#Forgive me I’m bad at tech

[lucy-stoolz]

[zeb-z]

but can we talk about plan 99. the audio. how quiet the music is, and how loud Tech is over it. his quiet resolution as he does what he does best, making hard decisions for the safety of his siblings. the way you can hear the gun move, cock, and your stomach drops before he even fires. it’s quiet, somehow both still in time and dragging out, everyone frozen, until the car and him drops and the music swells, and Wrecker and Omega start to scream, far too late to save him. the sky car snapping back up onto the track and moving fast, too fast, the music loud and scene chaotic and confusing.

can we talk about how emphasized his shot is, loud and final? and can we talk about how Tech fell and took the clarity with him?

[spacedilflvr]

watching star wars with someone who has never seen it in chronological order is honestly so good for the soul. watching them react in the same way you did.

[rotthepoet]

In love with your writing, specially bsf!theo. I’m in such an angst mood. Everyone knows we’re in love with Theo and he’s in love with us besides the two of us. Longing with fwb to lovers? Maybe some more smut if you’re feeling spicy?

IN LOVE WITH YOU, POOKIE!!! If theres one thing I know how to do its YEARN and LONG so lets hope that translates into writing 🙏 it’s been a hot minute since I wrote an actual fic, and i took a few liberties with your rq, so please let me know how you feel about it!

Notes: i typically write for a gn!reader, but I really hope everyone can forgive me for writing in a FEM perspective today. It just makes writing smut a tad bit easier on me(an afab person)

Content warnings: As always, Hogwarts University AU, Characters are all 18+, Draco Malfoy calls Nott a fat ass(degrading eating habits, commenting on working out), Theo’s mom is dead, mutual pining but being too stupid to figure it out, crying during sex but not in a hot way(no safe word used/tech needed), angstyish to comfort, use of drugs(weed), SMUT, oral(fem receiving), kinda proofread? Please let me know if I miss anything major.

Things only got more intense as the… situation went on. Hooking up had become significantly more common, almost a daily occurrence. You found your mind drifting to Theodore more often than not, thinking about how disheveled his hair looked in the morning, or how the first words he mumbled when he saw you today were “Hello, beautiful”.

Your thoughts never strayed too far from Theodore, and to be honest, it felt like he never strayed too far from you.

In the most recent months, it felt like you two had become inseparable. That’s not to say it was a bad thing at all, oh no in fact, it made you quite happy to know he was around. He was your friend after all. The sex-thing, as you opted to call it, was just a benefit you both indulged in time to time.

Of course, neither of you dared to openly admit your scandalous behavior together. It wasn’t anyone’s business, even as Theodore had started seeing less women and spending less nights out partying. It wasn’t anyone’s business when Theo wrapped an arm around your shoulder while walking around Hogsmeade, or when he smiled at you when you weren’t looking. It wasn’t anyone’s business whenever Theo stopped sleeping around completely, and it certainly wasn’t their business when he beat the shit out of one of the Weasley twins for accidentally catching you in the crossfire of a loose prank.

It wasn’t anyone’s business besides the two of yours, and for the most part people had began to ignore it, except for a select group of close friends.

A day didn’t go by where you weren’t pestered by one of Theodore’s friends. They collectively figured that you were more likely to break under pressure than Theo was. It was ruthless.

Draco Malfoy stands at the front of your desk, glaring down at you. “You know you’re just another one of his phases. He does this. Falls helplessly in love with a girl, dedicates his entire time to her, only to remember he isn’t built for that life. It’s about time you save yourself the trouble. I’m only trying to help.”

Not everyone was as terrible as Draco, thankfully.

Mattheo Riddle would approach you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist, putting on his most convincing Theodore impression. “Ciao, Bella,” even his most convincing impression wasn’t very good, “My room or yours?”

Sometimes you play along, running your hands over Mattheo’s in a way that makes his skin prick with goosebumps. “I was thinking we could do it on Matt’s bed again.”

That usually get’s you a hard shove away if Theodore hadn’t already spotted the situation.

Lorenzo Berkshire isn’t as insistent, just staring at the two of you, raising a brow whenever he finds you hand in hand. He draws a huge smirk on his face every time he sees you alone.

“Where’s your boyfriend?”

“You mean your boyfriend? I see the way you look at him, don’t play dumb Enzo.”

He doesn’t like that game as much. Usually scoffs and ignores you.

Then there was Blaise Zabini.

Blaise Zabini.

He knows more than he should. Far more than he should. He watches. He listens. He knows. He perceives.

The first time Blaise found you asleep in Theo’s arms, it was early in the morning. Their little clique never missed breakfast together unless something drastic had happened. So, whenever Theodore didn’t show up for breakfast, Blaise volunteered to check on him. Only Draco questioned it when Blaise grabbed a plate and two muffins(“Those are practically cakes, Nott’s fat ass doesn’t need one to begin with, let alone two! Doesn’t even show up to quidditch practice anymore.”). Draco was ignored.

“You’re going to lose her if you keep acting like this, you know that right?”

Theodore tries to ignore Blaise as best he can, he really does. He traces his fingers over your hair softly, watching you dream.

“Just tell her, Theo. What are you so scared of?”

“Drop it, Blaise.”

“No. You obviously love her, you’re obviously in love with her!”

“Lower your voice-“

“Why are you so scared? Is it your father, Theo? Is it your-”

“I mean it Zabini, drop it.”

The room goes eerily quiet as you shift slightly in Theodores arms. It lasts for only a moment before your breathing returns to the deep, rhythmic patterns.

“Get out.”

Blaise didn’t brother bringing it up after that. He knew what was going to happen, and he was going to let it play out. It wasn’t his business, after all.

Your friends weren’t much different. You stopped hanging out with them as much, not on purpose at all, but it didn’t go unnoticed. Maybe one or two of your friends resented Nott for it, “He’s a playboy, everyone knows that. I don’t like how close he’s getting to you.” Or “You aren’t… sleeping with him right? Please tell me you aren’t.”

Both you and Theodore laughed endlessly about every comment. It was silly. I mean yeah, you two fuck, but you’re just friends. You’re just friends, and friends can totally cuddle each other to sleep, and friends can totally kiss without sex. Its not a big deal! Its not a big deal as Theo almost pukes every time he says, “You’re my friend, I’d tell you if anything changed.” And it’s not a big deal when your chest aches as you say “Same here. It’s not that weird when you think about it.”

It wasn’t a big deal the first time you cried during sex. It wasn’t a big deal when he pulled out immediately and held your face, asking what he can do for you to make it better. It wasn’t a big deal when you sobbed in his arms for hours, chest hurting because you loved him so much and you knew you could never say anything. It wasn’t a big deal when Theodore kissed your mouth shut when you tried to apologize. It was a big deal though. It was a really big deal.

It was a big deal when you wrote your name next to Nott like a child. It was a big deal when you kicked your feet in bed thinking about how he called you pretty. It was a big deal when he kissed your cheek so absentmindedly that it felt natural. It felt right.

It was a big deal, and it hurt so bad.

But you could manage. Look at how strong you are. Look at how composed you are. You knew that one day all of this would come to an end, and you were okay with that! It was something you knew you could one day stomach, so for now, you didn't let yourself worry about it.

What you worried about instead, was how fine the object of your affection looked tonight.

Theodore was dressed to the nines. Black slacks, a loose button-up shirt, and those eyes that undressed you no matter where you were. He was gorgeous, and he knew it. You looked wonderful too, showing just enough skin to keep Theo on his toes.

Slytherin winning the house cup was a moment to be celebrated, the common room decorated and loud music playing from every corner of the room. You and Theodore spent every moment together, laughing whenever someone dared approach either of you for a dance.

Smoke curled out of Theodore's lips as he snuffed out the filter of a joint you had shared. He grinned at you, and you smiled at him, and everything else faded away.

Time slowed down, and Theodore's smile fell.

"I want to be with you, this summer."

And you laughed and smiled, nudging his arm slightly. "Well, all you need to do is invite me to your summer home in Italy, and I promise I'll spend every day with you."

