As a testament to how much time I can waste rewatching the same stuff and then creating posts about it, here we have part 3 already neatly packaged for your viewing pleasure.. Once again, our sweet child Onodera gets roasted by Takano and when someone tries to offer help, his colleagues are just like “what are you talking about?” Lol! Even Isaka-san (in a way that only Isaka can do) manages to fry Onodera in front of his colleagues by outing him as a publisher’s son - even though it’s supposed to be a moment where Isaka is lending his support to Onodera! That’s a gift that Isaka has right there… supporting and alienating Onodera with one blow!
Ahh this show never fails to make my day… Anyway, do enjoy! And perhaps I’ll be back with a part 4 at some point? Until then…
Part 1 and Part 2 can be found here (in case you’re interested).
She’s a zoology student, for now. She spoke six languages when she arrived at Elsewhere, but now she speaks only two; English, and the tongue of Beasts. There’s a betting pool amongst her less kind classmates as to how long until she trades the former away too.
Every day she is a little wilder, a little less polished, a little less human. She was Dolittle when she arrived, but now they call her Feral.
Their roommate thinks they were abused. They are so scared of getting it wrong, so scared of upsetting the people around them. They fall in on themselves the moment someone mentions parents, and go practically dead when their father calls them - which he does, a lot.
They disappear one Friday night and everyone is certain they’ve been taken, until they return on Monday morning with great shadows under their eyes and tiny scars on their temples. They give their photograph of their family to their roommate, saying they don’t need an empty frame.
Their roommate burns the photo. He always knew they were clever.
He’s a genius. He absorbs knowledge like a dry sponge sucking up water, and attends classes all hours of the day. He has a room to himself these days, as his old roommate couldn’t stand the books. Which is fair enough, even he admits that there’s barely room for breathing in there.
He really is a genius. He worked out what his mother bargained away for his brilliance within an hour of arriving on campus. He calls her every day, teaching her new things, constantly fearing the day his ability to learn outstrips his ability to teach.
“Please,” Jungkook whines into the phone and you laugh into the phone. “Send a picture, I want to see you in them.”
“I told you no Kookie,” you sigh as you cleaned your glasses with the hem of your t shirt. “I look so ugly with my glasses, you’ll never see me in them.” you continue and look yourself in the mirror while the phone is pressed against your ear.
“I hate it when you lie to me like that-” Jungkook says and you’re confused for a second. “I bet you know you look hot as fuck but you won’t share it with me!”
You laughed and shook your head. Damn, this kid knew how to talk.
“Fine.” you chewed on your bottom lip. “Give me a second.” You hear him celebrating on the other side of the call hissing yes! You leaned your head to at least look a little cute and take a picture of yourself to send him. After retaking it four times you finally send one with some kind of filter to make you feel alright about him seeing you in glasses.
You pressed the phone to your ear awaiting his reaction as he receives the image. In anticipation you start biting on the side of your thumb, an unhealthy habit. On the other line you hear Jungkook almost, gasping?
“Jagi,” he starts, “I thought you were gonna look adorable but..”
Your heart almost stops in your chest. You knew you shouldn’t have sent that! Sarah from fourth grade was right, glasses were ugly and nerdy and no boys liked that. Suddenly you felt ten years old again, vulnerable and small like when Sarah and her friends stepped on your glasses and laughed in your face, saying you should thank her for getting rid of those ugly things. You were convinced Jungkook didn’t love you anymore when his voice now raspy interrupted your thoughts.
“-You look so fucking sexy baby,” he almost moans into the phone and your cheeks heat up. “I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me.”
“Are you serious?” you chuckle and heat spreads between your legs from his comments. All your doubt was washed away and now you were breaking out in cold sweat for a whole other reason.
“Dead serious. Are you home alone?” He asks and you can hear him clicking his tongue.
“Didn’t you have to study?” you tease and raise your eyebrows like he could see you.
“Is that a no?” He torts back, avoiding your question.
“Of course not. Door’s open.”
“Come on!” He yells from the living room. “Let me see you,”
Taehyung was seated on your couch and you were on the other side of the wall, twisting in front of the mirror. Wearing nothing but a lingerie set you felt exposed. The set was in a dark red, Tae had picked it out. On you, you had matching stockings draping over your legs that stayed attached to your underwear and a pair of black heels. Your hair was worn natural but the scariest thing about what you wore was the glasses.
Never had he seen you with them and you planned on keeping it that way but this was different. It was Taehyungs birthday and he specifically requested it. If he requested it he couldn’t hate it, right? Sighing and looking yourself in the mirror you felt stupid when you should be feeling sexy.
