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muffintonic · 2 years

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Rito “Hair”

Wood duck

Teba. I rest my case.

...Just kidding! Anyway, this post kind of got away from me, so here’s a table of contents.

I. What IS a feather? II. An argument for Rito feathers III. Hypothetical grooming habits IV. Revali’s braids TLDR

I. What IS a feather?

To begin: the Rito are covered with feathers, we’re all aware of that.

Now, the real question is what KIND of feathers do they have on their heads and whether they need to preen/comb them in general.

Here are the types of feathers that real life birds have:

Wing feathers/remiges are asymmetrical, less flexible, and located on the wings for flight.

Tail feathers/retrices are similar to reminges but have more of a fan shape for steering and are located at the tail.

Contour feathers cover birds' bodies and have waterproof tips and fluffy bases. These also include flight feathers (remiges/retrices)--coverts are contour feathers that cover the bases of flight feathers.

Semiplumes are mostly hidden beneath other feathers and have a loose, insulating structure.

Down feathers are the innermost layer of feathers and trap body heat with their fluffiness.

Filoplumes are sensory receptors (like whiskers) that inform wind, air pressure, and feather movements and are usually hidden beneath contour feathers.

Bristles are like eyelashes and are located around the beak.

Feather structures themselves are either pennaceous (stiff and flat with microscopic hooks on the barbules that interlock and proof against wind and water) or plumulaceous (flexible barbs with long barbules that trap air).

The calamus extends into the central rachis, the rachis has barbs branching out from it, and the barbules have hooks that interlock them with other barbules (the flat surface created by the interlocked barbules is called a vane).

Basically: calamus = roots, rachis = trunk, barbs = branches, and barbules = leaves.

How do the barbules stay hooked to each other, you may ask? The answer to that is preening!

Whenever the barbules become separated, birds draw the feather through their beaks to rezip the hooks that keep them together. This process also serves to realign feathers to keep them aerodynamic/in proper tracts for insulation and remove keratin sheaths from newly grown feathers (AKA pin feathers). For the places they can’t reach with their beaks, such as their heads/necks, birds will run their talons through their feathers. There’s also social grooming called allopreening where birds--usually mated pairs--will help each other complete this process in the hard-to-reach places (typically restricted to the head/neck areas unless between mates).

Preening additionally removes dust/dirt and parasites while distributing preen oil. Most birds (a rare few have pulviplumes/powder down instead) have this hidden exocrine nipple-ish thing located at the base of their tail feathers called a uropygial/preen gland that produces preen oil. Preen oil is a whiteish, waxy/oily secretion (with every bird’s oil having a distinct smell--yes, birds can smell they have olfactory epithelium lining their caudal nasal concha and that’s one way they find mates/the oil is used for social communication) that birds use to waterproof their feathers, protect against bacteria, keep them flexible, and reduce feather degradation. Birds also spread this oil on their legs and feet to be transferred to the hard-to-reach places during scratching. Yes, I think Rito have the Oil Nipple (they already have the nictitating membrane underneath their eyelids, so why not).

Birds typically have molt seasons where the feathers that have experienced enough wear and tear that preening isn’t enough to maintain their structure are shed. Molts start with the innermost primary feathers/central tail feathers and move outwards. Bigger birds tend to have partial molts wherein they stagger the regrowth of individual primary and secondary feathers on the wings over the course of multiple years. Regarding molting, I interpreted the Creating a Champion blurb to mean that Rito chicks fully molt every season and the adults only regrow feathers they lose/pull out (kind of like how people regrow hairs that fall out). I guess Rito feathers are a bit more durable than normal bird ones? (Hopefully that means less time spent preening as well--normal birds spend around a few hours each day preening since it involves going through individual feathers.)

*whispers* Also, when feathers first form, they have arteries running through them--these are known as blood feathers. Eventually, as they grow, the blood supply recedes to the shaft's base and they become regular feathers once unfurled from the sheath. Oh, and since filoplumes are under contour feathers, that means Rito CAN feel things with their wings! (At the very least, i’d imagine they could feel if they were touching something because of the pressure sensitivity aspect.)

II. An argument for Rito feathers

In terms of what the Rito have on their heads, there SEEM to be two feather variations:

1) Feathers that have a defined shape and are the same color as the rest of their main plumage color.

2) Whatever these finer ones are (located around the back and near their ear holes) that are a different color from their other head feathers.

What can those finer feathers be, though? The answer was right there all along:

they’re still part of the same feathers. These feathers are undoubtedly crest feathers, which are semiplumes. Crest feathers are located on the head/neck/upper back, so this is kind of obvious in hindsight. Since semiplumes are plumulaceous, they're soft and pliable due to having a thin yet developed central rachis without any hooks on the barbules.

You may be wondering “what’s up with the variation in their feathers, then?” at this point. Specifically for their head feathers, it seems like some Rito have semiplumes that can grow long barbs (like Frita), and some don’t (like Kass and Teba). Some are even able to grow them out in places beyond the standard two zones for Rito (like Kaneli and Harth).

Basically, I imagine barb length to be something like our version of whether some people have straight vs curly hair (or can’t grow their hair past a certain point, I guess).

III. Hypothetical grooming habits

So, if the “hair” is just semiplumes and their barbs, what does that mean for Rito grooming habits?

For the record, I take every pun that any of the Rito characters make to be clues about their physiology because otherwise it wouldn’t make sense for them to be making such specific jokes. Revali says “winging it” and “preen yourself,” so therefore the Rito have wings and preen themselves (and also lay eggs according to Kotts’ “unhatched egg” comment, which seems obvious but also isn’t relevant to this post so I won’t get into it here).

Let’s go back to contour feathers for a moment. Since Rito contour feathers ARE watertight (I figure they also don’t have sweat glands just like birds don’t--imagine getting sweat trapped under feathers/creating bacteria and dripping into down? It just doesn’t work),

it stands to reason that they would need regular maintenance to ensure that the barbules stay properly hooked together to form that seal. AKA, the Rito need to preen like regular birds to keep their feathers healthy.

What would preening look like for the Rito, though?

Since Rito are a mix of Hylian and bird traits, i’m not entirely sure whether they have the additional cervical vertebrae that birds do that would allow for their necks to be highly flexible for tasks like preening. However, the long length of their necks is very noticeable, so I assume that they do. Either way, they nevertheless would be able to reach at least their wing feathers easily by themselves.

*whispers* On the subject of bones, I think the Rito have some but not as many pneumatized bones as birds do. Birds have hollow bones so their air sacs can form pockets inside them--they have a unidirectional respiratory system in which the air sacs keep oxygenated air moving through the lungs. This system causes the sternum to be pushed outward during respiration, which means that restraining the sternum causes a bird to suffocate. The Rito do seem to visibly breathe a bit differently from Hylians and definitely have no problem breathing at high elevations (seen in the landing of Vah Medoh and Revali’s DLC cutscene), but they also don’t seem to have room for posterior air sacs in their torsos and wear fitted armor. Their voluminous chests may indicate anterior air sacs (which would mean some hollow bones), though. Either that or it’s just from the massive pectoral muscles that birds require to fly. How much real life logic can be applied to fictional bird people in a world where magic exists, anyway?

Since their torsos are so long, i’m not sure if they would be able to reach their retrices or, like, the back of their lower leg feathers unless they could contort like birds do when they preen. Similarly, reaching the back of their heads with their feet seems difficult (I can personally at least touch my foot against the side of my head, but then again I neither have stubby Rito legs nor a bendy neck so results may vary). I feel like they must be able to bend enough to reach the places a normal bird would be able to, though, because otherwise why else would they still have feathers in those spots?

Also, we know they can control their tail feathers/at least lift them closer.

If the Rito can’t reach certain areas via beak or talons by themselves and don’t have/want someone else to help them out (or maybe just don’t want to use those methods), I think they would use special grooming tools. As far as re-hooking barbules together without a beak goes, I ripped apart the vane on this (peacock) contour feather and tested to see whether I could rezip the barbules.

I was able to fix the tear by pinching my thumbnail and the flat of my index finger together and dragging up the tear in the direction of the feather’s barbs.

I created another tear to see if this would work with a uniformly flat object (along the lines of a flat iron), and it didn’t work. This may be due to human error, however--if anyone gets different results, please let me know. Note: the vanes of feathers make a sort of velcro noise when manually torn due to the way the barbules hook to each other.

Since contour feathers seem to require a pinching maneuver similar to how beaks work, I imagine the Rito would need a sort of castanet-like implement with a prong to “comb” their feathers.

If the tool worked only for rezipping and not really cleaning, the Rito could do what conservators who manage featherworks (art/artifacts with feathers incorporated into them) do and use paintbrushes to dry clean unreachable feathers.

For the more hair-like barbs on their heads, a comb with wide teeth (and maybe rake-like ends) would probably work for imitating talons/another beak in the case of allopreening. The comb’s teeth would need to be wide since the branching nature of the long barbs and the additional direction of the barbules on each side of the barbs might cause snags otherwise.

*whispers* Speaking of Rito helping each other out: the open roosts, shared kitchen, and way that nobody wants to talk to an outsider like Link before he speaks to the Elder and gets the scoop on/helps with Vah Medoh’s rampage all point to a very collectivistic culture for the Rito (possibly even their feather industry could be run collectively if the feathers are sourced from whatever villagers can spare some feathers). I think this cultural setup lends itself well to allopreening.

In terms of styling their feathers beyond braiding, i’m of the opinion that the Rito don’t really do that since there probably aren’t many styles that would hold their shape without damaging the feathers. I can definitely believe it’s not Maybelline with them considering how birds in real life can naturally grow curly feathers,

straight feathers,

pompadours,

whatever this is,

and anything in between. I don’t think the Rito ever clip their feathers, either.

IV. Revali’s braids

Revali’s braids are definitely the same color as the rest of him and stick out in a rigid way (I think they only turn down a bit at the ends from the weight of his jade bangles), so his semiplumes don’t seem to be able to grow out the barb part--the ends definitely have chunky/defined bits and I imagine they’d look like Teba’s feathers when unbraided.

It seems very weird at first for him to be outright braiding his feathers directly. However, as we’ve established, semiplumes are very pliable due to their thin rachises and loose barbs. I test braided some peacock feathers, and I was able to successfully braid them even with the feathers being tail feathers with thick rachises and therefore stiffer. Notably, it was easier to braid them towards the ends where the rachises were thinner.

I actually think that Revali keeps them in braids specifically because: 1) Braids are an inherent part of Rito culture, and he really loves Rito Village (as evidenced by his DLC dialogue/diary). The only Rito who doesn’t have them is Kass since he can’t seem to grow out his feathers near his ear holes/his crest feathers grow too unevenly for braiding, and I think his little pin thing is supposed to be a substitute for that. 2) The braids/ribbons keep his feathers neat and clean when doing archery training (at least that’s what the Zapotec people use ribbon-braids for). 3) He needs his feathers to be kept neat and clean specifically because it’s hard to maintain them by himself (his habit of wearing scarves may also be to protect his neck feathers). There’s been no mention of his family or friends ever, so I assume he has none--every other champion (including Link) has had mentions of one or the other. No allopreening for Revali, sadly.

TLDR: The “hair” is semiplume feathers, some Rito’s head feathers just have longer barb lengths. The Rito likely need to maintain their feathers like regular birds in general. Revali can’t grow out his barbs, but the pliable nature of his semiplumes make them braidable.

#botw #breath of the wild #rito #revali #teba #rito hair #tloz #the legend of zelda #rito feathers #long post #mine #godDANG was this a labor of love holy halibut #i did find some answers to other questions in the process though so i think it was worth it in the end

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1863-project · 1 year

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I'm a cisgender heterosexual woman, and I don't feel comfortable being misgendered, but I'm also autistic and I struggle when forced to perform traditional neurotypical femininity, especially if I have to do it in a formal setting.

I've been named the best man at my brother's wedding in a few months, and the dress I have to wear for it has arrived (I still need to get it tailored since it's currently too big in the front). Wearing it makes me feel weird because it's long and elegant and I am decidedly not long and elegant (I'm all of 5'2" and much more rough around the edges). It's a foreign, uncomfortable feeling whenever I'm in a situation where I have to perform and pretend to be capable of dressing and acting this way.

I've noticed that despite other people referring to my role as Best Woman or Best Person, I've still been calling myself Best Man as a sort of rebellion against being put in a neurotypical femininity box I don't fit nicely into. My brand of femininity involves wearing overalls and long coats that go down to my knees and building things and driving 100-year-old vehicles and preserving history. I don't wear makeup for sensory reasons most of the time and certainly not at work where I run the risk of getting oils on documents if I touch my face. I can't wear shoes with heels because I'm flat-footed. I have a big arm-swinging walk and a really firm handshake.

To a lot of people, especially TERFs and their ilk, I don't fit their increasingly narrow perception of what a woman should be. I need you all to understand that as they keep making that definition smaller and smaller in their quest to deny trans and NB people their humanity, they're eventually going to exclude nearly everybody. I have an autoimmune disorder that causes nodules to grow on my thyroid gland, making it look enough like an Adam's apple that I wouldn't be surprised if a TERF tried to clock me as trans. They're coming for butch women, for gender non-conforming women, for neurodivergent and disabled women. Instead of trying to restrict the definition of womanhood to some absurd standard virtually nobody can reach, we need to draw the line here and now.

Stand up for your trans friends. Don't let these people even take an inch. Trans women are absolutely women too, and if you identify as a woman and you're reading this, so are you. Bottom line. All you need to do to be a woman is identify as one. There's no rules. Don't let them try to make them up like a playground game where they keep moving the goalposts because they're sore losers.

#me #get off your soapbox Steph

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sweaterkittensahoy · 23 days

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Anyone besides me want JackHarding A/B/O Heat Sex? Because you're getting it.

(This goes along with my general idea for JackHarding A/B/O. Chick's an Alpha from a long line; Jack's an Omega who has spent a lot of time being told he doesn't really SEEM like an Omega, they're cops in love.)

Jack's standing with two other air execs at a so-called strategy meeting that has devolved into taking over the hotel bar when a breeze ripples through the room, and both men who were previously listening to Jack go very still and a little glassy-eyed. Jack turns to check behind them, wondering what's caught their attention, and when he turns back, one of the men is a step closer, well up into Jack's personal space. He takes a step back. "Excuse you," he says.

The man blinks and takes his own step back. "Shit. Sorry. Um." He shakes his head like he's clearing cobwebs, and the other air exec does the same. "Sorry, man. I just haven't smelled an Omega on the verge in a while. Got away from myself."

"What–Oh, fuck," Jack mutters. He looks around the room, planning a very quick exit. "If you'll excuse me," he says.

"We'll talk to you later," the second man says, pulling his friend away. Jack barely notices, focused on getting out of the room. If he's smelling good enough to distract someone, his heat's about to hit like a goddamn train. He spots Chick halfway across the room, and just the sight of him gives him a clawing urge in his belly that makes him bite back a gasp. Goddamnit. He hates when this happens, when the Omega instincts climb up and try to take over.

Jack looks around for anything to help muffle his scent. There's nothing useful nearby, and he thinks about how Lemmons smears oil and grease over his scent glands when the replacements are getting a little too close. He ducks behind a large plant and dips two fingers in his whiskey, rubbing the liquor against his glands, then slamming the rest of his drink and lighting up a cigarette. He needs to get out of here before anyone else gets a whiff of him. He can go to the room and call down to the desk, have someone deliver a message to Chick to meet him upstairs ASAP. Then Chick will show up and maybe he'll growl at the smell of him. Maybe he'll grab Jack and hold him still, make Jack be a good Omega until Jack's ready to do it all by himself.

Oh, yeah, this heat's coming on hard.