"No. I want to be with you."

And for a moment, it felt like everything was still. Theodore looked so scared, and you looked so scared, and your mind was fighting the high to fully understand and process his words.

"With me?"

"With you."

You bit the inside of your cheek, almost not realizing whenever Theodore groaned and stood up.

"Theo."

"Fuck. I knew this was a bad idea."

"Theodore."

"I'm sorry. I knew we shouldn't have."

"Theodore Nott, look at me right now."

And he did. He looked at you so sadly. It made your heart ache.

"I want to be with you, too."

It felt like a brick that sat on your heart had finally been lifted. You laughed at the smile that spread across his face. You laughed as he pressed sloppy kisses against your lips. You laughed as he picked you up, kissing you stupid as he carried you to your room.

The weed still made your mind and body buzz with a high, and fuck, every touch felt better than ever before.

Your back hit the mattress, and Theo climbed over you. He looked so handsome, and you felt so pretty the way he looked at you. His hands worked at your dress, pulling you into a deep kiss as he found the zipper in the back.

Your hands gracelessly unbuttoned his shirt, whining into the kiss as you struggled. Finally, with a small chuckle, Theo offered to help you. His hands worked smoothly, pulling his shirt off his shoulders.

"You're stunning."

"Take a look at yourself, cara mia."

Theodore pushed you back down, gripping your hips as he dragged you to the edge of the bed. You laugh, resting your hands over his, feeling just how wet you are between your thighs. You lean your head back, sighing softly as Theo drops to his knees.

Nothing else mattered when Theodore's tongue found your clothed pussy. His strong and veiny hands pushed your thighs further apart, and pathetic mewls spilled from your lips as he licked you.

Theodore continued to tease you, a grin plastered to his face at every moan and whine you let slip out. He licks over the lace of your panties, daring to suck on your clit through the soaked fabric. Pleas spill from your lips, and Theo can't bite back his groan as you tug on his curls.

Dead eyes look up at you from between your legs, and Theo pulled away just enough to remove the lace hiding your heat from him. He blows on your wet folds, pulling your thighs to his shoulders.

"I think I could stay like this forever, right here."

You roll your eyes and sit up, pulling Theo up just enough to admire his wet face. "I think I'd miss your face too much," you laugh, leaning in and kissing his lips, shivering as you taste yourself on him.

"I have a few other positions that I wouldn't mind staying in."

You push away his smirking face with a laugh, gasping for air suddenly as his mouth finds your clit. Gasps turn into soft whines as his tongue moves across your pearl, your hips jerking and shifting at each motion. You can feel his smirk as he licks a long stripe from your hole to your clit, collecting your arousal on his tongue.

"Theo," You whine out, but he silences you with a long finger prodding at your entrance. He shushes you, planting wet kisses along your thigh. "I know, bella, just take a deep breath. 'Gotta stretch you out all the way."

A needy moan slipped from your lips as a finger slipped inside of you. You could hear how wet you were, and Theo pulled back just enough to watch the digit disappear inside of you. He pressed a second finger in, carefully spreading them inside of you.

"So soft. So pliant."

His whispers made your legs shake as he stretched you out thoroughly. The knot in your stomach grew tighter, and it became almost unbearable as his lips found your clit again. He was slow, savoring the feeling of your legs shaking beside his head, and the feeling of your walls clenching around him.

Ecstasy flooded your mind before you had a moment to think about it. Theo groaned into your cunt, committing the taste to memory. He continued working his fingers in and out of your cunt until you were shaking in overstimulation, only then finally freeing himself from between your legs.

"You have one more in you, right? Can't get enough of you, cara mia. Will never have enough of you."

[peachesofteal]

First Sight

Chapter 1 of 2. Part five of the Sassy series. Reblogs, comments, likes, interactions, etc are cherished by me. 🖤

Simon Riley/female reader 5.9k words - AO3

Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI, pregnant reader, PTSD, thigh riding, Simon talks you through it, praise kink, explicit sex, jealousy, possessive Simon, angst, tenderness, mentions of blood and violence, nightmares, childbirth, medical procedures, Simon is bad at feelings; Simon is learning how to have his feelings. Simon has felt this before.

“And you are?” 

“I’m her… I’m the baby’s father. We had her information updated two weeks ago, at the office. I’m listed as her emergency contact.” The doctor looks skeptical but taps a few keys on her laptop before she glances back to him. 

“Last name?” 

“Riley.”

“Sorry, Mr. Riley. She’s been my patient for nearly seven months, and I’ve never seen or heard of you.” Bloody hell. His jaw clenches together so hard he thinks his teeth might shatter. 

“I’ve been overseas.” The lights and sounds are scratching under his skin, making him tense, priming him for a fight. “I came in on the ambulance with her... I have to be with her. She can’t be alone when she wakes up. She’ll be scared. She won’t… she has P-.” 

“I am aware of her history.” The doctor snipes and his fist tightens, tendons curling until his hand becomes a weapon, not thing the of comfort it was a mere ten minutes ago. 

“Look. I’m on her list. So you can let me back there or-“ She holds her hand up to silence him and the vein in his forehead pulses. 

“I’ve already paged a tech to bring you to her room, Mr. Riley. It’s just going to be a few minutes.” She gives him a reproachful look before she says something about coming by to check on you shortly, and he lets out a long breath.

You’re somewhere else. Your eyes are trained on the e-reader in your hand, but they’re not moving across the screen. You’re not blinking. Your breathing is even, and deep, but your fingers are fisted in the blanket, and your gaze is burning a hole through the bed, through the floor, possibly right down to the core of the earth.

It makes Simon nervous.

Not because he is afraid of your PTSD.

He is afraid of you slipping away. Sometimes, you leave and come back a different girl, the guarded one, the one that hasn’t tried to forgive him, the one who is reliving the pain he caused her every second. The one who takes your place when you disappear right in front of him, who’s memories burn too bright.

He knows he may never be fully absolved in your mind, but you still show him mercy. You still let him in, still let him have you, except in the moments when you fall through his fingers like tiny grains of sand. Those moments may have been earned, but it doesn’t make their sting any less painful, and he struggles in throes of them.

“Sass?” He calls, cautiously, reaching for where your hand is clenched. His fingers graze the sheets, the softness of the fabric much like your skin. They must be expensive, he figures, the cotton luxurious against the rough scrape of his palm. He thinks he likes the color, the soft green that matches the chair and the trim in the baby’s room. “Glacial green,” you correct him every time he calls it light green, or blue green, or pea soup. It’s a natural tone, earthy, and you seem to gravitate towards it, always telling him you think the color is ‘soothing’ or ‘calming’. You have a few shirts and sweaters in the same palette too, and an old, faded sweatshirt that you used to wear when you were with the 141, worn out lettering stitched across the chest. It was too big for you then, always drooping below the flare of your hips, the hem stretched out and curled. Now, it pulls snugly across your middle while you lay in bed beside him, where the e-reader sits in your dainty fingers. He doesn’t know how you’ve done it, keep your fingers so velvet and smooth, even after your years in the desert. “Sass.” He tries again, louder, squeezing with the lightest bit of pressure until you blink.

“I’m here.”

“I know.” You turn your face up towards him with a sleepy smile, and he reaches for you without hesitation. “Tired?” He murmurs into your hair, your nose just slightly smashed into his neck.

“Mmm. Yeah, sleep sounds nice.” He finds the light easily, pulling the room into darkness with a flick of the chain, and returns to press his face to yours before succumbing to the pull of sleep.

“I mean, did you get a good look at her?”

“Shit. I’d bury my face in that ass. EOD is air force, right? Think she’s got a landing strip?”

“Dunno but I’d be coming in for a landing all the time if she was on my squad.” The table of privates laugh to each other, and Simon’s fingers curl around the bottom of the beer bottle in front of him. He briefly considers, for a moment, if Price would dismiss him if he broke it over one of their heads and then used the shards to slit the rest of their throats. Bleed ‘em out right there on the table. 

He shifts on the stool. Johnny gives him a skeptical look. One of them, says something else. Sounds a little like ‘tight’ and ‘pussy’ strung together. Another one snickers. 