“Don’t keep the birthday boy waiting!” He yells again from the other room after you stayed quiet for too long. You inspect yourself in the mirror, turning around to look at yourself from every angle. He’d always say he loved the natural shape of your body and you didn’t know why you doubted him since he was right about many other things.
“Coming,” you speak softly and anticipation builds as your heels meet the floor with every step you take. Finally you’re in the door frame and Taehyungs eyes burn into your skin. You shudder under his look, his eyes traveling all over your body, admiring you as he, probably unconsciously, palms his crotch.
“Fuck,” he breaths at the sight of you.
Suddenly his eye stops wandering when he gets to your face and sees your glasses. He visibly squirms at the sight of you in your black frames, making you gain confidence. You had no idea that you in glasses affected him like this and neither did he.
With a half naked girlfriend in front of him, he ends up getting more turned on by her glasses than her ass, not that anything was wrong about your ass.
“What are you staring at?” you tease because the silent sexual tension is killing you. He just stares at you with his lips parted.
“Get over here and let me fuck you,” he almost ordered, voice dripping from lust.
The sun finally lit on Yoongis face and he blinked, suddenly struck by the bright light. He had been lying sleeping next to you about an extra hour longer than you. Slightly sitting up in his bed with a pillow for support reading a book you waited for him to wake up. He grunts and you look at him and smile at the sight. He looked like a confused puppy, his hair messy and eyes puffy.
“Good morning,” you shoot him a warm smile and let your hand massage his scalp and feel him lean into your touch. He turns his head to look at you and blinks.
“You-you’re wearing your glasses,” he stammers, suddenly looking wide awake as he lifts himself with his right arm as support. That’s when you remember you’ve never used your glasses in front of him but you still don’t understand the big deal. He knew you used glasses when reading, so why did he seem so shocked? You shoot him a look that questions his confusion.
“It’s just,” he bites his lip to stop the wide smile that spreads across his face. “I didn’t know you could look so hot and cute at the same time.”
You were home alone when you heard the knock on the door. Magnus was in the Institute, having some business with the Shadowhunters or rather Alec. You didn’t mind. Seeing Magnus happy was a good think. It’s been a while since he had taken you in and treated you like his own blood. Not just learning to control your powers, that made your mother abandon you and leave you on his porch.
For a moment you thought about ignoring the knock but you felt an urge to open it, so you followed your feelings. The door only half open, Raphael crumbled against the frame. Burning wounds all over his face as he almost looked lost, while collapsing in your arms.
Your heart started beating fast just seeing his wounds and anger trembled in you. Somebody did that to the other boy, Magnus had considered his son even far before you had come in his life. You three were family, Raphael always there to assure you that you were not alone and that it didn’t matter that he was a vampire and you a warlock.
“I got you, Raph. Everything will be fine”, you whispered, as you helped him sit down before you started healing his wounds. You always were better at that, than using your powers to damage somebody.
“Thank you, (y/n). Not sure what I would have done without you.” Raphael’s words warmed your heart. He didn’t know how you really felt about him, didn’t know that you had fallen in love with him, once you had become older.
“I’ll always help you Raph”, you said and when you saw him smirk you decided to be brave. “Because I love you.” For a moment nobody said anything but then Raphael looked at you. “You love me?”, he asked but you knew you didn’t have to answer, so you just tried to keep breathing. When he finally smiled up at you, you felt like floating. “Well then our next next date hopefully doesn’t include injuries.”
They came for Lucifer in the early morning hours and you could hear his screams echoing through your cell. You wondered if he had been able to hear you yesterday and you supposed he probably had. It was some time before they brought him back and the demons were carrying him between them. His legs dragged on the floor and he was groaning. You sat up, your back sending little tendrils of pain throughout your body, and watched as they dumped him in the middle of the cell. He collapsed in a heap, moaning, and you could see blood soaking through his shirt on his back.
The demons left, but Lucifer didn’t move. He just laid there, much like you had the day before. You realized you felt bad for him, shockingly enough. You scooted over towards him.
“Lucifer,” You said softly. He didn’t respond and you touched his shoulder gently. It was then that you realized he had passed out. Wonderful, you thought. This is going to be so much harder now.
Luckily you still had some strength in you and you were able to lift the heavy archangel off the floor and get him onto the cot. Your back was on fire when you were done, but Lucifer was at least off the dirty floor now. His shirt was ripped to shreds and through it you could see the deep, oozing wounds. Crowley started with the nine tails then, you thought bitterly. You had scars yourself from the bite of that whip.
