sparxwrites
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Gurathin doesn’t sleep, the night that it leaves. Too much has happened – too much has changed – too much to think about. And, besides that, the residual panic, the residual headache and tension in his skull and spine, the spiralling thoughts about how he’s going to break it to the others that it’s left–
The next night, though – when he finally collapses, exhausted, into his bunk – he sleeps. He almost immediately wishes he hadn’t.
(It turns out, downloading a person into your brain has Consequences, Actually. Who'd have thought. Gurathin finds this out the hard way.)
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“Oh thank goodness,” said Grian, as he watched Cub fly off. The weak, post-storm sunshine glinted off their new boss’ golden badge as he went. It was an inspiring, perhaps even heroic, vision – if one considered rampant corruption and abuse of force inspiring and heroic. Grian was on the fence about that; Skizz and Scar, on the other hand, had quite clearly jumped the fence with abandon and were now frolicking in the lush green fields of not giving a fuck and free dynamite. Bless them. “It was just Cub. Phew. Oh gosh. The letters were all just Cub. Thank goodness.”
“What was the alternative, G-man?” asked Skizz. “Can’t think of anything’ that’d have your robust underpants in such a twist.”
“Thought I was going to have to do an annual review.”
(In which Grian talks Scar and Skizz through his backstory with the Watchers. Also in which Grian is a terrible employee, and Scar has some crucial elements of Grian's backstory very wrong, and Skizz is also there, wearing latex police shorts, and thinking about Gem doing his annual review. The backstory clarifications get derailed, repeatedly, and with great gusto.)
Series
- Part 3 of The Boatem Pool
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“Just a little bite,” says Scar, wheedling. Butter wouldn’t melt on his tongue, his face sweet and open and ruined entirely by the red sheen across his eyes.
“Scar. No.”
“Just a liiiiiittle bite, come on, just a, a finger, or a toe, even. Maybe a nibble out the back of your shoulder? Little bit of the belly? Oooo, I could open you up, take your apprentice… you don’t even need one of those! You wouldn’t even notice.”
“It’s appendix, Scar, and no, you can’t have that. I need it.”
(Being Red makes you hungry. A very specific kind of hungry. Scar doesn't like being hungry. Good thing Grian's so helpful and accomodating! Or- at least, he is after a little bit of nudging from Scar, anyway.)
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“So this is like– a Hermitcraft tradition, then?” asks Joel, a little antsy. He’s shifting his weight from knee to knee, fingers tangling over each other where they’re clasped behind his back. “That’s what you said? For everyone new that joins the server?”
“Uh-huh.” Etho’s not paying attention. Etho’s busy fussing with his belt, taking it off, coiling it up just so and setting it carefully on a nearby rock. Etho’s not looking at Joel – on his knees in front of Etho – at all. “Yeah. Sure. Exactly.”
(In which Etho pisses on Joel as a '''traditional''' welcome to the server, and Joel discovers some things about himself in the process.)
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“Etho– Etho, please– don’t, you don’t have to– we can just talk about this– Etho– Etho–!”
The prey is close enough Etho can see flashes of it through the trees, now; close enough that it seems to have realised attempting silence is useless. The browns of it blend in well enough with the woods, the shadows, but the streak of neon green is its undoing. A flag, in the darkness, baiting Etho on.
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Gifts by soft_but_gremlin
Fandoms: Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game), Star Wars - All Media Types
12 Oct 2021
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Psychometry was usually considered more of a curse than a gift among Force-users. Second Sister disagrees; it's such a gift to watch Kestis come undone with barely a finger lifted on her part.
(Whumptober day 12: torture/begging/"It'll be fun")
Series
- Part 6 of Whumptober 2021
Bookmarked by sparxwrites
11 Oct 2025