He’s on his feet behind them before anyone realizes. The low drone of rage pressurizes inside his skull. 

“Want to share what’s so funny, private?” The table falls silent immediately, all of them staring up at him, dumbfounded.

“N-nothing’s funny, sir.”

“Ya sure about that?” Johnny chimes in before Simon can say anything. 

“The bomb tech, we were just… appreciating her. Saying how nice it must be nice, having something like that to look at all the time.” Simon can feel the heat of Johnny’s gaze on the nape of his neck.

“The bomb tech outranks you, private. You will address her as Sergeant.”

“Y- yes, sir.”

When he gets back to the base and little house the 141 is crammed into, you’re already asleep in your room. Sprawled across the shitty thin mattress, your shirt rucked up around your stomach, little boyshorts riding the curve of your hips. The scar from Belize is still shiny across your ribs, peachy and puckered. The sight of you safe and sleeping soothes the raw buzzing of anger in the back of his head. 

His girl. His. 

He’s already got his hands all over you by the time he gets his boots off, and you shift a little when he presses his face into the top of your ass. 

“Simon?” you mumble. “Y’okay?” Simon, Simon, Simon. It’s always Simon with you now. You’re constantly stripping him bare with it, and he doesn’t even know your name.

He teases a hand across your skin, over the scar and up under the peak of your breast to your nipple, where he rolls the already hardening bud between his fingers. You shudder with a moan, shoulders twisting to turn yourself on your back, but he stops you. His teeth find the swell of your ass, and he sinks them deep. You squeak. 

“Can you hold still?” He says, your body answering for you with a shiver. The bite woke you sharply, and you watch him out of the corner of your eye. 

He pulls the underwear down your legs until they disappear, and then sinks his fingers into your cheeks. The glisten of your cunt shimmers, already wet, already waiting for him. 

“Scoot back, sweet girl. Up on your knees.” You do as he says, shimmying down until you’re pressing against his thigh, clit ghosting against the fabric of his jeans, just barely. Your hips are shifting, slowly, and he knows you’re trying to get just a little bit more friction. He leans over you, gloved hand in your hair. “Now be good for me and rub your desperate little clit on my leg until you come.” You shake your head no and he rears back, pulling off his shirt and gloves, leaving the mask and his jeans the only thing on his body. He slaps you across your ass, just hard enough to watch the skin turn under his palm, and you jolt with a moan, cunt pushing back against his leg. “Do you want me to give you my cock, Sass?” you nod frantically. “Then ride my thigh until you’re coming on it.” The curve of a smile, a smirk, pushes at your cheek, and you start to move your hips, slowly at first, and then fevered, chasing your high while he watches. “That’s my girl, just like that.” 

You start to jerk erratically, your face screwing up into the little pout and he knows you’re close. “You going to come Sass?” You mewl pathetically, mouth making desperate sounds and he watches you rub yourself all over him. “Sweet girl. That’s it, just a little more. There you go.” Your gasps reach a fever pitch, and he groans. “Ride it out, good girl. Come all over me.” His jeans are smeared with you, but he praises you, telling you how good you were, how much he likes that you made a mess on him. Once you come down from it, he strips and presses himself along your back, rucking the balaclava up to his nose to pull the skin beneath your ear between his teeth. He wants to mark you, hard. Leave an impression of himself on your body, brand you down to your bones. Tomorrow, when those fuckwit privates line up for brief, he wants them to know. 

He sinks into you as deep as he can, little noises coming from your mouth as he splits you open on his cock, your cunt so tight it feels like it’s choking him.

“Si-Simon.” It’s his name, again. You’re flaying him alive with it. When you say it, it feels like he’s not wearing the mask, it feels like he is Simon, and not Ghost. He’s becoming addicted to it, consumed by it. It makes his head foggy, makes him do things that he’s never done, like approach a table of infantry and scare them out of running their mouths, or mark you like you belong to him. You cloud his judgement. You make him want things, things he doesn’t deserve, things he could never have. You make him soft, and desperate, and when you turn and look over your shoulder as he slams himself to the hilt, your gaze burns into him like you’re seeing him. Like you know. 

“Please, don’t.” Your voice breaks as you beg, clutching the baby to your chest. Your face is bruised, nose probably broken, and tears stream down your cheeks. You’re trembling, eyes desperate as you plead. “Simon. Simon, get up. Please, get up.” He tries, but he can’t. He is beaten. His body is broken, bones shattered, organs bleeding out slowly inside him. The cool metal kiss of a barrel presses to your temple and you scream at him, for him, he’s not sure anymore. “SIMON GET UP.” His body weighs a thousand pounds, and cannot lift himself to help you, to save either of you. The gun cocks, and you close your eyes right before the finger on the trigger moves, the bang echoing across the room and your-

He jerks awake, immediately seeking the warmth of your body next to him in bed. When he feels you, his chest loosens, and you shift onto your side, cracking an eye open.

“Hey.” Your voice is thick with sleep, but still sweet as honey, and he takes your hand in his. Your pulse flutters under his palm. Strong. Stable.

“Hey.”

“Nightmare?” He nods.

“Go back to sleep.” You roll your eyes, flicking on the light that sits at your bedside table.

“I’ve been sleeping forever, I am practically sleeping beauty at this point.” You stroke through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp. “Wanna talk about it?” you whisper, and he shakes his head. Yeah, Sass. Want to hear all about how I keep dreaming of your bloody corpse? Or about how I keep seeing you and our son being murdered right in front of me, over and over and I’m powerless to stop it? That’ll do real well for your stress level. Instead, he smooths his hand over the swell of your belly, where the baby sleeps, warm and protected, safe from everything out here that might hurt him. “You promised.” You needle, and the slight push is all that’s needed to relent.

“I keep… dreaming of you dying. Or being killed, in front of me. You and the baby.” You sit up a little and he immediately pulls the second pillow down behind the small of your back for support.

“Dying how?” He swallows.

“Someone’s holdin’ a gun to your head and you’re begging me to save you, but I can’t. I’m lying on the floor, bleeding out.”

“Sounds pretty scary.” There are a lot of things, that he hasn’t found the courage to say out loud to you yet. Promises and pledges, thoughts about being grateful and feelings of adoration. He wants to tell you how much he appreciates that you listen to him, that you validate him, but the words never come out, so he presses a kiss to your forehead before sliding down so his head is resting on the side of your belly.

The memory of the dream skips across the forefront of his mind, and he can still see you lying in a pool of blood, little boy lifeless in your arms. The blood, that looks just like the blood that covered the walls and the floor of his family’s house. His mom’s blood. Tommy and Beth’s. Joseph’s. The blood, that looks just the same as it did when he found you unconscious a few weeks ago, smells the same as when it poured out of the wound in your stomach in Belize. The blood, the blood, the-

“Simon.” He doesn’t even realize he’s breathing harshly until he hears you saying his name. “Hey, Si. Simon, it’s alright.” You stroke up and down his arm, tracing a faded pattern in his sleeve. “You’re here, in my house. In my bed. With me. There is no danger.”  

“With you.”

“With me. And the baby. We’re here, together. We’re safe.” He turns his head, pressing his ear to your skin. Swoosh swoosh swoosh. The heartbeat soothes the frayed edges of his nerves, and the two of you sit just like that for a while, content. “Shit.” You groan, the sound a low whisper, and anxiously rub your belly. He waits for what he knows is coming, the pure, sweet melody that you hum when you try to settle the baby. The once guilty pleasure, when he would stand just out of sight so he could hear it, is now a full indulgence, as he’s able to lay beside you and rub circles into your skin while you hum softly.

It doesn’t come.

Instead, you gasp in surprise.

“Sass? What is it?”

“I… I think I peed myself.”  

“Hey!” No. How did you find him so fast? “Simon, wait.” When you say his name, it jams into his brain, scrambling the signal, and forcing his steps to falter. It’s just enough for you to catch him. “Look. I know you’re mad. I know I fucked up.” You’re breathing heavily, probably from sprinting down the row of tents that he had ducked past, and you push your hands out in front of you like you’re trying to cage him in. “But I made sure Gaz was alright, and I still had a job to do! Those charges were my priority, I wouldn’t have split up otherwise. Simon, I understand-“ He cuts you off swiftly.