Gently, you pulled the shirt off the archangel and ripped it into strips. You were filling the sink with warm water when he groaned.
“Don’t move,” You ordered.
A crazy laughter bubbled out of him, which promptly turned into more gasps of pain. “Couldn’t if I wanted to.” He said in a stuttering voice.
You laid the strips down on a clean shirt so they wouldn’t get dirty, then looked around and pulled a brick out of the wall. Behind it was a small jar of a waxy substance.
“What are you doing?”
“Helping you.” You said, putting the stone back and carrying the jar over. “This might hurt a bit,” You warned him, dipping your fingers into it.
“What is it?”
“Just a healing lotion. It works great. But I’m going to have to touch your back with it and its going to hurt like hell.”
“I’ve had worse,” He said. He grunted when you first touched his bare back, but was silent as you spread the lotion over his shredded skin. You tried to be gentle, but you knew it was hurting him badly because you could feel the tenseness in his body. Once you were finished, you carefully laid the wet strips of shirt across his back until it was almost covered. His breathing had evened out as you worked and you found him studying your face every time you looked down at him. It was unnerving, but you figured he didn’t understand normal human socialization rules. Or maybe he did, and just didn’t care.
“All done.” You said after laying the last strip down on the small of his back. You returned the jar of lotion to its hiding spot and then sat in front of Lucifer. “We’ll have to leave it on for a while, but it should feel much better once it comes off. I’ll check it when I get back.”
“Get back from where?” He asked hoarsely. You looked away from him and he said, “Oh.”
You took a deep breath. “Just get some rest.”
That day you were waterboarded, stuck with large needles, and had all the fingernails on your left hand pulled off.
Lucifer was still laying on the cot when you were shoved back into the cell. You stumbled, but didn’t fall. You quickly grabbed a shirt from the clean pile and wrapped your bloody left hand up. Then you went over to Lucifer and knelt beside the bed.
“Ready?” You rasped, your voice eroded from a long day of screaming.
He nodded, an unreadable expression on his face. You lifted a shaking hand and unpeeled the cloth from his back. The skin was raw, puckered, and swollen, but it looked a bit better. You hoped.
“Looks okay. Now it has to air.” You said, peeling off all the strips. Once you had bundled everything into a ball and set it aside, you set to work on your own wounds. Your left hand was by far the worst. Once you were finished, you turned away from him and sat, leaning your back on the metal bed frame, the burns on your back throbbing, the knife wounds on your stomach aching. And you thought wistfully of your brothers. They were probably so worried. You had been gone without a trace for almost a year now and they still hadn’t found you. You could only hope that they were close to solving the mystery of your disappearance.
“Why did you do it?” Lucifer’s voice cut into your thoughts.
A pause. Then: “Help me. Why did you help me?”
Now it was your turn to pause. “A multitude of reasons.”
“Like I don’t like seeing someone in pain. Like I know that those wounds are worse if not treated correctly. Like it was the right thing to do.” There was a long pause, so you turned towards him and asked the question that had been burning you up. “Why can’t you heal yourself?”
“Crowley won’t let me.” He answered immediately. The quickness of his response took you off-guard. You hadn’t really expected him to answer that question, at least not so readily.
“Did he take your Grace?” You asked.
“No. He trapped me in this vessel, which he remade with runes. He can have total control over me whenever he wants.”
“Whoa.” You breathed. “That’s not good.”
He grinned weakly. “No, it’s not.”
You propped your elbow up on the bed and rested your chin on your wrapped up hand.
“What happened to that?” Lucifer asked, nodding at the hand.
“Let’s just say I won’t be having any manicures for a while.”
He grimaced. “Ouch.”
“Yeah.” You said. “Yeah.”
“Where did you get that stuff you put on me? From the jar?”
“I have my ways.” You said, not wanting to give up your secrets. You didn’t want the one helping you to be outed accidentally.
That was the last word between the two of you for a few hours. Lucifer was snoring loudly when you decided to check his back again. It was scabbing over and looked incredibly painful. You endured five whippings since your capture but your back had never looked as bad as the archangel’s. He really must have pissed Crowley off. You didn’t think he was going to be able to get off the cot for at least a day, maybe longer. And you knew that Crowley would most likely come again for him in the morning.
Crowley did come again for Lucifer in the morning. And the morning after that, and the one after that, until they all started to blend together. And you were taken every afternoon, as usual. It was strange though. Your own torments were cruel, but the ones Lucifer endured were on a whole other level. Every morning they tossed his bloodied, battered body back into the cell and every morning you picked him up off the ground, cleaned his wounds, and bandaged him up. And it was either the nineteenth or the twentieth day after Lucifer first arrived that he began to return the favor in the afternoons, if he was able.
