become leader, just gender misogyny) is 21. Male, at least. The female we don't know, because it was normal for boys and girls to have different comings of age, but Ruby seems to have been raised in the male society coming of age, making fun of her for being a girl but not using the legal code against her. Pirates lack rules in general, they only agree that Ruby is a kid.

(Ep: Ruby, Queen of the Seas - Part 4)

Alex

Salemigre said that the coming of age for medievals was 18 years old, but I am not that sure. Of course, the typical for the middle age is to think they are adults from an incredibly young age, 12, 13 or 14, but that was at least for marriage, the legal ages were different for each part of the life. As long as I had seen (I am not 100% if the article is completely reliable -> 21st Birthday Key Of The Door), omitting the many centuries and places that the stereotypical Middle Ages span; since 11th century in England, a person was considered an adult when they reached 16 years, except knights, who had to wait until 21.

Becoming a knight had three stages. From 0 to 7 years, when the kid was a servant of a knight, at 14 he could become a squire, and at 21 he could become a knight.

In the show’s world, it doesn't look like knights work completely like ours, but more like having some training to be a knight and become one when they are ready. Knowing Alex’s exceptional skills I would not be impressed if he had become one before usual, although I also think that it was a bit due to his prince position and Kendric, being too flexible, who let Alex be a knight earlier.

In the episode Maze of Fears, even he seems to recognize that the rest think he is too young, or to be precise, he has gone out too soon, before end his training.

(Ep: A Colossal Challenge)

A little clarification. As a prince, Alex might be completely an adult. We are not sure if he can get married or how the inheritance of the throne works, but we have two possibilities besides matrimony: Alex has been able to become king since he was thirteen, a normal age to consider a royal old enough to be an adult, or he waits until his father dies (in case Leonora doesn't find a suitor and inherits the crown first) and the throne goes straight to him. In any case, with bases in our world, as a royal he is an adult, as a knight he isn't, but both depend on the rules their knights code have.

This paragraph is written for Salemigre and their post, if it could help to dispel any age issues and fill in the inconsistencies of the theory. You said that it was Leonora’s 18th birthday, but I actually don't remember hearing them saying that (I am not native English speaker, so maybe I just didn't notice); I just remember that it was her birthday, as a specific birthday (edit correction, in the French version indeed is said to be her 18th birthday). If it was a special birthday, it could be a coming of age, which, as long as Alex is a knight, is different for the siblings. Leonora’s first coming of age should have been when she was 13, and I say first because, again, the legal ages in medieval times were different for each social activity. The first could have been the coming of age for marriage and inherit the crown if she gets married, and the one we see might be a later coming of age due to… I don't know, honestly, maybe related to her position, but it could increase the age range, making that her 19th, 20th, 21st, etc, birthday. If that was the case, the Super 4 could be older when the episode Bodyguards happens.

Alien

We don't know about the being the Mysterios are, so we either know which their life expectancy is. As long as they are based on Mesoamerican cultures they could have puberty as coming of age, or they could have an event in their lives to prove they are adults. In the boys were things like a hunt or a ritual, although in Alien’s case it could have been the Origin saga: going to unknown lands to seek for help and rescue his tribe, it's quite a strong test of worth.

(Ep: Super Rock)

[l00kingatthem00n]

HAI. I love ur works i was wondering if u had any writing tips !!!!!

HOWDY!! first of all, thank you so much for loving my works hehe. it makes me so happy that you've been enjoying them :)!!!

second of all, gosh, you've caught me by complete surprise!! honestly, i've been writing for so long that i wouldn't even know where to begin articulating my advice. i'm no published author or anything, just someone who loves writing a lot so maybe take my words with a grain of salt.

HOWEVER, i will try my best! and i also apologize in advance for how messy it'll all be below the cut hehe :'D

i think a lot of my writing very loosely follows the idea of creating for yourself first, the audience comes next. OBVIOUSLY, that sounds like a whole bunch of dookie considering that this is a writing blog that takes requests, but i'm more so talking about writing something until YOU accept what you made.

this isn't to say that you can't create something with an audience in mind, wanting others to view your work - sometimes, i do it too LOL. but what i mean is that if you solely create for the gratification of fame and all that, i think you'll find yourself disenchanted with the craft.

i've been writing fanfiction for an EMBARASSINGLY long while LOL. i used to solely write create with an audience in mind, wanting the praise from making stuff that i thought would appeal to the audience. however, going about it like this made me very unhappy with this craft.