“You can address me by my call sign, Sergeant.” You startle. He looks away, looks anywhere else but your face, where your gaze waits to peel him open. 

“What?”

“You will address me as Ghost, or Lieutenant.” 

You’re guarded now, expression wary, but there’s still something hopeful in your eyes, something that’s calling him home to you.

He has to get away. Now. 

You take an uneasy step forward, hand extended like you’re going to touch him. 

“Simon.” You whisper. 

He steps back. 

Your face falls. 

He’s tactical about it. The bag, the extra pillow, your shoes. A phone charger, the collection of snacks you’ve been hoarding recently, like a dragon hoards their gold. He remembers everything.

Almost everything.

His phone rings when he’s buckling his seatbelt.

“So, should I like, call an uber or are you going to help me get in the truck?” Bloody hell. He nearly beats his head against the steering wheel before he’s unbuckling and running towards the door. You’re standing in the living room, hands on your hips, unimpressed, with a hint of a smile on your lips.

“I’m sorry, I-“ you wave him off, reaching for his arm.

“Come on, you gotta boost me up.”

His eyes dart back and forth from the road, to where you sit, stone-faced in the passenger seat. You’ve been quiet since he pulled out of the driveway, the silence an uneasy thing that rests heavily between the two of you, and he reaches for your hand that lays limp on the seat.

“How’s the pain?”

“Not too bad.” You’re chewing on your lip, still lost in thought for a moment before you speak again. “Simon. If something happens…” his blood freezes.

“Nothing is going to happen.”

“We’ve never discussed it though. What to do if something goes wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Something has already gone wrong. Everything has gone wrong. It can’t get worse. It can’t. 

“Well, if there are complications and we have to choose…” He almost pulls the truck over, his heart seizing in his chest like he’s been electrocuted. A million scenarios slam through his brain at record speed, flipping open in front of him like a picture book. Everything he’s imagined before, but worse. This time, it’s not mercs, or a stray bullet, or shadowed government assassins that take you away from him, but your own body, or a doctor, or-

No. He would not be without you if there was a choice. Not again. 

“There is no choice, Sass.” His voice is gruff, and you palm your belly with a gulp. “We… I, would choose you. A million times. A million and one. There is no other choice… for me.”

“Okay.” You whisper. A tear rolls down your cheek before it’s hastily wiped away, and you turn to him with wide eyes.

“Okay.” He echoes, taking your hand in his.

You almost died. You almost died, and he wasn’t there. Johnny almost died, and you almost died, and he can’t stop thinking about the two of you wandering around trying to find the 141, trying to escape without a weapon, or comms, or anything. He can’t stop thinking about how vulnerable you were, how close you came to being dead. Being gone. Like everyone else. Like his family. 

The feeling fills his body with ice. It paralyzes him before panic seizes his nervous system, pouring fear into every synapse flitting through his brain. 

His family. You could have been lost, like his family.

He barges through the door of the office, eyes wild behind the mask.

“I need her gone.” Price looks up at him, perplexed.

“Who?”

“Sass. Transfer her. Put her on leave. Anything.”

“What are you on about?”

“I can’t… I can’t have her here. She’s fuckin’ with my head.” His chest feels tight, like there’s a thousand pounds sitting on his ribcage. It’s terror that is pumping through his veins right now, unbridled, and raw, threatening to wreck him where he stands.

“Ghost, calm down.”

“I can’t!” It’s practically a shout. He’s losing it. The empty echo of the dead radio replays over and over in his head. The image of Johnny, bleeding out, slumped against your small frame, the panic on your face, the two of you covered in blood loops repeatedly every time he closes his eyes. It melts into the memories of finding his family dead and then twists together, over and over until he thinks he might be hallucinating. 

“Tell me what’s going on.” Price is standing now, voice calm, gesturing to the other chair. He’s not a loose cannon, not anymore, but it’s been a long time since he’s raised his voice at the captain. Guilt swells inside him.

“I’m fuckin’ her.” He paces in front of Price’s desk. “And it’s… She’s messing me up. Can’t think clearly.”

“You’re what now?”

“I’ve never… I’ve never asked you for anything-”

“Simon-“

“and I know this is unfair. She’s great at her job, Price I know that. But I have the seniority. And I need ya to do this for me.”

“I can’t just dismiss her. I brought her here, asked her myself.” He grits his teeth.

“Price…  she….” His lungs are screaming now, his breath coming in short gasps but there’s no oxygen in this room. “It’s not… I can’t. It’s not safe.” 

“Simon, sit down.” It’s an order, and he complies, slumping into the chair and cradling his head in his hands. “Now. Start from the beginning.”

“I know you’re disappointed.”

“You said I would be able to try.” You doctor is sitting on a chair at your bedside, across from Simon. She’s wearing a very serious expression, and you’re wearing your ‘don’t fuck with me face’, the one he’s seen time and time again, before and during ops. You open your mouth to argue with her again, but a contraction steals your breath, your nails sinking into his skin like tiny razorblades.

“Just breathe.” He soothes, stroking over the crown of your head until you fall back onto your pillow, tense lines of your forehead relaxing as your eyes close.

“If the placenta separates any further from the wall of the uterus during the rest of your labor, it could be life threatening for both you and the baby.” She doesn’t handle you with kid gloves, and you lift a lid to glare at her. He swallows the chuckle in his throat. Surefire way to catch a fist in the jaw. 

“Fine.”  The word is hissed through clenched teeth, and she pats your hand reassuringly.

“They’ll be some paperwork to sign, and then we’ll get you prepped. Nothing to eat or drink in the last six hours, right?”

“I’ve been in labor for the last seven and a half hours, so no.” you deadpan, before looking longingly over to your bag of snacks. The doctor glances at him with a gentle smile.

“Mr. Riley, you’ll need to change, we can… hopefully, provide you with scrubs that fit. We’ll also give you a surgical mask, and a cap. Sound good?” He nods in thanks as she leaves, and he turns back to you, pulling the mask down to his chin to rest his cheek against your palm. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“You’re not gonna pass out in there, right?”

“Me?”

“Well, they are going to pull my guts out.” What?  You giggle, just a little, and heave a sigh. “But seriously. Don’t faint. I don’t think they have gurneys big enough for you.”

“I’ve seen plenty of guts, Sass.”

“Yeah…but not mine.”

Price announces his presence with a knock. “Heli’s almost here.” Simon says nothing. His elbows dig into his knees, fingers rolling the elastic band between his thumb and forefinger, strands of your hair wrapping around and around the tie until they become tight, little strings that make indentations. “Ghost.” He knows what Price wants. What he wants to hear. He still says nothing. “I did this for you against my better judgement.” Price says, like he doesn’t already know. When Simon looks at him, he sees the weight of their decision. The shame. The guilt. And he feels it, too. “You should say goodbye, Simon.” 

His voice is rough, on the verge of a scream, or something worse when he finally speaks. 

“I can’t.”

“So, when you get in the room, you’ll notice she’s lying on a table, and there’s a drape that’s a visual barrier between her chest and the rest of her body.” The nurse, the super friendly one that you said you liked, is talking him through what’s happening while he walks down the hallway next to her. Her shoes squeak a little bit against the linoleum, and he focuses on the pattern of the sound. Step squeak, step squeak, step- “Now, she can’t feel anything, but C-sections can be nerve-wracking, and she got a little anxious when we got into the OR.” He nods. Of course you’re nervous. You’re strapped to a table where they’re about to cut a hole in your abdomen. “She’s asked for you a few times, I promised I’d deliver.” She gives him a wink and pushes open a door. “Here he is!” She calls cheerily, and you turn to look, eyes finding his within a second, like always.

“Simon.” You wiggle your fingers towards him, and he wastes no time, sitting in the chair that the nurse pointed to and bringing your hand to the mask, right where his lips are.

