#Combat Medic Training Exercises

[mistydeyes]

Hi izzie,can you write what it would be like if one of soaps cousins that’s in SAS but often has time to visit the base and is dating 141 members

fem reader preferably

thank you so much for submitting! so sorry it took a hot minute for me to get to this but i hope you enjoy!

the invasion of the scots

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summary: As you walked into the briefing for your latest co-op mission with Task Force 141, all eyes were on you. Usually, this wasn't out of the ordinary as you were one of the first women to complete the full selection process for the SAS and your reputation preceded you. However, this was different as your gaze shifted from your surprised cousin and your terrified boyfriend.

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader (codename: Peitho)

warnings: SWEARING

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"I'll see you all tomorrow at 08:00 for a briefing," Price announced as everyone exited the training room, "we might see some familiar faces, the SAS is loaning us some of their best." As they all walked to the showers, Soap just happened to be walking with the exhausted Ghost. "Have a cousin in the SAS wonder if she'll be there!" he hummed happily, "haven't seen her in ages." Simon nodded and hoped his suspicions would be wrong tomorrow. He turned on the shower and sat under the cold water for a moment. Out of the handful of women that was in the SAS, the chances of it being you were slim but never 0.

"Hey Peitho, are you ready to meet the renowned 141?" your friend joked as you exited your vehicle. "Just another room of sweaty men, it's like a basic Tuesday for me," you replied and jokingly punched his arm. "But you only hear whispers about these guys, no one doesn't even know how many of them there are." "I'll take my chances, Haystack," you muttered and you continued to follow your captain to the briefing room. As you walked through the linoleum hallways, you could feel the stares everyone was giving you. "Jesus, it's like they've never seen a woman before," you scoffed and Haystack turned to you. "It's not every day someone sees a legend like you." You smiled slightly at his compliment. It had been a few years since your big accomplishment. You and another woman had been the first to ever complete the full selection process. It was daunting to experience the grueling exercises and jeers of the other men but you would smile and take what was thrown at you. "I thought this was selection not a training run for Royal Navy," you'd spit and everyone backed off.

"Play nice," your captain warned before entering the door. You followed right behind him and walked to his right. "As promised Price, here's the best of the best," he announced as he gestured to the four of you. "Here we have, Buccaneer," everyone's gaze turned to the stoic man who stood at 6'7'', his dark hands and arms glistened with taupe-colored, healed scars. "Next there's Typhoon," and again, everyone's eyes shifted to the man who stood shorter than Buccaneer but whose body was pure muscle. He gave a small wave, followed by a crazed smirk. "Next, there's Haystack," your close friend walked forward as his pale skin and bleached hair practically blended into the wall, "got the reputation of being dead weight but he'll be the best combat medic you'll ever need." "Finally," you knew it was your turn and you stood forward, slightly.

You took a look around the room and noticed the men looking back up at you and their files. However, as your eyes drifted to the left, you could feel your eyes widen with recognition. There sat your cousin, you knew he was in the British Army but didn't realize he rose to this caliber. He had a slight smile on his face as he looked at you. However, your familial reunion would have to wait as you looked over at the broad man wearing a face mask. Although his face was obscured, you would recognize his figure and eyes anywhere. In fact, it was the one that was on top of you in bed a month ago. You swallowed as you both locked eyes. Why the fuck was Simon Riley here?

Your revelations were disrupted as your Captain continued his introductions. "We have, Peitho, one of the best women to ever make it out of selection. Don't even try anything with that one, she'll take you out before you can even utter a word," he joked and you nodded at his statement. "I assume you've all seen what they can do, I've given you our best hijacker, weapon specialist, combat medic, and covert operations specialist," he concluded and the floor was all Price's. "Thank you, Captain, they'll do great," he said confidently and the room boomed with his voice, "they can get to know my men on the plane." At this, everyone took a seat. You sat on the opposite end of Simon and Johnny, but you could feel their eyes on you. "Now for the debrief," Price directed and dimmed the lights to illuminate the large monitor on the display.

"I expect you all to review the floor plans our intel has provided," he directed as Sergeant Garrick yawned, "we will be leaving at 06:00 in two days." "Happy reading," Haystack commented as you both walked towards the exit. Before you could leave, Johnny placed a strong arm around your shoulders. "Y/N!" he exclaimed, "Haven't seen you in ages." You smiled up at him and reached a hand to ruffle his short, dark hair. "Pleasure seeing you again," you replied, "you're far from the lad who went to those raves." You both shared a smile as you caught up and exchanged some stories from the last few years. "Your mam said you were in the SAS, but I didn't know you were the one who completed the selection," he continued. "Told her not to brag," you replied, remembering how talkative your mother was especially when it came to her only daughter. Before you could continue, you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You both turned and realized you were blocking the exit for Simon.

"Sorry about that, Simon," you said, almost instinctively. As the words tumbled out of your mouth, you realized the mistake you had made. "Simon?" Johnny questioned and you both knew you were doomed, "Y/N, how do you know Lt?" Fuck. Me. you thought internally as Simon's eyes shot to yours in a panic. "Um, some out-of-office relations," you choked out and before Simon could exit, Johnny grabbed his arm. "You fucking bastard," he muttered, "so this is where you've been spending your leave?" The situation was escalating as Simon escaped his grasp and crossed his arms over his chest. "My personal life is none of your business, Sergeant," he commanded and Johnny balled his hands into tight fists. "It does when it's my cousin!" he practically shouted and you hoped no one could hear the commotion.

"Johnny, calm down," you directed, "I had no idea, Simon even worked with you. It's only been 6 months since we met." Before anyone could continue, Captain Price stopped in the doorway. "Hey!" he boomed, "we have a mission in 36 hours, get on it." You all nodded like scolded children and began to make your way back to your quarters. Before you could part, you gave Simon a quick hug and turned to Johnny. He still had the same angered look on his face and you rolled your eyes. "Get over it, little Johnny boy," you teased at his childhood nickname and he looked away. "Fine, but you know there are serious implications of pumpin' a superior," he mumbled. He walked off and you looked back at Simon. "Surprise, love?" you said almost questioningly before Simon led you to his quarters to “review” the floor plans.

As you sat wedged between Simon and Johnny, you were getting to know Sergeant Garrick or Gaz as he preferred. "So Pietho like the Greek goddess?" he asked and you nodded. "Goddess of persuasion and seduction," you smiled before Simon hit your thigh lightly. "I think I'm gonna be sick," Johnny moaned and Gaz just looked even more confused.

[bigassmoonchild]

Feral

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

The first three parts give context, but aren't required for this read.

Summary: You had your problems with your squad, no different than anyone else running their first. One Alpha, Michael, gave you the most problems, dragging you from leave to punish them all. It didn't take long for him to become your biggest problem, or for Simon to try and take care of him.

Content Tags: Shouting (not w/ between Ghost & Reader), A lot of Anger, Fluff, Protective Ghost, Violence, Fighting, Ghost shows his Face, Non-Sexual Punishments, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost, No use of Y/N

A/N: I woke up this morning with over 100 notifications from tumblr, and I've spent all morning trying to think of another part for Maple Syrup. As always, content is under the cut and my asks are wide open <3.

Part 1 | Previous, Next | Headcannons, Masterlist

Ghost could watch you forever. Seeing how you flit around the soldiers, taking care of each of them, barking orders at your own little squad. After being removed from missions, you were able to convince whoever would listen to give you a squad to train, a group of hopeful combat medics.

Sometimes he would find himself watching what you were doing, and he would inch himself close enough to hear what you'd be telling them. Sometimes, it was nothing short of you screaming at them, other times it might be explaining how to stitch someone up. Most times, you sat back and watched as they worked through the exercise that you had created for them.

You were still off on leave, leaving your squad under the hands of Soap and Gaz to train them further on combat situations. Ghost had spoken with them a few times, listening to them rant about the soldiers you had to deal with. Especially one Alpha, who had been demoted from a regular soldier to being entrusted with saving others.

So when Ghost got the first hint of your scent, not the stale one, his head spun to the doors. Your leave was supposed to last another 6 days, not that Ghost was counting, and worry spiked through him. Had something happened? Was everything okay with your family, or did you merely forget one of the gifts you were giving to your nieces and nephews?

When the door slammed open, your eyes gazed across the mess hall. Your brows were furrowed and Ghost could smell the anger lacing your scent, alongside the musty smell of the rain that was coming down. The room had gone silent, everyone looking over at you. Your eyes locked on your squad, body tensed.

"Get the fuck outside," you growled, staring through your squad. They hesitated and your fist slammed into the wall. "Now!" You shouted, watching as they scrambled up and moved. All but the Alpha, who moved leisurely. Your eyes didn't leave his and you pointed. "You move any slower and I'll have you dishonorably discharged for insubordination," the man didn't flinch.

He gave a smile, looking at you. "You're not even a soldier, you have no say in what I do," your muscles relaxed, leaning your head back, eyes falling closed. Ghost stood, moving towards the two of you, opening his mouth to say something.

"You're on my squad, you do as I say, unless you want me to remove you. You want this to be your last strike?" The Alpha looked away, opening his mouth to make a remark.

"I'm sure there isn't going to be a problem, is there?" Ghost finally spoke up, moving beside the man and staring down at him. The Alpha scoffed and walked away, leaving you looking around.

You gave a soft smile. "Leave your stuff, it'll be cleaned up," and you turned and walked away, adjusting a hood onto your head. Ghost stared after you before walking back to Soap and Gaz, sitting beside them again.

"What the hell happened?"

You stood in the rain, having grabbed another jacket to protect you from the chill of the wind, alongside the rain beating against you. Your squad was running until they collapsed or someone admitted who caused the problems. You knew, though, that the stubborn Alpha in your squad was always the problem.

"You need to get back here," Soap said into the phone. "I honestly don't know what to do with them," and you booked a flight.

Now you were waiting, patiently. Someone would give in soon enough, someone always did. There would always be a weak link, and if it took running them until they threw up so be it. A hand fell on your shoulder and you looked back, eyes climbing to find Ghost standing behind you.

"I've never heard you scream," you laughed, looking back to your squad. The Alpha ran at the front of them, no reaction to the amount of running he was doing. You were pretty sure he had lapped everyone at some point, but you weren't paying close enough attention.

You looked back to Ghost. "You have most definitely heard me scream, just not angrily. Soap called, said that the squad was getting out of control and they didn't know what to do," you sighed. "I thought I taught them better, but I guess I haven't treated them exactly like soldiers," Ghost hummed behind you, eyes trailing the Alpha.

A shiver ran through you and Ghost pulled you back into him, letting you soak in his own warmth. "Does he always give you problems?" You nodded, letting him take on your weight as you leaned against him.

"There is rarely a day that goes by when he doesn't give some form of lip, but everyone's grown used to it, I guess," you whispered, sighing deeply. It bothered you, so much, that you couldn't get all of your squad to act like it. Like a pack. "He's just trying to take control back. He was kicked from his last squad because of similar problems, speaking down on Betas and Omegas," Ghosts scent changed a little, but you weren't able to decipher what it was before it had disappeared.

Neither of you spoke for some time, merely watching the group of wanna-be's run around and around. You wanted to be back home, with your family and watching the little ones run around, not some grown adults. You just wanted to be able to control the squad like other people, but you needed a break. So you went on leave, but came back too soon.

There wasn't much of choice, though. Either let Soap and Gaz keep getting eaten alive, or you come back and beat them back down, but maybe if you talked to Simon he would've been able to help. No, this was your squad, they were your responsibility. You'd have to be a Drill Sergeant, and it was already giving you a headache.

You pushed off Ghost, watching as one of the Omegas stumbled before righting herself. You gave a deep sigh. "Get over here!" You shouted over the rain and wind. As everyone gathered, you glared through them. "I am not your mother. I shouldn't be coming back from leave early because your senior officers are unable to control you," you huffed, looking away for a moment.

The rain still pattered down, and the Alpha was looking away. You couldn't decipher how you felt about him, but you knew it was heavy dislike. Something about the man made you uncomfortable.

"You'd expect a group of adults to behave better than a group of pups, but I suppose none of you have grown," the Alpha opened his mouth to speak and Ghost took a step forward, daring him to make a comment. "I haven't been treating you as soldiers, clearly, so from now on you'll be meeting up with Task Force 141 to being your morning training," a smile graced your features.

You'd spoken with Price briefly over the phone on your flight back. It didn't take much to convince him, and his tone gave you the chills once or twice as he described what he could do. You didn't mention anything to Ghost. You weren't entirely sure what he would do if he found out you were being dragged away from your family because of a problem child.

Everything was still in the air, what you would end up doing with them. As you gazed across, the only person not having any form of regret was the Alpha. Michael. If you could, you would have rejected him from being a part of your team. You'd read his file, it was nothing short of infraction after infraction.

