extra medication



1. I understand how you have lower health compared to other classes, but please, for both you and your Medic’s sake. SLOW DOWN.  

2. Don’t call for a Medic when you’ve lost 1 health. Seriously, there’s a burning Soldier on 1 HP right beside you. Don’t expect to be prioritized.

3. If your Medic is on fire, extinguish him with the Mad Milk or the Mutated Milk.


1. If you want effective healing, DON’T EQUIP THE EQUALIZER OR THE ESCAPE PLAN. They decrease Medics’ healing impact on you by 90%.

2. DO EQUIP THE DISCIPLINARY ACTION. It can make you and your Medic faster than usual for a short period of time. Use it when your Medic has a hard time keeping up with you.

3. Unless your Medic is using the Quick-Fix, try not to rocket jump as it will be hard for him to keep up with you.


1. If your Medic is on fire, extinguish him. If he burns to death and you get killed, you can’t blame him, because you didn’t keep him alive.

2. DON’T EQUIP THE BACK SCRATCHER. It decreases the amount of healing you get from Medics and dispensers.

3. Unless your Medic is using the Quick-Fix, try not to flare jump as it will be hard for him to keep up with you.


1. When your Medic is on low health, build a dispenser for him. 



2. When your Medic is on low health, give him your Sandvich.

3. DO EQUIP THE SANDVICH, THE DALOKOHS BAR, OR THE FISHCAKE. These serve as a portable health packs, which you can give to your Medic if he is on low health. The Dalokohs Bar and the Fishcake can also give a 50-point overheal to the consumer.


1. Unless your Medic is using the Quick-Fix, try not to sticky jump as it will be hard for him to keep up with you.

(Other) Medic: 

1. Keep each other safe. You are both men of medicine. You’re supposed to be bros.

2. DO EQUIP THE AMPUTATOR. Taunting with it gives all of your teammates extra health (including your Medic).


1. If your Medic is on fire, extinguish him with Jarate or the Self-Aware Beauty Mark.


1. You’re a SPY. Unless you really need to be healed, don’t expect to be helped by Medics.

I’ll edit this if I missed something. Please reblog and add your own tips if you have any. :)


Title: ‘Reunion’
TV Show: The 100
Rating: General
Summary: Marcus makes it back inside the bunker, but runs into a problem he didn’t expect. Totally baseless next episode fic that will doubtless be completely discounted by tomorrow :)

(I wrote this at work because it was a long day today and I guess this was at the top of my mind)

Marcus finds Abby pretty much where he expects, in the bunker’s version of Medical, deep in the lower levels.

She’s moving crates when he walks quietly through the door – medical supplies, he assumes, though whether from the bunker itself or whatever is left of their meagre stash scavenged from Mount Weather he can’t tell. They have years to set up in this place, but it’s typical of Abby that she would start right away, throw herself into her work without a second thought.

She looks tired.

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Sir Lockie of Albrand & Lady Faye: The Stars That Fell Too Soon

Lady Faye began as a squire from House Albrand in the midst of the Nohrian Civil War, a bloody conflict between the last heirs to the Nohrian throne. The noble house was split in two, one siding with the abominable Lord Oswald, and the other siding with the young brothers King Hugo and Prince Garon. Faye was still young when she escorted Lady Katerina around Nohr, but she proved her mettle in the final battle as vanguard. She was made a knight and royal retainer to the royal family alongside her colleague Sir Zhara, who went on to serve Princess Diantha.

As retainer to the crown prince, Lady Faye served as Xander’s primary swordplay instructor once he decided to follow the path of the blade. Known for her raucous laughter that echoed in the halls of Krakenburg, the knight loved to tease the young prince but dispensed good advice, even though Xander didn’t always appreciate her words. Despite her great affinity with the fellow knights of the order, Lady Faye swore to never marry and was well known for spurning the advances of many men who wished for her hand in marriage.

Sir Lockie of Albrand, the son of Violeta of Albrand and Sir Gunther, was chosen to serve his cousin, the crown prince, from the very moment he was born. Xander regarded Lockie as one of his closest confidants, third only to Princess Diantha and Prince Marius. Quiet and thoughtful in his early days, Lockie made quick friends with the crown prince, and they often spent long nights together in the family libraries to read their favorite books together.

Lockie greatly admired the many warriors and knights in his family, but he simply could not stand blood so much that he fainted at the sight of it when he was young. His struggle had not gone unnoticed by his cousins and Lady Faye, who all helped him over come his fear. He later reaffirmed his position as Xander’s right hand and retainer when he won the family tournament in a display of honor and good restraint. Many likened Lockie to his father, Sir Gunter, and expected that he would follow the same noble path, but fate made it not so.

In the second wave of the Nohr-Hoshido conflict, a strategic error left the crown prince stranded without reinforcements against Hoshidan soldiers. Lady Faye and Sir Lockie fought with their lives to protect their crown prince and help him escape the overwhelming number of enemies. Distraught by the loss, Prince Xander relented in his assault on Hoshidan lands and agreed to an armistice with the High Prince of Hoshido. He grieved for two years afterwards and could not bring himself to hire new retainers until his siblings raised concerns about his health.

Today, a new pair of retainers walk beside the crown prince. But the memory of waking up on Lockie’s abandoned horse still burns in his memory. His fallen retainers were give a hero’s funeral, and their names are enshrined in the many plaques that line the Garden of Champions.

Well, this was a long-deserved bio.

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Title: Take a Bullet (Daughter of Tony! Reader x Pietro Maximoff)

Summary: Pietro is asked on the same mission as the reader, which hardly ever happens when Tony’s around.

Word Count: 1844

Warnings: Violence

A/N: I LOVE PIETRO MAXIMOFF! Okay this is gonna sound weird but this was inspired by a dream I had where Pietro died and I was so sad so I decided to not let that happen! Yay!! I hope you enjoy! 

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Star Trek


Imagine Falling For Spock

For My Followers

You have no idea how it happened.

He is the exact opposite of you.

You are warm, emotional, empathetic, exciting, energetic, and utterly illogical.

He is cold, calculating, intelligent, tactical, and utterly logical.

You should hate each other, but you don’t, you love each other.

The day you first met certainly should have been the last time you talked.


“Miss (Y/N) I am here to conduct your Yeoman interview in the stead of Captain Kirk. My name is Mister Spock,” the, tall dark-haired, Vulcan explains as he breezes into the interview room. You sit up straighter and smile pleasantly and he sits across from you.

“It’s nice to meet you. Are you Captain Kirk’s first officer?” you inquire.

“Yes I am. Now let’s overlook your qualifications,” he muses and flips open your file. He starts quietly looking it over while you sit silently.