He walks across the floor with his eyes on the exit and breathes a sigh of relief as he makes it out of the ballroom. He pauses for a moment to see if there's a crowd around the elevator, and in that moment, Chick walks up beside him. Because of course he does. Because he's Chick, and Jack's Jack, and the one time they both tried to ignore the way they gravitated towards each other, they failed spectacularly and fell in love instead.

"What is it?" he asks, voice a warm rumble. "You're moving like your ass is on fire."

Jack opens his mouth to explain, but then Chick's suddenly herding him into a small alcove covered with a heavy drape and shoving his face in Jack's neck. Jack shakes as Chick breathes him deep.

"Jesus, are you in heat?" Chick hisses. He drags his mouth over Jack's scent gland and stops cold. He breathes out hard before pushing away from Jack and meeting his eyes. "How?"

"Suppressants failed," Jack says. The little alcove is filling with their combined scents, and Jack swears his teeth itch. Chick smells like the classic Alpha he is: cedarwood and black pepper and ginger; the lingering scent of his cigar just enhances all of it, and a surge of need hits Jack hard. He bares his throat even as he clenches his hands into fists so he doesn't reach out and take. "Chick," he hisses.

Chick is against him again, pressed full body into Jack and pulling Jack's head down so he can bury his mouth against Jack's neck and suck hard on his scent gland. "Can you make it to our room?" he asks. "We can take the stairs. It's only two flights."

"I–" Jack presses his mouth behind Chick's ear and grabs at his waist, pulling Chick impossibly closer so he can rub against him. "I need–I just need–"

"Hold on. Hold on," Chick says. He tries to get a hand between them, and Jack growls against his neck. Chick chuckles and manages to get a hand around each of Jack's wrist. "God, of course you're fighting to get what you want," he says, sounding so fond that Jack immediately relaxes. "Good," Chick, soothes, rubbing his thumbs back and forth on Jack's wrists as he lowers Jack's arms to his sides. "I'm gonna get you off, take the edge off, and then we'll get upstairs. You understand me?"

"Yeah," Jack says. "Yes. Please. Please."

Chick opens Jack's trousers and reaches into his shorts. He groans when he wraps his hand around Jack's dick. "Jesus, you're so warm," he says. He lowers himself to his knees and uses his free hand to push Jack's shorts down so he can get the head of his cock into his mouth.

Jack bucks his hips, but Chick's got an arm across him so he can't move too much. Jack whines and scrabbles for Chick's shoulder. Chick sucks him hard and messy, no teasing like he tends to enjoy when he and Jack have the time. He slips his hand up and down Jack's shaft as far as he can reach, and he tongues Jack's slit over and over.

Jack comes with a shuddering gasp. He whines when Chick stands up and tucks him away, pushing his face against Chick's shoulder as he holds his own hands tightly so he doesn't try to reach out.

"Better?" Chick asks.

"Barely," Jack admits. Chick's hand is warm and heavy on his neck, and Jack goes limp at the feeling. Alpha Alpha Alpha his mind repeats in a happy trill. "Chick," he murmurs. "Chick, I don't–we don't–"

"I've got rubbers," Chick says. "Don't worry. You won't be knocked up just yet."

Jack laughs and manages to pull away from Chick a little. Chick doesn't take his hand off his neck. It keeps Jack in the moment, helps him concentrate. "Okay," he says.

"Your pupils are already widening again," Chick says. "Let's get you tucked away before half the ballroom smells you and comes to fight for the chance to take care of you."

"Wouldn't let them," Jack murmurs as Chick pushes the curtain to one side. He lets Chick lead him out of the alcove and over the stairwell, feeling a sense of relief when the door shuts behind them. "Wouldn't let them," he repeats as Chick leads him up the stairs.

Chick pauses on the landing and pulls Jack against him. "I know," he says. "You're a prickly fucker, and none of them could appreciate you." He kisses Jack, soft and sweet, lets Jack chase after him for a second, then a third. "Come on," he says, and he leads Jack up the rest of the stairs and into the hallway of their floor. Their room is three doors down, and Chick unlocks the door as Jack lists against him, the scent coming off him making Chick's blood hot.

"Here," Chick says, throwing open the door. He hooks an arm around Jack's waist and drags him into the room, kicking the door behind him. Jack doesn't even react to the slam of it. He walks to the bed and drops down hard, fingers fumbling at his buttons.

"Easy," Chick says, walking over. He takes Jack's hands in his and kisses each palm. "I'll do it."

"Hurry," Jack says. His eyes are glassed over, and there's sweat at his temples. Chick kisses him there to taste him. Jack's scent is roaring to the surface: Ink and lilies and the sharp, cold smell of wind before it snows. It's undercut with a sweetness that Chick's never smelled because in the months they've been together, Jack's never had a heat. Chick had assumed this wasn't something he'd experience until after the war.

Chick finishes getting Jack stripped, then hurriedly strips himself. Jack scoots up on the bed and lays with his hands above his head with his legs wide open, eyes half-lidded and dick hard as it was in the alcove.

"Didn't know you could possibly get better looking," Chick says. Jack blushes all down his chest and stretches his neck long and lovely to one side. "Oh, I am going to devour you," Chick says, Alpha instincts going white hot at the way Jack's sending every happy Omega signal he possibly can. Chick runs his hands over Jack's calves and squeezes just below his knees. "Just a second," he says. He takes a step back, and Jack whines, high and desperate. "Easy," Chick murmurs as he picks up his toiletries bag and takes out the rubbers he's packed. He tosses them on the bedside table, then he climbs into bed next to Jack and leads him into a kiss.

Jack mewls and undulates against Chick. Chick grabs Jack's thigh and pulls it over his own hip, then he reaches down between Jack's cheeks and drags his fingers down Jack's cleft. He's soaked with slick and starts to whine continuously when Chick massages his hole with his knuckles.

"Please," Jack says. "Please. Alpha. Please."

Chick shudders in pleasure at hearing Jack beg. He never does usually, not unless they're in a teasing mood. "Say it again," he says.

"Please. Please. Alpha Please. Alpha."

Chick pushes one finger into Jack, and Jack arches against him, his dick hot and hard on Chick's stomach. Chick pushes a second finger in, and Jack gasps and grabs his arm and comes all over Chick's belly.

Chick moves his fingers in and out slowly as Jack pants against his throat and rubs his cheek hard against Chick's collarbone, scent marking him before tucking his face against Chick's neck again and licking his scent gland.

"Chick," Jack slurs, and the kiss on Chick's gland is so gentle and sweet, and Chick wants to tell him to bite down. But they agreed a long time ago, war's no place to formally mate with each other. Even on the ground they're too damn busy to take proper time away to let the bond settle with just the two of them.

"Please," Jack says against Chick's throat. "Do it."

"Say it," Chick says. "Tell me what you want." He laughs when Jack nips his scent gland. "Keep that up, and I'll go off before I get inside you," he says.

"No," Jack whimpers.

Chick rubs his cheek into Jack's hair, scenting him as he pushes a third finger in. Jack makes a noise in the back of his throat and pushes back against Chick's fingers. "That's it," Chick says, meeting Jack's thrusts with a counter thrust so his fingers get good and deep. He holds them still after a few thrusts and focuses on rubbing Jack's prostate, sucking the sweat off the long line of Jack's neck as he grinds down and moans and comes for a second time on Chick's stomach.

Jack's head clears, and he sighs when Chick removes his fingers. "Come back," he murmurs.

"I am," Chick says against his temple. He kisses Jack there, then stretches to reach a rubber.

Jack buries his face in Chick's chest and breathes him in, the smell of his own spunk on Chick's skin making him mewl in pleasure. "Mine," Jack says.

"All yours," Chick replies, and he tucks his hands behind his head as Jack touches him on his belly and his chest and his shoulders. "Enjoying yourself?"

Jack hums an affirmative and nuzzles Chick's bicep, then presses his nose into the bend of his elbow and breathes in deep. "Mine," he says again, then bites lightly.

"Come here, sweetheart," Chick says. Jack lets Chick manhandle him into his lap–something he very rarely allows any other time. Chick opens the rubber and rolls it down his cock.

Jack reaches back and takes Chick's cock in his own hand, leads it to his hole and sinks down in one thrust.

"Jesus," Chick grunts.

Jack squeezes around Chick's cock and grinds his hips back and forth a few times just to watch the way Chick's eyes flutter. He spreads his hands on Chick's belly and sighs in pleasure when Chick digs his fingers into his thighs.

"Show me what you got," Chick says, all cocky grin and bright eyes. "I've been wondering what you fuck like during a heat."

"Tell me," Jack replies. He means it to come out a command, but it's soft and breathy, almost a plea. The proper tone for a proper Omega, a tone Jack has never traded in.

"Well, that's new," Chick says, and he drags his hands up Jack's sides. "Won't pretend I don't like hearing you be a little demure. Do it again."

Chick's voice is all Alpha authority and command, and Jack shivers from his head to his toes to have it directed at him like this. "Please tell me more," he says, and Chick meets his downward thrust with an upward one of his own. "Please," he says, and he lets his mouth hang open after, lets the Omega instinct to be supple and submissive take over his brain.

"You're stunning," Chick says. "So easy for me, aren't you? So happy to take my knot."

"Alpha," Jack murmurs. "My Alpha. My Chick."

"Fucking right I am," Chick says.

Jack shouts when Chick holds him still and pushes up into him hard. He topples forward, crowded on Chick's chest with his hands trapped under him. He sucks on Chick's chest, desperate to mark his Alpha as Chick wraps his arms tight around his waist and holds him where he wants him as he fucks into him over and over.

Jack finishes leaving a mark and manages to get his hands free so he can grab onto Chick's shoulders and simply hold on. Chick is hot and sweaty all over, and Jack rubs his face into it, coating himself in Chick's scent.

"Kiss me," Chick growls.

Jack pushes himself up just enough to fit their mouths together. He slides his tongue along Chick's and groans in bone-deep pleasure when Chick takes one arm off his waist so he can grab Jack's hair and hold him in place as he sucks roughly on his tongue and thrusts in a few times more just as his knot starts to swell.

When Chick's knot stretches in Jack, he whimpers and digs at Chick's shoulders, but Chick doesn't let go of his head, still kissing him even as he and Jack both come.

Jack fades in and out for a few minutes, the heady feeling of a knot filling him even more pronounced due to his heat. He's aware of Chick rubbing his back and nuzzling his hair, of Chick murmuring encouragement for Jack to stretch his legs out so he doesn't get a cramp. Several minutes later, when Jack's aware enough to lift his head and meet Chick's gaze, he's met with a soft, bright look that makes him want to burrow into Chick and stay there.

"Okay?" Chick asks. He's still running his hands up and down Jack's back. "We've got a few minutes still."

Jack lays his cheek on Chick's shoulder and curls a hand over Chick's bicep. "I'm good," he says. "Thanks for–" he closes his mouth, unsure what to say.

Chick laughs quietly. "Thanks for fucking your brains out?" he asks. "Thanks for giving you four orgasms so far tonight? Thanks for packing rubbers even though we've never needed them?"

"That last one, at least," Jack says. He shifts a little, sliding off Chick's shoulder and onto his arm so they can see each other. Chick's knot shifts in Jack as he moves, and it makes him sigh in pleasure. "Why did you even pack them?"

"I honestly don't know," Chick says. "Maybe my instincts could tell you were off-kilter. My Alpha knew my Omega was going to need a little extra help."

Jack considers that. "Maybe," he says. "I've read that that can happen. But it's only been seen in mates."

"Well, in everything but bite, we are," Chick says.

"True," Jack replies, unable to tease Chick about something they both know to be completely true. He rubs his cheek against Chick's arm, and then Chick's angling down to kiss him, as sweet and soft as in the stairwell. Jack melts into it, loving the way Chick's hand covers his jaw.

"You still all right?" Chick asks, running his thumb up and down the tendon of Jack's neck.

"Great," Jack says. He squeezes on Chick's knot just to watch him gasp. "Absolutely great."

"I can tell," Chick says. He pulls on Jack's arm until Jack's settled atop him, arms on either side of Chick's head. "You gonna need to stay up here tomorrow?" he asks.

"Likely not," Jack says. He combs his fingers through Chick's hair, scratching his scalp lightly. Chick holds him around the waist and tips his head into Jack's hands. "If it's like the other times the suppressants have failed, it'll be over as quick as it came on. I'll probably be okay in the morning."

"Hmm," Chick hums, "We should make the most of it, then. Don't know how long it'll be until I get you like this again."

"You like it?" Jack asks, giving Chick his best smug grin.

"Almost as much as I like you the rest of the time," Chick replies.

Jack feels himself blush, and he wants to be annoyed that his heat makes it nearly impossible to hide his Omega reactions, but the way Chick's eyes light up at the sight of him makes him think maybe it's not that bad. Not with his Alpha.

#masters of the air #a/b/o #jack kidd #chick harding #jackharding #heat sex #sudden heat #self-lubing buttholes #gayle you don't need to tag that #don't tell me how to live my life

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pokemon-researcher-alexander · 11 months

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@koffing-time getting down into the weeds on Houndoom burns here instead of clogging the other post. or as much as i can before some other researchers start yelling at me to just write a paper already. buckle up folks.

to start with i'm gonna paraphrase a Xander rant on why they're so vilified. in the eastern regions (Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, and Sinnoh) most fire types fall into at least one of three categories. they've either been domesticated for centuries (Torchic/Numel), live somewhere remote or inhospitable to humans (Magby/Slugma), or were once revered as a near-Legendary Pokémon (Arcanine/Ninetails).

Houndoom are an obvious outlier and justified or not are often blamed for livestock going missing. with the most potential for human conflict this makes them the most likely Pokémon in these regions to badly burn someone.

let's get something straight. third-degree burns are a nightmare to treat now with all of the options available. in olden times? if you could live without whatever was burned amputation was the simple answer. lot easier to keep a cut disinfected.

so while we now know that a Houndoom burn actually does have more lingering effects than other sources at least some of the reputation is a mythos. chopping off your own fingers to avoid the pain sounds better than saying "i'd rather not get sick and die".

that out of the way let's get into how it actually works.

i'll use the Charmander line as a basis of comparison since they're so well known. they also have a gland that they use to spray fire. they let some of the flammable liquid (essentially crude oil) pool in their mouths then ignite it with a spark tooth (won't be getting into the details but it's piezoelectric). with this pilot light burning they expel a larger amount of oil that ignites immediately (giving their attacks a characteristic explosive start).

aside from having a gland in the same position Houndoom are completely different. they (as well as Houndour) have no sparking mechanism and need some other way to kickstart the process at body temperature.

(Tix i'll send you the actual chemical names later. to stop people's eyes from glazing over any more i'm just gonna call 'em by letters.)

in the gland is primarily chemical A. A being extremely unstable and fairly volatile it's stored under pressure and mixed with an inhibitor (chemical B) to stop it from breaking down or evaporating.

when released from the gland the mixture travels through a channel during which most of B is reabsorbed for future use. meaning that nearly pure A enters the mouth where it undergoes a rapid decomposition reaction into chemicals C and D as well as a fair amount of heat.

out of the mouth C and D react further with oxygen to produce chemicals E, F, and G. the exact ratio depends on available oxygen and heat. more specifically there's a consistent starting ratio but G can further react with oxygen to make trace amounts of E and F but mostly water.