You gave a deep breath. "You're going to go into the mess hall and clean it, if I come in there tomorrow and find even a crumb you'll be stuck cleaning it every day until you leave," no one moved. "What are you waiting for?" They scattered into the wind, Michael still taking everything at his own speed.

Ghost grabbed his soldier, eyes not leaving the mans. "You'll be with me," and you watched him get dragged away. You were finally free to take a warm shower, perhaps curl into your nest for some sleep you'd lost while traveling.

It was late in the evening when you heard from Simon. He had walked into your room, taking his boots off and crawling next to you in your nest. His balaclava scratched at your neck as he scented you, brushing his cheek against you.

You turned the page in your book, letting the large Alpha nearly curl around you. Your fingers found the top of his head, scratching at him over the balaclava. Yet to see his face, you never pushed it. It was none of your business to push him, even as his mate.

You could hear him chuffing softly, nose digging into your neck slightly. It was quiet for some time, outside of the chuffing of Simon and the pages turning from your book. His hands were around you, tugging you closer to him as your fingers continued scratching.

The chuffing quieted, a bothered grunt coming from him. "Want to feel your hand," he muttered, tugging at his balaclava before being able to pull it off entirely.

You didn't look, didn't move, just kept on reading as your fingers found hair. That made you pause, brows furrowed as you turned to look at him from where he returned to your neck, his chuffs returning.

Purring, you tugged him to look at you, book falling from your hand. Simon groaned softly, trying to pull his head out of your grip. A quiet be still, coming from you before he paused, eyes opening to glance down at you.

Scars littered his face, your fingers finding some of the larger ones to stroke at, trying to memorize every part of his face. You could see his cheeks growing a little red and you laughed softly, pressing your hands to his cheeks.

"Little embarrassed of being looked at so thoroughly?" Simon looked away, finally pulling out of your grip and hiding his face back against your neck. You could feel him lick you slightly, laying down a nip or two, his hands tugging you against him again.

It was a few moments later that either of you finally said anything. "What did you do with Michael?" Simon huffed against you, a quiet who?, coming from him. "The Alpha you pulled away from the rest of the squad," you added.

Simon pulled away to look at you fully. "Nothing illegal," you looked at him, smile dropping. He gave you a little grin. "Just gave him some things to do to get all of his energy out, he had a little too much to be acting that way," you laughed.

The next morning, you had a knock on your office door. "Come in," it wasn't anyone you would've expected. Not Ghost, nor Soap or Gaz. Michael.

He slammed his hands on your desk and leaned over it. "I want out," you raised your brows. "I'm not gonna let some little doctor think she can control me," you gave out a deep sigh. "And what about Ghost? You fuck him to get where you are?"

"My relationship with the Lieutenant is none of your business, soldier," you answered, crossing your legs. "You want out? You leave this squad and it's the last place you'll be. You know you can't join the military again if you get discharged. Too many infractions," you shrugged, pulling his file out of your desk. He looked at it.

Lunging for it, you pulled it out of his reach. "Who the hell gave that to you?" You laughed at him, his scent changing to something reeking of anger. God, why were you able to smell him? "Or, is it because you're an Omega?" He smiled shortly.

You stood. "You haven't been taking your suppressants as prescribed, have you?" There was no other answer for why he was so angry constantly. Without a consistent dosage, the androstenone in him would be too high to think properly. He could go feral.

Lunging for your phone, you were only able to get one number dialed before he threw it into the wall. "A little Omega bitch, fucking Ghost in order to get where she is," he snorted. The door was cracked open still, but Michael was in the way. There was no leaving.

Looking away, you blinked slowly. "I'm assuming this is how you were removed from your last squad," he threw your chair into the wall and you opened the file.

"You have no right to read that, you bitch," he growled, trying to grab it over your desk. You pulled it back, Michael growling deep in his chest. "You're gonna give me that, or I'm gonna fucking kill you," you could feel your heart in your stomach. Sure, you could fight but it was nothing with an almost feral Alpha trying to kill you.

Glancing around, you had to look for something to hopefully protect yourself with. A man like Michael could easily kill you, you didn't doubt it. One wrong punch and you'd be in the infirmary, another and you could be out of it. Forever.

"You touch her and you'll find out why I'm feared," Simon. You could feel the relief coursing through you. He wouldn't let anything happen to you, let alone allow another Alpha to hurt you. You looked between the two, seeing Michaels face slowly start to drop.

You dove under your desk the second either of them moved, a growl ripping through the area as you heard a body slam into the wall in front of you. You knew the fear on your scent would be pungent, especially to Ghost.

And it was. He could smell it from down the hall, causing a spark of fear to course through himself. The only other thing he could smell was another Alpha, and he hoped to god he wouldn't be too late. When he opened the door just a tad bit more, he heard the threats.

It set something off in him that he hadn't felt in a long, long time. He didn't hesitate before throwing the other Alpha into the wall, seeing you dive under your desk in his peripheral. His fists found the man, but it barely did anything. A feral Alpha would do anything to kill whoever he saw, and Ghost could hear shouts coming from the hall.

Michael charged at Ghost, who braced for impact, colliding with him and being dragged into the hall and on the wall across from your office. Ghosts knee found Michael gut, throwing him onto the ground and climbing over him.

Some MP's had come careening down the hall, guns up and shouting commands. Ghost tried holding the man down, but it didn't do too much before he was bucked off and climbing to his feet. The fear was still pungent on your scent and it set Ghost off.

He couldn't do anything before gunshots echoed down the hall and Michael collapsed. A few tranq darts scattered along his back.

Ghost was put on administrative leave, pending investigation. You'd used the rest of your leave to be able to stay with him and for the entire duration you weren't out of his eyesight.

Showering? He was standing against the far wall, staring through the doorway.

Trying to use the bathroom? The locks on your bathroom doors had never been used more, and when you left he would be standing in front of it.

For some time you had also been far to shaken to let Simon leave your eyesight. There was nothing he would do that you weren't following him for, his showers left you sitting on the counter and talking to him, even without a response. You didn't go into the bathroom with him, but sat by the door as your eyes flittered around to each corner of the room, looking for feral Alphas.

Before either of you became more comfortable, Simon wouldn't even go into your nest. He would sit outside of it, never moving much at all. It took you panicking in the middle of the night for him to start going back inside of your nest.

Neither of you knew what the future would look like, but as long as you had each other, you figured you'd be alright.

Next

[shellbells-things]

(Trying again..)

I’ve been seeing things on X(Twitter) about how the 5th Artillery Unit is going to be participating in some training.

Interestingly(🙄), most people are just mentioning Jimin (not the one I screenshot though). I assume they are doing that because he is their focus, but it might also be because they want to push the narrative that JK and Jimin are separated. Sigh…..The post below is from the 5th Division website. Notice that it says THE ENTIRE UNIT will be busy preparing for the training. ENTIRE means ALL.

This is basically a simulation of a real combat situation. W@r Games, if you will. In real life comb@t, the entire unit would deploy, so I am assuming it would be the same for training. This typically would include artillery experts, medical doctors, kitchen staff, logistic specialist, mechanics, etc. The unit needs to have all of its moving parts there to train together. Out in the field during a w@rtime scenario, they have to know how to treat injuries, how to provide food for the unit under less than stellar circumstances, how to manage supplies, plan military campaigns based on in-the-moment intel, and so on. Participants must study and prepare for the training camp ahead of deployment, then they deploy and the war scenario is played out on every level. Every military has these types of deployments/trainings. Most of the time, the people who participate in these exercise really enjoy it, as it gives them the opportunity to put all of their training to the test. I hope Jikook finds some fun in their training!

[happy-beeeps]

Hello there! My request is this: the reader wants to learn hand-to-hand combat but has a crush on Hunter and doesn’t know how to ask him. Omega helps the reader and the reader gets what she wants. On the first day of training she trips and lands on top of Hunter and fluff or smut happens. Up to you :)

hahahahaha heyyyyyy I'm so sorry this is so late. In good news, it got away from me and turned into 4k words of the softest smut I've written!!! I am in love with this man!!!!

(also if you're asking yourself if I was inspired by the top gun volleyball scene the answer is yes I was and no I won't apologize for it.)

Take My Breath Away

pairing: Hunter x f!reader

WC: 4k

MINORS DNI 18+ BELOW CUT

Warnings: p in v sex, fingering, first time, feelings confession, awkward reader

Summary: When Omega convinces Hunter to finally train you in combat, things don't go to plan... or do they?

You’re leering, you know it. You really can’t help it, your spot inside the Marauder has left you with a perfectly obscured view to watch the training exercises happening outside. There’s a box of medical supplies in your lap while you stare through the front viewport, watching Hunter and Tech team up against Echo and Wrecker as they practice hand-to-hand perfectly in your view. 

Hunter has long forgone his long sleeve black shirt, his tattoos on full display as his skin bakes in the sun. It is hot, you supposed, but you assumed nearly every midday on Jakku got this warm. They’re all in various states of undress, grappling with each other with the kind of joyful fighting that reminds you of the village boys and their games back home. 

Sweat beads roll off his chest in a slight pattern, and you can see through the viewport that he’s used his bandana as a makeshift tie, pulling his hair up into some kind of knot on the top of his head. Echo has gotten Tech into some kind of hold, and the latter is thrashing against him trying to wiggle his way out. Hunter, however, is practically glistening as he shoots Wrecker a grin while they circle one another, until his legs push against the coarse sand outside and he lunges for his younger brother’s legs. He must’ve gotten Wreck with an element of surprise because the larger clone actually tumbles a bit, his center of gravity thrown off. You can’t hear them from inside the ship, but from the looks on their faces you can tell they’re laughing. Echo seems to have succeeded in locking Tech down, and the four of them exchange shakes and smirks–and move to repeat the game. 

Happiness looks good on him.

“Why are you watching Hunter again?” Omega’s small, but chipper, voice startles you from your daydream (something involving Hunter and his back that you’ll never tell.)

“Nothing! I’m not, not even watching him,” you stumble, trying desperately to make yourself look busy with the box in front of you. “I’ve gotta keep an eye on his injuries Meg, that's all.”

“But I thought you said he’d be better three rotations ago?”

She’s caught you now, and your face grows hot with the realization. “Well, yeah, of course. But still, as a medic, it’s my job to keep an eye on you all.”

You move to stand and ruffle her hair, toting the box on your hip as you move to go back to the med closet. You suppose you’ve done enough gawking for today.

“Are you red because you’re embarrassed about something?”

Now this makes you stop in your tracks. You whip your head to turn and face the young girl, who’s mouth smiles innocently at you while her eyes smirk knowingly. Kriff. You knew you shouldn't have let her start watching romcoms. 

“I’m not embarrassed,” you start, still making your way to the closet while Omega follows closely behind. “I just don’t know any combat, so I’m watching to learn, it’s just embarrassing not to know.”

Nice. Good save. You’ll pat yourself on the back for that one later. 

“Oh, that makes sense.” Is all you get from Omega, before you’re met with the sound of her feet moving down the walkway. You’re left alone with your thoughts, idylly shuffling supplies around the closet, delving back to your daydream. Minutes pass like this, in quiet peace, before a rough, masculine voice snaps you back to reality.

“Hey,” Hunter starts, leaning against the doorframe that separates the main cabin from the armory and med closet. He’s not shirtless anymore, instead wearing a mockingly thin white tank top that’s becoming less and less opaque the more his chest is pressed against it. “Omega said you wanted to learn some moves?”

Sure enough, Omega stands behind Hunter, arms crossed proudly as she looks between the two of you. “She’s important Hunter, she has to learn!” The younger girl shouts, and Hunter smiles down at her.

“Sure she is. That’s why I’m gonna teach her,” he looks up at you now with questioning eyes, “that is, if you’re interested? Tech is gonna bring Echo and Wrecker on a supply run for a few hours, so you don’t have to worry about them?”

“Y-yeah, that sounds great.” Maker, is that stumbling voice yours? This is getting worse by the minute.

“Hunter, can I go with? Tech said the market is no worse than Mos Eisley, and you let me go there, Wrecker already said he’d watch me!” Omega pleads with her big brother, pulling at his fingers in a subtle gesture to lead the two of you outdoors. 

“Sure, Meg. If it’s fine with them, it’s fine with me.”

* * *

Your body aches, your joints cracking with each move. You’ve barely even begun the training, merely the warmups Hunter has put you through in this scorching heat has gotten you coated in your own layer of sweat. He moved through each warm up with ease, and finished his last stretch lazily, leaning his weight on his back leg and placing his hands firmly on his hips. It took nearly everything in you not to stare at him, his shirt back on but replaced by a mockingly thin white tank top that grew less opaque with every passing moment.

“Thought you said you wanted to learn?” His voice brought you back out of your daydream, reminding you exactly why you were standing here. You had gone this long without him really knowing your feelings, aside from the simple flirtation the two of you shared to pass the time. One afternoon wouldn’t kill you.