It is awkward.

“Uhm it’s the Enterprise nice? Do you like it?” you ask. You’re desperate to fill the silence.

“It is a satisfactory ship yes,” he replies and goes quiet again.


“Miss (Y/N) no further talking will be necessary,” he deadpans and you scowl. That is so rude.

“I was under the impression an interview involves quite a bit of talking,” you snap back.

“Between emotional beings yes, but Vulcans do not need to talk. All we need to see is the resume to understand who is the logical hire,” he explains all the while raising an eyebrow at you. Fuming you cross your arms and try not to frown too deeply.

“Well then do tell me if I am logical,” you invite.

“You aren’t.” The single statement makes you furious and seeing that if you aren’t getting hired anyway you’re going to tell him off.

“Excuse me Mister Vulcan logic pants but I am extremely qualified for this job and just because I have emotions doesn’t make me illogical. I understand logic perfectly well and I believe that it is logical to try and hold a polite conversation with the person hiring you. Now I have kept my composure but I have to admit you are straight up rude! I don’t care if Vulcans value logic above emotions that does not give you permission to be a jerk!”

Then you storm out in a rage.


The next day you decide what happened was your fault so you baked him a traditional Vulcan desert and went back to meet him in his Yorktown office.

You knock on the door and he opens seconds later. Mister Spock raises and eyebrow which you find maddening.

“Miss (Y/L/N), what are you doing here?” he inquired and you out on your best grin.

“I’m here to apologize for my outburst yesterday. I made you this traditional Vulcan dessert and hand wrote an apology. I’m sorry I raised my voice at you, I was being defensive and silly. If we end up working together I promise I won’t raise my voice again.”

“Thank you Miss (Y/L/N),” he says and takes the dessert from your hands.

“Your welcome Mister Spock.”


You did end up getting the job because you have an extra degree in medical sciences.

And that was not the last time you ever yelled at Spock. In fact you two ended up getting into heated arguments almost everyday.

Until one argument ended in him actually getting angry.


“I don’t understand why this is a problem Mister Spock,” you growl as he escorts you back to the Enterprise. “I was on shore leave so therefore I was doing nothing wrong.”

You were only on a date with a native from the planet when he pulled you away.

“I think you misread the protocol about cavorting with the native species,” he lectures and you scowl. You’re flushed red from having him take your arm and pull you from your date.

“Actually I didn’t! It states clearly that as long as an officer is on shore leave and not interfering with the laws or development of a native species then all forms of relations are allowed,” you announce bluntly land pull your arm away. “So therefore Mister Spock you have no business pulling me from my date. Not as my boss, not as my father, and not as my boyfriend.”

The stone cold Spock actually flinches which makes you raise an eyebrow.

“Apologies (Y/N),” he utters and you gasp.

“You called me (Y/N)!” you exclaim wildly blushing.

“Apologies Yeoman (Y/L/N),” he corrects.

“I don’t mind. I like the way my name sounds when you say it…Just tell me one thing Mister Spock,” you request and he nods. “Why did you take me from my date?”

“I was feeling-” he hisses and bites his lip. “Jealous.”

Shock makes you stand utterly still while you heart hammers in your chest. Spock looks you right in the eyes a green blush forming on his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“We should kiss,” you suggest breathlessly. He raises an eyebrow at you in response.

“That seems logical.” You don’t wait in throwing your arms around him and kissing him fiercely. He returns just as passionate and presses you back into a wall.

Surprisingly you fall into bed and when you ride him all his logic goes out the window.


You’ve been together ever since.

dreamingbooknerds  asked:

Hey Dr Ferox! Newbie vet here, just wondering if you have any quick tips about working with clients that are human medicos? I had a GP client come in with a dog that had 'a sore mouth' but they'd already gone and bought liquid amoxyclav and meloxicam and started dosing the dog ('checked the dose with a vet friend'), and the lesion had practically disappeared. I was kinda internally screaming the whole consult.

I don’t have one that’s quite that bad. At least amoxyclav and meloxicam are relatively safe in most (definitely not all) species.

There are doctors out there writing ‘extra’ scripts for owners to get medication for their pet through human pharmacies. That’s because with Australia’s Pharmaceutical Benefits Scheme certain medications are cheaper for humans. This is fraud and practicing veterinary medicine without a license, and if you can identify this it should be reported. It’s also poor patient care because owners suddenly think they don’t need to bring their pets in for check ups any more, and are not looking for side effects of NSAIDS, or whether the dose of heart medication or insulin needs to be changed.

Most of my human doctor clients have been pretty good, though some tend to be on the demanding side and one always gets into a snit when they’re waiting for more than five minutes because “My time is important.” I often muse on how ironic this is when waiting for an hour because the doctor’s are running late at my partner or my medical appointments.

I generally ‘forget’ that they are human doctors and treat them like anybody else. Most GPs are certainly capable of being personable, at least when they feel like it, and a good one will realize that they’re not the only doctor in the room.

As for quick tips:

  • Be professional. Be good. I could criticize lots of GPs for not really listening to their patients, for not doing a thorough clinical exam, for not making eye contact and not addressing all the concerns in the consult. Show them how it’s done.
  • Prescribe exactly what you need. Don’t allow there to be ‘extra’ medication at the end of the treatment course.
  • ‘Apologize’ that there will be a few minute wait before you have Xray results or blood results. (If you’re unfamiliar with the human medical system, you often have to go to a different building and wait days for results.)
  • Be aware of legislation.
  • Be aware of comparative anatomy and physiology differences. Human doctors often find this interesting and it reminds them that they don’t know everything there is to know about this species.
  • Remind them if the clinic is open late and on weekends. This is very useful for nurses too, those that say “I work a lot so I can’t come into the clinic during the week” are sometimes taken aback when you say “Well we’re open from 8am to 8pm and can do an early drop off by prior arrangement.” Most human nurses in particular are surprised at just how long our days are. 

But to be fair, remember that we’re not perfect either. Veterinarians are known for treating their own wounds, for popping some amoxyclav when we get bitten by a cat, or taking some metoclopramide if we’re nauseous at work. There are vets that will self-prescribe from the veterinary pharmacy rather than leave work for the day.

It happens. One part of this is the reluctance to leave work when it’s busy, and you only ever get injured when it’s busy. The other part is the reluctance to deal with the often slow and convoluted human medical system. You have to do this eventually anyway, this self-treatment should really only be limited to first aid.

I mean, technically I am allowed to treat a human in the absence of more a more qualified individual. That does imply that an effort should be made to find the appropriate individual, whether that’s a paramedic, nurse, or human doctor. 