E is extremely flammable and ignites as it is formed using energy from the previous exotherms. F has a significantly higher flash point but actually burns at a lower temperature and this is what's actually burning when a ranged attack hits the target. with something like fire fang E is still going strong which is why those burns are usually worse (for the amount of time that the fire's actually in contact).

i'm familiar with the case that you mentioned and that's a bit of a weird one. i won't mention the patient's name (though you can find it fairly easily) but they were hit by a fire fang in a low-oxygen environment. so E burned up entirely but F was left behind and got in through the open wound.

their situation was atypical in that it left them with a source of chronic pain. hadn't thought of the tattoo analogy before since i don't have one but that's a pretty accurate summation of what happened to that patient.

but wait you might ask. if that's unusual then what actually causes the typical hypersensitization to pain in the afflicted area. it's actually our old friend G. as mentioned earlier it mainly decomposes to water so the body can process it but it takes time. and in that time it acts as a mutagen. affected cells (and their daughter cells since the DNA itself is affected) together release certain classes of prostaglandins in much higher concentrations than they should.

the net positive of this are that further wounds in the area clot faster are less likely to become infected and heal at a marginally better rate. the far more prevalent downside is that the tissues will experience a disproportionate amount of inflammation and pain at the slightest disturbance.

NSAIDs like Aleevee can help temporarily as they specifically reduce the rate of prostaglandin release. they should not be taken constantly without a physician's approval though as they work on the entire body rather than a targeted area and there is potential for long term side effects.

all this being said it's not something that most people need to worry about. Houndour end up producing G at lower concentrations so it's almost unheard of with them and even with Houndoom it shouldn't be a problem unless they were aiming for a third-degree burn (meaning that they were legitimately trying to kill you or your Pokémon). unless they're horribly trained this should never happen in a league battle but best to leave the wild ones alone in case they fear for their lives.

fuck.

i just thought of something this could actually be used for. now i've gotta write a damn paper and cite this post so it doesn't get flagged for plagiarism. how you gonna tell me i'm copying my own work. i wrote it dumbasses.

#cw injury #pokémon irl #pokéblogging #eva posts #houndoom #long post #very long post #// the science gets a little handwavy #// but i never took biochem so this is what you get

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minnarr · 2 months

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lost half my evening to learning that the orangey bits a cattle egret gets in springtime isn't pigment in the feathers but probably topically applied and wanting to know if anyone knew HOW/what substance. as far as i can tell: no, but some guys in 1963 speculated a different species could be getting it from the gland that makes the oils birds put on their feathers or something called a powder down patch (hidden feathers that continously grow and break down into a fine dust at the ends) and i think we're just kind of rolling with that. they for sure for sure do not suddenly grow orange feathers in the spring.

#what are birds? we just don't know #anyway it's toasted marshmallow (cattle egret breeding plumage) season #some guys are humphrey and parkes #in the proceedings of the 13th international ornithological congress #cite on the for sure not new feathers #is pyle and howell in the dec 2004 issue of the wilson bulletin #haven't found anything newer yet

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lamaenthel · 6 months

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Tivaevae | Chapter Eleven: Sashiko

Still struggling to emotionally recover from Master Obi-Wan's deception, Ahsoka discovers in the aftermath that twelve-year-old Boba Fett has been locked up among adults in the Republic Judiciary Central Detention Center. After convincing Chancellor Palpatine to grant him a pardon, she manages to secure his release on the condition that she serve as his legal guardian. Now, with the help of Master Plo and the Wolfpack, she vows to help him track down what family he has left.

| AO3 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 |

Fandom: Star Wars Characters: Ahsoka Tano, Boba Fett, Plo Koon, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mace Windu, Kanan Jarrus, Sheev Palpatine | Darth Sidious, CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives, CC-1119 | Appo, Dexter Jettster, FLO | WA-7 (Star Wars), Shaak Ti, ARC Commander Blitz (Star Wars), CT-6922 | Dogma, Original Clone Trooper Character(s) (Star Wars), CC-3636 | Wolffe, Clone Trooper Sinker (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Comet (Star Wars), CC-2224 | Cody, CT-5597 | Jesse, CT-4860 | Boost, Aurra Sing, Tobias Beckett, Null-11 | Ordo Skirata, Kal Skirata, Original Mandalorian Characters (Star Wars), Original Droid Characters (Star Wars), Original Jedi Character(s) (Star Wars) Total Word Count: 123,000 Chapter Word Count: 8,258 Chapter Summary: Anakin and Ahsoka have a long-awaited talk, Boba bids goodbye to his brothers and Master Plo, and Obi-Wan and Cody escort Ahsoka and Boba to Corellia.

Ahsoka had lathered up three times already but the water still swirled pink around her feet. She squeezed more gel soap into her hands from the dispenser and scrubbed at her montrals and lekku again. The soft, stretchy skin was going dry and scaly from the harsh GAR formula, but the damn water was still pink. She wasn't sure if it was only Jesse's blood or if Aurra had splattered on her too, but it was certainly reluctant to wash away.

She scrubbed underneath her rear lek and tried not to think about the way the side of Aurra's head had exploded like a rotten melon. She'd forgotten how different a firearm worked than a blaster. They were even more uncivilized in somebody's opinion, so the only experience she'd had with one before Kal Skirata's sniper was when she'd gone through the standard projectile-weapon safety course that all Initiates had to take before undergoing their Gathering.

She hadn't fired one, then, but she did remember being amused by what it had done to the sǫnkë squash that her instructor had used as a target. Strings of the vegetable's magenta guts had flown out like confetti and stuck to the rock wall behind it as Master Skoll had grimly explained the third law of motion and what happened when a bullet came to a very sudden stop against organic material. At the time it had been funny, but Ahsoka hadn't expected a humanoid skull to explode so similarly to a squash.

She realized now that that was probably the point of using it. Master Skoll was a very practical man.

She rinsed off one last time, choosing not to look at the water again, then shut the water off. She was as clean as she was going to get, though the barracks shower was a far cry from the hot soaking bath she longed to indulge in at the Temple. She wandered out to the wall of sinks and gently patted her montrals and lekku dry with the scratchy towel. She tried not to wince at how tender they were from all of their activity – the reflexive swelling, the aposematic undulating, and especially the spine-bongo she'd been playing with her rear lek had taken a toll on the normally languid organs – then she massaged the preen glands at the base of her lekku tenderly, trying to spread a little bit of her natural oil back into her skin.

She needed some caara spray or she was going to crack right open, she could feel it. She fought the urge to scratch at her montrals. The skin felt tight there, too tight and too dry and it stung and–

"Ahsoka?" Anakin called from the locker room, and she felt a warm tingle go down her spine from his little reassuring nudge in the Force.

"Almost done!" Ahsoka called back and began to pull on her clothes, still warm from the laundry pod. She took a deep breath and breathed her anxiety out into the Force. She was hyperfixating on how uncomfortable she was so she couldn't linger on the emotional baggage, her brain so exhausted and wired at the same time that it couldn't stop racing. She had to calm down before she resorted to stealing Anakin's t'bac sticks.

It wasn't like he could tell her not to if he was smoking again.

Anakin sat on a bench in the locker room, guarding the door against any wayward troopers that might wander in so she could shower undisturbed. He looked up from the message he was typing on his commlink to smile at her as she turned the corner. "Better?" he asked, closing his message center and patting the bench beside him.

"Much." Ahsoka plopped down beside Anakin and rested her head on his damp shoulder. His hair was still wet from his own shower. "What time is it?"

"Just after 0100." Anakin scratched between her montrals and she started purring. "You doing okay?"

Her purr stuttered and she raised her head. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" she asked after clearing her throat.

"Big night. And what happened with Aurra Sing." He glanced down at her. "I already told you, you made the right call. She's been arrested dozens of times. Clearly the Republic is incapable of keeping her in custody."

"Yeah." She picked at her cuticle. Anakin gently separated her hands before she drew blood. "I don't feel bad for ordering her death, but I feel bad that I don't feel bad," she admitted. "And… she had surrendered. It wasn't the Jedi way."

Anakin took her hand and squeezed it. "When Obi-Wan trained me, we were keepers of the peace. To make sure that you survived this war, I had to train you as a soldier." He smiled sadly, and that wine-dark stain of guilt was back around his aura. "The way you fearlessly called Kal Skirata's bluff, then charged off to save Boba with Jesse's blood still wet on your hands… You're a magnificent Jedi, Ahsoka, but you're also the soldier I trained you to be. Sing may have only planted a few pipe bombs, but the place was packed. You didn't just protect Boba, you prevented a massive amount of civilian casualties. You made a Commander's call."

"I'd already destroyed the detonator," she confessed, feeling conflicted. She'd been a soldier for so long that it almost felt more natural than what her lifelong teachings told her.

"Do you know for sure that she didn't have a backup? Or that she couldn't have rerouted the command to her commlink?" Anakin watched her carefully, his aura muted green with sympathy-pride. "I'm telling you that you chose correctly, Ahsoka."

The endless compassion that her Jedi upbringing had instilled in her was arguing with Anakin's logic. On one hand he was completely right, she had eliminated a dangerous and immediate threat to not just Boba, but all of the innocent people at the fairgrounds. Aurra Sing wasn't just a bounty hunter or even just a monster, she was a terrorist, and a repeated one at that. She'd tried to turn Boba into one too. She needed to be put down, but Ahsoka would be lying if Aurra's history of terrorism was anywhere near the forefront of her mind when she'd raised her fist and signaled for Skirata's sniper to fire. It had been about protecting Boba from her, forever.

Ni ven'kyramu ad kebbur.

"It was the right call," she agreed quietly. "Even if it wasn't… wasn't what I was thinking about at the time."

"And that's exactly what I'm going to tell the Council in the morning." Anakin smiled down at her. "The first part, anyway. Somehow I have to make time to testify about it first thing, even though we're deploying at 1100."

"We're deploying?" Ahsoka squawked in alarm. "Kriff. I guess Boba can stay in my quarters on The Resolute, but I didn't even get a chance to tell Rex about my cuirass yet so it's still–"

"Ahsoka." Anakin interrupted her with a very pointed look. "You are not bringing Boba into an active warzone."

Ahsoka's shoulders sagged. She didn't even know how Master Plo's dinner with the headmaster had gone yet, what if he had said Boba could shove off? She'd seen advertisements for luxurious boarding houses for pets on the holonet, did they have something like that for children? Would Boba even stay in one of those, or would he run away? What if–

"Commander." Anakin snapped his fingers to get her attention. "You're not going with us. You can't be deployed until you find a place for Boba to stay."

"Oh," Ahsoka said, dismayed. "Can… is he even allowed to stay at the Temple?"

"Not long term. But you're going to Corellia to find Kaisa Skirata, so hopefully it won't be necessary."

"I don't know if I want to leave Boba with the woman who abandoned him," Ahsoka said, biting her lip. "I need to meet her first and get an idea of who she is, and see if I can even trust her with him."

"Well, she is his mother." He rolled his eyes at her giggle. "You can't blame me for thinking you meant she was his biological mother without context, brat."

She giggled again. "It was still funny."

Anakin shook his head and dug a little leather pouch from his pocket, flipping it over in his hands. "I got you a present," he finally said, then handed it to her.

It made of soft, black leather that smelled strongly of chandanam oil, and it had a little marg sabl flower embossed on the front of it. The top had a drawstring closure and was on a cord so it could be worn around the neck or tied to a belt. Something rattled around inside of it. "This is pretty," she said, examining it. It felt like mosasaur leather, which was surprising. He had to have gone to a Togrutan artisan to get it. She opened the top curiously and let the contents spill into her hand.

Her soul fell out of her body and straight down to the planet's core at what she saw.

"It's Aurra's." Anakin's hands fidgeted in his lap in stark contrast to the way she'd frozen. "I thought you might want to do that ceremony thing with Boba." He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, his aura suddenly vibrating with pale orange anxiety-indecision-unease.

She stared at the long, bloody tooth in her hand. It had been rinsed off but was far from clean, and had a gold filling in it. "How…" she asked, barely able to wrap her mind around it.

"Well, it was a pretty long fall, and the coroner didn't get there right away." Anakin shrugged and looked at his knees.

Ahsoka carefully put the tooth back into the bag and pulled the drawstring shut. "You were furious when I took Krell's teeth," she said after her brain rebooted and she remembered how to speak out loud. "You glued them back into his head because you said I had mutilated his corpse. Why would you–"

"I was never angry about you taking his teeth, Ahsoka. Hell, I almost told you to go get a shotgun so we could blow his face off and cover it up that way, but they'd already submitted the autopsy report." His lip twitched. "It was because you took so many." Anakin's aura went soft gold with humor. "Aurra's tooth was sort of an… impulsive grab," he continued quietly. "The pouch is the real gift, even if the purpose is the same. I got it for you to keep Krell's tooth in."

Ahsoka slowly met her Master's eyes.

"You thought I didn't see you snag that molar?" he asked wryly.

Ahsoka felt her stripes go black. "No," she admitted.

Anakin smirked. "I know everything, Snips."

She almost snorted. If that were true, then Rex would have been transferred to another battalion by now before she could do something stupid, like obey her stupid heart and tell him how she felt. "Well, you didn't know that I lost it on Geonosis," she said glumly. "I think it fell out of my belt when Boba used it as a sling for my arm. It must be still down there, but if it's the will of the Force that it rests there, then so be it."

"Really?" Anakin looked very surprised. "You could just… give it up like that?"

Ahsoka shrugged. "It's a shame, considering how long I've been carrying it, but it was never for me. It was for Dogma, for whenever he returns to us."

Anakin's face softened and his aura darkened a redder shade of violet with grief. She knew he didn't believe that Dogma would ever return, but she refused to give up hope. "You have a very, very big heart, Ahsoka." Anakin took her hand. His flesh one shook a little. "And I'm so sorry. You have every right to hate me–"

"Master, no!" Ahsoka immediately protested. "You made a mis–"

"You need to let me say this, because it's all I can think about and I'm going to explode if I don't get it out," Anakin interrupted her.

She shrank. "Okay."

"I messed up. I completely betrayed your trust and I left you swinging in the wind when you needed me the most, and then I broke your kriffing arm because you wouldn't abandon me to rot in my own self-pity. It doesn't matter if I meant to or not. I still did it." He looked away, his aura deep green with disgust-regret-guilt at his own actions. "You know… you know how I grew up," he continued quietly. "That was the kind of thing Watto would do, and later say he didn't mean to go that far when my mom was splinting my fingers or begging him to let me see a medical droid. And I did it to you." His aura was one thing, but it was the self-loathing in his voice that killed her.

She threw her arms around his neck so he couldn't see the tears welling up in her eyes, but she could do nothing about the sound of her heart breaking clean in half. "You're forgiven, Master," she said softly, breathing in the warm, clean smell of his neck. "But I haven't forgotten about that Gungan shaak roast. You're still taking me to Naboo."

Anakin laughed quietly and squeezed her in a wampa hug that pushed the air out of her lungs. "I'll make sure Jar-Jar clears his schedule. But not until I get back from Goran, and you from Corellia." He squeezed her one more time and then let her go. "I promise, Ahsoka, it will never happen again."

"I trust you, Master." Ahsoka watched his aura lighten like a sunrise at hearing her say it out loud. "As for Corellia, I have no idea what to expect there, and I hate that."

'"Skirata said she really hates Jedi, so you'll need to be on guard. Expect the standard Mando gear– flamethrower, whipcord, all of that."

"Well, Master Plo will hopefully have some ideas on how to deal with–"

"Master Plo is providing air support on Goran." Anakin bit his lip and looked down, going taupe with apprehension. "But you are not going to Corellia without an escort."

"Hm." Ahsoka paused and tried to think who was at the Temple and could go with her. Maybe Master Billaba? She was pretty busy with her own Padawan, though, maybe Master Beq could get away from the crèche long enough to…

Ahsoka looked at Anakin with a sudden feeling of dawning horror, realizing he'd already chosen an escort for her. "Nooo," she said, whining like a youngling.

"Yep."

"No, not Obi-Wan!" She almost kicked her feet.