“Hi sweet girl. You alright?” You nod.

“I think I’m a little high.”

“She had just a bit of midazolam, for the nerves.” Your doctor says from the other side of the drape.

“That’s alright.” He smoothes some hair from your face and tries to remember to breathe. Everything about this room sets him on the edge, and there’s a live wire running through his bones, all the way down to where his hand holds yours. There are too many people, too many lights, machines, and his skin is crawling, the desire to snatch you from the table and disappear down the hall repeating in the back of his mind, again and again. He can’t stop thinking about what could go wrong, terrible scenarios that leave you dead or the baby dead, or both. They push and pull at the logical side of his brain, fighting to get through, desperate to derail him, insistent and-

You smile up at him, all sweet, a little daft from the drugs, and everything feels quiet again. The tension between his shoulder blades lets out like air from a balloon, fast and easy.

“You ready?” He thumbs at a tear escaping from the corner of your eye. You’re looking at him, looking beneath the mask, kicking and tearing past the pieces of Ghost until you strike true, until you reach Simon. You always do.

He pushes his forehead against yours, and breathes you in, the stench of sterile hospital and all.

“Yeah, Sass. I’m ready.”

He’s pulling the balaclava back over his face when you bust through the door and ram right into him. He recoils, the reaction second nature, and his eyes find yours in the little bathroom mirror immediately. You step away, the room stretching too big all the sudden, the distance between his body and yours too far, and his brain stumbles over the realization. Something stutters in his chest, his breath catching when he looks at you, watching as you flail before you look away. 

“Shit! Fuck. Sorry.” You glance at the wall, then the floor, then turn to run before he figures out how to make his mouth work. 

“You’re alright, Sass. I’m finished.” You’re standing half in the hall, half in the bathroom, bleeding, and something twists in his gut. Blood and injury are not uncommon in the 141, but he’s surprised at how unsettled he feels when he sees the trickle of red on your shoulder. 

“Get that cleaned up.” It comes out rough, like an order, and your throat bobs with a swallow.

“Okay a little bit of pressure and then you’re going to feel a lot of relief.” The doctor says and you nod, fingers pressed into his palm.

“Simon.” Your voice wavers.

“I’m right here. I got you.” He keeps his eyes trained on yours, willing himself to get lost in the hue of your irises, tuning out everything else in the room until-

A baby cries.

“Congratulations mom and dad!” Someone calls and the room spins. Mom and dad. 

“Can I see him?” your fingers are still entrenched in his, the words watery and light.

“Breath sounds are good.” A voice says, and then there’s a squalling baby next to him. A baby. Your baby. His. 

“Oh. Oh.” You’re in shock, he thinks. He’s not sure, because he might be too, and he blinks rapidly as you place a few fingers on the baby’s cheek. “Hi, Theo.” You coo and cry, smiling through the tears that dot your face. The nurse says something to you, and then she places the baby on your chest, where you cradle him with your other arm, pulling Simon’s hand up towards Theo’s back for support, holding it against his skin. You glance up at him for a second, teary happiness morphing into concern, and then back before your finger lifts from Theo’s cheek to his, swiping along his cheekbone. He presses your palm to his face with his free hand, over the mask, and closes his eyes for a second.

When you pull away, your fingers shimmer under the white lights of the operating room, and the tips of them shine with something wet.

His tears.

“I don’t see cabbage. What about romaine?” 

“No. It has to be cabbage. Or kale! But I really prefer cabbage, and so does your kid, you know. Romaine is totally different.” You babble, and he stares at the heads of green leafed things underneath the misters, eyes scanning for the label that says cabbage. 

“I don’t see any cabbage, Sass.” A woman who’s inspecting a shiny red pepper a few feet away from him looks over, curiously. 

“It’s a staple food, Si. It never sells out; it has to be there.” 

“It’s not.” 

“Ask someone.” Irritation is bleeding into your voice now, and the idea of approaching a store employee makes his skin itch. Maybe he can just buy the romaine and ask for forgiveness, or go to a different supermarket. It’s not quite midnight yet, something else could be open. 

The woman inspecting the peppers has sidled closer to him, close enough that he can see her face turned upwards towards his, eyes studying the balaclava before she clears her throat. 

“Excuse me?” He turns, eyes narrowed. 

“Who is that?” your voice rings through the speaker. “Is that a woman? Ask her where the cabbage is!” He pulls the phone away from his ear and blinks down at her. 

“The cabbage is up here.” She says politely, pointing to the top row of light green, rounded vegetables. Nearly in front of his face. 

“Thanks.” He says roughly, but she smiles at him all the same, while you call his name over and over on the phone. “I got it.” 

“Yes! Oh my god thank you.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Bloody lucky I love you.” 

The line is silent. His heart lurches, thundering into a frantic beat that thrums through his entire body. His limbs feel numb, and he doesn’t say anything else, just holds his breath. He can hear you breathing, just barely, through the phone, but it sounds like you’re trying to hold your breath, too. Like you’re listening for him. 

“Simon-“

“I still gotta get the potatoes. See you in a bit.” The line goes dead.

“Okay, sit here.” The nurse instructs and he forces his legs to move, makes his knees bend so he can lower himself in the chair. He can’t look away from what she’s holding in her arms, the infant, the baby that is his and yours. His kid. “Skin to skin is very important for newborns. It helps regulate their heartbeat and breathing and can help maintain their temperature.” She continues, motioning for him to relax against the backrest.

“Skin to skin?”

“Yes. You’ll need to take off your shirt.” He shakes his head. He can’t do this. You should be doing this. You’re his mother. He’s… he’s not you. Theo won’t want him, he’ll want you. He- “Mr. Riley? You don’t have to, but while we wait for her to get back, it’s a good opportunity for it.”

“What do I do?” The idea of holding Theo to his scarred chest makes him feel sick.

“Once you take off your shirt, I’ll put Theo in your arms and cover you both with a blanket.”

“I don’t think…”

“Don’t worry. I’ll show you how to hold him if that’s what you’re worried about.” Theo cries out, a sharp, shrill sound that draws her attention downwards before she looks back up at him with an expectant expression. Skin to skin is very important for newborns. He knows you would want him to do this. He knows that you would understand too, if it was too much, if he felt too exposed. But it’s important. Theo needs this. He needs… his dad. 

He pulls the scrub top over his head, careful to keep the mask in place, and leans back slowly against the chair.

“You’re going to support his head just like this-“ she moves him into the crook of his elbow, positioning his little legs and arms so that he’s laying flush against his chest. “and his body will just rest right here in this space… and there you go.” Simon doesn’t breathe. He doesn’t move, he can hardly think. He doesn’t even feel her place a blanket over his body, curling it beneath where he cradles the baby. All he can see is Theo in his arms, so tiny, his eyes scrunched shut and small hand curled into a fist.

The lights in the room go dim, and he looks up, realizing that the nurse is by the door. “I’m going to give you some privacy. They should be finishing up with mom soon but there’s a button right there, next to the bed. The red one. Press it if you need anything and one of us will be here right away. Okay?” She gives him another encouraging smile and he nods.

“Okay.” When the door clicks shut, he finally lets out the shakiest breath of his life and reaches up to pull the surgical mask from his face. Theo’s eyes aren’t open, but his chest rises and falls, soothing some of the fear that has a grip on his heart. He gently touches Theo’s hand, and his tiny fingers curl around Simon’s giant one. He gets lost, staring down at the small boy. Looking at every single feature, his ears, his nose, the bow of his lips. He tries to memorize it all, the way the tuft of his hair sits, the creases of his skin around his elbows and knees, the soft pant of his breath. It fills him with emotion, so much he’s afraid it might overwhelm him, bury him beneath its weight. He knows this feeling, has felt it grow inside him since the very first day he laid eyes on you. Has watched it fight through a forest of dark and snarled roots, cutting and biting away at the things that have died and festered inside him. He knows it better than he knows himself now, knows the truth, cannot deny this knowledge that he would lay down and die for you, for Theo. He understands the pure terror that has blazed within him since that day in Belize, and he knows that he would spend the rest of his life, waiting in agony with bated breath, just to kiss you once more, or hold his child in his arms.