this doesn't solely apply to when i wrote fanfiction too! i have a lot of original stories sitting in my documents and books, but i also used to make it all for wanting the flowers. now, honestly, i don't know when or how i stopped feeling like this. but the effect of putting it into practice has made me feel way more satisfied with my writing. basically, what i'm saying is create what YOU want, not what you think anyone else would want.

secondly, i think a lot of my writing also follows the ideas of: "good artists copy, great artists steal." obviously, this doesn't mean plagiarize, claiming other works as yours. rather, take the works you like and be as inspired as you can by them. this can be from story concepts, character ideas, to even the most intricate stuff like how an author writes. :)

i'm not sure whether you want writing advice pertaining to fanfiction or original works, but i follow this idea for both though more so with my oc's and all that. i tend to frankenstein a lot of concepts from media i like until i can eventually reinvent it into something that i'm satisfied with.

i did that with a recent original project where you could probably tell i smashed ideas from project moon games and metal gear rising into something original. and with more fandom related stuff, i basically have a forsaken oc that is black forest cookie from crk and catherine from lcb.

also, a lot of my writing is inspired by poetry and very descriptive books. when i was like, what? 15-16. i read this book called "long way down" and i am an absolute FIEND for it. i've never read a novel before purely told in poetry so it was like the coolest thing ever and i take a lot of inspiration from the syntax, descriptions and dialogue from it.

i used to read also read a lot of classical literature when i was 13, and i've recently picked up those types of books again, so you can see where my LONG sentences and descriptions come from. i actually am like halfway through "crime and punishment" and about to start my like third re-reading of wuthering heights HARHAR.

(unrelated i got this hard cover of wuthering heights and it is the best thing ever. LOOK AT THE DESIGN)

all in all, just don't be scared to take from stuff that inspires you. so long as you don't, yknow, plagarize and ACTUALLY steal.

OH! i think this is important but also don't be afraid to make the most abysmal rough draft on the first try /lh trust me, i'm sure no work comes out pretty and perfect the first try. that 007n7 i fic posted on this blog had to go through like 4 revisions until i was satisfied with the final product. but, so long as you create it at all, then you're doing great on your writing process!!

on that note, don't be afraid and don't forget to take breaks. whenever i write, i tend to just fixate so much that i literally forget that i have basic needs and then all of a sudden i'm hungry and tired LOL. so yeah, don't forget to give yourself a moment to walk around, stretch, get yourself a snack or two or even hit the snooze.

next, you've probably heard this tip plenty! but practice, practice, practice! if you wanna improve your craft, then you have to put in the effort to do so. this doesn't even have to be like, actually writing either.

and no, i don't think you neccessarily need to undergo these elaborate practices of like "WRITE FOR 30 MINUTES AND SEE WHAT YOU CAN COME UP!" honestly i struggle doing those whenever i wanna try them x( but that's probably the undiagnosed neurodivergence /lh

sometimes, i practice my poetry whenever i feel like it. sometimes, i practice my character studies with characters from media i like or with my original characters. sometimes, i just WRITE for the sake of writing. here's some old stuff i made to show that i'm not just spitting and balling LOL.

these are only like, small snippets of my practice work because i'm lowkey embarrassed to post some of the whole things. THEY'RE LIKE months old, except for the last one, and i'm seeing some stuff that i don't like about them. but, they're all neccessary practices and steps to improving your writing style. :) and i'm sure you could ???? probably??? see how much my writing style has changed if you opened any one of my fics right now.

furthermore, practicing your writing sometimes doesn't even have to be ACTUALLY writing. for me, i mainyl love to analyze and dissect symbolism, themes, etc, then discuss perspectives and findings with my friends. MY BEST FRIENDS HAVE HEARD ALL MY SPIELS ABOUT CANTO 8 OF LIMBUS COMPANY WAY TOO MUCH </3

but i'm sure it can be different for you! online i've seen people practice their writing through other means by like watching movies, reading books, yada yada, and writing down what they liked or didn't like so they can figure out how they wanna go about their own writing. with this, just figure out what works for you! but of course, to want to improve your writing, you got to put in some work.

lastly, i think you have to love what you do. just a little bit at the very least. this one doesn't apply to writing, but i feel any sort of craft too LOL. if you don't like writing with ALL your soul, and it's not those moments where you're so frustrated with the craft that you need a momentary reprieve before diving into it again, i think maybe it's time to re-evaluate if this is something for you.

i write because I LOVE doing this. i've been so enchanted with stories ever since i was young, and that has always been a passion of mine. i'd feel it'd be pretty hard to do something you're not passionate about...like...everyday... and maybe it shouldn't be something you pour all your time in. but it's not my right to put my nose into other peoples motivations. we're here to make stuff !!!!