"Yes, Obi-Wan," Anakin smiled. "This will be good, Snips. You'll have a chance to talk it out."

"Is that who you were messaging?" she asked him crossly.

"Maybe."

She did kick her feet at that. "Well, I don't wanna," she complained. Her rear lek swished irritably across her shoulders.

"Well, too bad."

Ahsoka crossed her arms and glared at the floor.

"Don't be like that. It's time to release your anger at him and move on." Anakin's aura faded to a light green with curiosity-apprehension. "How can you forgive me so easily and not him?" he asked softly.

She stared at the floor and counted the tiles instead of answering. "Master Plo said it's like a wound I'm refusing to let close up," she finally said. "But I feel like every time I do, something happens to rip the scab off. We meditated together on the way home, and he helped me release a great deal of my pain about it, but then we ended up in that alley again and…" She bit her lip. "I smelled his blood and everything came rushing back. It feels like it just happened all over again."

Anakin nodded and thought for a moment. "You need to yell at him," he said decisively.

Ahsoka gaped at her Master. "I can't yell at him," she said after a few moments of staring.

Anakin shrugged. "Always helps me."

"He's a Jedi Master, he's on the Council, I can't just yell at him–"

"Ahsoka, he used to change your diapers." Anakin rolled his eyes. "You can yell at him. I promise, he'd actually prefer it if you did. He thinks you hate him."

"First of all, I was potty trained by the time I came to the Temple," Ahsoka said defensively, and her Master started snickering. "And second, second–" she said loudly over Anakin's laughter, " –the problem is I don't hate him. If I hated him, I wouldn't care."

Anakin wrapped an arm around her shoulders and shook her. "Snips, listen. Boba just saw his molester's brains get blown all over a roller coaster, and tomorrow you're taking him to go meet the mother who abandoned him. You need to pull it together for him, and if that means yelling at Obi-Wan and getting it out of your system once and for all, then that's what you are going to do."

His words reached inside her chest and squeezed the blood from her heart like a hand around a jogan fruit. He was right, again. She was being selfish. Boba needed her support now more than ever, and to be there for him properly she needed a clear head. "Fine, I'll yell at him," she grumbled. "And then when he grounds me to the Agricorps for ten years, you can explain to him why I was so insubordinate."

"Good girl." Anakin squeezed her and gave her a cheery peck on the forehead, his aura a deep, rich orange with pride-affection-humor. "Let's get going."

"Okay." Her heart sank a little, knowing she wouldn't see him again until they were both back. "Thanks for the talk, Master. I know you're eager to get out of here and go to… well, you know." Ahsoka stood up and fidgeted with her new pouch.

Anakin goldened with amusement and he stood with her. "I'm not going anywhere, Snips."

Ahsoka blinked at him in surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah. I haven't seen you in almost two weeks," Anakin said easily, pulling her back under one arm. "Come on. Let's go see if that pillow fort is done yet."

She tried and failed to hide her smile. Anakin choosing to spend time with her over Padmé? She almost peeked out of the hallway window to see if the sky had fallen.

"It sounds like they're having a good time," Anakin said with an eyebrow up and an aura like burnished gold. She recognized the Toydarian drumbeats vibrating through the rec room walls from Anakin's podracing hologame and there were at least a half-dozen loud, raised voices that were either really excited, or really angry.

That was fairly par for the course for that specific podracing game. Anakin had programmed in features capable of fracturing even the deepest of friendships.

"I'm glad," Ahsoka said. "He needs the distraction." She keyed the door open and felt the wave of bright yellow-orange excitement from the boys practically blow her lekku back like a strong wind. The pillow fort had been rebuilt and was even more elaborate than before. They'd propped up the sheets high enough to encapsulate the couch, where Jesse and Tup had been left elevated in places of honor given their injuries. Fives, Boba, and Kix were all cross-legged in the front of the tent, hollering over one another and debating the race, while Rex and Cody laid back on their elbows and were eating from a massive bag of caramel bang-corn, their auras bright gold with humor-amusement at the ruckus.

"I would have won if you hadn't thrown that hydrospanner, you little–"

"Don't blame me!"

"Oh I'm blaming you, you didn't have to–"

"Ahsoka!" Boba tossed his controller down and darted across the room, nearly knocking the wind out of her as he hit her like a meteor. His aura resonated with blue relief as his arms snagged around her waist and squeezed her tight.

"You okay?" she asked him softly, wincing at his two purple eyes. His nose was fine but he still looked like he'd gone three rounds with a rancor, and his aura was practically vibrating around him. He was overtired, but she sensed he didn't want to go to sleep and face his dreams quite yet.

"Obviously," he scoffed. "You look like shit."

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks. Having fun?"

He shrugged. "Fives is being a bitch because I beat him four times in a row."

"He threw a hydrospanner at my podracer five meters before the finish line!" Fives whined.

Behind her, Anakin chuckled. "I distinctly remember you doing that to Echo and him not speaking to you for a full week after."

Fives rubbed the back of his head and pouted. Ahsoka made eye contact with Rex over Boba's head; his aura had gone a brilliant copper with affection-happiness and his smile was soft enough to make her pulse quicken.

Boba had his head on her chest; he glanced behind him at Rex, then flared bright orange with smugness-validation. He glanced up at her with the sneakiest, shittiest little smirk she'd seen on him yet.

"Ne'johaa," Ahsoka mumbled into his ear, making him cackle and flare gold, then crossed the room and gently plopped down between Tup and Jesse. She gave Tup a sympathetic kiss on the cheek next to the bacta patch plastered over his stitches first, then stretched out between Jesse and the sofa back and hugged him tightly, careful of the IV still sticking out of his arm. "Thank you," she said into his thick neck, too aware of the fact that she knew what it looked like on the inside. She closed her eyes and tried to pretend the smell of his blood didn't still linger in her nose. She'd nearly lost Jesse before; breaking his neck on Carmexa, splitting up on Xior-Cal to blow the spaceport, the nightmare that was Umbara, but this time was the closest call. "Thank you, thank you, thank you." She punctuated every sentence with a rub of her lek against his cheek.

"Anytime, Commander," Jesse said drowsily, his aura deepening with copper and blue. He scratched between her montrals and made her purr. Her arm snaked over Jesse's chest and pulled him closer.

"That's a good time." Anakin stood with his arms crossed, looking at the scoreboard on the hologame. He gave Boba a friendly smile. "You play a lot of racing games?"

Boba shrugged and looked at his feet, his aura pale yellow with anxiety-embarrassment. "I guess," he mumbled. "I like this one though. It's funner than most."

Skywalker's smile widened. "Thank you." Boba raised a confused eyebrow at him and he laughed. "I made it. It was my final project for my advanced programming module."

"You made the game?' Boba asked, bright blue with surprise.

"Yeah." He smirked down at Boba. "Wanna race?"

"Please put him back in his place, General, he's been kicking my shebs for the last hour," Fives whined.

"We should go to sleep," Ahsoka said, a wave of exhaustion suddenly hitting her like a speederbus. She was warm, clean, had a belly full of meat, and was surrounded by clan. She was safe.

"One game, then we'll tuck in. What do you say?" Anakin tilted his head at Boba.

"You're on," Boba grinned, going bright orange with excitement-competition.

"No offense, Commander, but I've got a bruise the size of you on the side you're laying on." Jesse kissed her on the forehead then rolled her over him and off of the sofa before she could react, letting her fall directly into Rex's lap with a surprised squeak. "Special delivery, Captain."

"Oh." Ahsoka blinked up at Rex, disoriented from the new and unexpected position. "Hi."

"Evening, Commander," Rex said stoically, then broke into a grin.

She smiled back like her heart wasn't broken. She couldn't help but think about what had been done to him. He deserved to know that he had parents who loved him, that he had not just one but two little brothers – or big brothers, technically – who had meant the world to him, but if there was any chance of getting through whatever the Kaminoans had done to his mind to make him so resistant to even thinking about the truth, then it had been stolen and sent to Corellia in the datafiles of Boba's armor. Those holopics were all they had outside of their word to convince him. They'd even taken the kriffing tooka doll. It would have to wait until she got back from Corellia. Whether or not Boba came back with her, she'd at least have the holos to show–

Her eyes snapped onto a small orange stone on a string around his neck that smelled like the Togruta who had left the scent mark on him. A small growl escaped from her before she could stop it.

Rex's eyebrows went up and his aura turned yellow with caution-unease. "What?" he asked her warily.

"What is that?" She flicked the stone.

Rex's aura went almost neon yellow with embarrassment. "It's uh, a good luck charm?"

"Helps enhance his fertility, too," Anakin quipped with a grin and an aura bright gold with humor.

Ahsoka blinked a few times and resisted the urge to rip it off his neck.

"Do you want it for your rock bowl?" Rex asked hesitantly, untying the string and handing it to her.

"Thanks," she said stoically. She tucked the stone into the pocket of her leggings and resolved to throw it off the nearest rooftop at the first opportunity.

Cody moved the giant bag of bang-corn so she could properly nestle between them. She ended up with her head on Rex's chest and her legs strewn across Cody's lap, watching the hologame through half closed eyes. "Take it easy on him, Master," she murmured sleepily.

Anakin sat down on the floor next to Kix and relieved him of his controller. "Absolutely not," he said with a wink at Boba. "Did you do the Canto Bight track yet?"

"No." Boba plopped down on the floor next to him.

"Perfect." Anakin's smirk only grew as he quickly thumbed through the maps. "This one is fun. You have to avoid running into the fathiers."

"What happens if you do?"

"You explode." Skywalker wiggled his eyebrows and grinned. "Ready?"

"Just one game," Ahsoka reminded them. Her eyes were already fighting to stay open, Rex's chest far too comfortable and familar of a pillow for her to stay awake on.

"Yep." Anakin winked at her over his shoulder.

She lost her battle with sleep before they'd finished their first lap.

Boba blearily blinked his eyes open at the sound of something falling to the floor and the whispered exclamation of kriff. He focused enough to make out Skywalker's lumbering silhouette in the door of the tent, making a face at his fallen lightsaber and standing with only one boot on.

Sorry, he mouthed apologetically to Boba, then pulled on the other boot, picked up his lightsaber, gave a little wave, and tiptoed out of the room. The chrono above the doorway was barely visible, but it looked like it was right after 0500.

"Skyguy," Ahsoka mumbled into Boba's forehead. She snuggled her face closer to his in favor of waking up, her lek warm and dry against his cheek. Tiarek lay at his back, an arm thrown across them both. Boba didn't actually remember falling asleep; his mind had been spinning and anxious, but Ahsoka's ba'jurur had been more than happy to play hologames with him until everyone else was asleep and he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. He vaguely remembered falling asleep sitting up during the Bespin level, then nothing. He had been too exhausted to even dream.

He laid very still so he didn't wake either Tiarek or Ahsoka. He wanted to just listen to their breathing for a minute and pretend that everything wasn't about to change. His mother was alive, and she had his armor. He didn't understand how it was possible. Had the Geonosian shaman somehow known with his Force powers, or was it just a coincidence that he'd told him that his mother and Cassus were alive?

He didn't want to go to Corellia. He didn't want to see her. His mother had left him behind, why did Ahsoka think that she wanted him anymore? She'd clearly made her choice, been willing to fucking die for it. She hadn't taken him or Tiarek with her, she'd taken her biological child. Jango's vat scum obviously didn't mean the same to her.

He didn't want to ditch Ahsoka but he definitely couldn't live with the fucking monks, and he wasn't stupid enough to think that he could tag along on a warship. Maybe he could find a job? Something that would be safe and wouldn't take him off world, since that would definitely give the overgrown tooka a panic attack. He could fix things, he was a good slicer, and while he had a feeling that she'd have a lot to say about him using his blaster to make money, once he was thirteen and had gone through his verd'goten she wasn't allowed to tell him no.

'Course she probably would anyway, since she wasn't Mandalorian and had a decent-sized stick up her ass; even if she did have more mando'kar than Kal and all of his sons combined, she was still a Jedi.

"Rise and shine, boys." Cody sat up and yawned. "You too, Commander."

Ahsoka and Boba made protesting grunts and snuggled closer. Tiarek's arm tightened around both of them.

"Oi." Cody took Tiarek by the shoulder and shook him. His brother's arm popped up and whacked Cody right in the face. "Chakaar!" Cody protested as Tiarek wrapped his arm back around them and snickered.

"We've got a few minutes," Tiarek rumbled, his voice an octave lower from sleep.

"Mm." Cody snaked an arm around Tiarek's neck and wrapped his legs around his waist, putting him into a headlock from behind. "Wake up, vod'ika," he said sweetly over Tiarek's surprised choking noises.

Ahsoka wrapped her arms protectively around Boba and rolled them away from the chaos. "Di'kute," she mumbled, then yelped as Tiarek accidentally kicked her in the shebs. "Will you two knock it off–"

"What's happening?" Tup asked sleepily from the sofa above them; his hair was still in its usual bun, but now hung on the left side of his head like a saggy ear.

"Stay out of it until I check your stitches," Kix grumbled, still face-down on the blanketed floor.

"Commander," Tiarek wheezed, and Boba wasn't sure if he was asking Ahsoka for help or begging Cody to stop, but regardless his ori'vod rolled her eyes and slunk over Boba like a big cat to join the spontaneous wrestling match.

Boba crawled up to the sofa and took refuge with Jesse, who snickered and gave him a hand up. "Who usually wins these?" Boba asked, wincing as Ahsoka shoved her bony knee into Cody's spine.

"It's pretty even odds, actually." Jesse shrugged. "They're obviously bigger, but she's bendier and has the Force."

"Ke'day'duumi, chakaar!"

"Make me, vod'ika–"

"Gar dushne, Cody, you overgrown shabla thimiar–"

"L…language…"

"What in the world is going on here?" Plo sighed from the doorway. He held a large, brown paper bag with handles and stood with the posture of a disappointed father.

Cody blanched and immediately let Tiarek go. "Atten-tion!" he barked, causing the room to explode into motion as the half-asleep troopers all leapt to their feet on pure reflex. Boba was accidentally thrown off the couch by Jesse as he popped to his feet and saluted.

"Hi, Master," Ahsoka said sheepishly, getting to her feet last. She held out a hand to help up Boba, who accepted it with a wince. Jesse had tossed him right onto a hologame controller.

Plo chuckled. "At ease, gentlemen. And koh-to-yah, little 'Soka." He accepted the kiss she planted on his cheek. "I am very relieved to see all of you in one piece." He nodded at Boba. "Especially you, young man. By all accounts, you handled yourself bravely last night."

Boba blushed and looked down. He'd ended up in Ahsoka's lap crying like a fucking baby again, but maybe Plo didn't know that.

"Why is it that the moment I leave you alone, you get into trouble?" Plo teased Ahsoka.

She shrugged. "Trouble seems to find us, Master."

Plo shook his head. "I regret that I cannot stay longer, I must hurry to the Council chambers and then to The Triumphant. But I wanted to let you know, Ahsoka, that if things do not work out with Lady Skirata then contact Yeen Lah at the Tabori Academy in the Mah-Lo-Dahn district. Tuition has been taken care of."

Boba furrowed his brows and let Jesse reach behind him to retrieve a wayward plastoid gauntlet. "What are you talking about?"

Plo gently maneuvered his way through the dressing troopers and sat beside Boba on the sofa. "I have an old friend who is the headmaster of a boarding school here on Coruscant," he told him gently. "He has agreed to allow you to enroll on a probationary basis. As long as you behave yourself, you may attend on a scholarship."

Boba stared at Plo. "You're not worried I'll run away?" he asked bluntly.

Plo shrugged. "I would hope not. It would reflect quite poorly on Ahsoka and myself."