It terrifies him, but he knows its name.  

He knows it’s love.

Simon leans down and brushes his lips across his son’s forehead, gentle and light, before murmuring to him as softly as he can manage.

“Hey, Theo. I’m your dad."

The next fic in this series is here.

[heyclickadee]

So, here’s the thing. The finale is weird. Yes, I’m hurt by the fact that Tech didn’t come back and that a character that’s very near and dear to my heart was badly handled, and that will never sit right with me. But even apart from that, the finale fundamentally does not function as a piece of storytelling or as the end to this story. I’m glad that people are enjoying it, and I will never tell anyone not to. But I don’t think it works. (I get very negative about the TBB finale under the cut.)

It’s not just the Tech stuff or the CX-2 stuff (which may very well have been the same stuff) that got dropped. It’s *everything*. Every theme, Every narrative thread besides retrieving Omega, every character arc except marginally Omega’s, Echo’s (also marginal), and Emerie’s, which was the shortest and gets wrapped up by her deciding to help Echo rescue the kids. It all stops. It makes everything that came before seem cheap and pointless if you take it into account. And this is so, so frustrating for me, because the entire show was driving towards this incredibly rich payoff, it could have been immaculate, and then it whiffed the ball so bad in the last episode that it didn’t just miss, it managed to knock over the bleachers and set the entire court on fire.

Some examples:

1. This season had a really interesting exploration of Crosshair’s PTSD via his hand tremor and how it was something he can learn to manage, but not something that would ever fully go away. Aaaaand then his hand gets chopped off. One, that was stupid. I’ve seen some excellent posts (here’s one by @the-bi-space-ace) detailing why that was a terrible way to handle Crosshair’s lingering trauma, and others talking about how the idea there was that Crosshair needed to move on and it was severing his last ties with the empire. The former, I agree with; the latter, I don’t, because not only—not only!—does this episode stop dealing with Crosshair’s trauma, it doesn’t even deal with having cut off his hand! It just sort of occurs. No one reacts to it, no one says anything about it, there’s no follow up or commentary, nothing happens as a result—it’s an event which occurs with no results coming after it. It may as well be an animation error. You can say it was about Crosshair needing to let go and move on, but that’s something you have to project on to the text, not something that’s actually offered by it. It’s empty.

2. Crosshair again: We also have the lingering issue of Crosshair’s guilt and the fact that he never seems to get to a point where it’s resolved. There’s set up for a resolution. We have that, “Sure you have,” like about Crosshair from Rampart. We also have Crosshair saying he deserves whatever happens to him in Tantiss. And then…no pushback. No resolution. No moment of Crosshair realizing that he doesn’t need to carry that burden. Nothing that says he didn’t deserve what happened to him. He had all this character development this season, but he needed - last little push to forgive himself—and we never get any indication that he does. It, like his trauma, gets dropped like a rock.

3. Hey! More Crosshair! A good chunk of Crosshair’s arc this season was about learning that anyone can change, first, and that no one is beyond saving. Eeexcept that goes no where.

4. Which brings me to my next point: There is set up for the CXs to be saved. Even if we’re laboring under the conclusion that CX-2 was never intended to be Tech at any point in the writing process (I have. Doubts. Yes, I’m calling the creative team liars, here, but with the understanding that they have contracts that may require them to lie), we do have the set up where we learn the electrocyanide zappers can be removed, and with Rex offering forgiveness to CX-1. “Whatever they did to you, whatever you’ve done, you’re still one of us.” CX-Tech or no, Crosshair’s arc was tied up with the CX plot, and because he’s the one the CXs tend to react to—or, at least, understands what was done to them—the set up was there for him to help save and maybe rehab the CXs. At the least, there was an indication that they could be saved. Eeexcept nope! That gets dropped like a rock, too, and they’re not going to deal with it. Time for maximum carnage.

5. Hunter’s arc actually takes a step backwards. Sure, he gets a technically happy ending, but because the squad is basically in the same place they were in “Pabu” back in season two (down a member but successfully hiding from the Empire in a safe place), it negates Hunter’s development towards actually taking action—and actually hurts Echo’s arc, too.

There’s been this tension all through the show between just sitting things out on the one hand (Hunter’s way) and taking direct action despite the futility on the other (Echo’s way), but instead of finding some kind of middle ground or third road, it sort of comes back around to saying that, actually, Hunter was right, they should have just gone to Idaflor back in episode three and never left even though the Pabu invasion said that no, you can’t just hide, and even Hunter’s development was moving in the opposite direction. And this also means that Echo never reaches a point where he feels like he can walk away and that he doesn’t have to get himself killed doing this. Despite development otherwise they both end up back at that conversation in “Tipping Point” without any move in either direction or resolution of that tension.

6. Omega. Okay, Omega probably comes out the best after the finale, and, conceptually, I actually love the idea of Omega becoming a pilot even if the epilogue falls a little flat for me. But stuff with Omega still got dropped, including:

- The force stuff. We have two episodes dealing with m-count (after learning in episode three what Omega was created to do). We also have Ventress telling Omega that she doesn’t have a high m-count as far as she can see, Crosshair immediately calling Ventress out for lying, and then Ventress basically saying, “Yeah, no shit, but if she has force potential she’d have to leave you behind, and it doesn’t matter what your opinion on that is, so I’m not dealing with that.” Aaaand then,m. That. Goes nowhere. Despite a bit of set up for Omega connecting to the force as early as episode one, and some more set up in Tribe, and that whole subplot of her learning how to meditate, and so on.

Now, I don’t think that it was ever going to turn out that Omega did actually have a high m-count or that she had a particularly powerful natural connection to the force. I think she’s probably got a low or baseline m-count. What I do think, however, is that we were going to see Omega connect anyway as a refutation of Palpatine’s and Hemlock’s entire scheme. Their goal (based off of the ST) was to create extremely force sensitive clones as a way for Palpatine to jump bodies without having to waste time re-learning how to connect to the force. You know—dark side, quick and easy path, focus on eugenics and raw power, etc. Had Omega connected anyway because of her big heart and desire to protect, it would have not only paid off that set up, it would have also refuted Palpatine’s and Hemlock’s entire goal. It would have worked so well thematically and the set up was THERE.

- branching off of that, I think the Omega force stuff was probably tied to the Zillo beast. We also had a through-line of Omega being good with animals and taking the time to calm them instead of responding with violence. The first time we see this is in “Replacements,” where she realizes that the ordo moon dragon (also an electrophage—I don’t know what to call these things—like the zillo beast) is just scared and hungry. This is all conjectural, but it still fits with what was set up.

- Moving on from the force stuff, we also had a through-line that started way back in episode two of the series, but which was really emphasized this season, about Omega feeling like she’s the cause of the bad things that happen to the people she loves. This is why she gives herself up during the Pabu invasion in the first place. This is never resolved! We get Omega’s confidence boost when she realizes she has the force kids to take care of, but we never get a moment where Omega realizes that she has no reason to feel guilty. She’s the glue that holds the family together! But nope! Also dropped!

- But wait! There’s more! The first two season finales have Omega watching someone she loves fall away while she’s helpless to do anything to save them. That’s perfect set up to put Omega in the same situation, but be able to save them, because she’s finally come into her own. Instead we just end up with her needing to be rescued again.

- Omega has this big speech in Shadows of Tantiss about spending her life stuck in one place or another against her will, and how she refuses to be confined like that. I don’t think Omega would have been happy just staying on Pabu for the entire rest of her childhood and young adult life, even if I think she’d want to use it on a home base. But! Dropped!

7. I still can’t get over the fact that the zillo beast is on screen for about two minutes and then just. Walks away. It’s a large beastie that’s been locked in confinement for a while and is probably hungry. And somehow it didn’t go straight to the reactors for some delicious energy smoothies. Like. It. Did. The. Last. Time. Someone. Let. It. Out. But no, that would have required it sticking around for something that was probably dropped sooooo ZILLO BEAST EXIT STAGE RIGHT I GUESS. (Edit: I have been reminded that Hemlock does say to turn off the generators once the zillo beast is out, so that at least makes sense. I still think the zillo beast should have stuck around to do something.)