┗ * THE FORRESTER ADDRESS →  bambi forrester

“AS i’m sure most of you have heard, the school in which mine and many of your children attend, Walt Disney Academy and University, recently encountered a tremendous earthquake. Nobody knows how or why.” He clears his throat once, twice, three more times, as if the words are quite literally stuck in his throat. “We have not heard much, and are yet to find out the safety of our eldest son, Prince Carter Forrester. As for our daughter-” His voice breaks, but he continues, voice rougher. “As for our daughter… Princess Bailey Forrester… We are saddened to inform you all that as she was helping push rubble off a fallen student, somehow lighting dislodged from above and came crashing down onto her. The lights have left her badly burnt and scarred. She was sent straight to the hospital. But it was… It wasn’t ENOUGH.”

“She went through a minor surgery for the doctors to look and see how bad the damage was to her head, and they noticed an abnormal amount of swelling there. They have informed me that for all… All intents and purposes, Bailey is very much alive. But they do not know when she will ever wake up again.” Bambi stops then, and a sob erupts from his mouth, his entire body seems to cave in on itself. “My baby girl. My daughter

“Please… Please, keep Bailey in your prayers and hopes. We wish to ask you all to respect our privacy at this time, and if anybody would like to visit her, i’m sure she would appreciate company. We are hoping for her to awaken, soon. We will not lose hope. We will not give up. Thank you, and- and i hope the rest of your children are safe, and will remain away from harm. Goodnight.” 

Blanket HC

Okay so; I imagine Jaal being a little worried and a bit protective over Ryder (in a good way of course) cause humans are small and squishy and they look fragile. Anyways, so I’ve read a few things about Jaal finding out that the cold can actually be harmful to humans and shivering and the goosebumps happen, sometimes in room temp, like if they just got out of bed or something.
And I HC that (especially in the romance) Jaal keeps like a small throw blanket on hand where he is so that Ryder is warm. Usually an extra medical blanket from the medbay. Until, and he keeps it a secret/surprise, he makes Ryder a blanket himself. (I imagine it’s a warm and soft blanket like a silk/velvet feel because Andromeda threads/fabrics may be different). And he just kinda gives Ryder this blanket and I know that my Ryder would probably be wearing that blanket everywhere around the Tempest especially. And that makes Jaal happy because his human is soft and warm and comfortable.

Soulmate AU

I’ve had this one on the back burner for multiple months now, figured I should go ahead and post it. Inspired by this post about sterek soulmarks.

Mark watching was a common hobby: sit in a public place, watch people walk by, casually check out the emotional health of their soulmates. Hundreds of thousands of books had been written to analyze what the most minescule changes of color might mean on the handprint that everyone wore on their bodies. Stiles mark watched for a slightly different reason than most: he wasn’t interpreting colors, he was looking for other people with weird mark mutations to match his own.

Ever since Stiles was born, he had had a bright yellow paw print stamped on the back of his hand.

As one might expect, Stiles had been subjected to a lot of teasing about his soulmark in school. Stiles didn’t care all that much. He got teased about a lot of things, and he had done his research on soulmarks early on. Just because his was a pawprint didn’t mean his soulmate was a dog, and Stiles certainly wasn’t the only person around with a weird soulmark. The medical community called it a mutation, and they estimated that around 3% of all people had a soulmark shape mutation. They had no official explanation as to why some people had feathers or hoof tracks or bite marks or paw prints or a whole host of other shapes rather than handprints. There were a lot of extra-medical theories out there that said a lot of outlandish things, such as having a paw print meant your soulmate was a werewolf, which was obviously ridiculous, however cool that might be. The theory Stiles bought into was that sometimes your soulmate’s totem animal appeared in your soulmark, rather than an imprint from their physical body.

Stiles had proudly presented this theory to his parents over the dinner table when he was eight, and he hadn’t found a better one since. Dad had put on a skeptical face and said that seemed like a pretty far fetched idea, but Mom had grinned and said she thought it was sweet. Stiles had beamed and stuck his tongue out at Dad.

Stiles had just turned ten when his soulmark started to seriously change colors for the first time. Until then, it had been remarkable in its consistency, as well as for its shape. It had taken brief, irregular detours into pale spring green (delight) or a muddy indigo color (typically sadness), but only for a couple of hours before it returned to its brilliant yellow (freedom, joy, contentment). Now, it flared light pink for hours at a time, almost every day. Stiles looked up the color as soon as it occurred. He was crushed to find it meant affection, romance, and compassion.

It was unusual to start a relationship with someone who wasn’t your soulmate, but it wasn’t taboo. Sometimes things didn’t work out between soulmates. Sometimes it took many years to meet your soulmate. Sometimes your soulmate died. Some people were born without a soulmark at all. Stiles knew his soulmate was older than him, since he’d had his mark since birth, but he’d always assumed it was a small difference, the way it usually was. But if his soulmate was already falling in love? Maybe they’d gotten tired of waiting for Stiles, and made the decision to stop looking for their soulmate.

Stiles’ parents did everything they could to comfort him, but as the weeks wore on, Stiles’ mark was pink more often, and the color was getting brighter - closer to real love.

Then came a week in which Stiles’ mark bounced between pink and sickly yellow-green  (anxiety), until it spent three hours fading to pitch black after school.

He watched his mark make the whole transition, sitting huddled in the corner of his room. His father found him there, staring at his mark (he already knew black was for guilt, depression, fear). He made noises of reassurance, told him most people went through black periods and made it through just fine. In fact, he said, his soulmate had probably just broken up with their significant other, based on his mark’s colors all week. And wasn’t that a good thing, after all?

Stiles wasn’t sure. The black on his hand made him sick to look at.

It took nearly two entire weeks for Stiles’ mark to change again, and then only to the deepest indigo (sorrow). Still, Stiles was relieved. Some marks never changed color again after hitting black. He ran to show his mother when she got home. She’d been at a funeral for a teenage girl who died in a car crash nearly two weeks ago, but she mustered up some enthusiasm for Stiles nevertheless. His dad was more excited when he got home, tossing Stiles into the air and making him shriek with laughter.

Stiles’ mark plunged black every so often, but never for more than a few hours. But it only rarely returned to simple, bright yellow after that. It was vibrant red for a long time, which meant passion, physicality, and competitiveness, and beyond that all of the reds were recovery colors. They were a less healthy type than blue colors at this point, the books told Stiles, but at least it was something. At least it wasn’t black.