You remembered the first time he had done it well because it had shocked you. Crowley had been particularly cruel that day. You had cuts all along your face, your nose was broken, and he had taken to branding your back again. It seemed to be a favorite of his. They tossed you back in the cell, where Lucifer lay recovering from that morning where they had just beat him senseless, and you crawled over to the sink, intending to start cleaning up. The next thing you knew, Lucifer had you in his cool arms and was placing you gently on the cot. You were so shocked that you couldn’t speak. You could only watch as Lucifer carefully cleaned your wounds. His cool hands felt heavenly though the cloth was rough and you moaned slightly at the relief they gave you.
“Don’t make it weird, Winchester.” Lucifer said gruffly.
“Sorry,” You said with a smile.
Once he had finished, you sat up and faced him. “Let me see yours,” You demanded.
Lucifer painfully pulled up his shirt and you examined the word that had been carved into the soft flesh of his stomach. ‘Dog’, the word read. You touched it to see if it was warm and heard him inhale sharply.
“Sorry,” You said. “Just checking for infection.”
“I’m fine,” He muttered, dropping his shirt.
“Okay. Thank you.”
He looked down querulously at you. “Thank you for what?”
“For cleaning me up.”
He shrugged. “You do it for me.”
“Yeah, well…thank you.”
“Don’t tell anyone about it.” He said. “I can’t have people thinking I’m losing my touch.”
“Oh, I’m telling everyone.” You said, grinning. He grinned back and you suddenly realized that you were making friends with the Devil. And it honestly didn’t feel so bad. You didn’t know that the friendship would hold up outside of the cell (you figured it probably wouldn’t), but after almost a year of being alone, it was kind of…nice…to have someone to talk to.
And things went on the way for a while, until they took Lucifer and he didn’t come back for two weeks. It was the roughest two weeks of your life. You were tormented every day and had to go back to cleaning yourself up again. It was hard, grueling, and you didn’t know if you were ever going to see the Devil again. You didn’t know what had happened to him. You figured Crowley wouldn’t kill him, but you were worried about him. And worried about yourself because you were worried about him.
He was back quite suddenly. When you went to sleep that night he wasn’t there and when you woke up, he was. You had been badly tormented the day before and so didn’t have the energy to sit up, much less stand. He was sitting across the cell from you, staring.
“Hey,” You said, your voice barely above a whisper. He didn’t answer. He didn’t even move. You tried again. “Where you been?”
He had a strange look in his eyes and you realized how vulnerable he looked. With enormous effort, you got to your feet and went to kneel in front of him. He stared right through you and you wondered for a moment if the once proud archangel had finally broken.
“What happened?” You asked softly.
He inhaled, then roughly shoved you away from him. You landed on your back a few feet away from him, your body screaming in pain.
“Stay away from me.” He said coldly.
You were gasping for air on the floor, but you heard him. What the hell? You thought fiercely. You were angry, that was for sure. You had helped this dick pretty much the whole time he had been imprisoned with you and this was how he was going to act?
You crawled back over to the bed and hoisted yourself back up. The pain was intense and the anger even more so, but underneath it all you were surprised to find that you had been hurt not only physically but emotionally. You had grown close-ish to Lucifer and his rejection of you hurt. You rolled away from him and faced the wall all night.
The next morning you were surprised when the demons came for not only Lucifer, but you as well. They marched you down the long hallway side by side. The torture chamber was much the same and they strapped you the table as they usually did. Crowley appeared, as usual. But what was odd was that they didn’t strap Lucifer down on the other table. He stood sullenly off to the side, his eyes dull. Crowley stepped up next to you.
“Hello darling.” He said. “We’re going to have so much fun today.”
He whirled away before you could spit at him and strode over towards the table full of torture instruments next to the archangel. You watched as the King selected a blowtorch off the stand and turned back towards you. Smiling, he handed the torch to Lucifer.
“Burn her.” He commanded.
Lucifer looked as though he had been slapped. “What?”
“Burn her,” Crowley repeated. “Go on, I’ll tell you when to stop.”
Lucifer looked down at the blowtorch in his hand and then over to you. You could see the pain in his eyes. He looked back towards Crowley.
Crowley’s head jerked around. “No?” He snapped his fingers and Lucifer cried out, dropping the torch and falling to his knees. “Listen, dog! When I tell you to do something, you better do it!”
He snapped again and Lucifer screamed in agony. “Now, you will burn her!”