so yeah, try to learn to love what you do if you don't already :)

AND THAT'S ALL I THINK I HAVE! wow, this is so long, i'm so sorry, anon, you probably didn't want to endure the Yappatron 500 😭. if you've made it to the end, thank you for taking the time to read! please take care :D

[ebonystarfall]

Can I request a oneshot of Kui Mulang x Jade Maiden rencarnate except they're a demon with koi fish attributes (like the same color scheme as the Jade Maiden but with pretty scales and a flowy tail)

Wolf Fangs and Koi Scales

Kui Mulang x Jade Maiden Reincarnate (Koi Fish Demon)

Created by: Starlight, Owner 2.

Type of content: Oneshot

Point of view: Second

Word Count: 1,089

TW: Mentions of murder, small angst (I wasn’t aware that I had added that in), possible ooc (it could be in character, we just haven’t seen how he is around the Jade Maiden. After all, he was basically featured in one episode.)

A/N: Starlight here. Starbeam (Owner 1) put me in charge of this ask. If you notice a different style of writing for both of us, then you’re right. I get most of my writing styles from reading too many classic books. (Please save me) However, I don’t mind getting to be a little silly on my main account. You can definitely see the clear difference between us 😊

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED

Silence. Irritating, lonely silence. It reverberated in the ears of Kui Mulang. In any other moment, the air would have been filled with screams—agonized, desperate cries of those whose souls he devoured, savoring their terror with a cruel smile. Yet now, only the oppressive quiet of the throne room surrounded him. A weary, disenchanted sigh escaped his lips. Perhaps he had grown weary of this existence. Was it truly so difficult to find his lost love once more? Had the relentless march of Time claimed her irrevocably? Was he merely clinging to a mirage of hope? No, he could not succumb to doubt. He had ventured too far down this dark path to consider redemption. He must press on.

Thus far, his guards had failed to present any new captives. No souls? Kui Mulang assumed that the denizens of the region had received the warning and chosen to keep their distance. Resolving to take matters into his own hands, he decided upon a solitary stroll beyond the palace walls. None would object, he reasoned. Moreover, it had been some time since he last ventured forth, and the diversion would serve to occupy his restless spirit.

A thought unfurled within his mind. What if he were to find the reincarnation of his beloved wandering about? A solemn sigh escaped him as he made his way toward the palace exit. It was a wild notion, indeed, but not one beyond the realm of possibility. Though it was a chance in a thousand, he would grasp it. Kui Mulang surveyed the palace’s exterior surroundings and commenced his walk along the dirt road, his gaze fixed solemnly ahead.

Memories of the Jade Maiden surfaced: her radiant smile in response to his words, her voice as melodious as a harp, and her laughter—that he missed most. It was her laughter that could banish the oppressive silence of his palace. In truth, he had never regarded that cold and dark palace as a home. Nowhere could he deem a home without her presence.

—

He had been walking for quite some time now. The moon had ascended higher in the sky since he last glimpsed it. Lost in contemplation during his quiet stroll, he unexpectedly encountered a river. How peculiar—it seemed unfamiliar to him. Could his memory of the outside world be fading? No, he must simply have overlooked it before. The demon approached the riverbank, determining it was an decent place to pause and rest briefly. Yet, from the corner of his lavender eyes, he detected a movement…or was it a figure?

He tensed, squinting at the disturbance in the water. It might have been a mere fish, but few fish boasted scales so elongated. Kui Mulang called out, his voice tinged with both curiosity and a chilling edge.

“Who lurks there? Reveal yourself, or face... consequences.”

He was greeted by the sound of splashing—yes, unmistakably splashing, farther downstream. Stealthily and with great caution, he traced the source of the sound, and his eyes widened at the sight before him. There you were, a demon resembling a koi fish. Your fins and scales cascaded elegantly, reminiscent of flowing robes in hues of white and sunset orange. He was struck with astonishment. What manner of power did you possess? Who were you, truly?

"You appear troubled. But fear not. I'm y/n, and you must be the owner of the palace not far from here," you said, your smile warm and kind.

He was taken aback. His guards had never mentioned finding you, and if they had, they certainly hadn't brought you to the palace. Your smile seemed innocent, brimming with joy. He felt an urge to shatter your soul and consume it on the spot, yet found himself unable to proceed. Why? Not even a cruel demon like him could answer that question.

“Are you aware of the fact that I could kill you right now?”

“Of course.”

“But you won’t run- or, well, swim away?”