8. You notice how there are a ton of commandos around Tantiss, even up through “Flash Strike?” And how they kind of largely cease to exist? And how Echo says that there are far more clones imprisoned in Tantiss than anyone thought? And then how they rescue, like, a dozen guys? Because we never find our way back to those cells Crosshair was held in during season two? And how Tarkin does mention not wanting to allow clone dissidence to turn into an uprising back in “The Summit?” Because I did. This show was never going to be about a clone rebellion, that wasn’t the point, buuut I do think the set up was there for an uprising at Tantiss itself. Begin the series with clones losing their agency en masse, end the series with some of the most subdued clones taking it back. Except nope, dropped, soooo we gotta pretend the commandos don’t exist and murder the hell out of poor Scorch.

9. SPEAKING OF. The batch does kill clones sometimes, that does happen, but they do at least usually make some kind of effort to be non-lethal even when they’re not using stun, and times when they do resort to lethal tactics are usually born out of extreme circumstances. Not here, though!! NO HESITATION MAXIMUM CARNAGE. For. Reasons I guess.

10. There’s one point IN THE FINALE where Echo mentions signaling for Rex. This never comes up again. Rex does not show up. In fact, despite being called, “The Cavalry Has Arrived,” the cavalry does not in fact arrive. There is no cavalry. Yes, I know it’s a reference to Wrecker’s first line. But I’m sorry if you call an episode that YOU HAD BETTER HAVE A CAVALRY SHOW UP. Especially when you have a one about calling them in! But that also!! Got dropped like a rock!!

11. One positive: the moment Crosshair and Hunter leaning on each other to make that shot was nice.

12. Sorry, but Hemlock’s death was deeply unsatisfying. Let’s do something more than just shoot him multiple times, okay?

13. Rampart’s death, on the other hand, was incredibly satisfying. That said, the conversation about project necromancer? I’m dying. It’s actually hilarious, because it basically goes like:

“Tell me about project necromancer.”

“Wow! How interesting!”

I’m.

Are you serious?

I’m going to become the Joker.

Yes, I know we know what project necromancer is because of a different show. That’s not the point, the POINT. Is that any pay off for project necromancer in this show got dropped. And that’s deeply frustrating from a narrative perspective.

14. Speaking of, we never find out anything more regarding that partially successful m-count transfer from episode three.

15. We also never do anything with those medical records!

16. And Omega has a whole crossbow she never actually shoots despite the fact that her role on the team was as a sharpshooter after Crosshair left, and despite her getting advice from Crosshair on how to be a sniper. The literal chekov’s gun never goes off. I’m going to go eat gravel.

17. AZI, likewise, got toted around for three seasons for no reason. Probably could have helped with the medical records. Given that he was a Kaminoan medical droid. Oh, and that Omega was Nala Se’s medical assistant. So. Hmm.

18. You can cut everything in the season past episode five and skip straight to the epilogue and end up in the same place. This is not because the other episodes are filler. Far from it! The other episodes are great and deliver some amazing set up. But, because the finale does nothing with that set up, it doesn’t go anywhere.

19. And you know what else? From a narrative perspective, there’s no reason for Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair to be in these episodes at all. They don’t accomplish anything and make everyone else’s job harder. Omega was doing fine, she would have gotten out with the kids with just Echo and Emerie, and Tarkin was coming to cut off Hemlock’s funding and shut everything down once Hemlock lost control of the facility anyway. I can only suppose that the whole reason they were in this episode ended up getting dropped, too.

20. CX-2. Listen, the answer we get about CX-2 isn’t that he’s not Tech. It’s, “Maybe, maybe not—you don’t get to know.” Because. He’s the only CX whose mask never comes off. After a season and a half worth of buildup of unmasking CXs and people pressing them to learn their names. It’s not a no, it’s a non-answer, which is far less satisfying.

And finally:

21: CX-Tech. I’ve seen some people speculating that there was a planned CX-Tech reveal that got scrapped at the last minute—dropped, along with the other points I’ve already laid out. And, honestly? I have to agree. Despite what the creative team says, because even their denials kind of come out weird (like the Kiners saying that the large brass chord in “Battle of the Snipers” was just a nice sounding brass chord and not a reference to “Plan 99.” They also basically say that the sacrifice theme from “Plan 99” is Tech’s leitmotif. Which. Is all over “Battle of the Snipers.” That theme. Not Crosshair’s. In a scene. Where he’s supposed to be fighting a shadow of himself who Totally Isn’t Tech but we put Tech’s leitmotif here and layered it in Techno music but nooo that was never supposed to be him. Nope. I mean, come on. I’m not stupid).This post is already long enough, so here are some posts by @apocalyp-tech-a pointing out the reasons why I think this was the case, and one by @eriexplosion pointing out why CX-2 as Crosshair’s shadow and only that doesn’t quite work. I don’t need to go over the trail that was laid out again. Up to the finale this was a character that had more screen time—and far more solo screen time—than Echo. Some people will not stop yelling that there was no evidence, and. No. I’m sorry, there was. I can’t agree.

And some people might say, well, okay, the show misdirected you guys and pulled off a twist by having CX-2 be no one, and well, I can’t agree with that either. Twists only function if the twist is more satisfying than the conclusion to which the story seems to be leading. And I’m sorry, you can’t tell me that a season and a half of CX building and three seasons (because I can find set up all the way back in episode one of the show) for Tech survival culminating in what amounts to a boss fight is more satisfying than getting to see Omega have her big brother back. You can’t.

The reason I bring this up last is because, yes, I think CX-Tech was a plot dropped at the last minute, but because I also think that it’s the dropped plot that ripped everything else apart. CX-Tech was an incredibly efficient way to tie up most of the lingering plot threads and dropped character development.

-Crosshair’s guilt? Okay, he faces down the end result of his decision to stay with the empire and possibly something he knew about (Tech would be in this situation because of Crosshair, and were given hints that Crosshair knew) and is finally able to forgive himself because they’re able to save him.

- Hunter’s decision to finally take action and be proactive rather than reactive is validated, because it’s the thing that finally gets him his entire family back.

- Echo saves someone the same way he was saved, and maybe he realizes that it is enough and that he doesn’t have to be a soldier forever.

- Wrecker’s efforts to keep the family together and keep Hunter sane finally pay off.

- Omega is able to protect the people she charges about and finally, finally has all of her brothers.

- Thematically, it rounds off each member of the batch (Omega included) traumatically losing and then taking back their agency in a way that correlates directly to who and how they are as people.

- It also rounds out the OG batchers each being haunted by a failure that has to do with the thing that makes them special.

- You get pushback against “Clone Force 99 died with Tech! We’re not that squad anymore!” because no, it didn’t, and they’re more than a squad, they’re a family.

- It comes around and closes the wound opened in Aftermath and ripped back open by Return to Kamino: they go in for Omega and lose someone, but here, they go in for Omega and get someone back.

- Would allow Tech to close off his lingering threads and finish his character development BECAUSE THOSE REMAINED UNFINISHED.

- Completely subverts the “bury your disabled” trope by making sure we know the character whose disability was explored the most’s life is more important than his death. Seems like an important thing to do in a show that is kind of about disability. Just saying.

- Makes the lack of closure and little mentions of Tech make sense from a storytelling POV because the necessarily catharsis would come from his return.

- And it would actually add some triumph to the ending. Yes, this little family survived. They outlived the war. They’re together, despite every effort to rip them apart. They made it, despite the dark times, despite the Empire, despite what they were made to do and be. They defied all of that. That would have been so, so satisfying.

As is, without Tech, without that CX-Tech reveal, we sort of end up in this weird place where all the themes are half-baked. They are more than soldiers…except Tech, who had to fall out of the story as a soldier (despite us getting the clearest glimpse of what his life outside of soldiering could have been). They get to live how they want…except Tech. They don’t leave their own behind, except Tech that one time. They should value their own lives a little…except Tech. They’re more than a squad, they’re a family…except Tech, the only one besides Omega to say that’s what they are, doesn’t get to see it, and they don’t get to have him around. We begin the series with a broken family and end it with a family broken differently. That’s not dynamic.