“No,” Lucifer grunted. Crowley snapped and Lucifer dropped to the floor completely in the fetal position. His bellows echoed through the room. Crowley punched him and his head bounced off the concrete floor.
“Are you going to do as I say?”
Lucifer spat out a wad of blood. “No.”
Crowley growled and his fists flew. Lucifer was fading in and out of consciousness when he was finished. The King picked the torch up off the ground, straightened his tie, clicked it on, then stepped towards you.
When the bottoms of your feet were blackened and blistered, he had Lucifer strapped face down on the other table. Lucifer’s head was turned towards you and you could see that his eyes were horribly swollen. You were in so much pain that you didn’t even realize what Crowley was doing at first. He seemed to be picking at something in the air, stretching it out, like the wing of a bird or something. Oh my God, his wings, you had time to think before Crowley went to work on those with the blowtorch.
Lucifer shrieked and struggled against the restraints but there was no escape. You had never heard those sounds come out of him before. They were animalistic and horrible. He thrashed, but Crowley only had his demons hold the invisible wing down. You wanted to look away, to run away, to do anything besides lay there, but there was no escape for you either.
When they threw the two of you back in the cell, you both laid on the floor for several long moments. Finally you sat up and looked over to the archangel. You were surprised to see tears streaming out of his eyes. You crawled over to him, knowing you wouldn’t be walking for quite a while.
“You gotta let me see them,” You said.
“No,” He said, his voice steady.
“Lucifer, you gotta let me take a look at your wings. I know you angels have a thing about letting humans see them, but from the sounds you were making, they really need some help healing.”
“Touching an angel’s wings is incredibly intimate.” He said. “No one besides me has ever touched mine.”
“I’ll be gentle.” You promised.
He clenched his jaw, but didn’t resist as you pulled him up into a seated position. You walked around behind him and touched him gently on the shoulder.
“Spread ‘em, Feathers.” You said. They were joking words, but your tone was soft rather than jovial.
Lucifer sighed, bowed his head, tugged off his shirt, and did as you bade.
They were even more magnificent than you could have ever imagined. So white they almost glowed and fluffier than the fluffiest pillow. You ran your hand through the beautiful feathers that were closest to his neck. It was like running your hand through a cloud and for a moment you forgot about where you were and what you were supposed to be doing. There was only you and the gorgeous sight before you.
Lucifer made a low sound that could have been a moan, then cleared his throat.
“Yeah?” You asked, snapping out of your trance.
“Oh.” Then you understood what he meant by that. “Oh. Oh my God. I’m sorry!”
He gave you a weak smile. “Just try to be fast.”
You nodded and looked to your left. The mangled, bloodied, blacked spots on his wings stuck out like a sore thumb. You brushed your hands over the spot closest to you and felt him shudder. Quickly, silently, you plucked the mangled feathers away from the spot and marveled at how soft the skin was underneath.
You did the same with the other spots you could see, then had Lucifer wet some shirts since you couldn’t walk. He sat back in front of you and spread his wings again. You cleaned his wounds as best you could and you couldn’t refrain yourself from running your hands again through his healthy feathers, loving the way they felt.
Lucifer inhaled sharply and you felt him tense. “Y/N.” He breathed.
“Sorry.” You said. “Couldn’t help it. They’re…amazing. And I’ll probably never get to touch them again.”
“What makes you say that?” He asked in a low voice.
You sighed and sat back. “I’m not getting out of here alive. I’ve known that for a while now. But hey, at least I can now say that I’ve touched an angel’s wings.”
He was silent for a moment. “What makes you think you aren’t getting out of this alive?”
You gave a dry laugh. “I’ve been enduring this torment day in and day out for a year now. It’s coming. My breaking point. It’ll be soon and then Crowley will kill me and it’ll all be over. Finally. You know, there are days where I wish for the end to come, and know that I could help it along. But then I think about my brothers, and everyone else I’d be letting down, and it helps me hold out a little longer. I mean Dean held out for over 40 years right? And I can’t even last a year? Pathetic.”
“You are not pathetic.” Lucifer said quietly.
“Yeah, anyways,” You said, looking away. “Let’s change the subject.”
His wings fluttered lazily and you had to resist the urge to reach out and touch them again. “What information does Crowley want from you?” He asked.
You hesitated, the memory of Lucifer shoving you away from him surfacing suddenly. He looked back over his shoulder at you and saw the expression on your face. “Fine, don’t tell me.”
“I don’t want the information getting to Crowley,” You explained. “How do I know you won’t sell me out to save your own skin?”