After another couple of weeks, the mark began to tend towards yellow again, but a deeper, richer color than before. Books were in conflict with each other over what this color meant, so Stiles turned to the internet for his first real foray into Google. The latest thought was that deep yellow meant a lack of attachment, a mellow attitude, and/or satisfaction. Stiles guessed his soulmate was probably feeling the first more than the others, especially as the mark began to flirt with bouts of ugly green (recklessness), and the red and yellow started to mix into a dirty, orange-y brown (self-destructive behavior). A whole host of other colors began to flare up periodically, so many that Stiles almost stopped keeping track. Most lasted only minutes, some for a couple of hours, but never for longer than an afternoon. The books and the internet all agreed that was a bad sign (emotional instability, possibly mental illness).

Stiles worried about his soulmate in his free time, but he was starting to gain a measure of popularity at school for more than a weirdly shaped soulmark. Now he was the kid who knew what all the colors meant, and he got a lot of people asking for advice when their marks suddenly changed to bright purple in the middle of class (it meant spiritual awakening). Stiles was starting to hope for something equally ridiculous if only to get rid of the murky, dark colors that covered his hand all the time these days. He’d just about had it with the pitying glances.

It was around this same time that Stiles began to realize his dad had stopped rolling up his sleeves when he came home. His parents liked to sit together on the couch in the evening with their hands over each other’s soulmarks, Mom’s hand over Dad’s forearm, Dad’s resting on Mom’s thigh just above her knee. They still sat that way, but Dad’s sleeve was always covering the mark on his arm. It was beyond rude to ask someone why they were covering their soulmark, but Mom had been acting strange for a long time, now, and Stiles wanted to know what was so bad that it was apparently visible in the color of Dad’s soulmark.

Dad sighed heavily when Stiles blurted out the question the next Saturday, all pretense of cheerfulness falling away. Dad sat him down and explained that Mom was sick. Yes, it was serious. No, it wasn’t cancer, it was frontotemporal dementia. It might make Mom say weird things, or think weird things were happening. He should tell Dad if she started acting strange. His parents both loved him very much, even if Mom’s disease might make it hard for her to show.

Stiles was certain his Dad was holding back, so he did his own research. He quickly learned the most important things. His mom was dying. There was no cure. There was no way to slow the disease down. He knew then why Dad kept his mark covered. It must be losing color as Mom slowly faded away herself. He didn’t see Dad’s soulmark again for years and years after that.

Pink began to appear in Stiles’ mark again, but it was pale and fleeting, never staying more than a few minutes, and always preceded and followed by some of the dirtiest colors in the mark’s repertoire. An abusive relationship, Stiles concluded after a few days of research. He worried, of course, but he had a lot of things to worry about right then, and it soon faded to the background.

Mom declined rapidly after Stiles’ conversation with Dad. It only took three months until Stiles was standing next to Dad at a graveside, snow flurries sticking to his eyelashes. They had spent Christmas in the hospital only a few days ago. Stiles stared down at the brownish mix of swampy colors swirling slowly on the back of his hand, wondered if his soulmate was seeing something similar on their mark.

Adjusting to life without Mom was easier than it could have been (easier than it should have been) for Stiles. She hadn’t really been there for a long time. Dad had a harder time. He had started working more and more as Mom deteriorated, and he didn’t stop now. Stiles spent a lot of time at Scott’s so he wouldn’t be at home alone.

Then came an overcast, dreary day at the end of January. The weak sun had set, and Stiles was waiting for Dad to get home when Stiles’ mark suddenly fuzzed white. Stiles stared at it in horror. Everyone knew what white meant (a drugged state, severe disease, horrific trauma, impending death). White meant something so terrible that it caused the mark to lose focus entirely, every color and no color all at once.

Stiles had no idea what to do. He couldn’t lose his soulmate, too, not so soon after Mom. He stared at that blank wash of white until he heard Dad’s key rattle in the lock. He ran upstairs and skipped dinner; his dad didn’t need another problem right now. He sat in his room and stared at his mark until he couldn’t breathe. He had his first panic attack that night, although he didn’t know that then. He thought he was dying, too, just the next in a long line. He put on a glove once he could breathe again, because he couldn’t handle looking at it any more.

The mark was still white the next morning, so Stiles kept the glove on. He got some weird looks in the hallways, since he had always made a point of keeping his strange soulmark uncovered, but most people left him alone. Even Jackson only said, “finally decided to be ashamed about liking dogs?” which didn’t even count as an insult in Stiles’ book. Scott asked about it, of course, but Stiles said he didn’t want to talk about it, and he left it alone.

Dad asked two days later when he noticed. Stiles said his soulmate was obviously unhealthy, and he didn’t want to think about it, which had actually been the case for a long while before then. Dad just nodded and shut himself in the study with a bottle.

Stiles had two more panic attacks by himself before he finally had one at Scott’s house. Scott told his mother, who told Dad, who started sending Stiles to a therapist. It helped. He showed his therapist his soulmark, and she asked how it had turned white. Stiles told her, and she hummed for a minute and told him there were two likely situations. Since it had turned white all of a sudden, it probably wasn’t disease, and because it had been white for several days, it probably wasn’t drugs. She guessed it was probably a traumatic event in his soulmate’s life, or he had been injured and was comatose. Three days after that first session, a speck of black appeared at the center of the mark and bled outwards for a span of four days until it had covered up the whole mark. Stiles cried with relief when it first appeared; his soulmate wasn’t dying. They had gone through something terrible, but they were still alive. They had recovered from black before, and they could do it again.

He didn’t take the glove off because now it would rouse people’s curiosity again. Black was nearly as bad a white, in most people’s opinion, anyways, and Stiles didn’t want questions or sympathy. Lots of people kept their marks covered for that reason, according to Google. Dad took him to buy a glove specifically to cover soulmarks on a hand when he asked. It was lightweight and fingerless, and it made writing in class a lot easier.

He showed his now black mark to the therapist the next week, then rattled on about every color it had ever been. Her lips pursed when he told her about the first time it went black, and her face became more and more pinched as Stiles listed off every color his mark had flared afterwards, how after a while every color seemed to be overlaid with a sheen of brown (stress, distraction, obsession, holding desperately onto something), but the only thing she said when Stiles finally got to white was, “When you find your soulmate, I hope you’ll think about giving them my information.” She handed him a card. “It sounds like they could use somebody to talk to.” Stiles nodded and shoved the card into his pocket while the therapist redirected the conversation back to Mom.

After a few more weeks, Stiles’ mark faded to a cold gray (distrust, guardedness, self-protection, blocking something out). It made Stiles uncomfortable to look at, so he kept wearing his glove. Through every color change up until then the mark had at least been a warm color, and the icy gray seemed completely unnatural.