“Thought you said we’d start slow,” you grumble in reply, moving to face him with an agitated determination.

He doesn’t give you a verbal response, merely moving to stand behind you, placing his hands and your shoulders before reaching them across to grab your wrists. “I’m gonna put you in the first stance,” he says, moving his hands, and your wrists, up to a blocking motion before kicking one of his feet between your legs. With gentle, albeit rough, taps to each foot, your legs slowly shuffled wider apart, granting you more stability on the sandy terrain. The motion of him slowly spreading your legs open, however, had the complete opposite effect, and your stomach dropped nearly to your toes as your chest flutters with warmth. This was exactly why you hadn’t asked for help in the first place.

“Looks good,” he started, moving back to face you. “Now, when you punch, you’re not just pushing your fist out, right? You’re punching with your whole arm, try hitting my hand.”

“But, I don’t want to hurt you!” You sputtered, and his lazy, easy smile returned.

“Trust me, you won’t.”

You pass nearly an hour like this, moving to punch Hunter with as much force as you could muster, and him blocking you with ease. It’s not that you were weak by any means, you wouldn’t have lasted as the Batch’s medic if you were, but this kind of strength was foreign to you. You were slipping, growing more tired by the moment. Your punches slowly falter. Finally, as the heat and the exertion caught up to you, your legs followed the swing of your arm, sending you toppling your whole weight onto Hunter.

He too must’ve begun feeling the heat, as his normally subvert reflexes failed him. Your weight and his surprise sent the two of you toppling onto the sand, his arms reaching to cup your elbows, carefully guiding you to land on his chest. The sweat on both of your skin made the two of you sticky, and your thin shirt did little to hide the flush of your chest as you pressed against his toned body. Hunter also seemed to be responding to the moment, his eyes opening and closing rapidly, his chest rising and falling with increasing speed.

Maker. You hadn’t thought about how awful you must’ve smelled.

“I’m sorry Hunter, I’m sure I smell-“

“Great,” he gritted out, you assumed his tone was dripping in sarcasm. Your wince must not have garnered the response he was hoping for, and his eyes widened in panic. “No, no, I mean it. Kriff, that’s not what I meant.”

“No, it’s fine, it’s warm out here, don’t mention it,” you shook awkwardly, moving to push off of him. Instead, Hunter’s grip on the backs of your arms tightened to hold you in place.

“I mean it,” he murmurs, “you’ve been driving me crazy all day.”

You blink in surprise as that warm feeling from before returns, and you resist the urge to press yourself against him even further. 

“What, just because I’m a slow learner?” you blush and shake your head, trying to hide your face from the intensity of his stare, and the overbearing Jakku sun.

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“That,” he removes one hand from its spot on your arm to tug your chin back at him, his eyes falling to your lips for the briefest moment before coming back to yours, “hide from me.”

Your response is quiet, timid. “Because you don’t mean it.”

“Why would you think that? We’ve kind of been toeing around it for weeks now.”

You’re sputtering now, “I thought you were joking.”

“I don’t joke when it comes to you,” something akin to hurt flashes across his eyes, and his grip on your arms loosens slightly. Kriff. You’re losing him now, and the panic that settles in your chest takes over before your brain can properly think its way out of it.

You’re fully pressing your breasts against him now, relenting the rest of your weight onto him as your arms snake their way to his face and you pull him towards you before he has a chance to feel any more hurt at your expense. Your lips crash to his in a kiss that’s equal parts full of reassurance and want, and he molds against you quickly. Whatever doubt and hurt he might’ve felt a moment ago is replaced by something darker, something needier.

Hunter adjusts you on top of him easily, pulling you up and wrapping your legs around his waist. When you pull away from the kiss you watch as he brings your legs tighter around his waist and, with little struggle, manages to stand up against the sand, never dropping you from your perch.

You try not to go faint at the way his leg muscles tense beneath the rolled up cuffs of his pants as he lifts the two of you from the ground with ease. Hunter has always been scrappy, never as much bulk as Wrecker but easily the second largest of his brothers. Echo used to joke that what he lacked in height he made up for in muscle mass.

You can’t stop yourself from leaning in to him, placing needy open mouth kisses along the curve of his neck, the sharp edges of his jaw. He groaned at your touch, his steps quickening towards the Marauder. There’s a break as he fidgets with the controls to lower the ramp and it starts its painstakingly slow descent. In a fit of impatience, Hunter has your back pressed against the side of the ship and moves to kiss you again, this time it’s bruising and impatient. He’s been wanting this just as long as you, you realize. Whatever the door the two of you just opened isn’t going to be easily shut.

He’s methodical with the way he kisses you, but his hands are anything but. He pulls teasing tugs at your lower lip, slowly parts your mouth with his tongue–like he’s testing something. 

“Hunter,” you beg, turning your head from him in a feeble gesture to get him to notice that the ramp has lowered.

“I’ve just wanted to kiss you for so long,” he admits, a tenderness in his eyes that your stomach doing backflips, “I don’t think I can ever stop.”

He walks to the two of you up the ramp of the ship before setting you down gently in the hull. You’re staring up at him now, his hands resting on the small of your back, keeping you close.

“You tell me what’s too much cyar’ika. I’ll take whatever part of you you’ll give me.”

“All, all of me. I’m not afraid.” You murmur, pressing yourself against him before leaning to loop your arms around his neck.

He meets you halfway to kiss you, albeit gentler than before, before turning you and moving you backwards with small steps. You know this ship like the back of your hand, even backwards and with your eyes closed, and you can tell from the way he’s moving you that you’re moving towards his quarters.

“We can go to my room?” You ask, breathless. They had graciously turned the small medbay into a space for your quarters, of sorts. You had a larger bed than any member of the batch, with the caveat that your roommates were small surgical machines and overflow boxes of bacta. 

“No, want you in my bed, if that’s ok?” 

You nodded while he continued to guide you towards the rest of the batch’s quarters, your vision becoming shaded from the darkness of the room. You were grateful now that Hunter’s bunk was on the bottom, as the backs of your legs bumped into the mattress.

He laid you down on the mattress and quickly stretched across you, giving you full freedom to remove your arms from his neck and let them roam against the broad expanse of his back. His kisses met your neck almost as soon as he settled on the mattress, and from the way his teeth nipped at the soft skin, you knew you’d be littered with marks.

Whatever. You’re sure they’d pick up on it eventually. 

Your thoughts were interrupted as Hunter pulled you up towards him, using the space to pull your shirt off and discard it on the floor, leaving you in the thin cottony breastband you’d picked specifically because it was too hot to even think about something better. You, in turn, pulled at the hem of the thin white tank top, and he smirked at you as he moved back, pulling it up over his head. There was enough space between the bunks for him to sit comfortably upright, and you moved forward to meet him, bringing his hands to your waist.

“It’s too hot for all these layers.”

If he was surprised he barely showed it, raising an eyebrow before moving to unfasten your breastband, leaving the two of you bare from the waist up.

“Mesh’la, I can’t… I can’t stop.”

“Then don’t.” You smiled, leaning back on his mattress, watching his form cage you in.

His response was immediate, falling closer to you and moving his kisses farther down your neck before moving to bring his mouth to your breast, now bare to him. His lips dragged over your newly exposed flesh, before his tongue flattened over the stiff peak of your nipple.

He wasted no time in palming your other breast, and the briefest glance you got of your skin beneath his inked fingers was enough to elicit the smallest of whimpers from your mouth. He paused from his work on your nipple to glance up at you, before sending a devilish grin as his hand removed itself from your chest and made small movements towards your thighs. With a quick and decisive movement he placed his hand just on the squishy flesh of your inner thigh, before hooking a finger around the seam of your panties and shifting them down.

You jostled a bit to help them come off and Hunter surged to kiss you again, his breath warm and inviting on your mouth. In an instant you let out a soft gasp as his fingers began to move towards your folds, before he slowly pushed two fingers into your heat. 

The feeling of being filled in any capacity by him immediately sent warmth flooding to every corner of your body, and you bucked your hips against him as he moved his fingers in a delicious hooking motion, pulling you closer and closer to oblivion with each movement.

“So warm for me, so wet.” He grumbled against your neck, and your hands threaded through his hair, desperate to keep his body against yours.

“Hunter, need you, now.”

“Shh,” he murmured, moving faster, and a twisting in your feeling in your gut suddenly struck, along with the realization that you were quickly approaching an orgasm. “Come for me first, princess. Need to make you feel good first.”

His words and motions combined sent that first orgasm crashing over you fast, the tips of your fingers and the lower half of your body shaking in pleasure while he took his sweet time, coaxing every bit of your oblivion out of you in slow, melodic motions. When you had come back down to earth, he pulled his hand from you before bringing it to his mouth, bringing his fingers to his mouth and tasting you finally.

“Next time you’re finishing on my tongue,” he groaned, head thrown back. You took his momentary distraction to pull at the band of his boxers, already eyeing the deliciously thick silhouette of his hard length pressing against the fabric.

“Hunterrr,” you whined, leaning up and pressing kisses from his collarbone down his chest, before deciding you couldn’t take it anymore and plunging your hand into his boxers, running your hand up and down the velvety skin of his shaft. You paused at the tip, running your fingers over it and collecting the precum already leaking out.

“Need to learn some patience,” he groaned, before shifting to pull the last offending article of clothing off, and pressing you firmly, and softly to the mattress. With his boxers gone you could see him now. He was big, bigger than any man you’d been with before, and prettier too. The inky black markings of his tattoos led down his whole torso, pausing just at the start of his shaft. It was one of the few spots on his body where you could admire every inch of tanned, warm skin.

Hunter moved down to kiss you, this one sweet and short, running a hand down your core to collect some of the mess he’d already made of you, before running it along his length. He leaned back and looked at you, his eyes warming with a fondness that suddenly had you feeling more naked now than you had this entire time. 

“You take my breath away,” he murmured in a voice dripping with an emotion you weren’t bold enough to try and name, before picking up one of your legs and easily tossing it over your shoulder. “You’ve been my dream this whole time. Wanna make sure you’re ready.”

“Hunter,” you paused, reaching a hand up to his cheek, “if you don’t fuck me now, I’m going to go catatonic.”

His laugh had your leg shaking, and he rolled his eyes, “remind me to fuck some manners into you next time.”

Without any more pretense you felt his tip surge past your walls, stretching you out deliciously and giving a sense of satisfaction greater than anything you’d felt before. He pushed farther before bottoming out and nudging just right against that spot you’d always struggled to reach. The same one that had you tossing one arm over your eyes and another grasping at nothing out of pure bliss. His name breathed past your lips like a prayer, and you felt him shiver a bit at it.

“Fuck, that’s my girl.” He moaned, starting his thrusts at a slow, manageable pace. You felt one of his hands slide up the sheets on his mattress before sliding and weaving his fingers between yours. “Don’t hide from me.” He whispered, and you brought your arm down, placing it firmly on the bicep he was using to support himself against you.

He felt fucking amazing. You had met a guy in an alley on Coruscant who tried to sell you deathsticks once, and you felt like you had to go back and tell him he was wrong. There had to be a better high. Being fucked into your pillows by Hunter while he held your hand and whispered to you had to be better. You weren’t a scientist (ok, maybe you were) but this had to be the best feeling a human being could feel.

Hunter’s pace quickened, and soon the cabin was filled with the sickeningly sweet sound of skin slapping against skin, his hips snapping against you. His senses must’ve made him perfectly attuned to how you were feeling, any shift in pleasure, any barely audible moan. His hand had removed itself from yours, instead holding your wrist and pressing you firmly into the bed in a move that felt more possessive and dominant than threatening.

“You’re mine.” You had moaned without realizing it, and his pace picked up again. A twisting, numbing feeling began to blossom in your core and Hunter brought your leg down, surging forward to kiss you as he fucked you farther into oblivion.

“You’re my girl, you’ve always been my girl.” He groaned into your neck before pulling back. “Just been waiting for you to realize it. I wanna hear you say it.”

“You’re mine, I’m yours.” You groaned, his hips bucking up and nudging again and again into that spot. His hand removed itself from your wrist and you used the newfound freedom to rake your hands down your back, sending moans of pleasure out of Hunter.

“I’m all yours princess,” he groaned, “so sweet, so soft for me. Fuck, so tight.”

His praise and words and breakneck speed had you hitting your orgasm like a brick wall, turning you from head to toe in a shivering, gasping mess as your walls clenched around him. You gripped his hair in a desperate attempt to tether yourself to something corporeal as he fucked you through it, his own pace becoming quick and sloppy.

“‘M close, where,” was all he was able to rasp out.

“In, ‘s okay.” Was the closest thing you had to a response. You’d tell him about your implant later.

In an instant, he was groaning into your neck, his hips slapping against yours sending you nearly into sensory overload, before you felt his warmth against you. For a moment after he barely moved, just breathed against you as if he couldn’t imagine this had actually happened. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, you running a hand along his back and through his hair as he pressed sweet kisses along your neck, likely trying to soften the purple marks you were certain he had left.