The wings disappeared instantly. “Typical Winchester.” He muttered, pulling his shirt back on.
“Hey, I’m not the one who disappeared for two weeks then physically attacked my cellmate. That was you.”
He stood up and crossed the room to go sit on the cot. “I have my reasons for that.”
“Yeah well, the point is that I can’t trust you.”
“Right. I forgot how trustworthy you were. Obviously you must be a master at spotting it in others.”
You crawled over to the bed, still unable to stand, and laid down on the floor looking up at him. “I’m not trying to be mean here, Lucifer. I’m trying to preserve my life. I would think that you would understand this.”
He stared down at you with an unreadable expression. “Yeah. I understand perfectly.”
This phrase is hilariously wrong when taken to mean what it usually means. Birbs are hungry little things, since they have fast metabolisms and they burn a lot of calories when flying. Many birbs eat as much or more than their own weight each day. If humans ate like birds we would die.
The reason I was thinking about this is that was writing a headcanon about how Starscream can eat a hilariously large amount of Energon. I figure all Seekers carry and use more fuel than other frame types, because they burn it so fast and shoot it out the back of their engines when they fly. Military Seekers like Starscream fly a lot and refuel a lot.
So I looked up some numbers. Now the energy content of Energon seems like it would be higher than gas or jet fuel, so Cybertronians could carry less fuel than their Earthly equivalents, but lets just use these as ballpark figures for the sake of proportion. The results were hilarious.
An F16 weighs less than 10 tons, and carries 3.5 tons of fuel! By comparison a truck similar to Optimus’s style weighs over 17 tons without the trailer, and holds less than a ton of fuel. Their weight can more than double with a loaded trailer but at least in TFP, Optimus almost never pulls a trailer and it’s safe to assume most Cybertronian trucks don’t often do that.
It’s worth noting that Starscream is only about 60% the size of an F16, even in jet mode, so he’d weigh like 6 tons and carry 2.1 tons of fuel, fully fueled. Still, imagine him eating more than twice as much as a big bot like Optimus in one sitting.
Even an Abrams tank, which weighs a whopping 68 tons, carries a measly 2.1 tons of fuel, so Starscream could eat as much as Megatron in his old frame before he converted to a flyer. It’s probably safe to assume Megatron can carry a lot more fuel now, but he doesn’t have wings for auxiliary tanks and therefore probably has somewhere in between his old fuel capacity and that of an actual Seeker. Plus I doubt he weighs 68 tons anymore. If OP weighs around 17 tons, maybe Megs weighs somewhere in the mid 20s?
Anyway yeah, these numbers are only vague approximations when carried over into Cybertronian frames rather than Earth vehicles, and I’m sure the high energy content of Energon means they can all carry less weight in fuel, but it’s fun to think about. The gist of it is that Seekers are hungry little dudes XD Also big Seekers like Dreadwing and HUGE Seekers like Jetfire would be like bottomless pits and use so much fuel! I think even though they would eat a tremendous amount, it wouldn’t stand out as much somehow as a little wisp of the Seeker who’s all wings and legs sitting there and downing twice as much fuel as the giants sitting next to him. Somehow I think it also has to do with Starscream’s general shamelessness - bigger, more reserved Seekers like Jetfire might eat a similar amount to other people they’re eating with, and fuel themselves more throughout the rest of the day. Also, if they’re in a lab more and only fly a little, they could make their fuel last much longer than an active Air Command soldier or scout who flies all day, which is why Starscream would often be hungry and eat Jetfire’s food ^^ (The fact that he still did that even when he was working on science and not scouting or sparring is mighty suspicious though)
“Don’t act so high and mighty,” the voice reverberated from behind the omnipresent rebreather.
“The fact we both favor green is not a point of unity between us,” Vulkan replied in a voice that was carefully neutral. He did not turn to look at his brother, but continued to study the holo-map as its information updated. “We are not alike.”
“We’re more alike than you want to admit,” Mortarion replied, matching Vulkan’s cautious toneless in a stubborn manner reminiscent of his dogged infantry tactics. “You hold weapons like phospex and bio-phage at arms’ length with one hand, then you turn around and with the other you wield a flamer with all the zealotry of a Thunder Warrior. You and your legion sing the praises of the fires of Nocturne with no less determination than the Death Guard embrace the mists of Barbarus. Death by fire,” emphasized Mortarion, even as he noted the way Vulkan’s hand was beginning to curl up. “One of the most agonizing ways for a human being to die. Isn’t it more monstrous to talk about how much you love humanity when at the same time-”
“Stop.” Vulkan had turned about, the movement shockingly swift and fluid for such a big man wearing bulky power armor. He raised his hand, but rather than a fist he held his index finger out towards Mortarion in warning. “Let me explain the difference between us. Yes, a death by fire is one of the most terrible ways to die. That is why the Salamanders treat it with the respect it deserves. Not merely in the way it makes us strong, whether it flies from our gunbarrels or marks our flesh in ritual, but also the way it brings our foes low, as well as the way fire can be shaped and treated to craft works of wonder. My sons are taught to mark in their minds the horror of war and the joy of creation in equal measure. We do not revel in the killing power, in the pain and suffering we cause, but we recognize its purpose in the greater plan to craft a lasting edifice that will protect the whole of humanity.