“If you were going to harm me, you would’ve done so already.”

The wolf demon had paused, contemplating your words. You were correct, he realized. He could have struck the moment he spotted movement in the water. Even if you were merely another demon, he couldn't fathom why he had refrained from devouring your soul. Was it because you reminded him of... her? No, that couldn't be. You could never be the Jade Maiden, despite the unsettling resemblance in your smile and the way your fins and tail resembled her elegant attire. The parallels were uncanny.

“Are you aware of who I am? Truly, do you know my name, or what I have done besides being the cause of demise for the creatures in the area?”

“…I was planning on asking you the same. You feel like a stranger I’ve crossed paths with before. Many times, in fact.”

Kui Mulang took a surprised step forward, disguising it with a throat-clearing cough. It all seemed too good to be true. You didn't appear to remember him entirely, but there were hints of familiarity in your manner. Even one memory would be enough. If you truly didn't recall... he would gladly bring you back to the palace and assist you in any way he could. Hope surged within him, albeit tinged with desperation. Part of him wished you would deny knowing him at all, so he could get rid of this false hope and consume your soul. Yet, it felt like you were being sincere. And that genuinely frightened him. Fear gripped him—the fear of losing the Jade Maiden, of losing what he had just found.

With utmost gentleness, he took your hands in his and gazed into your eyes. He detected a hint of surprise in your expression as your hands rested in his grasp, along with a touch of fluster. He whispered softly in your ear, his voice slightly hesitant yet filled with hope, “Who was I to you in those memories?”

“…you were someone that I felt like I cared about, it felt like I loved you. Isn’t that strange?”

A small, hesitant smile crept onto his face as he suddenly enveloped you in his arms, drawing you close in a tight embrace, indifferent to his robes becoming damp from the river. He almost felt as though he were hallucinating from the sheer joy of the moment. Closing his eyes, he buried his head against your shoulder.

“Dearest, I could never think it was strange…”

“It still seems surprising, of course.”

“Ah, still as humorous as ever, I see.”

[meowzfordayz]

Dad!Inosuke

Author’s Note: just a lil domestic fluff set in modern!au. 💓

Dad!Inosuke

Hashibira Inosuke x Reader

Word Count: ~500

CW: Fem!Reader, pregnant!Reader

Emergency Request Fulfilled: Could I maybe get Inosuke Hashibira x pregnant!reader? I just know he'd be so damn proud of her, and the look on his face when others find out? Priceless (bonus points if you can do reader having twins! Immature as he may be, I have wondered headcannons of dad!Inosuke!!&lt;3) I just know he'd be so happy with his new little family, bragging on reader all the time <333

~faqs~

Dad!Inosuke who can’t (not won’t; can’t) shut up about how you’re pregnant 😭😍

As soon as you can safely announce your pregnancy, you best believe everyone within a 10 mi radius (+ friends and family who may not be geographically close) knows

And yes, the 10 mi radius moves w/ you wherever you go 😆

Ofc, he looks to you initially to make sure you’re comfortable/okay w/ him telling whoever it is he wants to tell

But after a while aka 24 hrs, you accept ~your fate 🙃

Your fate being that, “I’m going to be a dad!” is now the first thing out of his mouth, no matter the situation

About to get on an elevator w/ a bunch of strangers? In about 5 secs, they’ll all be congratulating you 🥳

Meeting up w/ friends for dinner?

Cordial greetings no longer exist

Not that they ever did w/ Inosuke

It’s just

“The love of my life is pregnant! With my children!” 😁😁😁

Waiting in line at the grocery store?

Inosuke ensures your pregnancy is ~obvious to anyone who might’ve missed the swell of your growing twins /affectionate sarcasm 😶

(if you’re the type to feel embarrassed by this sort of display, then perhaps Dad!Inosuke isn’t for you 😬 then again, these are just headcanons so don’t take them—or me—too srsly hehe)

(if it’s any reassurance, it’s hard to feel embarrassed when he’s beaming so brightly that even the most disgruntled, disenchanted stranger begins smiling softly at you)

Dad!Inosuke who will rub your feet and ankles and legs until his hands fall off

Not literally

But your comfort is his priority

And even tho he’s ~competitive about other injuries 🥴

“Hah! You sprained your wrist?! Well I can still do one handed push ups! With a sprained wrist!” 💀

Discomfort and pain related to your pregnancy is no laughing matter to him 😕

Def watches YouTube videos to learn the best massaging techniques 😌

Follows a lot of parenting accounts on Instagram too

Some of the content scares him 😅

But most of it makes him more excited 🤗

Dad!Inosuke who, contrary to expectation, isn’t afraid or ashamed to lean on friends and family throughout your pregnancy