His therapist didn’t seem too happy when Stiles showed her his mark’s new color, but she smiled tightly and said she was glad it wasn’t black anymore. Stiles swung his legs as he talked for the rest of the visit and wondered what color the mark on his soulmate was, and what his therapist would think about it.

Stiles turned eleven. His mark changed color slightly, from icy gray to one with a more reddish hue. The meaning of the color was supposedly the same, but Stiles was glad for the switch back to the warm side of the color spectrum. Dad worked just as much as always, and in June it paid off with a promotion from Deputy to Beacon County Sheriff. They had a party for the first time in a long time.

Stiles’ therapist seemed concerned about his soulmate up until his last appointment with her in July, but there wasn’t anything Stiles could do about it. He didn’t like to think about it for exactly that reason. He wished that soulmarks didn’t appear until you had met your soulmate and could actually do something about their emotions.

The mark never varied; it stayed that same gray (trauma response, paranoia, avoidance, self-protective shutdown, and dissociation from emotions, surroundings, loved ones, and experiences) for over a year. Two weeks before Halloween of Stiles’ 6th grade year, it pulsed pastel sunset orange in the late afternoon. Stiles was so startled he fell right out of his desk chair while he tried to rip off his glove to see the new color. It faded back to gray after a few moments, but it spent the whole evening periodically blipping that same shade of pastel sunset. It meant longing, Stiles learned, and he hoped that whatever his soulmate wanted was important enough to shake them out of gray for good.

Apparently it was. Over the next three weeks, Stiles’ mark saturated to a deep, ashy red. The meaning wasn’t pretty (anger, aggression, hatred), but the color itself wasn’t too bad. It faded back to gray sometimes, and some days, some weeks, were black. An ugly, swampy yellow color cropped up sometimes (anxious, controlling, critical), which Stiles suspected had replaced his soulmate’s original, healthy, deep indigo for a response to sadness and disappointment. But his soulmate seemed to have finally stabilized, even if their colors weren’t the best.

Stiles kept on wearing a glove over his mark. The colors seemed very private by then, especially since they still weren’t happy colors. He shouldn’t broadcast his soulmate’s suffering and slow recovery. That was for Stiles alone.

The mark remained constant after that, and it was black less and less. By the time Stiles started high school, it was only black for a few days at the end of January, and it had even started to occasionally flicker towards the pale, warm green of delight. Those episodes lasted only seconds at a time, but Stiles was ecstatic. His soulmate was healing.

By the summer before sophomore year, Stiles’ mark had saturated to a deep, sunset orange (commitment, tenacity, loyalty), only occasionally fading back to gray. It still turned that ugly swampy color sometimes, but the instances of pale green were getting longer. Stiles stopped wearing his glove. He got a few comments and stares, but nothing too negative. The newer kids at school were shocked to find the rumors that Stiles’ soulmark was a pawprint were true, but Stiles was doing pretty well in the social strata these days, so he didn’t get too much trouble over it. Harley raised an eyebrow at the dramatic change in color from their elementary school days, and Scott asked why he stopped wearing the glove. Stiles just said his soulmate had been through a rough time, but he was over it now, so it was fine.

Then came a cold afternoon in early January when the mark seemed to freeze over. Stiles watched in horror as the mark faded to white over the course of a few minutes. He dug out his glove and covered up the gaping blankness on his hand as soon as he could move again. He could feel a panic attack coming on, so he closed his door and huddled in a corner until it passed, leaving him cold and trembling.

He had no idea what to do.

He peaked under the glove to make sure the mark hadn’t changed back while he was panicking. It was still white as bone. Stiles slapped the glove back down, squeezing his eyes shut and concentrating on keeping his breathing even. He sat in his room trying not to lose it until Dad got a call from the station, long after the sun had set.

Half a dead body in the Preserve. That should do nicely for a distraction.

Stiles got up and drove to Scott’s.

Part 2

bxtrxyed  asked:

"Please come back to bed." (JeanMarco)

sorry this took a while!! it’s super gay tho i hope that makes up for it woot ~ also i’ve never written an MP au before so i wanted to try it out hurrah

“Please come back to bed.”

It’s a phrase Jean is very used to saying, and one that he’s certain Marco is used to hearing. They’ve been sharing one bed for as long as they knew that’s how they wanted it, right back in their training barracks - and now they have a shared dorm in the inner wall and Jean can’t help but take advantage of the plush mattress and silken sheets.

It’s one of the only things he’s let himself take advantage of since Trost.

“I’m on a morning patrol, Jean. I can’t.”

Jean groans, reaching over to pat the deserted side of the bed forlornly. His eyes lift just in time to see Marco slide a crisp shirt over those freckled shoulders, and it only serves to make Jean more desperate.

Keep reading

rabid-dragoness  asked:

Having a bit of an existential crisis with regards to pet food. Everywhere we see good versus bad and I don't know what to believe. I was offered a nutrition class taught by MMI (aka Hills/Mars). Basically said anything non commercial is bad, which I don't entirely believe. However I have noticed that those that support alternative diets demonize any differing ideas. Do you know any legitimate resources for vegan/vegetarian/BARF diets I can suggest to clients with a sound conscience?

Vegan: get a veterinary nutritionist. You don’t want to mess around with that if you can help it.

Vegetarian: Royal Canin makes (or made, I’d have to check) one of the hypoallergenic diets that was vegetarian. It was largely egg based. Waltham does have a book of clinical nutrition with tables in the back for formulating homecooked diets. You can swap out the ‘meat’ component for cottage cheese or egg and you’ll be off to a good start. I often use this for dogs with renal disease since their appetite is so variable

BARF: Well, honestly if they’re already keen on the idea, they probably have researched it already. What you don’t want to end up with is people feeding only chicken frames. If they’re set on doing this, I’d send them the way of Ian Billinghurst. I’m not keen on it, but it’s better than stuffing up the dog’s nutrition entirely.

There are a lot of very strong opinions about feeding dogs, a species evolved as scavengers on the edge of human settlements that are capable of eating a huge variety of stuff. Most dogs will be fine on most diets.

By all means go to the nutrition classes by Hills and Mars. Heckle them. Also read the books from opposing views. Pay extra attention in medical lectures about how to nutritionally manage any given condition.

Make up your own mind, but be prepared to challenge that view with evidence.

There are a lot of zealots in dog food discussions. I find it best to stay out of it, because it really doesn’t matter for most dogs. I’m only posting about it today because I’ve had so many questions about it lined up.