“That is the difference between us, Mortarion,” he said, crimson eyes locked to the XIV’s own wolf-gold. “You and yours have embraced the poisons of Barbarus to the point where you have come to believe that every human being not as strong as yourselves is unworthy of purpose. The Salamanders wield the dreadful power of flame only in last resort, when we have failed to find the good ground between once side and another, whereas you have come to revel in your poisonous tinctures and your toxins. You have chosen to set an arbitrary bar of worth and say ‘this high and no lower, or you are not worth consideration’ and that, more than any other thing, is what separates us. You cannot place a value upon a human being, Mortarion. To do so is an act of self-genocide. It is an act of racial suicide.”
“I wonder if the eldar would agree with your precepts,” Mortarion riposted, without even a moment’s hesitation to rally from Vulkan’s onslught.
The comment did not cow the primarch of the XVIII in the least. Instead he raised his chin in defiance. “Is that the best you offer?” he asked. “Whataboutism in regards to my history with the eldar xenos? Have I ever voiced an objection to your crusade to remove the cruel warlords of Barbarus, that the human population might live free?” There was a long moment of pregnant silence before Vulkan shook his head. “No. There is no point of similarity between us, Mortarion, but that we are both primarchs and leaders of space marines in service to the Imperium. That is the beginning and the end of equivalence.”
With that, he bustled out of the room, his hammer held loosely in his offhand. Mortarion turned to watch him go, and though the Death Lord was characteristically silent, in time he raised one hand and gently drew and armored thumb across the tines of his rebreather grille, the slow ticking of the metal a long-held accompaniment to the moments in which he was most introspective.
I really like all of your writing! I wonder, what would you say of this? Obi-Wan remained in the agricorps, years later the Clone War started and the peaceful planet he was growing crops on is attacked by the Separatists. The Republic sends Master Jinn and Padawan Skywalker along with their troops.
It was still
around the field and then to Qui-Gon who was also looking around. “I
thought you said the Separatists bombed this area?” He questioned,
voice hushed in awe.
The reports were…terrible.” Qui-Gon moved to his former padawans
side before looking back at the greens. “But take a good look
Anakin, they bombed farms…this…is not farming plants.” He
reached out towards one almost glittering looking flower and then
jerked his hand back quickly when it snapped at him with teeth.
“These are a lot more dangerous then the common grains.”
“But if it was
bombed…that means these grew out in the time after the Separatist
bombed it and we got here…so…two weeks…for fully grown plants?”
Anakin blinked as the troopers were setting up the camp around them.
Stroking his beard
slowly, Qui-Gon made a low humming noise and narrowed his eyes.
“Which makes me believe that not all the Agricorps members were
killed.” There was a measure of excitement in his voice. “Someone
survived the bombing of the planet.”
they? Why haven’t they come to us?” Anakin looked at the green
don’t know where here. They’re hiding from the Separatists
Anakin, Agricops are not trained like Jedi knights, whoever survived
has basic combat instructions and don’t utilize the Force for
battle, but to grow. Whoever they are did the best they could.” He
waved one large hand at the plants. “They created their defense.”
Jedi turned to Commander Cody. “We could rig up a loud speaker, if
you both think that would be safe.”
“We would draw
the Separatists to our position.” Anakin frowned.
“I’m pretty sure they know we’re here Anakin. They’ve had
eyes on us since we landed.”
“But they don’t
have exact position.” Anakin argued.
That got the
bigger Jedi to hesitate then sigh. “You’re right… I just…one
of them are alive.” He looked back to the greenery. “They feed
the temple and every Jedi and youngling there with the surplus going
to disaster areas. I just…want to find them. Make sure they are
safe.” He looked to Anakin. “They are certainly not defenseless
but…you understand my worry, they are part of the Order.”
Anakin grasped his former Master’s shoulder and squeezed. “I do.
We’ll find them and bring them back to safety.”