“Lemme get you cleaned up,” he whispered, as if careful not to scare the moment away. He pulled back from you slowly, before reaching to tug his pants back on and heading to the fresher. He was only gone for a few moments, returning with a warm, wet rag that he lovingly dashed between your legs and a pair of clean shorts from your quarters and one of his shirts.

“Thought you might want something comfortable.” He said as he passed it to you, and you quickly changed into it, relishing into how the shirt smelled so distinctly of him.

You moved to sit up but he toppled in bed next to you before you could. His bunk was small, barely enough space for the two of you, so he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest.

“Don’t go. Meant what I said.”

You blushed as you shimmied to turn your face to him. “Which part?”

“All of it. I’ve always wanted you. Not just for, you know,” he stumbled, seeming suddenly embarrassed.

“Sex?”

“Yeah, but I’m not gonna complain about that part,” he winked, before pulling you into him again, resting his head on top of yours. “I want to… care for you. In every way. You really take my breath away, always have.” He pressed a kiss against your hair, and you pressed closer to him in return.

“Then you’ll have me. For as long as I’m here and then some.” 

The two of you stayed like this into the night, wrapped up in each other’s arms, tangled limb to limb. Soon enough the lull of his heart had drifted you into sleep, and he did his best to shield you from the prying eyes and loud noises of the rest of the Batchers as they returned from the market, just as he swore to himself that he’d shield you from anything that threatened to take you from them, from him.

His girl he had said. And he had meant it.

[bobwess]

I don't see enough people talking about this, and certainly not enough men. Women are significantly more likely to die in a medical emergency. Simply because people are too afraid or uncomfortable to expose a woman to begin CPR, or touch a woman to render aid. And medical training tools only enforce this bias. Your CPR mannequins are male. Your Simulaids sucking chest wound prosthetics are male. Most victims in any first aid practical exercise that requires exposing the chest are going to be male. We need to do more to combat gender bias in first aid.

*This does not just extend to binary women and men. This obviously can extend to trans and nonbinary individuals. Anyone a layperson perceives as feminine is more likely to be denied the immediate help they require.

[militarymenrbomb]

U.S. Army Warrior Fitness Team Member

Capt. Brian Harris

Capt. Brian Harris, was born in Edmond, Oklahoma and graduated from Edmond North High School in 2009. He was a member of the high school’s baseball and wrestling teams throughout high school. He enlisted in the Oklahoma Army National Guard in August of 2009 as a firefinder radar operator (13R) in field artillery. While serving in the Guard from 2009 to 2013, Harris attended the University of Oklahoma and actively participated in the Army ROTC program. During this time, he was introduced to functional fitness and began competing at a high level at various competitions around the country. In 2013, Harris commissioned into the Regular Army as a Medical Service Corps officer and that year was selected as one of twenty two medical service officers to attend flight training and be trained as an aeromedical evacuation officer (67J) / UH-60 Blackhawk helicopter pilot.

Harris’ assignment history includes Fort Rucker, Alabama where he attended Army flight school followed by Fort Carson, Colorado as a section leader, platoon leader and staff operations officer for the 2nd General Support Aviation Battalion, 4th Combat Aviation Brigade. During his time with 4th CAB, Harris participated in several full-scale training exercises and served one nine-month deployment to Afghanistan in support of Operation’s Freedom Sentinel and Resolute Support providing aeromedical evacuation services across RC-East and RC-North. In 2016, he was named the 4th Infantry Division’s “Junior Officer of the Year” for his efforts both in combat and garrison. After his time in Colorado, Harris returned to Fort Rucker to serve as the operations officer for their Air Ambulance Detachment (110th Aviation Brigade) known as “Flatiron” providing 24/7 crash rescue support to the Aviation Center of Excellence, as well as, routine support to 6th Ranger Training Battalion at Eglin Air Force Base and support to the local civilian population in accordance with the Wiregrass Letter of Agreement.

Harris is a CrossFit Level 2 certified trainer and master fitness trainer (phase 1) and has accumulated more than 700 hours of one-on-one and group coaching time teaching functional fitness methodologies to servicemembers and civilians enabling them to reach their fitness and lifestyle goals. He has competed at the local, regional and national level in functional fitness competitions. Under the old CrossFit season format, Harris was a 2 time regional qualifier and recently represented the United States of America as a member of the national team at the International Federation of Functional Fitness World Championships in Malmo, Sweden (2018).

His awards and decorations include the Air Medal with “C” device, Air Medal, Army Commendation Medal with 2 bronze oak leaf clusters, Army Achievement Medal with 3 bronze oak leaf clusters, Meritorious Unit Citation (2-4 GSAB, 4CAB), National Defense Service Medal, Afghanistan Campaign Medal, Global War on Terrorism Service Medal, Army Service Ribbon, Overseas Service Ribbon, NATO Medal, Combat Action Badge, Basic Army Aviator’s Badge, Parachute Badge, and the Air Assault qualification badge.

[magnoliasforyourmedic]

"Band-Aid Bandits" - Easy Company's Medics

Edwin Pepping and Albert "Al" Mampre were the self-proclaimed "Band-Aid Bandits."

When the regiment formed a medical detachment, Colonel Sink asked Mampre if he would like to be a medic. Mampre said yes and joined with Pepping. The two developed a knack for obtaining anything they needed without going through proper channels, calling themselves the “Band-Aid Bandits.” Both men considered medical training similar to what they learned in the Boy Scouts. The main difference: the medic candidates practiced giving shots to oranges. “I never ran into an orange in combat,” Mampre mused."

After Mampre and Pepping received their medical certifications, the regiment assigned a new lieutenant to toughen up the medics. He started off by teaching them to properly salute. In retaliation for the senseless exercise, Mampre lit a can of photo film on fire in his barracks. As smoke filled the room, Mampre ran outside to the lieutenant, shouting, “They’re trying to kill us!” The lieutenant went into the barrack and threw the burning can outside, telling Mampre, “I don’t think you’re gonna get killed.” 

...

While the training honed the men’s physical skills, it stimulated voracious appetites. One day, Mampre and his fellow medics caught the smell of fresh muffins wafting from the cook house. They found the tray of muffins and grabbed it, but not before the cooks grabbed the other end. The tug of war ended when the Military Police showed up and took down everyone’s names. “One guy said his name was ‘John Smith,’” explained Mampre, “another said ‘Terpin Hydrate,’ which means cough syrup.” Later, Mampre and his comrades snatched a line of milk bottles laid out for the battalion’s officers. “We were growing boys,” he defended, “we needed them.” The medics drank more than milk. They often drove to local watering holes in an ambulance. Mampre would sit up front with the driver and Captain Samuel “Shifty” Feiler, the dentist, between them. When they reached the bar, someone would shout, “Last one out buys!” and everyone poured out. Mampre and the driver made sure they opened their doors last, ensuring Feiler, stuck in the middle, paid.

Despite the intense training, the medics managed small rebellions. One medic, a cook, smuggled some local girls into a stable. Mampre and Lieutenant (Dr.) Jackson Neavles, the battalion surgeon, went to the stable where Neavles ordered the cook out. When he didn’t respond, they threw in colored smoke grenades. The girls ran out crying, their faces streaked with colors. “Those girls had to walk back to Swindon [about five miles away] like that,” said Mampre. The cook, on the other hand, refused to come out. Other medics had their own way of doing things. They dyed their hair with medicinal peroxide, turning them all blond or shades of red. When their hair grew back, leaving them with dual hair color, their British hosts did a double take. “They thought it was all the rage back in the U.S.,” said Mampre." 

...

Mampre also returned to his Band-Aid Bandit ways. He and some medics decided to steal an armoire from the upper story of an officers’ barracks. Mampre attached ropes to the armoire and was lowering it out a window when a lieutenant walked up and asked, “What are you doing?” Mampre told him he was trying to haul the armoire up to the room. Seeing that Mampre was about to be yanked out the window, the lieutenant told him to lower it and departed. Mampre and his buddies had a new armoire. 

...

In need of a shower, Mampre went into the officers’ shower but, while he was showering, an officer came in and asked, “Lieutenant?” When Mampre didn’t answer, the officer asked, “Captain?” Mampre finished, wrapped himself in a towel, and as he left said, “No. Staff Sergeant, but I’m clean.”

While there he saw some washing machines in crates. He “borrowed” one and had his fellow medics dig a square into the ground to hide it. The medics looked cleaner than the rest of the regiment. “Colonel Sink was wondering what was going on,” he said.

[rivensdefenseattorney]

Red Fountain Curriculum

(WIP)

Vanguard School of Combat

Departments

Military History and Strategy Department

Ancient Battles and Warfare Tactics: Study of pivotal historical battles and their strategic significance. Analysis of strategies employed by renowned military leaders.

Modern Warfare: Strategies and Evolutions: Exploration of modern warfare tactics, including guerrilla warfare and asymmetric conflicts. Case studies on recent military operations.

Tactical Combat Department

Close-Quarters Combat Techniques: Training in hand-to-hand combat, grappling, and defensive tactics. Practical sessions and sparring exercises.

Weapon Proficiency and Maintenance: Mastery and maintenance of various combat weapons. Workshops on weapon crafting and enhancements.

Survival Tactics and Freelance Operations Department

Adaptability in Challenging Environments: Training in survival skills in diverse environments (wilderness, urban, etc.).Field exercises emphasizing adaptability and resourcefulness.

Freelance Combat Strategies: Understanding the dynamics and strategies of freelance operations. Scenario-based simulations for independent contracting roles.

Identification of Magical Flora - Beneficial and Hazardous: Identification and study of magical flora, focusing on their potential uses, properties, and dangers. Practical sessions on harvesting and utilizing beneficial magical plants and avoiding hazardous ones.

Navigating Independent Contracting Roles: Exploration of various independent contracting roles such as guild work, solo contracts, and team-based contracts. Case studies and simulations to understand the dynamics and responsibilities of each role.

Combat Psychology and Ethical Warfare Department

Psychological Aspects of Combat: Study of the psychological impacts in combat situations. Methods to handle stress, fear, and decision-making under pressure.

Ethical Decision-Making in Warfare: Ethical considerations and dilemmas in combat scenarios. Debates and discussions on moral choices in warfare.

Field Operations and Simulation Department

Practical Combat Scenarios: Simulation exercises mimicking real combat situations. Team-based scenarios testing strategy, communication, and leadership.

Medical Training and Combat First Aid: Training in providing first aid and medical assistance in combat situations. Simulated medical emergencies and treatments.

Navigation Techniques in Diverse Environments: Practical training in navigation using magical and conventional tools in varied environments. Simulated exercises in finding paths, mapping territories, and using magical navigation aids.

Advanced Field Navigation and Dimensional Travel: Understanding navigation in different dimensions and planes, including dimensional gateways and portals. Simulation exercises involving navigation across multiple dimensions.

Strategic Leadership and Organization Department

Leadership Development in Combat Scenarios: Training in command structures, leadership roles, and decision-making. Practical leadership exercises in simulated combat scenarios.

Organizational Tactics and Logistics: Understanding logistics in combat, resource management, and operational planning. Case studies on effective and failed logistical operations.

Arcane School of Magic

Departments

Magical Theory and History Department

History of Magical Practices: Exploration of magical practices across civilizations and historical eras. Analysis of influential magical theorists and their contributions.

Theoretical Foundations of Magic: Study of magical principles, laws, and universal magical theories. Discussions on the nature and essence of magic

Spellcraft Department

Fundamentals of Spellcasting: Practical instruction in basic spellcasting techniques. Practice sessions focusing on accuracy and incantation.

Advanced Spellcasting and Rituals: Mastery of complex spell structures and ceremonial magic. Practical applications in controlled environments.

Alchemy and Potionology Department

Alchemy Principles and Applications: Understanding alchemical principles, transmutation, and elemental correspondences. Practical experimentation with basic alchemical processes.

Potion Brewing and Elixir Crafting: Hands-on brewing of magical potions and elixirs. Studying potion ingredients and their magical properties.

Magical Artifacts Department

Identification and Analysis of Magical Artifacts: Study of various magical artifacts, their origins, and functionalities. Analytical methods for artifact identification and assessment.

Creation and Enchantment of Artifacts: Practical workshops on crafting and enchanting magical artifacts. Collaborative projects to design and create enchanted items.

Mystical Creatures Department

Introduction to Behavioral Studies of Magical Creatures: Observational studies on magical creature behavior and habitats. Ethical considerations in studying and interacting with mystical creatures.

Conservation and Care of Magical Species: Methods for ethical conservation, preservation, and sustainable habitats for magical creatures. Hands-on experiences in caring for and understanding mystical creatures.

Taming and Riding of Magical Beasts: Mastery of riding and taming diverse mystical creatures. Developing rapport and control for combat and strategic advantages.