This weekend we’ve got a huge Stoner Snack Box Special. It’s got chocolate it’s got bars it’s got bark

ONLY $50. with shipping

This weekend everyone can enjoy medibles all you’ve got to do is come on over to the dashboard because no qualification is required this weekend. its our celebration launch of our new brand HoeLeeShit

Only the most delicious chocolate, the most extravagant sweets nuts and fruits, even Gold Chocolate this week. Everything is halal and kosher. We want everyone to enjoy so you don’t have to be a patient to order and yes it is double medicated so much medication that we had to double up the strains. We used big holy Nina and red dragon both high grade sativa strains 22 plus percent to make our cannabutter this week. If you’ve been waiting for us to advertise Edibles this is it we won’t be advertising again for a while and the sale is only Friday and Saturday 2 days only folks if you want to order get in before the supply ones out because everything is in small micro double and triple medicated batches all sativa this time.

We’ve got gold digger bars, spicy Mexican hot chocolate hearts, and our ever-popular white chocolate hearts. For those of you who like something a little bit less substantial pardon us gluten-free we’ve got FLOAT-US bars

The Float-us bars are a rich Medicated Peanut butter Caramel marshmallow cream mouse enrobed crispy bar slathered with extra Rich Medicated semisweet European chocolate. This Bar may never be made again so if you get it count yourself lucky. Like those of us who are waiting to see her show up in DC.

This weekend everyone can enjoy medibles all you’ve got to do is come on over to the dashboard because no qualification is required this weekend

Its our celebration for the launch of our new brand HoeLeeShit    -    ONLY $50. with shipping

The Ivanka Bark is exactly what you would expect Medicated brown and white chocolate bark with all sorts of stuff and sea salt. Yes it too is Vanishing after this batch thank God actually thank grab your wallet

These Mucho Medicated Tense bars have everything good in America with a bottom layer of chocolate and a top layer of white chocolate or caramel mousse. These bars are meant to represent the present-day feeling in America in regards to the vice-president.

WE have two In-tense Bars -

The Jared Bar is a bit of a suprise. Similar to the Tense Bar with it’s slathering of a rich caramel chocolate layer.

The Tense Bar is slathered with a thin layer of White Chocolate

Both of these bars are a mix of everything indeed everything, just think of that dance party outside Blair House the night before Pence moved in, exactly. So this tells you, that you just have to try the bar to understand it. By the way its triple medicated because each layer is medicated. That’s why we call them In-tense bars.

Our Gold Digger bark is the one thing that really makes us stand back and decide that one batch is enough because it is just too rich and really has too much of everything. It’s topped off with crushed malted milk balls on top of a layer of gold pumpkin spice flavored chocolate. Yes, very exotic then we dress it up a little bit with various other toppings to keep it interesting.

Let’s just say we secretly call this one Bannon bark because you cannot really be sure of what its hidden motive is. It is totally double medicated and the gold chocolate will never be made again.

Our Mexican Hot Chocolate Hearts are sure to give you a taste of what it will be like if that border wall goes up. Rich, Dark, Robust, and Spicy.. A delicious and totally unexpected taste from medicated chocolate. It is topped off with traditional Mexican peanuts to add a delicious crispy twist.

Our White Chocolate Hearts come stuffed with pistachios, pecans and cherries and they are in very limited Supply

This weekend everyone can enjoy medibles - all you’ve got to do is come on over to the dashboard because no qualification is required this weekend

Its our celebration launch of our new brand HoeLeeShit

ONLY $50. with shipping

You’ve got to come over on the dashboard and holler at your mama

remember this weekend it’s ONLY $50. with shipping


You know nothing, John Snow…

Extra Credits has just wrapped up an excellent series on cholera, Dr. John Snow, epidemiology, and life in Victorian England.

I highly recommend you watch it all, including the Epilogue and “Lies” episodes, for bonus fascinating history and current stuff.

Episode 1: You Know Nothing, John Snow!

Episode 2: Epidemiology Begins!

Episode 3: Map of the Blue Death

The Sanitary Movement

England: The Broad Street Pump - “Lies”

Title: Dear Maisie (Part 3.)

Part 1. - Part 2.

Pairing: Denny Duquette and Maisie (original female character)
Summary: The second letter.
Word Count: 2,499
Author’s Note: I’m formatting this entire story just like P.S. I Love You, which I know many of you have already caught onto. And just like the movie, this is going to break my heart. Either way, I hope you enjoy! ;)

(GIF Source: @heartfulloffandoms)

Song: Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol

Dear Maisie,

Hey, lovebug.

I’m proud of you for going to the Space Needle; I knew you could do it. You’re probably wondering how I know you went, but I can’t tell you all my secrets, can I?

Now, this one’s going to be different and it’s going to be tough, but I have a reason for it. I have a reason for all these letters.

I’m sure your eyes already caught onto the address that I want you to visit. Do this for me, okay?  

I’m not going to tell you the purpose for this or for the upcoming letters because I know you’re going to figure it out sooner or later. But, I want you to go to Seattle Grace Hospital. Talk to Izzie. She’ll know what to do, honey.

I’ll talk to you later, okay?

Until then, Maisie…

I love you, darling.

xoxo, Denny

Keep reading

The Brotherhood of the time traveling daughters.

Paraphrased request: Kix, Echo, Fives, Rex, and Hardcase, have a daughter they don’t know about visit them from the future. Said daughter is a total badass for the rebellion. 

A little background so this isn’t completely confusing: The daughters are the children of {insert above clone here} and undisclosed females that the clones haven’t met yet. This is written in 3rd person because I want to, do with that what you will. 

Forewarning: this is gonna suck but please still read. 

Not many things distracted clones from their work during a battle, but a glowing blue portal in the middle of the sky above the battle field was one of the few. It even confused the droids (not that it took much) enough to create a cease-fire. The clones didn’t stop firing until the generals held up a fist, signaling to halt. A few moments later, the portal spit out a small space craft before closing as quickly as it opened. 

Said space craft had seen better days: it was flaming as it streaked over their heads, pieces were falling off of it causing troopers to dodge the debris (the cherry on top was that several droids were flattened by falling refuse), and everyone on the battlefield could here the sirens and alarms as it flew (or rather: fell) past them.

With the excitement out of sight, the jedi generals used the droids’ distraction to resume fire on the stationary enemies.  By the time the tinnies got back into the swing of things, they didn’t stand a chance- winning a swift victory for the republic. 

After the battle, in the debriefing room Rex was feeling anxious. He stood beside Commander Cody with his hands clamped behind his back listening to the Anakin and Obi Wan discuss how to go about the mysterious crash. Well, Rex was half listening, he was internally wondering why he felt so drawn to this carrier and why he was fighting every instinct to not just walk out of the debrief to find these people. 