Boba almost asked why he should care on reflex, but bit his lip and nodded instead. It was time to grow up and stop slapping away help when it was offered genuinely. Not everyone was out to get him.

Most people, yes. But not everyone.

"I was very unhappy to learn of what had transpired regarding your armor, but I still wanted you to have these." Plo handed him the bag.

On top was a brand-new leather holster for a WESTAR. Boba picked it up, grinning, and examined it. It was buttery soft and a few shades darker than the ones his father used to have. "Wizard," he murmured.

"Is that bantha leather?" Fives asked, slipping on his pauldrons. Boba handed it to him to see, and he let out a low whistle.

"Indeed." Plo nodded. Next, Boba pulled out the package wrapped in plain brown paper that had been underneath the holster; inside was a dove-gray flight suit meant to be worn underneath his beskar plates.

"Cin vhetin," Plo said with a good-natured rumble. "A fresh start, yes?"

Boba nodded, staring speechlessly at the flight suit. He could feel the roughness of the armor weave embedded into the top layer of canvas, and it had several snaps on the arms and legs that would allow the length to be adjusted. Clearly, it was a garment meant to grow with him. "Why?" he finally asked Plo softly.

Plo's weird face squinched up in a smile. "We all deserve a second chance," he said, then patted him on the shoulder and stood. "Unfortunately, I must hurry, as I believe I'm already late for the Council meeting." He bowed at Boba. "I hope this is not the last time we meet, Boba Fett, but if it is, then let me tell you what a privilege it has been to know you."

"Koh-to-yah," Boba mumbled, his cheeks burning at all of the attention.

Plo's face squinched up even further. "Koh-to-yah," he bowed one more time, excusing himself.

"Hey," Ahsoka said softly after the door slid shut, placing a hand on his knee. "No matter what happens with Kaisa, we're getting your armor back. I'll bite her if I have to."

Boba nodded and tried to smile. "Are Togs really venomous?" he asked in a small voice.

Ahsoka burst into surprised laughter. "Some of us, yes. It's a recessive trait, almost exclusive to Togrutas from the southern continent. I had my glands removed when I was five."

"Really?" Fives asked, crestfallen. "Why?"

"I bit another Initiate," she said with a grin. "Our venom doesn't do anything but cause pain, but I was still deemed too big of a bite risk for them to remain."

"Lame." Fives helped haul Tup and Kix up to their feet. "Let's grab a transport before the lines start, 'lek? See you later, Commander." He leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek punctuated with a snozzberry. "And as for you ad'ika," he began, an evil twinkle in his eye.

"Don't fucking kiss me," Boba warned, leaning away.

"I was going to say don't let your dinii'la buir hurt my Commander," Fives snickered.

"I won't," Boba promised. "I don't even know that she's my buir anymore. She'll have to prove it."

"Don't go easy on her. Make her work for it." Fives rubbed his scalp roughly, then gave him a little salute and followed Kix and Tup out the door.

"You're not actually dropping in this condition, are you?" Ahsoka asked Jesse, frowning.

He made a face. "I have no doubt Kix will chain me to a cot in the medbay. You know what a ba'buir he is." He leaned over and gave Ahsoka a hug, then winked at Boba. "See you around, squirt."

"See you." Boba watched him go with an unexpected longing heavy in his chest. His eyes turned on Cody, who was lazily lounging in halvsies. "You're not going?" he asked.

"Nope." Cody smirked at him. "I'm your escort to Corellia."

"Oh good, I'll have a buffer," Ahsoka sighed, then dramatically leaned against Tiarek. "Don't suppose I can commandeer you?" she asked teasingly, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

He laughed and wrapped his arms around her. "Some of us have to work for a living."

Boba rolled his eyes so hard that they nearly fell out of his head. We're not like that, she's my Commanding officer; Boba almost laughed out loud. Ahsoka clearly knew what was happening – the way her heartbeat had jumped like a blaster bolt had gone by her big head last night the second he smiled at her proved that– but she was a Jedi. She was ignoring it until it became background noise, like the way Dad's knee would ache in the rain that never stopped on Kamino. Tiarek, on the other hand, was just a fucking idiot and didn't realize he was in love with her. He probably thought it was totally normal to look at his little sister like she had invented sunshine.

Boba glanced over at Cody, who looked as exasperated as Boba felt. He gave Boba a weary nod of acknowledgement and crammed a handful of caramel bang-corn in his mouth.

"I guess we do at some point. Pretty convenient that we all had shore leave at the same time, though." Ahsoka scrunched her nose and giggled. "The 501st, 212th and 104th? Wild odds."

"Will of the Force," Tiarek deadpanned, then looked over at Boba. He frowned. "What?"

Oblivious says fucking what. Boba readjusted his face so he wasn't looking at his brother like he was the stupidest motherfucker in the galaxy and smiled. "Nothing."

Tiarek let go of his Commanding Officer and yanked him into a hard hug. "You be careful and watch her back, 'lek?" he said sternly.

"What I've been doing, vod," Boba said, his voice muffled by plastoid. He knew they had to let go at some point, but he was willing to wait for Tiarek to do it first.

Given Corellia's proximity to Coruscant, it had been deemed prudent for Obi-Wan and Cody to escort Ahsoka and Boba to the planet on a commercial transport rather than try to beg a ship off of a benefactor. The transport was surprisingly empty, with only a Twi'lek family with a set of very hyperactive little girls running up and down the aisles screaming play songs in Ryl, and a trio of very strongly-scented Chagrians in the aisle nearest the door. All in all, he'd certainly been forced to travel under worse conditions.

He had once had to stow away with Qui-Gon and Satine on a nerf transport. Sometimes he could still smell it in his dreams.

Ahsoka wasn't quite as frosty with him, but she was still quite stiff. She was making an active effort to act normal with him, Obi-Wan could see, but it was almost worse than the cold shoulder. He didn't like that she had to try.

Boba, in contrast to how they'd left Coruscant the first time, was now glued to her side. Every few minutes he'd throw Obi-Wan an unnerving glare before going back to watching something on the datapad he had propped on top of a rancor plush. It appeared that the two had become quite close during their short journey together.

He shouldn't have been that surprised. She had done a great deal for him, and clones seemed to be drawn to Ahsoka, regardless of age.

He finished up the last stitch in the sleeve of her robe, tied off a square knot, and snipped the thread. "Good as new," he said, smiling as he handed them to her.

"Thank you very much, Master." Ahsoka tucked them into her satchel and gave him a small nod and smile, then returned to her homework.

Obi-Wan met Cody's eyes and silently pled for his help. Cody's cheek twitched and he cleared his throat. "What're you working on?" he asked Ahsoka.

Her eyes flicked up. "Trigonometry Three." She looked back down.

Cody looked at him and raised his eyebrows.

"You're on the third module already?" Obi-Wan asked, seizing his opening gratefully. "I was under the impression you were still on the second."

"Started it a month ago." Ahsoka gave him a flat smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, like he was a stranger she was about to ask to squeeze behind in a crowded shopping aisle.

Boba glanced between them, working his jaw. "Gar'copaani ni rejorhaa'i ke'shab?" he asked her.

Ahsoka's eyes went wide. "Boba, no."

"Tion'meg? Ne'baati. Kaysh ne'vegyc chaabi gar. Gett'se'kovid ni ne'chaabi." The boy was looking at him like he was deciding whether or not to bite him.

"Boba, kaysh johaar'i Mando'a," Ahsoka sighed.

Boba met Obi-Wan's eyes fearlessly and dared him to say something.

"My Huttese is quite passable if you'd prefer to swear at me in that," Obi-Wan couldn't help but quip.

"Or I could just tell you to leave her the fuck alone in Basic," Boba snapped.

"Okay." Ahsoka yanked the datapad out of Boba's lap and put it and her homework on the empty seat opposite of them. "Let's go get a snack, 'lek? I know I saw a vending droid."

"Do you need money?" Obi-Wan dug in his pocket and offered her his credit chit.

"No, I–"

"I insist."

Ahsoka took it reluctantly. "Would you like anything?" she asked.

"I'm fine, thank you. Get whatever you'd like."

"I wouldn't say no to a biscuit," Cody added, moving his feet out of the way as she shuffled across the seats. Boba kept direct eye contact with Obi-Wan as she dragged him down the aisle.

"Well, this is going well." Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"I agree."

Obi-Wan turned his head to look at Cody. "I was being sarcastic, Commander."

"She let him curse you out to his heart's content before, didn't she?" Cody asked, smirking. "I'd say that was an improvement."

"True," Obi-Wan said. "But still." He watched Boba scroll through the menu, all the way to the bottom where the most expensive snacks were usually listed, then repeatedly press a button until Ahsoka smacked his hand away.

"Just give her a bit more time, Sir. She…" Cody made sure the duo was still far enough away to not overhear them. "That Null she chased down led her straight to the alley. I think it's all a bit fresh for her again."

"Which alley?" Obi-Wan asked, confused.

He got the sense that Cody was actively refraining from rolling his eyes. "The alley, Sir."

"The–" Obi-Wan trailed off, crestfallen. The alley in which he'd faked his death. "Oh."

"Yep."

Obi-Wan crossed his legs and frowned. "Why would he lead her there?"

"His exact words were 'I thought I could use the advantage.' "

"Why would that give him an advantage?"

Cody blinked at him. "Sir."

Obi-Wan enjoyed the expression Cody was making when it was directed at clueless shinies, but certainly didn't appreciate it being turned on him. "What?" he asked, trying not to sound offended.

"He did it so she'd be distracted, Sir," Cody patiently explained.

Obi-Wan busied himself with an invisible thread on the end of his sleeve so he didn't have to look at Cody's exasperated face. "Did you ever find out what happened to her arm?" he asked.

"I–" Cody started, but made a quick motion of head at the aisle. "They're coming back."

Ahsoka shuffled back into her seat with an armful of snacks, closely followed by Boba. He had an armful of a luxury brand of Pantoran chocolate treats and he kicked Obi-Wan in the shin as he scooted carelessly by.

Ahsoka tossed a sleeve of chocolate biscuits to Cody, a packet of shortbread cookies to Obi-Wan, then a can of tea to both of them before opening her pouch of jerky. "Thank you, Master." She handed him his chit. "I'll repay you for Boba's hyunakadi. He misunderstood the instructions on the droid."

"No I didn't," Boba said, shoving a chocolate-coated cookie into his mouth. "If you ask me nice I'll let you smell my breath when I'm done."

"Boba!" Ahsoka snapped. "Gev, vod'ika, tayli'bac? Chak'miit'la ne'gaat'tayli. Ni ru'tioni cuy'ehn. Ni nari dar'tioni'an."

Boba frowned and chewed his chocolate with a sour look on his face.

"How much longer to Corellia?" Ahsoka asked, biting the insides of her cheeks and hugging herself tightly. Her knee jiggled at hyperspeed. She looked like she wanted to jump out of the airlock.

"Two hours," Obi-Wan answered.

"Great." She stared out the window into hyperspace.

Obi-Wan watched her silently for a moment. She was stressed, clearly, it didn't take the Force to sense that. Her lekku lay limp and lifeless down her chest and her eyes were tight at the corners. She had forgone her Shilian sash and had chosen a set of dark-brown robes instead of the white and red she usually favored; Obi-Wan knew for a fact that the set he had just repaired weren't her only ones, so it had to be a conscious choice. There was a little black pouch on her belt that he'd never seen before. Despite snapping at the boy only a few moments earlier, she snuck her hand over to Boba's least-chocolatey one and laced their fingers together tightly.

"Do you remember the crèchetale about the purrgil and the oswaft?" Obi-Wan asked her softly.

Boba's expression shifted from hostile to curious for the first time in his presence.

Ahsoka glanced at Obi-Wan without moving her head, and her lip twitched just a tiniest bit at the corner. "I believe that's one of Huyang's favorites," she said quietly.

Cody put his boots up on the empty seat across from him. "How's it go?" he asked.

Obi-Wan looked back at Ahsoka. "Care to do the honors?"

She shook her head. "I'm not sure I remember it right. Maybe you should."

Obi-Wan recognized an olive branch when he saw one. He tried not to smile too wide, then cleared his throat. "A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…"

Notes:

MANDO'A TRANSLATIONS Ni ven'kyramu ad kebbur: I will kill anyone who tries Ne'johaa: shush Mando'kar: a zest for life, big metaphorical balls Ba'jurur*: teacher Chakaar: general insult, used like asshole Ke'day'duumi: Let go! Ori/vod/ika: big/sibling/little Gar dushne: you're the worst Ad'ika: Little child, kiddo Dinii'la buir: Crazy mom Gar'copaani ni rejorhaa'i ke'shab?: Want me to tell him fuck off? Ne'baati. Kaysh ne'vegyc chaabi gar. Gett'se'kovid ni ne'chaabi.: I don't care. He shouldn't scare you. Scrotum head doesn't scare me. Boba, kaysh johaar'i Mando'a: Boba, he speaks Mando'a. Gev, vod'ika, tayli'bac? Chak'miit'la* ne'gaat'tayli. Ni ru'tioni cuy'ehn. Ni nari dar'tioni'an: Stop, little brother, understand? Assholery doesn't help. I asked three times. I am no longer asking. OTHER NOTES Sǫnkë squash: A medium sized, hard-skinned squash with a light blue background, dark blue stripes, light pink freckles, and magenta flesh. Native to Felucia and very bitter, but sweetens with fermentation. Often grown as feed for domesticated tamtam birds Mosasaur: large marine reptile native to the equator of Shili, invasive on the Aagani coast of the northern continent Caara: An evergreen tree with needled leaves, native to Shili's southern continent but widely cultivated off world, visually similar to a pine but with a brighter smell like ragweed. Produces between 10-20, 100-lb stonefruits that take a full summer to mature. Caara butter and oil is a popular skincare export from Shili Shunka: Small canid native to Shili (the dogs from Ahsoka's village in TOTJ) Hyunakadi: crispy Pantoran cookie, basically yakgwa but dipped in chocolate Oswaft: Legends creature, similar to a purrgil but resembling a manta ray instead of a whale. Native to the ThonBaka nebula Preemptively for nitpickers: I know that The Triumphant was destroyed at Abregado, Plo's Venator is The Triumphant II Electric Boogaloo Back on my random Togruta anatomy bullshit again ✌️

Taglist: @starwarsficnetwork, @soliloquy-of-nemo Dividers: @saradika-graphics

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journeyofdream · 2 years

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SOME ESSENTIAL OILS

Jasmine (Jasminum officinale) is an "absolute" extracted from the flower and is an essence rather than an essential oil. It is good for sensitive skin and can also be uplifting and stimulating. Considered an aphrodisiac for centuries, Jasmine supports the nervous system and is helpful for women going through menopause.

Lavender (Lavandula angustifolia) is the most versatile of all essential oils. Therapeutic-grade lavender has been highly regarded for the skin. The French scientist Rene Gattefosse was the first to discover these properties when he severely burned his hands in a laboratory explosion. Lavender has also been clinically evaluated for its relaxing effects. It may be used to cleanse cuts, bruises, and skin irritations. The fragrance is calming, relaxing, and balancing -- physically and emotionally. Makes an excellent rub for sprains, strains, and sore muscles (used in carrier oil) and goes well mixed with Tea Tree Oil (Melaleuca). Can be taken internally (1 to 3 drops in a cup of water) for headaches and even migraines.

Lemon (Citrus limon) has antiseptic-like properties and contains compounds that have been studied for their effects on immune function, lymphatic, circulatory, and digestive systems. Is antibacterial and may serve as an insect repellent as well as being beneficial for the skin.