Advanced Biology and Magic of Mystical Creatures: Study of the biological traits, magical attributes, and habitats of various mystical creatures. Examination of how magic interacts with their physiology and behavior.

TechForge School of Engineering

Departments

Techno-Magic Integration and Programming

Introduction to Techno-Magic Fusion: Overview of the principles behind merging technology and magic. Exploring historical examples and contemporary advancements.

Enchanting Technologies: Understanding enchantment methods for technological applications. Practical workshops on infusing technology with magical enhancements.

Properties of Magic Metals and Alloys: Study of magical properties in various materials and alloys used in techno-magical engineering. Analysis of how different materials interact with magical enhancements.

Programming in Magical Systems: Understanding programming languages and coding specific to magical systems and technological interfaces. Hands-on coding exercises for techno-magical devices.

Aerospace Engineering and Dimensional Travel

Fundamentals of Aerodynamics: Principles of flight, airfoil design, and aircraft stability. Hands-on experiments and simulations.

Spacecraft Design and Orbital Mechanics: Design considerations for spacecraft and understanding orbital mechanics. Projects involving simulated space missions.

Advanced Aerodynamics and Interdimensional Travel: In-depth study of aerodynamic principles and their application in interdimensional and cross-dimensional travel. Theoretical discussions and simulations on dimensional travel theories.

Maintenance and Upkeep of Advanced Aircrafts: Techniques and best practices for maintaining futuristic aircraft and spacecraft. Practical sessions on diagnosing and solving maintenance issues.

Vehicle Engineering and Transportation Infrastructure

Automotive Design and Innovation: Study of vehicle dynamics, design principles, and automotive innovation. Design projects for advanced vehicle concepts.

Advanced Transportation Systems Applications: Examination of futuristic transportation systems. Prototyping and development of next-gen transportation solutions.

Interdimensional Transportation Infrastructure: Understanding the civil engineering aspects of futuristic transportation systems. Design considerations and planning for advanced transportation networks.

Maintenance and Optimization of Techno-Magic Vehicles: Techniques for maintenance and optimization of advanced futuristic vehicles. Real-world case studies on improving vehicle efficiency.

Techno-Magic Artifacts & Tools

Construction Techniques and Enchantments: Advanced methods for constructing and enchanting techno-magic artifacts. Experimentation with different enchantment techniques for varying effects.

Practical Workshop: Magical Device Design: Hands-on sessions for students to design simple magical devices. Collaborative projects incorporating magical enchantments into technological devices.

Experimental Prototyping and Testing: Hands-on experimentation and testing of innovative techno-magic concepts. Collaborative projects to prototype and test new techno-magic innovations.

Application and Deployment of Techno-Magic Artifacts: Practical application scenarios for tools and artifacts in various settings. Simulated exercises demonstrating the use of constructed techno-magic tools.

Techno-Magic Innovation & Development

Emerging Technologies in Techno-Magic Fusion: Exploring cutting-edge developments in merging technology and magic. Discussions on potential future advancements.

Ethical Considerations in Techno-Magic Integration: Discussions on the ethical implications of merging technology with magic. Case studies and debates on responsible use of techno-magic fusion.

Research Methodologies in Techno-Magic Fusion: Techniques and approaches to conducting research in techno-magic integration. Project-based learning on innovative research methodologies.

Techno-Magic Weaponry Design

Advanced Weaponry Prototyping: Designing and prototyping technologically enhanced magical weapons. Emphasis on both combat effectiveness and safety measures.

Tactical Strategies for Techno-Magic Combat: Integrating combat psychology with the design and usage of techno-magic weaponry. Simulated scenarios testing weaponry and strategy effectiveness.

Theoretical and Practical Weaponry Applications: Advanced theories and practical applications in creating combat-focused techno-magic weaponry. Simulated combat scenarios to test and refine weaponry designs.

Required Classes

Required Classes for Students of Vanguard

Introduction to Behavioral Studies of Magical Creatures

Taming and Riding of Magical Beast

Practical Combat Scenarios

Medical Training and Combat First Aid

Navigation Techniques in Diverse Environments

Advanced Field Navigation and Dimensional Travel

Weapon Proficiency and Maintenance

Close-Quarters Combat Techniques

Organizational Tactics and Logistics

Ancient Battles and Warfare Tactics

Modern Warfare: Strategies and Evolutions

Fundamentals of Aerodynamics

Ethical Decision-Making in Warfare

Theoretical Foundations of Magic

Identification of Magical Flora - Beneficial and Hazardous

Required Classes for Students of Arcane

Creation and Enchantment of Artifacts

History of Magical Practices

Fundamentals of Spellcasting

Alchemy Principles and Applications

Potion Brewing and Elixir Crafting

Identification and Analysis of Magical Artifacts

Creation and Enchantment of Artifact

Ethics and Magic

Introduction to Behavioral Studies of Magical Creatures

Identification of Magical Flora - Beneficial and Hazardous

Theoretical Foundations of Magic

Required Classes for Students of TechForge

Fundamentals of Aerodynamics

Properties of Magic Metals and Alloys

Programming in Magical Systems

Enchanting Technologies

Introduction to Techno-Magic Fusion

Advanced Aerodynamics and Interdimensional Travel

Experimental Prototyping and Testing

Ethical Considerations in Techno-Magic Integration

Navigation Techniques in Diverse Environments

Advanced Field Navigation and Dimensional Travel

Construction Techniques and Enchantments

Identification and Analysis of Magical Artifacts

Creation and Enchantment of Artifacts

Theoretical Foundations of Magic

__________________________

Winx Rewrite Master Post

Red Fountain Polytechnic

___________________________

If you went to Red Fountain what would you specialize in and/or what classes would interest you the most?

[morally-grey-variant]

love is a dagger [loki x oc][part two]

loki x oc

part two

[master post]

[read part one first]

Pairing: Loki x Original Character (she/they)

Agent Grey Forrest can’t quite reconcile her alliance with Loki. After six months of regular hand-to-hand combat and close-weapons training, they’re not quite friends but can’t exactly stay away from each other. Everything changes the day Loki accidentally stabs Grey during a training exercise.

Part Two Summary: Ten stitches later, Grey needs rest. Loki stays to care for his favorite agent, knowing he’ll have to answer to Tony -- and the other Avengers -- for the accident later. After witnessing Tony’s rage, they both know this is just the tip of the iceberg. Caring for an injured Grey tests the tenuous friendship, and as Loki bares a shred of his soul, Grey is forced to confront the truth of their feelings.

 Maybe later can wait a little longer. (wc 3 k)

Warnings: Later episodes become more explicit with dark themes -- Minors DNI. Blood, hospital/surgery/sedatives/stitches, general angst, mild swearing, non-explicit nudity, inferred non-descriptive references to hypothetical SA. (if I've missed something please let me know!)

I drift in and out of fitful bursts of sleep. Shouts from Tony, his face contorted in rage; Loki's strong, capable hands; fear and angst and blood, so much dripping blood everywhere.

The nurse shakes me awake. I immediately search for Loki; he’s hovering behind her. I can’t read his heavy expression. He stayed.

“Time to go,” she declares, although I couldn’t have been out for more than a few minutes. She helps me upright and shows me how to change the bandage that now wraps around my torso, protecting the raw edges of the fresh wound. Loki hovers, observing, though I can’t read his heavy expression.

I shrug out of the scratchy paper hospital gown, but Loki politely averts his gaze. My cheeks still flush hot red. I'm still wearing my athletic leggings, and the nurse offers me a plain black sweatshirt branded with a stylized A that I gratefully tug over my sports bra. She leaves me with a paper box of bandages.

Loki smirks and offers me a hand. “Can you walk now, or do you need me to carry you again, Agent?”

I flush. “I can walk.” 

Loki escorts me out of the medical wing. His hand lingers at the small of my back, pressing the sweatshirt against my skin. “It's a long walk back to the SHIELD dormitories,” he muses. “How far can our brave Agent go before succumbing to the lingering morphine?” 

“To say nothing of the mortal wound in my chest,” I counter, instantly regretting it. His hand stiffens, fingers curling into my back. Fuck.

“I fear Tony may, quite literally, have my head for this.” His biting sarcasm just isn't there. He looks straight forward, fist pressed against the small of my back as he guides me down the hallway. 

“Let me deal with Tony.” I don't have the same sway as the others, but I might be the only person who will stand up for Loki. 

The thought tugs at a ragged edge of my heart. My head swims again; I stumble, catching myself against the wall with my right arm. 

“Careful,” Loki murmurs, both arms looping around me. My heart pounds, those ragged edges snagging against some insistent pull. 

“Let me help you.”

I lay a hand against his shoulder, gently nudging him back. “No,” I grumble. My breath catches as I remember the last time I refused his help. 

Damn it all, Grey. 

Loki wouldn't hurt me. That much I know for certain. Outside of our carefully coordinated sparring matches – today notwithstanding – he'd never so much as raised his voice towards me. 

But Loki relents. He released his grip, but kept his hands hovering just within reach. I slump against the wall, sighing.

“I'm sorry, Loki.”

“What on Midgard do you possibly have to apologize for?”

I shake my head, laughing softly. The movement tugs my stitches, and I curl forward, groaning in pain. Loki's hand finds my shoulder.

“I'm still horrible at close-quarters combat,” I groan, clutching a hand to my ribs. “I'm sorry. I should be better by now–”

“Oh, do shut up,” Loki laughs wearily. He hooks a finger beneath my chin, gingerly lifting my head. 

My heart does that tightening, flip-flopping thing again. Breath whooshes out of my lungs. Loki smiles knowingly; my face probably drops into some slack-jawed expression. 

He still hasn't kissed me.

We’ve trained together nearly every day. For six months, Loki has schooled me in hand-to-hand combat, or close-quarters sparring with knives and daggers wielded with a trickster's sly maneuvers. 

Six months of lingering touches that evolved from instructive placements - “no, you should land here,” a hand against a shoulder; “hold your stance like this,” a shifted leg, gripping a tensed thigh muscle far too tenderly – to more deliberate touches. Fingers brushing down arms. Stray hairs tucked behind an ear. Fingers splayed across worn leather armor. 

Vague exchanges that didn't exactly amount to confessions. But for Loki, they were everything.

“I would greatly prefer you come back to me in one piece,” before I left on a field mission. “Now, show me your right hook again.”

“I trust you, Loki.” A dozen times before a dozen different maneuvers. “You don't underestimate me the way the others do.”

“You're not a woman to be underestimated.”

Oh.

“Did you forget I'm the one who–” he begins, his voice dropping off before he could say it. Green eyes glance away from mine, though he never drops my chin.

“I still trust you, Loki.” My voice cracks in my throat.

His tongue darts out between his lips, parting them infinitesimally. A decision weighs on his dark brow. Yes. Please, Loki.

His finger slips off my chin. “You need rest. Come on.”

All the breath rushes out of me. He runs both hands through his dark curls, pushing them back from his face. Resetting himself.

Our journey back to the SHIELD dormitories took an age. I need two breaks, clutching my chest and waving off Loki's attempts to pick me up again. I know he would gladly lift me into his arms again and carry me straight to my room. If anyone here saw that happening, Fury would personally fire me. Canoodling with the higher-ups. Consorting with Avengers – or, the Avenger-adjacent.

We pause outside my room. One door in a long hallway of identical rooms. For the most part, that’s all I am to SHIELD – one agent in a long stretch of near-identical stories. An over-eager fighter with a knack for gathering intelligence, desperate to prove themselves to the right authority figure. A body to send to the front lines before the real stars of the show assembled, or even stepped foot outside the compound.

“Mission accomplished.” Loki announces quietly. He looks me up and down as if scanning for more signs of … what? Fatigue? Injury?

Loneliness?

I press my hand to the biometric scanner beside the door. It blips and glows with life, unlocking my door with a soft click. “Come in?”

“Is that a question, or a command?”

I grin, pushing the paper box of bandages into his arms. “Command.”

My room looks like every other dormitory on this floor: cramped and efficient, but blessedly private. A floor-to-ceiling window forms the exterior wall of the narrow room, looking down over the wooded area behind the compound. Beside the window, a built-in desk with shelves above takes up the other half of the exterior wall. The wall opposite holds a twin bed and a wardrobe, with the left wall consisting of more shelving. The right wall held a small door which leads to my private, if tiny, bathroom.

Loki’s gaze scrolls around the room, lingering on the personal effects strewn across the space. “The servants of Asgard have better quarters than these,” he mused, dropping the bandages on my desk. 

“This is no royal palace,” I counter, leaning against the doorframe as it slides shut behind me. I watch Loki carefully as he makes one slow turn, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. 

“Indeed,” he answers, “though Stark no doubt sees himself king.” 

I flinch, remembering our earlier encounter. “I don't remember much,” I lie, shifting my feet. 

“You threatened to kill me,” Loki reminds me with a sly grin.