“Rex, you feel anxious. What do you have to say about this?” Obi-Wan mused in his usual stance, an arm holding up his other arm while stroking his beard. The clone captain snapped a helmeted head towards the older Jedi. He took a moment to formulate his words so he didn’t come off as defective. (He really doubted a clone saying “I feel completely drawn to these people and am bursting at the seams to make sure that they’re not dead please let me go” would convince them).

“I feel that no matter their means of arrival, not only did they minimize casualties and expenditures but they also were obviously in trouble. Therefore, utilizing the utmost caution, it is our duty  as extensions of the Republic, to offer a helping hand.” Rex answered as formally as possible. 

“Well said. Rex, Cody: Get them men ready to move. Tell Kix and Coric to bring a lot of extra medical supplies.” Anakin decided.

“Yes, sir.” The two clones echoed before walking out. Once secluded from the jedi, Rex looked to Cody.

“I’ve got an strange feeling about this.” 

During the debriefing, Fives and Echo tried to relax by sitting on some cargo crates outside a gunship, but they both shared that same feeling of anxiety that Rex had. Both fidgeting, they kept glancing at the smoking sight of the wreckage. 

“I wonder if whoever was on that rig is okay now.” Fives wondered aloud. Echo glanced from his arc-trooper brother back to the distant smoke. “I don’t know why, but it’s bothering me.”

“Same, brother, but don’t say those things, it makes me even more antsy.” Echo  replied, wiping a hand over his face. 

“I’m sure the generals will wanna check it out. A lot of the boys wanna thank whoever they are for saving our arses.” Fives continued. 

Across the campground, Kix was trying not to let his mind wander to the crash as he patched up Hardcase. It didn’t work, not that Hardcase was paying attention. His mind was with the shipwreck too. 

“Kriff, Kix, take it easy, brother.” Hardcase hissed, trying not to flinch away from the medic as he was brought out of his reverie. 

“Sorry, brother, just lost in my thoughts.” Kix apologized as he unwrapped the too-tight bandage from the other clone’s torso before rewrapping a tad looser. Once he was finished, Hardcase turned to face the medic. 

“Not to pry, but are you thinking that wrecked ship?” Hardcase whispered, as if it was shameful, looking past Kix to the distant smoke rising above the planet’s dense tree tops. 

“Yeah, I’m worried about whoever it is. I’m actually afraid that they’re dead. I want to double time it there and help them.”  Kix admitted, glancing from the wreckage back to Hardcase.

“I was feeling the exact same thing. Is this what Jedi feel like?” Hardcase mused, slipping his armor back on.

After calling all the men to center camp, Rex and Cody made the announcement. 

“Men, we’re heading east towards the wreckage. As extensions of the Republic,  we’re offering the survivors a helpful hand, but be on guard. Just because we’re good men, doesn’t mean they automatically will be.” the 212th commander announced before motioning to Rex. 

“We’re going off the ‘good people until proven otherwise’ sentiment. Medics, bring as much medical supplies as we can manage while traveling- we don’t know how many people could be on that craft. We leave in half an hour.” Rex finished. “Meet at the edge of camp in thirty minutes. Dismissed.”

With that announcement, Kix, Hardcase, Fives, and Echo all slumped slightly with relief. As expected, thirty minutes later, they were all impatiently waiting for the rest of the company to arrive and depart. 

It took an hour and a half walking to reach the wreckage, and the aforementioned troopers really wanted to speed up the pace, but kept their mouthes shut. 

Finally, they arrived at the smoking pile of what was once a ship. The generals told Rex and Cody to assemble a team to explore the wrecked ship in search for survivors. Cody, promptly left it up to Rex after seeing how anxious the 501st captain was. Fives, Echo, Kix, and Hardcase were the chosen team as the fates would have it. 

Inside the ship, it was a mess. Loose wires popped electricity and spit sparks periodically.  Pieces of metal had been torn like sheets of paper, leaving parts jutting out in sharp angles. 

“Watch your step boys.” Rex warned twisting his hip away from a particularly sharp piece. Beside him, Cody looked at his holo-pad. 

“Tech says there’s lifeforms, but somethings puttin’ the single on the fritz. Can’t tell how many.” The canary-painted commander announced, smacking the holo-pad against his thigh as if his aggression would correct the signal output. 

“Is there anyone there? Please, help us!” A voice cried, it seemed to come through the wall to the troopers left. 

“Survivors!” was chorused around the group before Rex took charge, “Can you hear us? We’re here to help.”

“We can here you! All of our exits are blocked and we don’t have anything to blow a new exit.” The voice, slightly muffled by the wall, chimed back.

“Give us a minute, we’ll figure something out.” Fives stepped forward to reassure. The captain nodded before turning to Hardcase.

“Hardcase, I know you have some kind of explosives on you.” He stated as if fact.

“Enough to make an entrance, definitely.” Hardcase affirmed, slipping the backpack off his back. 

“Ok, you and whoever is with you back away from this wall and take cover.” Echo called as Fives, Rex, and Hardcase set the bombs. Cody took scans to determine the craft’s stability, while Kix stood by with Medical supplies at the ready. 

“Ok, miss, are you ready?” Rex called through the wall. 

“Just blow this popsicle stand!” Another voice screamed with a hint of mischief, Hardcase chuckled. Fives glanced to him.

“Remind you of anyone?” The arc trooper laughed as all the soldiers took cover. 

“Ok, girls, take cover.” Rex called one last time before vaulting over the crates they were using as cover. 

“On my mark.” Cody called. “One, Two, NOW.”

With that, Hardcase showed no resignation to blow the door like a can opener. Smoke poured out of the newly revealed room. A few moments later three figures stumbled out. One was helping the second walk, with the second one’s arm arm over the first’s neck, while the first supported the second with an arm around the waist- half dragging her to safety. The other used her arms to try to clear out the smoke. 

“That was awesome!” One of them cheered. Once again all the troopers glanced to Hardcase, “Couldn’t have done it better myself!”

“Hush.” Said another, the one supporting the third, “Thank you very much.”

Once the smoke cleared, they could finally take in their survivors appearance and were shocked to find they shared a resemblance with the clones themselves. 

The first one looked to be the one in charge. Dressed in light armor assembled over a blue tunic and black sturdy pants with quite a few pockets, the pants were tucked into a pair of combat boots. Two dual pistols, much like Rex’s, were holstered in shoulder holsters. Rex couldn’t tell if her hair was naturally that gold color or if was dyed- or maybe it was the just the light. Her skin tone was close to that of the clones and she had one hazel eye like him. Her other eye was a crystalline blue. 