Rose (Rosa damascena) has a beautiful fragrance that is intoxicating and aphrodisiac-like. Rose helps bring balance and harmony. In his clinical practice, Dr. Penoel uses this oil for the skin. It is stimulating and elevating to the mind, creating a sense of well-being. It has been called the Queen of oils for women's concerns, establishing harmony throughout the body no matter what life brings. It is also great for circulation and skin care.

Rosemary (Rosmarinus officinalis) has been researched for its antiseptic properties. It may be beneficial for the skin and for helping overcome mental fatigue. Beneficial for the circulatory, nervous, and muscular system. Has a history of use over the centuries for hair and skin. NOT TO BE used with high blood pressure or epilepsy.

Sandalwood (Santalum album) is high in sesquiterpenes and has been researched in Europe for its ability to oxygenate a part of the brain known as the pineal gland, the seat of our emotions. The pineal gland is responsible for releasing melatonin, a powerful hormone that enhances deep sleep. Sandalwood is similar to frankincense oil in its support of nerves and circulation. It was used traditionally for skin revitalization, yoga, and meditation, and has been found to help remove negative programming from the cells (again, another cancer weapon). Also traditionally used for urinary and respiratory systems.

Thyme (Thymus vulgaris) is one of the most antiseptic essential oils and very high in antioxidant rating. It contains thymol, which has been studied for its effect on gingivitis and plaque-causing organisms in the mouth. It may be beneficial in helping to overcome fatigue and exhaustion. Sharp and woody aroma, helps improve circulatory, immune, skeletal, respiratory and nervous systems; anti-microbial use for infections and disinfectant use; dilute with water to clean and disinfect surfaces; especially good to use in a sickroom; makes a good massage oil as it stimulates circulation and can be used to clean burns and wounds; inhaled, it aids in asthma attacks and is a good choice if you are recovering from pneumonia.

#witchcraft #witchblr #herbal #magical herbs #herbalism #green witch #essential oils #witch community #witchyvibes #eclectic witch #witch #witches #witchy things

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tenspontaneite · 2 years

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Boundless (Chapter 4/?)

In which lessons are had, Nyx officially calls off the con, and Callum gets ‘kidnapped’ by old people to talk about his feelings.

(Chapter length: 6.3k. Ao3 link)

---

The lesson was…informative.

Nyx laid out the broken ambler feathers, and extracted a small bottle from the pouch she’d withdrawn. “D’you know if you have an oil gland?”

“A…what?” Callum had obligingly sat down in front of her, Rayla lingering nearby, leaning against the edge of the saddle.

Nyx lifted one wing to demonstrate, and poked herself in the wing-armpit. Or…wingpit? It was a spot near to its base on the underside at any rate, amidst the shorter feathers there. She squished her finger around like she was searching for something, then withdrew it.

Her fingertip was…oily-looking. He stared, not sure whether to be fascinated or grossed out.

“Oil gland,” she repeated, matter-of-fact. “Birds have ‘em on their arses. All told I’m glad we Skywings have them somewhere less weird. Better hope you’re as lucky, eh? Anyway, we need this for preening our feathers. Keeps ‘em healthy, clean, waterproof, whatever. If you’re not preening your feathers will get messed up something proper.”

“You oil feathers?” Callum asked, now very sure that he was fascinated. He leaned in.

“Sure.” Nyx looked very matter-of-fact. “You ever see birds tidying their feathers with their beaks? That’s preening. They pick up the oil with their beaks and then spread it on the feathers.” She shrugged, spread the oil over her first few fingertips, then reached for her own wing. He watched with great interest as she zipped her finger and thumb along the length of one long flight feather, its filaments rippling beneath her fingers. “Glad I get to use my hands. Imagine trying to preen these bastards with your face. Be there all day.”

“I’m surprised you’re not already there all day,” Rayla muttered, reluctantly interested as she spectated from the side. “That’s a lot of feathers.”

“Even more for the wingling here,” Nyx claimed, glancing at his wings. “His wings’re looking bloody big already. I’ve seen Skywings with the same size, but only just. If they’re still growing…” She shrugged. “Going to be a lot of work. That’s the price of being wingborn, eh? Or. Not born, in this case.”

“Ugh,” said Callum, who thought that the way he grew his wings ought to be the entire price of having them, honestly.

“Just in case you don’t have your own oil, though…” Nyx tapped the little bottle. “People make custom wing-oils. Usually they come with nice smells and what-have-you. You can practice with some of this one. Go on.”

“Er.” Hesitantly, he took the tiny bottle and uncorked it, lifting it to his face for a hesitant sniff. It was quite a weak scent, actually. Nothing like a perfume. He couldn’t quite identify what kind of smell it was, floral or woody or anything, but it smelled pleasantly fresh. “What is it?”

Nyx squinted. “Jasmine and something and something else, can’t remember. It’s my least favourite one, anyway.”

“Least favourite enough to trade it?” Rayla asked archly, lifting an eyebrow.

The Skywing grinned. “I could be convinced. What you offering?”

Rayla glanced at Callum questioningly. He frowned, then thought. “Uh. I guess I don’t need my jacket anymore, either? No way I can wear it now.”

“…Oh, now it makes sense why you were wearing that shirt,” Nyx realised aloud. “I just thought you’d been caught somewhere without your proper clothes and had to make the best. But no, you’re actually going to need a whole new bloody wardrobe now, aren’t you?”

Callum winced. He hadn’t considered that, and the thought hurt more than he’d expected. When he went home…nothing would fit. All of his old, comfiest, most familiar clothes were essentially lost to him now. He’d need to have all his undershirts and shirts and jackets and coats and cloaks specifically tailored for his wings for…well, forever, probably. Unless he did something drastic like getting them amputated, and…already, the thought of that felt sickening.

It hadn’t, a day ago. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“…I suddenly feel so sorry for the tailor back home,” he reflected, determinedly putting his internal conflicts aside. He went for his bag and extracted the jacket, oddly sad at the prospect of letting it go. It’d been his favourite for so long now. The colours felt like they were his, the blue a part of him in some way he couldn’t quite put to words.

But, he supposed, he could always get something like it in the future. Something that was actually made for wings. He thought of what Nyx had said about not even knowing what colour his feathers would be, and felt weird about that too. What if they were yellow or green or something, and the tailors made him completely change his wardrobe so his clothes wouldn’t look weird with them? He liked wearing blue. He didn’t want to have to give that up.

He tried not to think about that. The exchange of jacket-for-bottle went smoothly, and then the lesson resumed.

“It can help to wear finger-caps, for this,” Nyx was saying, demonstrating barehanded on her own wings. “Or hard-finger gloves. But bare hands work alright as long as you don’t use too much oil.” She dug in around the bases of her flight feathers, angling the wing so he could see the long shafts of the feathers disappearing into her skin, though wreathed all around by smaller downy plumes. “Make sure to keep the skin clean, yeah? You can do that in a bath or shower. Lots of stuff can get caught in there. Bits of feather, skin-flakes, dust, you name it. Keep it clean or it feels disgusting and you can get feather-lice, and you don’t want that, trust me.”

“Sure,” Callum agreed, and after a moment reached for the ambler feathers she’d probably intended as practice targets. “Sounds gross. Cleaning feathers, I mean.”

“No worse than cleaning hair,” Nyx claimed. “Just takes a bloody long time. Just – keep in mind, if you get your feathers soaked or soapy, you need to preen them all later when they’re dried, and it’s an arseache. ‘specially since if you go too fast you can mess up the feathers. Slowly does it, alright? The idea is to get rid of any ragged edges on the feathers, make all the filaments line up neat and tidy.” Again, she demonstrated on her own wing, tidying up the leading edge of a long tapered flight feather. “Give it a go.”

Obligingly, Callum tried it. The ambler feather was gigantic, and the shaft bent down its length, and the filaments dramatically askew. It took him a few tries to get the hang of how to pull his fingers along the edges to make them all zip together right; it was considerably easier once he started using his fingernails. That would be the reason for the finger-caps, he supposed.

“You’re getting it,” Nyx approved. “It should feel pretty instinctive on your own feathers, once they’re grown in. Or, well, it would if you were an elf. Dunno about on humans. Must do though, right? I’ve seen yours moving the normal ways for your moods and whatnot. Mind you…” She leaned over and peered. “They’re all the way up there, aren’t they. How flexible are you?”

“What?” He hadn’t been expecting that.

“Can you reach behind you well enough to preen your shoulder-feathers?” She elaborated, and then it made sense.

“Oh.” He tried to touch his wing-shoulders; first from above, which failed, then from below. “Kind of?” It was really uncomfortable, though. He could barely reach.

Nyx inspected him, shrugged, and said “Looks like you’d manage it eventually, if you had to. But…” A sharp grin pulled at her mouth, and she turned to the side. “You, Moonshadow girl, get down here. I think you’d better learn this too, yeah?”

Rayla startled. She’d just been watching silently, leaning at the saddleside, but now she was blinking to alertness again. “What?”

“You heard me. Thought I saw you touching his wings earlier, right?” Nyx waggled her eyebrows at that, almost leering, like she thought the detail was particularly salacious. Callum flushed red and wasn’t even sure why. “So. It’s a free lesson, take it or leave it.”

She lingered distrustfully, arms folded, as though trying to discern a catch or a trick in the words. Her eyes flickered to Callum’s undoubtedly pathetic-looking spiky wings, then down to the broken ambler feathers. She sighed. “Fine,” she said in the end, and sat down by his side. Some tension in his shoulders that he’d not even noticed just…slipped away, at having her there.

He glanced at her. She was still looking very…closed-off, though. Quiet and unhappy. Trying for humour, he nudged her in the side. “Hey, at least feathers are probably less trouble than cutting my back open, right?”

Rayla huffed, bleakly amused, at the same time as Nyx made a face at them. “Well. Cutting your back open was probably faster than wing-preening, at least.”

“Messier, though.” He thought there was still blood in the hems of his pants, though thankfully the fabric was too dark for it to show very well. “Feathers shouldn’t bleed everywhere.”

“Stars, I hope so,” Rayla muttered.

“…As much as I love hearing all about where those wings came from, gotta correct you there,” Nyx said, and both of them turned to her with dismay. “Your feathers are full of blood right now, actually. See how they’re all dark, ‘specially at the bases?”

Callum moved a wing forwards to stare at it. “I thought that was just how they were coloured?” The shafts of his feathers were mostly a dark brown-grey now, nearly black, though they’d started pretty translucent. The third layer, still short and poky, hadn’t darkened up yet; those were just as colourless as the rest had been in the beginning.

Nyx peered over. “Yeah, a bit. Think you’re just going to have dark feather-shafts, like me. But no, there’s blood in those. Always is, in growing feathers. You can tell where there’s blood supply because it’s stupid sensitive and looks kind of blue at the bottom. Don’t break growing feathers. They’ll bleed like nobody’s business.”

With that, she went off into a short but harrowing guide to dealing with broken blood feathers. In short: don’t pull them unless you’re an experienced wing-doctor, or you could permanently damage the follicle (“The thing the feather grows from, on your wing? Blimey you really don’t know anything, do you. Do you even know what a primary is?”), and the best thing to do was to stop the bleeding with powder or adhesive or whatever you had to hand.

“So don’t go breaking any, alright? Once they’re done growing the blood will come out and then if you end up breaking or pulling one it’s fine,” Nyx concluded, glancing at Callum’s wings. And then the lesson just…kept going.

On feather growth: “The feather shafts will grow to their full proper length with a sort of flaky sheath around ‘em. Once they’re done, the feather filaments start growing out at the ends, and it looks bloody stupid, let me tell you. Like a tassel on a stick. But then they’ll start pushing outwards back down the feather – scratch the sheath off or get someone else to do it, it’ll make it go a lot easier. And then you have a done feather. Er. What else?”

On usual timescales: “Normally a big feather takes a few weeks to a month to finish up, but who even knows with yours, those look like they’ve grown even while we’ve been sitting here. Pretty handy, honestly – the rest of us need to be stupid careful during a moult or we can mess our wings up good and proper, but you’re probably not going to be dealing with that for longer than a week. Lucky bastard.”

On wing and feather anatomy: “The shaft is called the shaft, the full feathery bit is called the vane, done. Now these:” She demonstrated the big flight feathers that grew from her wing hand, then pointed to their bare spiky equivalents on Callum’s wings – the nine feather-shafts growing out from his longest wing digit. “Primaries. These:” She indicated the next group, arranged along the wing’s ‘wrist’. “Secondaries. These…”

“Tertiaries?” Callum guessed, as she indicated the elbow-to-shoulder group.

She grinned. “Depends who you ask. Some’ll tell you those are technically secondaries too. But yeah, tertiaries. Lots of winged things don’t have much past the elbow at all, you know? Don’t need it – they usually fly with their elbows tucked to their bodies, but ours go right out. So.”

Feathers growing from the wing shoulders were called scapulars, and axillaries from the wing armpits. The second row of large-ish feathers growing over the flights were coverts. The small rounded feathers that covered the rest of the wings were also technically coverts, but elves tended to call theirs contours just for easy differentiation. There were a few other types whose purposes ranged from sensory to insulation, but their names started to blur together into nonsense. He already regretted not taking notes.

And then, finally: “Well, that’s probably all you need to know about that,” Nyx announced. “So, preening practice now, yeah?” She pushed some feathers at Rayla and continued the demonstration.

Rayla took them, tilting her head consideringly. Then she dipped her fingertips in oil and gave it a go.

Ten minutes or so later, their Skywing tutor pronounced them ‘ready to deal with wings’. Callum, who could by now feel the steady pulse of blood at the base of every growing feather, wished that he could believe it was true.

---

Immediately after concluding their lesson, Nyx disappeared up to the ambler’s head again, saying “Going to take a kip. We’ll get to the Wonderwall in a few hours, aight? Just – sit around and preen and daydream or whatever.”

Without the lesson to occupy her, Rayla returned to quietly brooding over her thoughts. Callum sighed, and coaxed the shadowpaw over to practice preening his dorsal feathers. The giant dogcat-creature seemed to thoroughly enjoy the attention, producing a rolling, rumbling purr so loud that it seemed to make the whole saddle vibrate. Silently, disdainfully, the moonstrider came close, deliberately turning her feathers to him and then pretending that it was a complete coincidence. He preened her feathers, too.

In the space of three hours, his primary and secondary blood feathers grew from the length of his wrist to longer than his entire arm. He tried, and failed, not to feel unsettled about that.

---

When they arrived at the towering circle of obelisks around the oasis, it was unnervingly quiet. There were bugs, and small birds, but – there were tents out there by the water, little huts here and there, but no sign of people whatsoever.

Until Nyx stood atop the ambler’s back and yelled “Oi! The con’s off, you can all stop hiding!”

There was a moment of silence, and then an elven face poked out of one of the tents. “What do you mean the con’s off?”

Rayla winced at the volume as Nyx and a couple other elves (all wingless, Callum noted) yelled back and forth, all the while they dismounted via the ambler’s tail and threw supplies around. “Here, bedroll,” she said, a little distractedly, clearly about to fly off and confer with what had apparently been hidden accomplices. “That’s a double. You only need one, right?” She stalled at the surprised, indignant noise Rayla made, staring back inquisitively. “What? You’re preening his wings, aren’t you?” The way she emphasised those words, eyebrows raised, made it sound more of a euphemism than just a fact. Like it meant that – like it meant-

It did take Callum a second to get what she was implying. Only a second, though. “That’s – we’re not-“ He attempted, utterly red-faced, but Nyx was already dumping the bedroll at their feet.

“Yeah whatever, I really don’t give a toss, just take it,” she said, already lifting her wings in preparation for flight.

“Nykantia!” yelled one of the voices from across the oasis.

Nyx rolled her eyes; in a single wingbeat she was several metres from the sands. “I’m coming already, hold your amblers!”