“Then you’ll be sure to stay on my good side.”

Loki watches me for a long time. He releases his grip on the dagger at his waist, suddenly seeming to realize where his hand had unconsciously come to rest. With a roll of his shoulders and a shimmer of green light, he shifts into something more comfortable: black tapered joggers and a black hoodie. 

There it is again. That stupid heart-squeezing, stomach-flipping feeling. Loki never dresses down like this. The man – god –  never wears jeans, let alone sweatpants. I've rarely seen him out of his Asgardian finery, or a formal Midgardian suit.

“Is this all right?” His voice drops to a soft, low question. He offers a shrug at his own appearance.

“Whatever you're comfortable in,” I answer, tugging at the hem of the hospital sweatshirt. “Do you mind if I shower? I'm disgusting.”

He wrinkles his nose, smirking. “Please do.” 

I swat his arm lightly as I step past him, grabbing a change of clothes from my wardrobe. “Make yourself comfortable, and don't get blood on anything.”

“Already taken care of.” He drops into my desk chair, extending a cupped palm that flickers with the remnants of his magic. Of course. 

“Do you ever shower, or do you just magic it all away?” I laugh.

He smirks, lifting an eyebrow. “I do.” He gestures to the bathroom with his head. “Is that thing big enough for a bath?”

“Just a shower,” I shrug, sliding open the door and praying I hadn’t forgotten any stray underwear on the floor. “Why, do you need one?”

“Is that an invitation?” 

I nearly throw up on the spot. He crosses his arms, leaning back in the chair and smirking like the devil himself. I wouldn't say no.

“I prefer to shower alone, thank you,” I croak, wishing I'd come up with something cleverer to say as he lit up with a genuinely bemused laugh. “I'm exhausted and disgusting.”

“Oh, I'm aware,” he laughs as I slide the door shut behind me. 

Oh, my god. The filthy, blood-streaked reflection of a wild woman glares back at me in the bathroom mirror. My sweat-streaked forehead is smudged with my own blood – fingerprint-shaped blotches the size of Loki's fingers. My chest contracts at the memory of his hand cradling my head while the doctor sewed me up. 

Lifting the sweatshirt over my head, I flinch. The upward motion tugs at my stitches. Oh, this is going to be another nightmare. There's a good amount of grunting and hunching over and wiggling my torso before I'm free from the garment. 

The bright red, puckered tear in my flesh screams back at me angrily. Two inches below the elastic band of my sports bra, in the dead center of my right rib cage, the two-inch long stab wound is absolutely going to scar. Ten stitches meticulously pin the flesh back together. I wince as I graze my finger along the ridge, but the memory hurts more: me, clumsily jumping backwards; Loki lunging forward, confidently anticipating my evasion. His blade skimming over my ribs, scratching the bone. 

Loki's face as he realized too late what he'd done.

I trusted Loki; he stabbed me. Thor wouldn't be surprised.

That's why it rattled Loki, I realize. Everyone expects him to turn villainous again. No one expects him to be good.

But he'd been good with me for six months. Gentle. Often acerbic and sometimes short, but never cruel. He'd never hurt me intentionally, only small slip-ups here and there until I learned to properly block or anticipate attacks. 

I still trust him. That won’t change. 

I need to trust him now. I cringe.

“Loki?” I call, parting the sliding door a few inches.

“Is that my invitation?” he calls playfully.

“Ten seconds of seriousness, Loki.”

“As the grave, darling.”

My heart flips. Gooseflesh spreads down my arms. Darling.

“I need help.” My back faces the bedroom, pointedly ignoring the word. I can’t bring myself to look at him. “You can say no. I can call Nat.”

“You’ve yet to give me a favor to refuse.”

I draw in a deep breath. “I can't lift my arms over my head. I had trouble taking my sweatshirt off.” I begin, hoping he'll catch my meaning. Please don't make me say it out loud.

“Are you in pain?” He sounds closer now, but I still don't turn around. There's genuine concern, all sarcasm wiped away. 

“Only a little,” I lie. I can feel my pulse in the wound. “I… I need help.” I back up towards the door, nudging it open a few more inches with my hand.

“Oh.” 

“Oh,” I echo, my arms wrapped around my chest. “I'll just call Nat–” I begin, grabbing the edge of the door, but suddenly Loki's inches away. 

“Do you want to have to explain to her what happened today?” The edge of playfulness is back, because he knows I don't. Natasha and I are friends, but she doesn't approve of my training with the enemy. I'm not ready for this conversation yet, and it's steadily getting harder to explain.

I sigh, pushing the door open another inch until my entire back is visible. “Just help me,” I plead.

“Do you trust me?” 

There's a weight to his voice I don't expect. I turn slightly, and he's still right there behind me. Solemnity paints his sharp features. His bright green eyes waver softly as they reflect the bathroom's bright fluorescents. 

“Of course I trust you.” I answer with what I hope is equal solemnity. “As long as you can behave like a gentleman,” I add, forcing myself to smirk. Levity.

“More than a gentleman,” he teases back, gesturing for me to turn back around. “A prince.”

“I don't know how that's supposed to help,” I laugh. Gingerly, I raise my arms away from my torso. “Princes aren't exactly famous for their propriety.”

“Second sons especially,” Loki adds. “I'm going to touch your back. Is that okay?”

“Y-yes.” Something in my chest swells. He's never exactly asked for permission to touch me before. But he's never undressed me, alone in my bedroom, either. 

His fingers graze my back. “How…” he begins, his fingers sliding under the elastic band. “I don't understand. There's no clasp?”

I shake my head. How many bras has he undone? The thought deflates the warm balloon in my chest; I shove the thought aside. “No, it's … it's all elastic.” Explaining my stab wound to Natasha would be easier than explaining a sports bra to a man. A non-human man. 

“That's why I can't get it off myself,” I continue. “It's tight, and hard to pull it over my head on a good day. Much less with ten stitches in my abdomen.”

His fingers twitch. “Eleven.”

“What?”

“I counted eleven,” Loki explains quietly, gingerly tugging at the elastic again.

“Can't you use magic?” I ask, suddenly desperate to not be having this conversation. “I probably should've asked that from the beginning.” I didn't ask because I don't want you to use magic. The realization stirs the pit of my stomach.

His hands still, pinched between the band and my skin. “Not an option.” His words are clipped. My body tenses up.

“What?” I croak, head curling down towards my chest. Fuck. I’ve messed up, somehow. This shouldn’t be happening. This isn’t how I wanted this to happen. 

Something shifts in my brain. I can’t believe I’m actually letting myself admit it; actually accepting the admission. Letting myself acknowledge that I ever wanted it to happen. Wanted Loki to undress me, wanted his fingers to stretch across my torso and slide over my skin–

“Boundaries,” he finally says. His fingers shift, examining the straps along the top of the garment. They stretch in a web from the back to my shoulders. I force myself to hold in the full-body shudder his touch threatens to elicit.

“I’m not following,” I admit, biting my lip. “If you’re already… taking my bra off, how is magic … worse?”

Loki sighs. His fingers pause again. I can’t bear to turn around and look at him. What the fuck is going on? 

“I’m trying to be … better.” 

His words are unbearably soft, but I can hear how his throat pinches against them. His voice drags against those ragged edges of my heart again. “If all it takes is a snap of my fingers to undress you completely… What kind of monster needs such magic?”

My breath hitches in my chest. I freeze, clenching every muscle. What… what does that mean? I swallow thickly, breath shaking. Loki’s killed people. Loki’s hurt people. Loki’s a villain. Loki’s the bad guy. 

No. I don’t think he’s capable of … whatever he’s implying. 

“You aren’t a monster, Loki.” My voice shakes.

“You don’t sound so sure.” His voice is frighteningly flat. His hand pulls away from me.

“Is there something you’re trying to tell me?” I don’t feel like I’m inside my own body. My blood is ice and air simultaneously, my vision blurring to a single point on the wall in front of me.

“My life is plagued by acts of which I feel no sense of pride.” Dark tones undercut any warmth in his deep, velvet voice. “But if it helps… no, I would never… not that. I didn’t mean to … imply such, to frighten you. I’m sorry.”

A breath whooshes from my chest again. “Okay. I trust you.”

“You won’t meet another living soul who shares the same sentiment.” He truly, honestly, and completely believes that. “I can’t atone for what I’ve done, even if it wasn’t in my right mind. But I want to be … better. Is this all right?” His tone shifts on the last sentence, the pads of his fingers tapping against my shoulder. I nod silently.

“Square your shoulders.” His voice shifts, and I obey.

“You place so much trust in me. It makes me wonder,” he continues, his thumb sliding beneath the tight fabric. “Am I worthy?”

He tugs at the elastic band, pushing it up to my shoulders without waiting for an answer to his rhetorical question. “Arms forward. Head down.” He shuffles it up and over my shoulders with surprising ease and minimal strain on my stitches, then gingerly nudges my ponytail out of the way as he lifts it over my head. I tuck my arms back through, crossing them over my breasts. “It’s off.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, gaze locked on the white tile floor. “A perfect gentleman.” 

Perhaps in some attempt to protect my modesty, Loki slides the door shut. Turning back, one arm wrapped around my chest, I push it back slightly, peering through the small gap. His dark eyes gaze back. Something has changed between us.

His face sags under the weight of so much self-doubt. My chest cracks open. I press my lips together in a small, sad smile.

“You’re worthy enough to me.”

[continue to part three]

[cutekittenlady]

Planes, Trains, and Autobots

Summary Fic Part 2

[Previous] [Next]

((Srsly I need a title for this thing. Willing to take suggestions.))

Opening up on the Maltos House where, after the end of the first season, Bumblebee and the other Autobots have started taking efforts to educate the Terrans about Cybertronian culture and history in more detail. Something Alex enthusiastically takes part in.

(Really this is just an excuse for me, as a fan, to import whatever aspects of the previous lore I find most appealing, as well as inserting some stuff of my own.)

While they are doing this who should finally appear?

Ratchet. Because Ratchet needs to be in Earthspark. I will take no arguments.

(Definitely prefer his characterization as an older more experienced cybertronian medic so kinda going off that here. Generally for this fan speculative Earthspark version of Ratchet I see him, as always, being the Autobots top combat medic as well as one of their most senior and experienced members with a long friendship with Optimus. LIke a lot of the other Autobots, hes accepted Megatrons change of heart but unlike the others he doesnt necessarily get along with him and is not above bringing up past grievances or criticizing Megs for current as well as past decisions hes made. Hes generally a good hearted if grmpy guy, and a highly ethical medical practitioner with strong views.)

Optimus had asked Ratchet to finally come and meet the Terrans both to further introduce them to more potential allies they could rely on and also because it was becoming increasingly important that they finally gain an understanding of how the Terrans health works so that they can best meet their needs if they're ever hurt or in need of any other kind of medical aide.

Cue some adorable moments of Ratchet putting the Terrans through various basic exercises and roping them in when they try to show off their abilities to him while he remains unfazed. The Terrans initially think this means Ratchet doesnt like them, but Bumblebee clarifies that Ratchet is just so used to the various powers and abilities of all the cybertronians hes treated over his millions of years of life that hes almost, quite literally, seen it all. Besides which hes far more concerned with figuring out areas of the Terrans health that might need his attention rather than anything else. Lol obviously cue Ratchet being grouchy and immediately undercutting whatever it is Bumblebees just said.

Eventually the subject of Conjunx Endura (Cybertronian concept like marriage which I believe was introduced in the IDW comics) somehow comes to the Terrans attention and they try asking the various Autobots (and maybe Megatron?) about it but the group gets flustered FAST and plays hot potato with the subject until it comes to Ratchet who takes up the subject while deriding the others for not being able to get ahold of themselves to actually explain one of their most important ceremonies to the kids.

((Note: As an inherently asexual species thats nonetheless capable of the full gauntlet of emotions while ALSO living for millions of years, I tend to h/c that to the cybertronians the concept of being in love and married is an incredibly intimate subject that, historically, most younger bots aren't taught about until they're considered experienced enough in other things to grasp the gravity of the subject. The Terrans are, at most, a year old or so. So them asking the various autobots about the subject is, socially speaking, like your toddler asking you where babies come from.))

Ratchet thinks if they're old enough to ask the question, they're old enough to get an answer. Still Dot and Alex insist on being present since a) despite his enthusiasm Alex has no idea what the Conjunx Endura is, b) the terrans are all their adopted children, and c) are themselves insanely curious about what could make the autobots and Megatron so flustered. Which is good, because Ratchet winds up needing their help as his explanation of the concept is incredibly dry and tends to reference a lot of aspects of Cybertronian culture the Terrans just dont know. Dot and Alex, as adults who happen to be married, are able to compare and contrast the concept to their own marriage to help the Terrans understand.