He may be ~prideful

And generally believe himself to be the greatest for any and all jobs 😎

But he read somewhere on social media that raising a child—let alone twins—takes a village

And he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get you the best village in the world

In fact, he might as well get you two of the best villages in the world 💞

Three, if you ask nicely (if you ask at all) 🥰

He would become a village himself if he could, but even he recognizes the impossibility of such a quest

[secondary-colorentimy]

Can you please do a drying of the Disney evil queens based on my design

The evil queen Grimmhilda: Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs

Queen Narissa: Enchanted

Evanora: Oz the Great and Powerful

Malvina Monroe: disenchanted

Hildy Gloom: The 7D

The Ice Queen: the Snow Queen movie

The Queen of Hearts: Alice in Wonderland

The Thorn Queen Nireka: quest for the kingdom( original story)

hi! so thats a very loaded request! and even then ive never guaranteed that requests sent my way will get done, while i do TRY to get to them, i dont always get to them all 😅 i can definitely sketch the first one out but anymore than this id consider commission work, and wouldnt do detailed work for free 😅 apologies if i got some details wrong, i couldnt zoom in too well

[peaceworn]

❝ they stop looking. everyone stops looking. ❞

marlowe's brother went missing almost six years ago. for weeks, marlowe and her mother celia combed every piece of westray. missing person's fliers were distributed everywhere despite the police immediately determining he skipped town of his own free will as a legal adult. his car was found without a sign of a struggle and within twenty four hours his phone rang straight to voicemail. further details utp when his wanted connection gets taken up. lo knew this couldn't be the case because her brother was her best friend despite the age difference and he would never leave her or their mother like that after the trio barely survived the loss of their father, anthony.

loey created a website for people to submit anonymous tips. when the weeks turned into months, she had a gut feeling that her brother was dead but she still held onto a sliver of hope that maybe the police were correct and he would return with an apology of what drove him away. with the boom of online true crime content around this time, she accepted a few requests for interviews on various podcasts. at the very least, she wanted full closure on what happened to him and to hold whoever might have hurt him accountable. however, she was quickly disenchanted to the genre of true crime as videos with incorrect details and wild theories were published without the podcast or crime channel reaching out to her.

when she realized that many true crime creators only cared about sensationalizing stories or driving views for financial gain, she pulled back from it altogether. it seemed a lot of creators and fans have forgotten that behind each missing person or murder story there was a family that felt the loss of those people daily. she keeps her website updated and isn't afraid to blast the few videos that still trickle in regarding her brother's disappearance in the comments or on social media.

despite leaving town for a few years, she never let up and called the westray police department weekly and continued to contact anyone that may have even been an acquaintance in her brother's life to dig for information. she's wasted no expense in following any tips on the website, twice traveling across the country to supposed sightings because the westray police haven't been invested in the case for years.

from time to time she still gets contacted by people in the true crime community and will be heard grumbling at trick or treat about the 'vultures'. a missing person's flier is still displayed prominently in trick or treat which makes lo more apt to believe that the letter she recently received suggesting that her brother is very much alive is another cruel hoax.

[dakotawritesif]

Quick Weekly Update!

Some of you might already know, but my friend was in the hospital for emergency surgery this week, so things were a bit chaotic. Everything is all good now (we hope) so here's what's coming today!

🕯️ Avery, Harlow, and ???'s jealousy stories! They're written, just need to edit them at this point.

💀 Wraith tier commissions! If your commission was due this past week, it should be making it's way toward you sometime this afternoon.

✨ Vikitor won the spicy poll and Theo won the RO POV poll!

📚 Theo's RO POV will be posted TODAY! Yay!

🌶️ Viktor's spicy side story will be reaching your screens on his birthday lol! July 20th, this Thursday, is when it will be posted.

🔪 The Disenchanted mini update (that's NOT so mini anymore lol) is now officially projected for July 23rd!

⚓️ Reaper's Bay (the full chapter one) will also reach you guys the weekend of the 29th. I'll update more when I have all the specifics!

The poly side story poll is ongoing, and Wraith tiers and up have also been voting on art. It looks like Vik/Luci is winning the poly poll, however, and Disenchanted is winning the art poll!

I'll also be posting Taisiya and Mikhail's first side story for Wraith tier and up sometime this week!

If anyone has any questions or concerns, please feel free to reach out! Also, if any Wraith or Fae tier wants to claim their commission this month and you haven't already, please message me your request on Patreon by the 24th.