Callum and Rayla stood silently in place. Zym nosed at the dropped bedroll and chirred inquisitively.

“Er,” Callum said, face feeling distinctly hot. “Er. Should I – should we try to – er.”

Rayla’s shoulders hunched. “…It’s fine,” she muttered.

“But if you don’t-“

“It’s fine. I don’t care.” Those words were bitten out, prickly and acerbic. Callum fell silent; Rayla went over to tend to the moon-mounts.

Eventually Nyx returned alone. Whatever discussion she’d had with the other oasis occupants apparently hadn’t prompted any investigations, and all the shouting people stayed in their distant tents, now gone silent again. “Originally I was going to sleep down here, ‘stead of on Naïmi,” she said cheerfully. “Would’ve made it a lot easier to grab the little prince. But bugger that now, so I’m going up. See you in the morning, yeah?” With that, she took wing and flapped straight for the ambler’s saddle.

“…Do you think she might still be planning something?” Callum asked Rayla, under his breath, once she was gone.

She shook her head. “I heard her talking with those other elves. Unless she was passing signals somehow…she’s telling the truth, now.”

“Oh.”

“Apparently someone’s first fledge is a big deal, for these people,” she said, glancing his way. For a moment, something that almost looked like a smile twitched at the edges of her lips. “So…good job, Callum. Seems your wings saved us a lot of trouble.”

“Well, glad they’re good for something,” he offered ruefully, glancing at them in the corners of his eyes. They were…well, they were ugly. They looked terrible and, increasingly, they hurt. The least they could do was elicit some sort of weird cultural sympathy in the formerly-hostile natives.

He hoped, kind of, that Rayla would take the opening. Ask how they were feeling. Ask if they were any easier to move, now. But, as much as she’d kept fastidiously on top of their developments over the last days, she didn’t seem to have the energy tonight. Instead she exhaled, very quietly, and said “Let’s just go to bed. In the morning…” She clutched at the moon-opal pendant, eyes distant. “In the morning, we can move on.”

Heart sinking, he nodded, and they took Zym over to a good corner and set themselves up in the sands.

Getting into the same bedroll probably would’ve been a lot more awkward if she wasn’t so obviously depressed. It was still awkward, though…and it only took a brief, painful brush of his feather-shafts against the fabric for him to immediately abandon the idea of getting them under the covers. So: the wings stayed out.

In the chill desert air, the downy baby fuzz wasn’t quite enough to keep them from feeling cold. Inside the bedroll, though…he settled beside Rayla, and that was very warm indeed.

---

When Rayla started crying quietly to herself in the middle of the night, Callum woke. Of course he did.

She shook off his attempts at comfort. She shook off the bedroll. She ran, and he couldn’t think of anything but following straight after her. Things…kind of…went from there.

In the aftermath, Callum stared after her with his face hot and his lips tingling and an overwhelming awareness of how much he’d messed up. He followed Rayla back as far as the abandoned bedroll, where Zym was still sleeping, and then couldn’t quite imagine getting back in and just…going to sleep again. Instead he turned and wandered away, hardly even aware of where he was going, until he tripped over some kind of rope and narrowly avoided snapping several blood feathers on the way down.

When he looked up, hands scrabbling in sand, he discovered…a tent. A tent with two worn, wrinkled Skywing faces peering out at him.

“Oh,” he squeaked, and then “Sorry! I didn’t mean to wake you, I was just – I didn’t look where I was going?”

Both of them, resembling nothing more than the most ancient grandmothers he’d ever seen, stared at him inscrutably. Then the one on the left receded back into the tent, and the one on the right remained, speaking in a thickly-accented voice. “…You are Nykantia’s strange human. The one who travels with ke agilatavin.”

“Er.” He eyed them desperately, then pushed himself up. “I don’t – agilawhat?”

“The child dragon,” they said.

“Oh. Yeah, that’s. Yeah.”

The old Skywing stared at him for a few long moments. “You are upset.”

He blinked, and immediately tried to wave it off. “What, me? Pssh, no. No, I’m fine.”

“You will come in and talk about it with this one,” they said, matter-of-fact, and held the tent flap open beside them as if in invitation.

Callum wondered, faintly, if he was being kidnapped. “Er. I’m fine? Thanks?”

“You will come in and talk about it,” they repeated, immovable.

He looked at the elf. The elf looked implacably back at him. They didn’t seem threatening. “Yeah, okay.”

Within moments, he was ensconced in the cosy shadows of the tent. The other old person was sitting on a bedroll, sewing by the light of of a tiny lantern hung from a hook on the tent’s frame. They utterly ignored Callum, but didn’t protest his presence either.

The elf who’d invited him in didn’t bother introducing themself, but watched him as he awkwardly settled his wings as he sat on the ground-sheet, having to angle them uncomfortably outwards so the feather-shafts didn’t poke against the ground. He wasn’t sure how long they were now, and…wasn’t sure he wanted to check, honestly. “Look at you,” the elf said eventually, almost pityingly. “Meuavisa. Pitiful young thing, not even knowing how to hold his wings.” Despite the words, he noticed that they didn’t have any wings. Neither of them did. None of the Skywing elves he’d seen aside from Nyx were winged at all, and he wasn’t sure what that meant.

His shoulders hunched a little. “…In my defence, I’ve only had them a few days.”

Neither elf looked surprised. Either Nyx had told them, or they just weren’t easily startled. “Miraculous,” proclaimed the elf. On their bedroll, not looking up from their sewing, the other elf nodded to themself, as though agreeing. “Sacred. Such a fast bloom of Ke-Iharat’s blessing, on one whose kind has never known it. You are a special little creature, so I will help you. Tell me what is the matter. Tell me what separates you from your foreign love tonight.”

His face burned. “I’m not – she’s not – it’s not like that!”

Patiently, the old elf stared back, waiting.

He fiddled with his fingers. “Or…maybe it is?”

“Tell me about it, vina,” invited the elf. “What troubles you?”

Callum lifted his hands to his face. Was he really going to talk about his romantic screw-ups with an old Skywing elf whose name he didn’t even know? …Apparently, yes; he could feel the words bubbling up in his chest.

“I don’t know!” He bemoaned at last, throwing up his hands. “I just – I messed up? I – I don’t know.”

“Perhaps start from the beginning,” they suggested, while the other one muttered something quietly in another language and passed over a small bottle. They took it with aplomb, not even looking.

He sighed. “I don’t even know your names.”

The old Skywing didn’t look amused, because there was almost no trace of emotion on their face at all, as though time and wind had worn everything away. Their voice hinted at humour, though. “Will you find it easier to speak, knowing?”

“…Yes?”

They nodded, regal, and uncapped the bottle, reaching for a slim paintbrush to dip it inside. He was momentarily distracted by thoughts of art, eyes keen on the brush as it was withdrawn, tip coated in something silver-white that didn’t look thick enough to be paint. “Then I am named Batese. This one beside us is Iykani.” They fell silent again, waiting expectantly.

It did help a little. He sighed, staring up at the flickering patterns of light on the canopy of the tent. “I…I don’t know. Things have been kind of crazy lately. Like, four days ago I didn’t have wings, and now…” He waved expressively towards the limbs that, even now, he could feel on his back. They were so sensitive now. The pins-and-needles and numbness of before were almost completely gone, and now it was all tender feather-roots and new skin.

“That is very fast,” Batese agreed, and reached out unhesitatingly to take his hand.

He blinked rapidly, caught off-guard. “Er?” His hand twitched against the instinctive urge to snatch it back, but he held warily still, waiting to see what they’d do. Pull off his glove, apparently. His hand twitched with alarm.

“Peace, velavin. It is only the blessing,” they said, and with that set the paintbrush to his skin. He stared, bewildered, as without any warning or explanation whatsoever the elderly Skywing started painting strange, looping designs up his hand. The ink or dye or whatever was a solid, opaque white that seemed to glow before settling into his skin.

Callum stared, baffled. He considered whether or not to ask. In the end, he just sort of…shrugged, went with it, and conceded to the confused jumble of thoughts that were still clamouring at his tongue. “Right. So…um…me and Rayla have been travelling for a while, now? And…and we’ve got pretty close. But something bad happened to her the other day, and she’s been upset about it ever since, and she wasn’t talking about it but…”

“We heard it, yes,” Batese said with perfect equanimity. “Over by the water. Too far to hear the words; we are not like her kind, with their keen ears to hear everything spoken upon the air. But the voices. There was weeping.”

He hadn’t considered that anyone might’ve heard, and flushed. “Uh. Yeah.” He stared at his arm as the old elf carefully painted up along it, now drawing what looked like the stylised edge of a wing on his forearm. It was…pretty, actually. Oddly soothing to watch. “Um. So, I was just…trying to make her feel better, you know? But…” He stopped, abruptly aware of how strange it was to be talking about this with someone he didn’t even know.

The elf didn’t prompt him to continue, just…kept painting. They wrote strange foreign runes at the edges of the designs, so tiny he had no idea how they managed it with such a large brush. Eventually the brush stalled at the leading edge of one of the poncho’s folds, and they tugged at it. “Remove this, velavin. I must reach your shoulder.”

He hesitated, and found himself unwilling to obey that without some explanation. “…What are you painting? And…why?”

“It is the pattern and blessing for the blooming of wings,” they said, matter-of-fact. “All kinds here whose wings bloom, have their ways to honour it. It is a rare gift; so few of us are born in such favour with the Sky, and it must be honoured. But you are human. Your people have no ways to honour your great blessing. It is only worthy that I give you ours.” Again, they tugged gently at the fabric. “Remove this?”

Callum swallowed; abruptly, there was a lump in his throat. His eyes prickled with sudden emotion. “I…yeah. Okay.” He reached with suddenly-unsteady hands to unfasten the buttons and unwind the poncho until it was in a heap at his lap, and he was wearing only the backless undershirt. Batese kept painting as if there had been no interruption, and silence fell within the tent’s confines. They didn’t ask him to keep speaking.

He did, though.

“…We’re not…together, like that,” he tried to explain, after a few minutes of silence, watching the white patterns loop across his skin. “Me and Rayla, I mean. We’re good friends – best friends, but. Not like that.”

Batese hummed. “Nykantia had implied that you were lovers.”

“Well, she was wrong.” Callum would’ve folded his arms, but one of them was being painted on. He cleared his throat. “Well. Maybe.”

The silence seemed very expectant, then.

He sighed. Might as well just say it. “She kissed me,” he bemoaned, and it was weirdly relieving to say it out loud when it had been buzzing loudly around the interior of his skull for the last however-many minutes since it happened. It all came out in a rush, after that: “But I was so surprised, I didn’t – I didn’t do anything, and now she thinks I don’t feel the same way and she’s upset and I don’t know what to do.”

There was a huff from the elf painting him; an amused snort from the one sewing on their bedroll. “So you do feel as she does, no? If you say it like this.”

Callum blinked, then thought about what he’d actually said. Now she thinks I don’t feel the same way… “Uh.” His face went red. “Maybe? I don’t know! I haven’t – really thought about it!”

Except…that wasn’t really true, was it?

“Velavin,” Batese spoke, almost affectionately. “Meuavin. Poor creature. All aswept in your first love.” Iykani said something as well, but in that strange other language, voice warm and creaking like an old tree. His cheeks burned, not even knowing what it meant. “Think of it now, then.”

He groaned, both sets of shoulders hunching at once. “Do I have to?” He asked, plaintively.

“Yes,” the elf said. “One must know what is painted on his skin.”

It was a weird phrase, and Callum suspected a bad translation was afoot. He glanced at what was actually currently being painted on his skin, but doubted it was relevant, since that was supposedly about his fledging wings.

He kind of understood what the elf was getting at, though, if vaguely. So he followed the old Skywing elf’s wisdom and actually thought about his feelings for Rayla for once.

It really didn’t take long for him to reach a conclusion.

Batese seemed to notice. “Well?” They prodded, while actually prodding him around to take his other arm, apparently done with painting the first.

He sighed, finding himself embarrassed but…happy, too. There was a flutter in his chest that made a lot more sense now. “I think I’ve been kind of stupid.”

“Children often are,” said Batese, matter-of-fact. “It is a part of growing. Do not worry on it.”

“…Thanks?”

They patted him on the hand, then went back to painting. “You will sit here until I have finished your blessing, and then you will go to find your love.”

Helplessly, a smile slipped onto his face. “…Okay.”

---

The full ‘blessing’ was painted with astonishing symmetry up both of his arms, over his shoulders, and then down across his upper back to loop around the bases of his wings. “It is strange, painting the pattern for one whose wings are so high on the back,” Batese commented, dryly. “I have never had to adapt the design like this.” In order to have room for some of the writing, they trailed down a little way from the wing-shoulders, with the longest lines reaching his mid-back.

“What does it look like?” He asked, when it was done, and Iykani fetched two palm-sized mirrors. Batese obligingly held one in place while he angled the other one in his hand to see.

The stylised feathers and wings were everywhere in the design, but also spiralling patterns that reminded him of the aspiro rune. Beneath his wing-shoulders, the last of each of those swirling patterns terminated in an elegant, curling line; one on each side.

“It is a blessing in the name of Ke-Iharat,” Batese told him while he looked. “It-that-breathes. The Sky. The writing says: Ke-Iharat blesses you. Ke-Iharat breathes in you. Ke-Iharat rises beneath your wings.” They sat back, eyes gentle. “This pattern, in full or in piece, is yours to wear for however long you wish, for as long as you breathe. Yours, velakan; you are not my kind, but your wings are sacred. The breath of the Sky fills them, knows them, lifts you high. They are to be cherished.”

Unexpectedly moved by the words, Callum blinked rapidly. He kind of wanted to hug this weird elf. He refrained, though. He didn’t know what that would mean in their unknown culture. “That. Um. Thank you. That…means a lot.” And it did. He wasn’t really sure why, right now, and didn’t really have time to unpack it, but…

“It is only honourable,” Batese said, expression faintly satisfied. “Go then, blessed in your wings. Speak to your beloved.”

Beside them, Iykani said something, again in that other tongue.

Batese nodded, and translated: “’It is worthy and fitting to celebrate new love at the time when your wings bloom.’ A good thing, yes. A time of new things, new beginnings. Go.”

Embarrassed just as if he’d been teased by an old beloved family member, and dangerously close to crying, Callum went.

---

Up until he actually saw Rayla, Callum was feeling emotional and earnest and like he might burst with sappy feelings at any moment. Once he saw her, he was still feeling emotional and earnest and ready to burst with sappy feelings, but in a considerably more awkward way. A very pronounced affliction of nerves materialised and lovingly draped itself all over him.

Rayla was sitting slumped back against the shadowpaw’s side, white hair spilling like a halo around her head, sharply contrasted against the animal’s dark fur. Zym, nearby, was curled up deep asleep between the creature’s great saurian paws.

She looked up at the sound of his approach, then sat straight up. “Callum,” she greeted, and looked relieved. “Where have you been?” Then: “What’s with the arms?”

It somehow hadn’t occurred to him that she’d be concerned at his absence. “Oh, er,” he attempted. “I, uh, ran into some Skywing elves?” He extended his arms to display them. “This is some kind of…blessing for fledging wings, apparently?”

“Oh. That’s…nice?” Rayla offered. In the next second, with the worry dispelled, she abruptly seemed to remember their most recent interaction. Her shoulders went tense, her posture defensive, and she averted her eyes from his.

“Er,” Callum tried, suddenly not at all sure of what to say. Even that awkward attempt at talking seemed to pain her, and she turned fully away, looking ready to collapse back into the shadowpaw.

“Don’t,” she said, tightly, hand settling in the animal’s dorsal feathers. “Don’t say anything. Just take the bedroll, alright? You can sleep ‘til morning.”