Ratchet does insist that the two are different in various ways though Dot is quick to hammer home that the important part is that its a special ceremony only to be launched with a special person you deeply love romantically. Something Ratchet agrees with and makes clear that while he wants the Terrans to understand what a Conjunx Endura IS, they're far far too young to pursue anything of the like and are definitely too young to learn about the Conjux Ritus, the set of rituals meant to tie two Conjux Endura together.

Alex and Dot thanks Ratchet for letting them learn about something so personal to the Cybertronians but do ask, out of curiosity, why the others were so flustered about it. Ratchet explains that because Conjunx are so personal many consider it an embarrassing subject to broach in mixed and professional company, and asking a bot you dont know really well about their conjunx or whether or not they have one is considered tactless and even rude. When asked why he isn't embarrassed about the subject, he explains carefully that he actually has a conjunx of his own and "after a million years together the embarrassment of the subject just sorta wears off" though he doesnt pursue the subject of his Conjunx any further.

Instead he changes subject and tell Dot and Alex to keep in mind that the Conjunx Endura can go wrong. On Cybertron there were bad actors who would lure unsuspcted bots into forming a Conjunx for favors, gain social standing, or other perks. At best they'd then abandon them allowing the victim to make an appeal and get the whole thing nullified, but at its worse it could trap bots into loveless onesided connections, or a toxic relationship.

Ratchet is surprised to find that Dot and Alex are shockingly accepting of this, saying that sadly marriage amongst humans can run much the same risk.

Alex even making a small comment like, "Just like my soap operas/stories!"

Again they thank Ratchet for telling them all this, and for looking after the kids by making sure they're informed.

Dot tries to prompt the kids to thank Ratchet only to discover most of the group had long since gotten distracted at some point in the conversation with only Nightshade and Jawbreaker really paying attention throughout the whole thing.

Alex tries to apologize but Ratchet responds with some dry humor that having at least 2/5 of young bots fully paying attention throughout the whole explanation is actually a pretty good turnout and that they can try explaining the whole thing to the others again "in due time."

They're then interrupted by the announcement that Breakdown has arrived at the Maltos house.

[imaginedreamwrite]

Happier Than Ever

Part 3: An American, A Brit & A Scotsman

Alex Keller, by the bequest of Laswell, had personally gotten you through the 6 weeks of basic training that was necessary.

Alex Keller was the soldier who had worked with Captain Price and had been part of the 141, had tasked with getting you up to speed and ready for the first mission.

In between your time with Alex Keller, wherein you learned orders and combat skills, dependency on your teammates, and how to handle a weapon, you worked in the base hospital.

You were put through constant scenarios and training exercises that had almost broken you. The exercises that detailed what you could live through in the field, what you could have thrown at you, were the focus of your time in the medical hospital on base.

For 6 weeks, you’d been given crash courses on how to survive and deal with the life-threatening conditions of these places you could go to. And with each difference scenario you were thrown into, had been a potential breaking point for you.

Although you had done four years of medial school, and you were a registered nurse, you weren’t prepared to be thrown headfirst into combat medicine.

Your degree as a registered nurse had been encompassed with techniques that were meant to be implemented in the field. It was a complete mindset change for you, to be thrown into this necessary urgency to work as fast as possible while knowing that people would be shooting at you.

Regardless of your fear, regardless of your apprehension of working alongside a covert and deadly squad of soldiers, multinational as they were, you had been prepared as best as you possibly could be.

The first mission you were on had taken you somewhere close to the Russian border, the task of keeping the squad of soldiers alive as they hunted down a nationalist hellbent on destructive weapons entering the Ukrainian border, before being sent to the U.S. You’d attended the mission as one of two medics, thrown headfirst into the dangerous, and potentially illegal, task of finding the enemy.

It was on that first mission that you had felt true, raw fear. You were a medic, a combat nurse, and you had soldiers between you and the enemy; however, you weren’t shielded completely. The other medic you were with had been shot in the leg, a wound that you’d had to take care of while being mindful of being shot yourself.

When the mission was over, Laswell had asked you if you’d wish to continue, if you’d want to change your mind about working for this specific task force. Your mind and body were at odds. Although you had negated leaving because despite being shot at, despite the other medic having an injury that would later require surgery, you’d been stubborn enough to stick around,

The first mission had become two, and two had become three. Now, you were on your fourth with Ghost & Soap and this, despite all the risks, was all you thought you’d wanted to do. This, with the potential of death, was a job you wanted to do.

You understood that their task force and their missions couldn’t have been reduced to a simple case of black or white. There was an incredibly shady area that had hovered above the moral compass that allotted them to go into hell and back to save more people than would even know.

It wasn’t a conscienceless squad that had killed anyone in their sights, it was a chain of command and men and women themselves who had given their all. It was sacrifice and the knowledge that they may not live the next day, that they’d surrendered themselves to.

That you would, in some similar way, allot yourself to.

Laswell had been the one to recruit you; however, Captain Price had been the one to officially concede and have you part of the 141. Regardless of you being a soldier or not, you were a small part of their team, and they were a much bigger part of yours.

You depended on them far more than they had depended on you. Yet, if things had become fucked up in any sense, you would be responsible for trying to keep them alive until they could reach a doctor.

Mission 4 with you working closely with Sergeant Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish and Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley had taken you to Las Almas. And Las Almas was nothing like you had expected, even from a first initial impression.

The first blast of heat that hit you when you stepped off the ramp had been overshadowed easily by the streets that the Humvee was being driven down.

The streets that were laid with cobblestone and concrete, edges with brightly coloured buildings and overhanging trees or fauna, was undercut with dark and tempestuous control. The Las Almas Cartel had a sick hold on the city, one that you’d been warned about from Laswell & Price, and would see its hand now.

“White truck, four armed men in the back.” Soap’s voice was quiet, yet he warned Ghost, the lieutenant flexing his fingers against the belly of his gun.

You looked back over your shoulder at the passing vehicle, the white truck had been during down the road before turning the corner. Each man in the back had a rifle of some kind, all the men seemingly relaxed enough like it was a regular occurrence. Almost as if it were as normal as carrying a cellphone.

“Hey, tranquilo. Easy, that’s normal here.” Colonel Vargas had raised a hand to calm the building tension, and to reiterate the difference between Las Almas and everything else you’d seen before. “Guns on the street is the jurisdiction of the police.”

“Where are the police?” As Ghost questioned Alejandro, you leaned forward and looked out the window Soap was sitting beside, seeing a large and emboldened image of the Virgin Mary on a building, and on top of her image was El Sin Nombre written in black letters.

“Well, Las Almas has a very serious problem. There are few here to uphold the law. And many of those who resist corruption disappear.” Alejandro had spoken so calmly when he spoke of the disappearances, this every day occurrence to men like them was almost no different from experiences you’d had in the U.S.

Hearing of shootings almost daily in the US had been common to you, just as these disappearances were common to them.

“What about the military?” Soap set a hand on your shoulder and pulled you back to sit again, his eyes briefly locking on yours before he looked back at Alejandro.

“Well, because we are well-trained, soldiers are recruited by the narcos.” Another fact, another plain statement that was so common for men like Alejandro and Rudy.

“Why not you?” Ghost and Soap were carrying the conversation while you remained quiet. You were observant, trying to catch as much of the streets of Las Almas as you could.

“We grew up here. They call us Los Vaqueros…cowboys.” Alejandro had looked toward Rudy, the two of them sharing a single glance, almost communicating without words. “We love this place, and we will die fighting for it.”

As the vehicle turned a corner, you’d leaned forward again. You watched a father and his child buying a balloon, a sight which would have been common if it hadn't had been the armed man standing behind the child. The assault rifle in his hands was held down but tightly, and he had worn a skull balaclava like Ghost had borne.

“Kids, guns and balloons, that’s new.” Soap, side-eyed Ghost, his voice holding an edge.

“Think that’s more common than you think.” You finally spoke, muttering under your breath as you took another look at the scene unfolding.

“Narcos use generosity to win over the people.” Alejandro had nodded his head, understanding Soap’s reaction but adding further details into how corrupt the city was.

“Even the children?” It was a shared sentiment, though not one that you could say you’d gone without seeing.

Although not to this extent, with the US having the right to bear arms written in the Declaration of Independence, you could honestly say that you had witnessed men and women carrying guns around state fairs and celebrations while kids ran wild. It was a different atmosphere here however than it was back home, and this had carried with it a weight of corruption unheard of.

“Especially the children….” Rudys voice had carried to the back, and you’d heard him speak but hadn’t registered what he said.

Rather, your attention was grabbed by another image of the Virgin Mary on the side of the building, and a scene in an alley that made your skin crawl.

“What the fuck?” You cursed louder than anticipated, leaning forward to see first hand the taunting nature of this cartel with your own eyes. “What the fuck is that?”

In the back alley was an old truck with its tailgate down and a white cloth covered in black painted letters, the message was no less chilling than it was debilitating. On the stone road had laid two bodies, covered with the same white cloth and black lettered message.

“Narcomantas,” Alejandro rolled down the window of the Humvee, his eyes trained on the grisly sight.

“Cartel cloths,” Rudy had looked through the rearview mirror, catching your gaze as he spoke to you.

“Messages from El Sin Nombre. Warnings, marking territory. Our streets are laced with death.” The window, just as soon as it was rolled down, was rolled up again, and the vehicles started moving.

“Who’s Sin Nombre?” Ghost’s thick accent had bared the question, and it hung in the air for a few milliseconds before Alejandro corrected him.

“El Sin Nombre, the Nameless…the leader of the Las Almas Cartel.”

“Where can we find him?” Soap’s focus was aimed forward, while yours was trained on the streets. You couldn’t stop looking at the death, and the corruption they’d spoken of that bled through every seemingly endless faction of this city.

“You can’t. No one knows who he is.” Alejandro looked out the window, an image belonging to El Sin Nombre appearing on the side of a building.

It was different from the ones before. Instead of the Virgin Mary, this image was crafted and created with flowers and bright colours that drew your attention. It looked entirely unseemly, and if you’d not known about the Las Almas cartel, you would’ve almost admired the images that were painted on that old brick.

“And this is a challenge. But Los Vaqueros like challenges.”

“With your mask, you’ll fit in well here, Ghost.” Rudy, attempting to steer the conversation, had spoken in the small moment of silence.

Soap had raised his hand and waved it in front of his neck, a signal not to push the issue, as Ghost glanced toward Rudy. You had snorted softly and laughed under your breath, remembering shortly before that Sergeant Major Rudy Parra had expressed his fear of ghosts.

“Something funny, private?” Soap grinned, nudging you when he heard you laugh. His blue eyes settled on you expectantly.

“Nothing, Sergeant.” you returned the respect for rank and cleared your throat. “Stupid joke.”

Your time spent with Soap and Ghost as their medic, more than most others in the 141, had led to an eased relationship between you and Soap. He wasn’t just your CO, he was also your friend and took the role of an older brother. In a sense, despite only being a few years older than you.

“Fuck, now you gotta share.” Soap’s natural charm had easily won over most people he had met and if you hadn’t seen him in uniform or known he was in the army, you’d never suspected a thing.

“It’s so stupid.” You looked away from him, laughing under your breath again.

“Now you gotta tell me.” Soap nudged you again. “Come on, don’t hold out.”

“You don’t need a parachute to go skydiving. You need a parachute to go skydiving twice.” You laughed under your breath, again.

“That was shit.” Soap laughed regardless of your stupid joke, the two of you conversing between each other in the back, and without needing to turn you could feel Ghost glaring at you.

“I told you it was a stupid joke!” You defended yourself, a moment of eased tension in the Humvee, until the vehicle had come to a slow roll.

“Checkpoint. It’s the army, turn right, and we’ll go around.” There was a barricade in the street with armed soldiers on either side of the entrance further down the street, blocking off any access.

As the vehicle was turned, you took another look out the window at the armoured vehicles behind the barricades. The soldiers who were waiting even further behind the checkpoint with unseen weapons to destroy and eliminate anyone who didn’t pass their inspection.

“Why?” Soap questioned the change, and received a response that was spoken with that same fact-of-life energy as before.

“Some troops are in the pocket of El Sin Nombre. Like I told you, he is everywhere…” There was a beat of silence, half a moment where the weight of his news had settled upon the three of you, and then he spoke again.

“The Cartel is hiding Hassan in the village across the river. Let’s hope he’s still there.” The vehicles picked up speed as the street cleared again, the destination was first going to be Los Vaqueros base.

There was intel they would need at the base, along with a scourge of weapons that would be waiting for both Soap & Ghost. There was no shortage of preparation for this mission, no small risk about following them into gunfire despite you being the medic responsible for keeping them alive.

Regardless of the hell that was being unleashed within Las Almas at the hands of the cartel, the city, and its surroundings, itself were beautiful.

The landscape of the surrounding hills had been captivating on its own without the lush, thick greenery that encapsulated the landscape. You hadn’t gotten a look at the ocean as you were transported to the city, however you imagined that the waters were just as wondrous and captivating as the rest of the country.