The second girl was slumped against the blonde. She also shared the same skin tone, and also shared the black hair. Her eyes were closed, but she was clearly a medic. No armor, but a medic symbol patch sewn to the shoulder of her tan blouse. The blouse was under a vest and tucked into army green pants which led to brown sturdy boots. When her head lolled to the side, it was noticed the part of her hair was shaved with a pattern that could’t be made out for all the smoke and ash. 

The third, looked eerily like the clones: same golden skin, hazel eyes, black hair was pulled back into a high pony-tail. She was wearing a tank top, cargo pants, and boots. The tank top did nothing to hide tattoos snaking around her arms that unnervingly resembled Hardcase’s. 

The blonde one spoke up, “Thank you, we would’ve been dead without you. I’m Alinova (A/N: pronounced alley-uh-nova). Pyro here is Zara.”

The newly dubbed ‘Zara’ gave a bright smile and little wave, before Alinova resumed, “And our medic here, is Jessie, we call her Jess.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure ma’am.” Rex replied warily as Alinova stuck her hand out to shake. When the long sleeve of her shirt tugged up, Rex caught sight of a jaig eye tattoo on her wrist. This only troubled him more, nevertheless, he still took the offered hand. “We have a medic who can treat your friend.”

“Thank the Force.” She breathed, letting Kix slowly ease her friend to the floor. While Kix did his thing, the two other girls conversed with Rex and Cody.

“We still have two other crew members. We can’t leave until we find them or they’re proved dead. We understand if you can’t help with that, but” 

“No man left behind.” All four people chorused. 

“We’ll stay with you until the end.” Rex promised, and felt very proud when the blonde offered his a relieved smile.

“Thank you.”

Meanwhile, with Kix, he checked the girl for any sign of further injury. Trying to ignore the since of familiarity and worry. He checked for concussion and was relieved to not find one. The he set to work wiping the soot off her face. Then he could tell the pattern inscribed into the shaved part of her head was identical to his. He gasped. 

“Kix, what is it?” Fives asked, getting up from where he was. 

“Look where her hair is shaved. Look familiar?” Kix asked, glancing up at the arc-trooper and then to Echo who had joined. 

“Yeah, it looks exactly like yours… odd.” Echo concluded. Kix thought for a second. 

“Ok, this is impossible but it’ll put me at ease.” He murmured to himself before pricking the unconscious girl’s finger. Apparently the sharp momentary pain was enough to jolt her awake. Luckily, Kix was able to smear some blood on the medical holo-scanner before returning his attention to his patient. 

“Who the hell are you? Where the hell are my friends? More importantly, why the hell did you stab my finger?!” She shrieked, bringing the other two girls’ attention. Both rushed to their friend.

“Jess, it’s ok. These men saved us!” Alinova soothed, urging her to sit back down. 

“Men, take off your helmets, to put the lady at ease.” Cody ordered. One by one, the clones shed their helmet to offer the women their eyes. Then four  things happened at once.

“Shit.” Alinova deadpanned, looking at Rex.

“Rad.” Zara cheered to Hardcase.

“Kriff.” Jessie whispered looking at Kix’s haircut. 

“DNA analysis complete. DNA half clone - half Nabooian.” 

“Surprise, Buir*.” Alinova concluded, meeting Rex’s eyes. 

After a few hours, the jedi commed to tell them that they left a few troopers outside the craft, but the rest of the company headed back to main camp, Cody decided it was best to leave with them. Shortly after, the other two showed up, sharing heavy resemblance with Zara. The one with the 5555 tattoo on her wrist was obviously Fives’. While the girl with a hand print on the breast plate of her armor definitely was Echo’s.

“Leena.” the one who claimed to be Fives’ daughter offered, awkwardly smiling to her father.

“Saryn.” Echo’s apparent child revealed. Both arc troopers’ children, were dressed similar to Alinova. 

Leena had chest armor and forearm armor painted black on top of a light grey linen shirt, tucked into high waisted black tight pants finished with a pair of grey boots. Over her pants was something strikingly similar to Fives’ kama. 

Saryn was almost identical in garb, but with a white linen shirt and classic white armor over navy blue tight pants tucked white boots. Finished with the shin guards of what might have been clone armors trimmed to fit her. 

With all five of them there, Alinova- who was apparently the oldest and in charge- deemed it time to tell them how they ended up there.

“So, whether you believe me or not, as weird as it may sound, We’re y’all’s daughters from the future. I can’t tell you too much, but when we’re from, the war is over, but another has started- nothing like this one. No militaries besides the empire. Anyway, we were doing our part- fighting for what we believe in, something you’ll eventually teach us before we come here again-. So we were snooping around an abandoned separatist tech lab, when the Empire rolled up and thing went south. Long story short, they figured out how to use some tech, blasted the riff out of our ship, and apparently: sent us back in time.” She concluded, “Take from that what you will.”

All the while, the clone eventual-fathers nodded watching their respective daughters. Echo cleared his throat, “So what exactly do you all do in your.. ‘part’ as you call it.”

Saryn answered first, “Special Tasks force- Agent 401.”

Echo smiled proudly before Leena added, “Me and Saryn are a team, I’m Special Tasks force- Agent 402. We just usually tag along with Nova.”

“Don’t call me that.” Alinova chirped, throwing an authoritative glare Leena’s way, but Leena was smiling at Fives to much to notice, “I was promoted to commander and chief strategizer of our division before this.”

She said it nonchalantly, but she still glanced to Rex and beamed at the prideful stare she received. Zara stepped forward, “I’m their engineer and pyro-technician. I fix things and blow them up.”

“Hardcase, she’s your carbon copy!” Fives clapped Hardcase on the back. Zara blushed.

“Well, he did teach me everything I know.” She admitted, soaking up the attention Hardcase gave her. She knew she wasn’t allowed to tell him that she hadn’t seen him since she was seven, and that was when her lessons had stopped. 

“And I’m the one who busts my ass to keep them alive.” Jessie concluded. “The medic.”

Kix looked to be bursting at the seams with pride. 

Not a week later, the rest of the girls team got the portal back open. So reluctantly, the troopers let their daughters go to fight in a war they didn’t know anything about. All they knew was that they couldn’t wait to say hello again when they were born. 

And fin.

Sorry this was so long and in no way a reader insert. This is like a mini story! Also (whispers) feel free to draw my new little OCs i created just for this little story. They will probably never see the light of day again. 

Requested by anon like two months ago.

Up next: Fives, Echo, Wolffe, Rex, and Kix with reader who had to fake death for undercover mission. Clones don’t know it was fake and they hadn’t confessed their feelings.