“Er,” he said again, all at once much more sure of what to do. What he wanted to do. “I, think I do want to say something, actually? Just…” He saw her glance towards him, so briefly he might have imagined it, then shook his head. Something warm and fond fluttered in his chest at the sight of her, all prickly and defensive, so very Rayla that he couldn’t help but love her more.

He smiled, and closed the distance between them in a few confident strides. She looked up at him, wary. He extended a hand, its skin newly-patterned with the sweeping lines of his wing blessing, and she just…looked at it. “…What?”

“Come with me?” She hesitated, uncertain. “Please?”

She looked at him for a long moment, then sighed. She took his hand, and allowed him to pull her up. He beamed at her, watching as she flushed and looked away from his face again, shoulders hunching. So, she was feeling awkward and tense still. That was fine. He held her hand in his and led her away. “Where…?” she tried, voice as terse as the rest of her, but didn’t finish the question. It was pretty obvious, after that second, where they were going.

He led her back to the same water’s edge she’d retreated to earlier, stopped with his feet just where they were before, and appreciated the beauty of the surroundings in a way he’d been too busy for the first time. The lights of the desert flowers and the glowing motes in the air were brilliant on her skin, casting a dozen colours into her hair, reflecting softly on her wary eyes as they glanced around. He didn’t let go of her hand.

“Callum, what-“ she started to say, then finally looked at him. He was smiling at her, and the sight of it seemed to have struck her silent.

“This is what I should’ve done,” he said, and leaned in to kiss her.

She didn’t try to push him away, or retreat. Tentatively, her fingers laced between his own. In the moment he drew back, she was staring at him, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. “Callum…” She murmured, still hesitant, like she suspected a trick.

The reality of kissing her caught up with him then, along with his nerves. He blushed to match her. “You just kind of surprised me earlier,” he offered, self-conscious. “I wasn’t – I didn’t mean I didn’t want-“ He cut himself off, abruptly flustered. “…I like you,” he confessed, finally. “I like you a lot.”

A smile fluttered tentatively over her lips. There was a beautiful lightness in her eyes. “Callum,” she said again, exasperated and warm at the same time. He could almost hear the relieved, half-chiding words she didn’t speak, asking why he couldn’t have figured that out before he went and made her think she’d royally messed up. She opened her mouth as if to actually say it, then shook her head at him instead, the smile widening on her face.

“Hopefully you’re okay with this as a do-over?” he asked, more confident now as she tugged him closer, setting her other hand on his arm. He couldn’t help but beam at her for it. Then, teasing: “I mean, I can try again, if you think that would help…”

She sighed and rolled her eyes, so fondly that it made his heart hurt. “It’ll do,” she said in the end, lips twitching like she was trying not to grin. “But let’s have that other try anyway. Just in case.”

He was more than happy to oblige.

---

End chapter.

(NOTICE: Episode 1 of Season 4 of TDP is streaming a week early, tonight, 27th October 2022. I can’t watch this until tomorrow or possibly later, so please do NOT mention anything relating to it in your comments, tags, or asks unless it's vague uninterpretable screaming. Vague uninterpretable screaming is ok!)

I like this chapter a lot, actually. Probably because I got to wipe wing biology and weird cultural shit all over it. Also, the Rayllum do be cute. I think this might actually be the first time I’ve written an Official Rayllum Get-Together? Wack.

Just a reminder to anyone who happens not to know: Boundless is a casual side bitch of a story and my actual main tdp writing project is PIAJ, which I have been working on for like three years now. It’s approaching 400k published and considerably more unpublished, and I constantly use its extensive worldbuilding in my other tdp fics, including this one. My second most favoured child is The Ceracurist, which I think is very neat. This has been a PSA.

So: in my PIAJ worldbuilding, one type of Skywing society consists of a bunch of nomadic clans called Ibrevikan (Literally: The Kind That Wander) or just Brevili, and I have a conlang for them. I ended wiping way more of that worldbuilding over this story than anticipated and I regret nothing. Some stuff and translations:

Ama: (from last chapter) Parent; informal.

Ke: Honorific prefix from the word ‘kema’, sacred; the highest possible honour. Only to be used for holy figures, like clan matriarchs or Sky archdragons.

Agilatavin: Child archdragon. Composite of the composite word Agilata (high dragon; agila ‘dragon’ + ata ‘high’) and the diminutive ‘vin’, child.

Velavin: Child wing; wingling. A term of endearment, especially for Skywing children. Also the term for a fledgling. A composite of ‘vela’, wing, and the diminutive ‘vin’, child.

Meuavisa: Little pitiful. Sort of the equivalent of calling someone ‘poor baby’. Composite of ‘meua’, pathetic/pitiful, and diminutive ‘visa’, small. (Pronounced moy-ah-vee-sah.)

Ke-Iharat: The holy entity that is the Sky Primal; generally not seen as sapient or a person, but deified anyway. Translates literally as Sacred Breather, Sacred It-That-Breathes, or similar.

Velakan: Winged-kind, winged one. The more usual word is velnatakan, wingborn-kind, but Batese changes the word to acknowledge that Callum wasn’t born with his. (There is also a word specifically for people capable of casting magewings: velherakan.)

Skin marking: Most Brevi clans have a tradition of commemorating significant life events, either cultural rites of passage or personal changes, using markings or writings on the skin. Some clans use ink, some scarification, some a mix of both. For wingborn children, the first growth of ‘adult’ flight-capable feathers is considered a significant event, on a spiritual and personal level, and the pattern Callum receives this chapter has some variant or other in pretty much every clan.

‘One must know what is painted on their skin’: references the complex Brevi concept of kora – skin/heart/soul/truth. Brevi nomads keep personal marks on their skin, so it is considered a reflection of the self and heart. What Batese says essentially means, in this context, ‘if she is important enough to you to have changed your life and heart, you have a duty to know about it and acknowledge it’. Or more plainly, ‘it is important to be aware of and do honour to the things that mean most to you’.

Genders: Batese and Iykani were described using they/them pronouns because Callum wouldn’t know anything about Brevi genders (which are weird), but could probably tell that they don’t have the kind of gender presentation he’s familiar with, so he defaults to they/them. In fact, Batese uses she/her pronouns in Common, and Iykani does use they/them. (The pronouns in their language are si/sini and va/vani respectively.)

Non Brevi stuff:

Oil glands: Generally called either oil glands, preen glands, or uropygial glands, the vast majority of flighted birds have these. They’re located at the base of the tail, and have variable mechanisms for dispensing oil when the bird puts its beak there. The only flighted birds that don’t have a preen gland are generally ones who use feather powder instead, like pigeons. While there aren’t a lot of very conclusive data about it, it is generally accepted that preen oil promotes feathers health and longevity, helps to waterproof them, and may potentially have antimicrobial effects.

Speculating wildly, I’d say that an elf’s native wing oil probably smells similar to the skin oils in our scalp/neck – which is to say, they smell strongly of that person, enough so that our pitiful noses are capable of picking it up as something unique to them. Beyond that, there isn’t a particular goodness or badness to the odour, it’s just neutral. Scented wing oils remain an option for anyone who wants their wings to smell pretty.

#tdp fic #rayllum #tdp #tdp callum #tdp rayla #wingfic #boundless

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lordfreg · 1 year

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So like- I've been wondering this after I found out about Runna... How did she and Donnie meet?

Also, when did they get married and decide to have their lil baby?I JUST WANNA KNOW MORE ABOUT THIS CUTE LIL FAM😭😭

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH THANK YOU THANK YOUU OMGGG‼️‼️‼️‼️BRO ALSO SORRY FOR NOT RESPONDING I SAVED IT AS A DRAFT AND FORGOT ABOUT IT 🙇🙇🙇VERY SORRY okay so rn runa is going through a HUGE character redesign and species change because……….. impulsive behavior and also it was getting difficult to draw her, BUT‼️, i will answer those questions …

IINNNNN AN UPCOMING FIC— I’ve been planning on how they meet for a while but I can give you more information about Runa, like a wiki article or something 💀, I hope that helps a lil cause i cannot start answering questions or else I’ll spill the entire story line💔 (im sorry I’m so mean😔)

ANYWHO

Runa O’Crest comes from a powerful Yokai family that married into wealth, making her family name lower then royalty but still higher than a Duke/Duchess. She prides herself on her name and wealth, because that’s the core value that her mother, Princess Toriki, and her father, Prince Synson. -They aren’t Queens and Kings yet, because Synson’s father hasn’t given him the throne yet; So Toriki isn’t a real princess (a fact she refuses to address), making her a princess consort.

Runa’s parents are overly protective of their youngest daughter and only heir after their eldest daughter, “Tawny Owl,” abdicated. This causes them to almost pressure Runa into being a “perfect” princess, she feels like her life revolves around trying to impress her parents. Still, Runa sees that her parents favor Tawny over her, which causes her to feel like she’s not good enough.

(I should say that I barely have a timeline scratched together so this is really funky💀 this, currently, isn’t my biggest priority atm, so I haven’t really put a lot of time into this💔)

After her parents decided that she’s finally ready to go to the outside world, they let her go to April O’Neil’s high school/college(???), and that’s where she meets the Turtles. The Ninjas were investigating a strange uprising of mystic mumbo-jumbo on school property and April called the experts.

Donnie was quick to jump on this opportunity as he investigated the mysterious happenings and quickly found the cause; Yokai taking the forms of humans and attending school!

But before the Mad Dogs came to the conclusion that there is more then one Yokai going to this school, Donnie tracks a trail of magic to the punk-rock girl, Tawny. And subsequently her sister, Runa.

April and Tawny have met before, just under harsh circumstances and thus ended up not really approving of each other.

Donnie followed the trail of mystical residue with his magic-seeking googles; and ends up at the feet of Tawny O’Crest, the “rebel with a plan.”

After a brief introduction, Runa stomps over to her sister and demands to know what April is doing talking to her sister.

“Hey, Runa,” April called, “Why don’t you make like a tree and leave?” April hissed, getting closer to the mean girl’s face trying to intimate her.

“Why don’t you make like an overactive sebaceous oil gland cell, and get out of my face.” Runa hissed back.

“Did you just… reference human biology down to its microscopic exocrine glands?” Donnie said, scooting April out of the way and behind him, “To insult me?” He asked, angry, but mostly confused fascination.

“Yeah, what about it? You’re just jealous because I won first place in the Science fair!” Runa pouted back.

At this point Donatello was stunned. This-This total wet towel had won over his brilliant and ground breaking tech?! He would not stand for this!

“Excuse me,” he said softly, “WHAT?!” He shouted so loudly that Jersey could hear him.

“That’s right, Grinchie,” Runa said, eyeing him up and down, “I won.”

“oKAY THAT’S IT!!” Donnie shouted, pulling a dramatic anime pose while pointing to the girl, “YOU. ME. RIVALS FROM NOW ON! Any objections?”

“Well, I think-.”

“GOOD!” Don shouted, “We are now rivals!!”

And with that, the Mad Dogs left and the rest is history. As you can see, Runa was very prissy and quite obnoxious. But after meeting the turtles and challenging them, competing with them, and ever befriending them, she starts to let her inner self shine.

She becomes more helpful and affectionate towards the Mad Dogs, and realizes how messed up her relationship with her parents is. And the scheme that was running along just beneath the surface.

You see, Runa’s parents had invested a lot of money into the Battle Nexes, only to have their only source of income and entertainment slaughter by a creature they told her to get rid of.

“What a fitting end.” Toriki hissed, “She did always like to keep pets.”

So, Toriki was like, “oh shoot😨 we need more money🧐 how will this happen🤔 I know!🤩 the Battle Nexes 2: electric boogaloo 🤩🤩”

And Toriki sends her beloved children into the human world to get the best fighters they know of (this is a post-cannon fic btw so after the movie), and force them to fight in the Battle until they die or find a better fighter.

They have their sights set on Leo.

OKAY THIS IS RUNA’S NEW DESIGN AND I UH- IKD MAN TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK💖

Owl and Rabbit hybrid because I’m indecisive af

NOW, ON TO ALEXANDER

tw/////dark subjects like sh and ed 🦋 SO; getting into Alexander’s trauma here, he’s very insecure about his plastron because it resembles Leo’s too much, making him feel kinda guilty for just,,,looking like donnie’s twin the slightest bit. He’s tried to smooth it out with filers (the nail things to sand your nails idk) and even sand paper, it’s kinda like self harm because it hurt really bad. And he was too scared to go to his parents so he went to April instead who told him that that wasn’t okay and his parents loved him no matter what. There’s still marks and scrapes but it’s mostly healed. (Originally drawing Alex with Leo’s plastron was a slight mistake but over time it kinda stuck and now you get lore)

he was also getting bullied at the Hidden City school for being half mutant and half yokai, something he still refuses to tell people until he has confirmation that they will accept him in any way, but as he grew up it only got worse. They wrote it on his lockers and backpacks, they even drew it on his face when he fell asleep in class once! He never told donnie, (but his father figured it out pretty quick), because he knew donnie would obliterate the school if he found out. So he told runa who,,,,handled it a-prop-et-ly. After that he trusts people more easily and gets betrayed yadah, yadah, yadah…

And Alex has always felt he was different from everyone else, mostly because of his strong mystic energy, but I digress.

He felt extremely thin with his plastron and resorted to eating a lot, so much so that he would get sick. He would just eat random shiz too, but that’s more of a inherited trait because he used to just eat random stuff as a baby.

But overall, he’s a happy kid, a little naïve, but mostly sweet.

NOW ON TO DONNIE

the only notes that I have on him are these ones ;

because donnie doesn’t like physical touch that much in his teen years and never really allowed himself to be all soft and affectionate towards his family and friends, when he’s an adult (future au with alex) he’s very cuddly and venerable. (not to his family but only to Runa and maybe alex if it calls for it) and that’s why future donnie doesn’t really wear his battle shell around the house

And that’s about it for Donnie since his personality doesn’t change that much.👁👁

Anyway, here’s some fun trivia facts because I need some way to end this ;

-Runa and Donnie are very similar yet different at the same time. Runa is mean because everyone told her she cared too much so she stopped caring completely. Donnie was just born like that and he’s just naturally defensive as a safety precaution.

-They argue a lot over who’s right, sometimes they seem to argue for fun. But they will never admit if one of them is wrong until they’re proven right. Then neither of them will bring it up ever again. Sometimes Donnie will let Runa prove she’s right just to see her smile and laugh.

-When they game, don will let her win (rarely) just to see Runa’s dorky victory dance. Then it just turns into a dance party for everyone.

-When in her Yokai form, she accidentally hits people with her tail feathers.

-Runa listens to Shake Your Tail Feathers from Chicken Little unironically.

-Donnie makes dirty science jokes when he’s hormonal🫣. I.E. “Much like warm air molecules, I never stay on the bottom.”

-Donnie learns what every single coo, chirp, squak and screech means in owl language. Runa and Donnie usually talk to each other like that so Donnie doesn’t have to admit how mushy he can get around his brothers.

-They say a lot of things at the same time. Runa thinks a lot like donnie so she knows what a lot of complex abbreviations for blueprints are.

(I should mention the fun facts take place after they had Alex) SO, that is all I have about this family!! Sorry if it’s long it’s just I have SO much to talk about with them, and don’t even get me started on NEXT GEN au (it’s future au with the kraang and Alex and his friends and all that stuff). I’m just SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO SO, SO very happy you asked!!

Planning to write more in the future, so stay tuned ~~

#rottmnt #rise donnie #rottmnt alexander #rottmnt runa #rottmnt oc #rottmnt Runa O’Crest #rottmnt Donatello Hamato #rottmnt Alexander O’Crest Hamato #ask #thanks for the ask cherry!!^^#really enjoyed infodumping about thisssssss #makes me so SO happy

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