“I do hope
there’s more then one of them sirs.” Cody offered, looking to the
greenery. “If not they’ve been alone since the bombing, that can
be…traumatizing if you’re a peaceful farmer.” It was
traumatizing to soldiers and Jedi too.
But to someone who
was not expected to see battle perhaps moreso.
a week now if there’s only one.” The older Jedi mused.
“There must be
more then one to have grown all of this.” Anakin frowned.
necessarily. It depends on the power level of the Agricore member in
question. Some of them didn’t flunk out because they didn’t have
the power or skill to become a Jedi Anakin, some of them just had no
masters willing to take them.” A green eyed boy with desperate eyes
and hair turning copper flashed for Qui-Gon’s eyes. “…Some of
them may have become great Jedi if they only had the chance.”
Rex moved to their
side. “How do we find them if they don’t know we’re here and we
can’t contact them?”
“We search for
them, simple.” Qui-Gon offered as if it was the obvious answer.
“I don’t think
we can go in there if the plants are all dangerous sir.” Rex
“I think he
means with the Force Rex, relax.” Anakin smiled.
chuckled quietly. “Apologies captain but I meant with the Force. If
we can find them we can call for them and they can make their way
here. Me and Anakin should be enough, me with my skills in the Living
Force and Anakin as a powerhouse to keep the search going. A living
being is much more complicated then a plant when it comes to the
Force and feels different. We should find them.”
The two troopers
The older Jedi
seemed to need there to be more then one survivor of the team of
farmers that had once inhabited the planet.
“Guess even Jedi
have their version of civilians huh.” Rex murmured.
“We already knew
that, the younglings we had to protect last month was proof of that.”
Cody countered as Anakin and Qui-Gon settled down in a meditative
poses to search the planet for the core member.
“Yeah but you
don’t consider their adults that way usually. You see one of those
robes and poof, its a Jedi. A warrior…we don’t consider the
cores.” The captain shrugged.
sighed then rubbed the back of his neck. “Lets get things set while
the two search huh.”
mingled about as minutes turned to hours, both Jedi sitting still,
breathing steadily as they searched.
its a good thing the Commander isn’t here.” Rex suddenly
murmured, sitting on a crate while looking around.
blinked at him, laying on a bed with Kix wrapping bacta bandages
around his ankle.
been here before. I don’t think she’d take it well to see…well
this.” Rex shrugged. “It was peaceful here, just a moon used for
farming.” He sighed.
“…Its just a
petty thing to do against the Jedi, isn’t it? Attacking a farming
moon?” Cody whispered.
“It is. But we
already knew the Separatist were cowards.”
They look over
when the Jedi finally move.
stretches and takes a deep breath before turning to Kix and Helix.
“One. They’re making their way here now…you best have a bed and
supplies ready.” He smiles but its turned brittle.
Anakin is visibly
scowling at the dirt under his knees, hands clenched on his thighs.
then none. The first bombs would have come without warning.”
Qui-Gon murmured before getting up, peering into the greenery.
curious.” Obi-Wan questioned, his voice soft and soothing as he
laid on his side in the bed provided to him, watching Waxer and Boil.
“Does it feel like incest when two vods get together or more like
selfcest?” He blinked, face curious.
“Not really, its
more like furious masturbation with extra hands and bits.” Waxer offered happily, slathering
his toast with as much butter as he could as he sat on his own bed.
“Though Boil can do this thing with his tongue that I have no idea
how to do that feels absolutely divine.”
that’s fascinating.” The core member smiled, bacta patches
covering his face and his now bandaged arm resting against his
Qui-Gon and Anakin
watched discreetly, taking in the injured survivor.
Mud was coating
his copper waist length hair, a scraggly beard, his tunics had been
ripped to rags and the bombs had not left him mercifully. Obi-Wan
frame was covered in burns from head to toe though the bacta was
doing its work there along with a swollen eye and a broken arm.
But he’s alive.
‘Of all the core
members I encounter…its him.’ Qui-Gon wondered at the coincidence
of the Force even as he caught green eyes with his own blue. ‘Its
Pair Keith’s fire abilities with Lance’s frightening speed and accuracy, and the two are easily a strong combination when it comes to fighting crime. They work on the same side, representing the Hero Paladins, but instead of benefiting humanity with their powerful combined abilities, they compete. A lot.
The two often compete to see who can save the most lives. It becomes almost a game to them, only turning serious if a situation is dire enough to call in the whole team. They take this competition of sorts very seriously, so when Keith wakes on game day feeling slightly off with a runny nose and a dull throb pulsing against his temples, he ignores it.