You wished you could’ve seen the nature and beauty of Mexico without being here to help track down a terrorist. Furthermore, you’d wished you could’ve spent days and weeks on the water, or near it, feeling the sun on your skin without the weight of your bulletproof vest on your chest and shoulders.

“It’s beautiful here.” Your comment had been aired, despite you thinking it was kept in your head.

“Las Almas is a beautiful but dangerous city.” Sergeant Major Rudy Parra had met your comment with one of his own, and had looked at you in the rearview mirror. “Have any of you been to mexico before?”


“Private here always wanted to go.” Soap nudged you, grinning from ear to ear. “Though I think you’d rather be on a beach somewhere.”

“Yeah, with your head on a pike.” Your back and forth was mutually beneficial, despite the rank and the years of service between you. “Asshole.”

“So temperamental, PT!” Soap’s voice matched his laugh, especially after you’d struck him in the shoulder with your fist. “Maybe you need to sit on a beach somewhere.”

“You first!” You grit your teeth, all conversation dying when the vehicles had come to a slow stop in front of the gate that protected their base from any outside interference.

It was a momentary conversation between Sergeant Parra and the soldier guarding the gate, before it began to roll open and the humvee’s were allowed in.

[deputy-buck]

“The Marine Recon Mission Essential List, that group of skills deemed vital to the job, fills a book. Patrolling, navigation, calling in air strikes, communications, parachuting, diving, shooting, swimming, driving boats, hand-to-hand combat, and so on, seemingly without end. Medical training tended to fall through the cracks, with mock casualties fairy-dusted back to life before they seriously impeded other objectives on any training exercise. I was lucky to have a corpsman who refused to accept that. Doc Bryan was a Special Amphibious Reconnaissance Corpsman, or SARC, one of the most highly trained field medics in the U.S. military.

After joining the platoon a few months before deploying to the Middle East, he’d drilled each man on basic trauma care. In Kuwait, he’d put together blowout kits for the whole platoon. The kits contained the essentials to keep a wounded Marine alive - saline IV bags, battle dressings, and QuikClot, a chemical compound to cauterize arterial bleeds. He’d also led the platoon in making tourniquets, to be worn loosely around the neck for easy access, and threatened to pummel any man caught without his. Doc’s final contribution was not material but tactical. He stressed that the job of any Marine wounded in a firefight was to keep shooting until his team or the platoon was out of danger. Wounded men don’t have the luxury of giving up the fight. Doc Bryan’s gifts became real on the road outside Muwaffiqiya.“

- Nate Fick, One Bullet Away. (p. 269)

[shellbells-things]

I’ve been seeing things on X(Twitter) about how the 5th Artillery Unit is going to be participating in some training.

Interestingly(🙄), most people are just mentioning Jimin (not the one I screenshot though). I assume they are doing that because he is their focus, but it might also be because they want to push the narrative that JK and Jimin are separated. Sigh…..The post below is from the 5th Division website. Notice that it says THE ENTIRE UNIT will be busy preparing for the training. ENTIRE means ALL.

This is basically a simulation of a real combat situation. W@r Games, if you will. In real life comb@t, the entire unit would deploy, so I am assuming it would be the same for training. This typically would include artillery experts, medical doctors, kitchen staff, logistic specialist, mechanics, etc. The unit needs to have all of its moving parts there to train together. Out in the field during a w@rtime scenario, they have to know how to treat injuries, how to provide food under less than stellar circumstances, how to manage supplies, plan miltary campaigns based on in-the-moment intel, and so on. Participants must study and prepare for the training camp ahead of deployment, then they deploy and the war scenario is played out on every level. Every military has these types of deployments/trainings. Most of the time, the people who participate in these exercise really enjoy it, as it gives them the opportunity to put all of their training to the test. I hope Jikook finds some fun in their training!

[43110there]

The Tournament

Pairing: None...??? Rex/Reader if you squint. Not that hard, really. oops

Summary: You train with some of the best in the 501st legion in a tournament they came up with.

Warnings: light sparring violence, dats it

A/N: I almost made this character a natborn medic, but I decided against it. It just felt off, so I'm choosing to be vague about Y/N's professional relationship to the clones. A better explanation will appear in another fic, I'm sure (OC time???)

Hope it's not too dry. Just luv da boys. Enjoy! <3

~

"Three, two," the countdown began.

Your eyes gleamed behind two, wrapped knuckles raised in a fighting position. The sparring mat gently sunk beneath your weight with tears and years of use. You kept your stance wide and your breathing steady. Fives shot you a grin and winked, forming his own stance across from you.

"Good luck, soldier," he teased.

"One,"

You narrowed your eyes at him.

"Go!"

This training exercise was quickly growing popular among the clones, specifically in the 501st legion. It started off as a one-on-one with Captain Rex, who practiced with his brothers in hand-to-hand combat whenever it was appropriate. As time went on, the troopers wanted to further test their abilities against each other. Fives started keeping track of the wins and losses, boasting about his scores with the rest of the legion. Jesse and Echo were having none of it, which soon led to tournament days. After training with these troopers for so long, it was no surprise that you were invited to participate. Instead of wearing full sets of armor, competitors opted to wear their blacks along with some light sparring armor.

You learned in previous training sessions that Fives was not the most thoughtful fighter. He fought with a great deal of passion, a feature that greatly outweighed his patience. But Echo wasn't sitting on the sidelines for nothing, massaging tender limbs. You were up in the following round, and you had to take Fives down. For everyone's sake, if not the danger of Fives' obnoxious ego.

He began taking swings at you the moment the match started. You blocked as many as you could with your forearms, covering your face from the back to back blows. Your body was going to regret it later for sure, so you cherished the concentrated look on Fives' face as he watched you endure the hits. But you both knew you could only take so much. With one quick shove he sent you stumbling back. Before you could recover, he caught your jaw in a nasty left hook. Your face hit the floor with a loud smack, and you struggled to push yourself to your feet.

"Don't take it too hard," Fives smirked, "if I win this one. There's always next time."

He eased his posture while he spoke, waiting for you to get up. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Rex mark the small score board in his hands.

"Come on, Y/N!" Jesse shouted. He sat next to Echo, who looked like he'd rather be in another room sleeping. Kix stood off to the side with a few other spectators, arms crossed.

"Remember, any remarkable injury counts as a penalty," Kix warned. "I don't want to send anyone to–"

"GO Y/N!" Jesse roared, followed by the cheers of the small crowd that had gathered, when you kicked Fives square in the chest. Your force caught him off guard, causing him to stumble back a few feet. Any remanence of Kix's words died out as your movement increased, pushing the match to the edges of the mat. The medic grumbled to himself while Rex suppressed a smile, marking up points for your comeback.

The banter from Fives ceased as he put all of his concentration into countering your advances. You swung and ducked, not letting him get another hit on you. He blocked your swings and stepped back towards the center of the mat, but his footing became unsteady. Without thinking, you sidestepped Fives next swing, his right hand whizzing past you. You kicked your leg out beneath him and felt his full weight catch on it. In the span of a few seconds, Fives was sprawled out on the floor. The training room was buzzing as you knelt down beside him and tapped his head, racking up more points to your score.

"And that's time!" Kix announced. Rex showed him the points on the score board before he added: "Looks like Y/N wins this round!"

Jesse grinned and held out a palm to Dogma, who passed him a few credits. Echo just smiled from ear to ear at you as you rose to your feet.

"That might count as a penalty, Y/N," he chuckled. His laugh infected his next few words. "I don't know if Fives' pride will recover."

"Alright, alright!" Fives grumbled. His tone sent you into your own fit of laughter. You received a few pats on the back from the other clones, distracting you from the progression of the tournament.

"Guess that means I'm next."

The chatter died down as Rex stepped forward. The laughter faded on your lips as Rex handed Kix the score board and joined you on the training mat. You swore Fives almost looked relieved that he had lost. He plopped himself between Jesse and Echo.

"Oh Kriff this is gonna be good–" Fives began, before receiving a smack to the head from Jesse and Echo simultaneously.

"Cut it out and watch!"

While the banter ensued, Rex began wrapping his own knuckles to match yours. You didn't bother checking your own. Instead, you stared at Rex like he was a newly discovered species.

"Nervous?" he asked, tying off the wraps on his right hand. His voice was quiet enough to keep it between the two of you. Normally, the calm rumble of his voice was soothing. But it hardly reached your ears. You couldn't decide which was worse, the fact that Rex was going to experience your technique (or lack thereof) firsthand, or that you might not even last another whole match.

You scoffed, trying to play it cool. Rex cocked an eyebrow at that. You cleared your throat and nodded.

"Yes. Very."

He chuckled. His finished wrapping his left hand and flexed it.

"You'll do fine." His eyes flickered up to yours. "You fight pretty well."

Any other day and your spirits would have soared. Instead you gave him a tight smile. "Thanks, Rex."

"Ready?" Kix asked. It seemed to be more of an announcement than a question. You and Rex nodded. You hardly registered the countdown while you met the captain's gaze. You hoped you didn't look as nervous as you felt.

"Go!"

You're not sure why you expected Rex to be slower to initiate the fight than Fives. As Rex started landing blows, you realized that he wasn't impatient like your former opponent was. Each movement was deliberate. You quickly realized you would need to put more effort in completely dodging his attacks if you were going to last. You sidestepped, landed a quick hit to his shoulder, and put some space between you. Rex watched your movements and smirked.

"Going somewhere?" he muttered.

"Just taking my time." You breathed. "No need to rush."

The rest of the clones watched in silence. Not even Fives made any comments as Rex quickly closed the distance between you.

He swung, you ducked. You sprung back up, your fist colliding with his cheek. The quick blow raised your spirits, but he made quick work of your advances. In a matter of seconds he sent you flying to the mat. It was a rough fall, one that had your head throbbing. Once you sat up and gathered your bearings again, you saw that Rex had frozen up.

Is he worried? You thought. His physique and stance didn't match the soft, scared look he was giving you. He turned to Kix, and your gut told you he was going to cut the round short. You scrambled to your feet.

"Don't you dare!" Rex's head snapped back to you, and you grinned. "Round's not done."

Rex's eyes gleamed, still with a concerned glint to them. He really looked like a puppy, you thought, when he wasn't pummeling his opponents into the ground. He slowly resumed a fighting stance.

"Ok," he said.

And so the fight dragged on and on. One second you were on your feet, and the next the room blurred around you. For the third time, you were thrown flat on your back. You wheezed, watching Rex panting above you. When you stayed put, he turned again to Kix. The clone medic was checking the clock, and you realized you were close to time.

You knew that score board was not marked in your favor, but the adrenaline coursing through your body pushed the thought aside. Your limbs burned as you managed to lock your legs behind Rex's feet. Before he could react, you kicked his feet out from under him. Rex landed on his back with a loud thud. The whole room sucked in a breath.

"Time!"

You lay there on the mat for a little while. You heard a bit of shuffling from Rex's side. Eventually you propped yourself on your elbows to find him staring at you. He looked completely flustered. You realized that, regardless of how the points added up, you had managed to surprise him.

"The winner for the final round in the tournament is Rex!" Kix announced, but the audience was already cheering. Your eyes never left Rex as he stood up and offered you a hand.

"Y/N, you did well," he said. He pulled you up and seemed to freeze again, at a loss for words. Before either of you could say anything, Jesse clapped you on the back, making you wince.

"Y/N, that was incredible!"

"We knew you couldn't beat our captain," Fives shrugged. "But it was a good effort."

"We can get Kix to do a checkup on you," Echo offered. You almost laughed when Rex's expression immediately contorted with concern.

"I think I'm fine, nothing a good night's sleep can't fix," you waved them off.

"Make that a couple of nights." Echo agreed, rolling his shoulder with a groan.

"You're a bunch of shinies if you're spent after a good ol' tournament day!" Fives laughed, straightening his posture. "I could go for another round or two."

The comment came with a price. Jesse cashed it in by giving him another smack on the back of his head. "Oh give us a break. You'll feel it tomorrow."

They made their way out of the training room with the others. You made to join them, when your wrist was tugged back. You swiveled to see Rex looking at you, then down at the mat. Then back at you.

"Are you sure you're alright?" He pressed. "I didn't mean to be too rough, but if I was I need you to let me know–"

"Rex." You stopped him. His eyes stayed on yours this time. "I'm ok, I promise. I wouldn't have wanted you to go easy on me, anyway."

Eventually he nodded and let go of your wrist.

"Besides, you'll have to get used to not holding back. I don't know when the next tournament day is, but I'll be ready for it," you smirked. You pat him on the shoulder and began following the others. He quickly joined you. He looked thoughtful while he walked beside you, and you were prompted to ask him what was on his mind when he spoke first.

"Right," he said. "As if I'd let you reach the top on your second tournament day."

And from there on out, you couldn't wait for the next one.