So there’s no really punch to the ending. It’s sort of…well, okay, we tortured a family for three seasons I guess. Relieved that the survivors are doing okay, but that’s kind of it.

22. The finale in general is just sort of a bunch of events which happen, but which don’t lead into one other. It’s weird. It’s not that too much happens, it’s that almost nothing happens. Nothing of substance, in a way. The finale is, in a word, the only true filler episode in the entire show.

TL;DR: I think a lot of stuff got dropped from the finale. I don’t know why. I suspect that it might have to do with the strikes—basically, the script was done, most everything was recorded and boarded, and then when the finale was in production they got sudden drastic budget cuts (this was during a time when the studios were disappearing entire completed shows and movies as tax write-offs), had to gut what they had planned, and couldn’t bring the writers or even showrunners in to smooth over what was gutted or to even pick what got taken out. They wouldn’t have gotten to choose or compress things. They were on strike (because the studios wouldn’t negotiate), and whoever did choose ended up just ripping out the stuff that would actually take any time or budget to deal with (so, basically everything I laid out), killing it (literally), and using the remains of what they already had recorded. And who knows how they had to fill in gaps.

But I don’t know for sure. Maybe it was that. Maybe it was a last minute decision to take certain plot points and put them in a different show. Maybe it was executive mandate. Maybe the creative team just sucked the whole time (that’s one I have a hard time buying—we have four other shows and most of this one that tell me that they’re better at their jobs than this). Maybe everyone said screw it, who even cares anymore at the same time.

Maybe nothing happened. Who knows? I strongly suspect something bad did happen behind the scenes that was out of the creative team’s hands—I really do, because that’s the only way I can make sense of this—but until we can get someone talking without six layers of PR and NDAs, we won’t know for sure. All I know is that The Bad Batch is an amazing show with 46 episodes that range from “fine-but-clunky” to “IMMACULATE,” with more leaning towards immaculate than not, and some incredible set up, and one episode so nonsensically bad it makes me want to eat drywall.

It’s just that the one terrible episode comes right at the end.

I love The Bad Batch. I love every single episode and all the things that were set up, but…eh, I think I’ll be ignoring the finale until further notice.

[simply-ivanka]

Why Do the Young Vote Left?

Socialist teachers lead them to think of government as a free-money tree.

It’s the gifts. The progressive vibe is that big government will take care of you. It knows what’s best for you. It will redistribute money how it pleases. You need to put a smile on your face while it takes away your laurels, guns and money. “We believe in the collective,” Ms. Harris declared, much like Hillary Clinton’s “it takes a village.” Equity in Schenectady. Handouts for all.

You want proof? Ms. Harris’s Senate voting record is leftward of socialist Bernie Sanders. Vice-presidential candidate Tim Walz fawns over China, saying “everyone is the same and everyone shares.” Viva la revolución and Che Guevara T-shirts for all.

This is antifreedom. Too many of today’s youth fall in line with progressives because they’re undereducated and overindoctrinated with someone else’s agenda. I watched in horror as local high-school biology classes spent weeks on the science of recycling centers and only a short afternoon on mitochondria and mitosis. Profit is a bad word. It’s gimme, gimme, whether it’s student loan forgiveness, free healthcare or tax credits.

Who’s to blame? Misguided capitalism-hating social-studies teachers to start, with Tim Walzian thinking: “One person’s socialism is another person’s neighborliness.” Who is he, Mr. Rogers? Add like-minded college professors. Work ethic and ambition are evaporating.

Worse, Pew Research notes almost a third of currently childless 18- to 34-year-olds aren’t sure if they ever want children. Why? The Harris campaign’s “climate engagement director,” Camila Thorndike, is among the hesitant, telling the Washington Post, “I want to protect them from suffering.” Perpetually pessimistic progressive prognostications induce fear. No wonder U.S. fertility rates are at historic lows.

OK, I know I’m asking for trouble. Every time I write about youth, I get a chorus of comments and tweets telling me I’m an old man screaming, “Hey you kids, get off my lawn.” Yeah, yeah. Very clever. I’m not that old. But in the Kamala collective—as California attempted—private “ornamental” lawns are out, and drought-resistant vegetation is in. Progressives literally want you off your own lawn.

My conversations with young folks who do exhibit some actual drive show their confusion: “I want to do a startup.” Great! To do what? “A sustainable something or other. To save the planet.” OK, is it productive? “What’s that?” Does it scale? “Huh?” Will it do more with less? “Not really, it needs lots of money to keep going and save more of the world.” Sounds like a nonprofit. (That usually invokes a smile.) Actually, wealth comes from delivering ever-cheaper stuff to millions of people, not handouts. “I don’t care about money.”

OK, I say, but progress and societal wealth happen when you delight customers and postpone consumption to reinvest profits into better products. The looks on their faces are as if I’m describing Chinese arithmetic.

Our youth aren’t lazy but lost. Progressives have strong opinions about society but no viable solution beyond handing out other people’s money—taken from the few who actually are productive, drive progress and generate wealth by fulfilling customer needs. It’s a downward spiral: When progressives tax—screaming “fair share!”—they cripple the productive few who actually create the real non-burger-flipping, get-out-of-your-parent’s-basement jobs.

To aggressive progressives, government is simply a magic money tree. Vote left and dollars appear. The gross incompetence of government—think billions for eight electric vehicle chargers—destroyed healthcare (thank you, ObamaCare) and education (assisted by Randi Weingarten’s teachers union) and is close to destroying energy (net zero), even while the Biden-Harris administration works hard to destroy Big Tech—one of the few productive industries. And I’ll never forgive progressive Hollywood for turning “Star Wars” into unwatchable wokey Wookiee drivel.

What industries will be left standing? Who cares, because the dreamy types think generative artificial intelligence will kill all jobs and government will provide universal basic income so they can Zyn, TikTok and play College Football 25 videogames all day. A naive youthful triumphalism.

This is a false endgame. There is so much more to be invented: drugs, immunotherapy, fusion, self-folding clothes, humanoid robotics, flying cars. Hard brain work plus quality recharging leisure time is the goal, not a nation of welfare queens.

I feel sorry for the youth that do care, do work hard, are productive and help push the boulder of progress up that steep slope, while essentially carrying all the others on their backs. It’s you against the collective, the village, which is always about being supported, pampered, living off someone else’s hard work and then complaining that the handouts aren’t big enough. So, yeah, get off my lawn, while lawns are still allowed.

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 16, Unaccompanied - Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language.

Word Count: 977

Previously On...: You felt even worse when Bucky revealed that Carthage had someone weaseled her way onto the Quinjet to join him on the Russia mission.

A/N: It's short, so you'll get two parts today! Second one will post at 5pm, EST. NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when I update, please enable notifications from my Blog page!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

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“Hey, kiddo,” Tony greeted you as you entered his lab. He was surrounded by bits and pieces of various tech, obviously in the middle of some experimentation. “How are you feeling? Obviously good enough to be walking around. I’m glad you’re here, actually– I have something I want to talk to you about.”

“I thought Carthage was benched, Tony!” you interrupted, ignoring his greeting. Rhodey had been making a slow, but steady, recovery, but as far as you knew, Tony had not lifted his blanket ban on keeping Jade grounded from further missions. Tony frowned at you. “She is,” he said, giving you a puzzled look.

“Then why the fuck is she on the Quinjet with Bucky on the way to Moscow right this minute?” you asked, accusation clouding your words.

Tony put down the electronic components he’d been holding. “Well, I certainly didn’t approve it. I only just got you to forgive me. You think I want to willingly make you even more pissed?”

“Well, someone did,” you said. Your arms were crossed over your chest and you were pouting like a petulant child. 

“I’ll look into it,” he promised, “but don’t overlook the possibility that she took it upon herself to stow away. Not just to get some alone time with Barnes, but to get herself back on the mission roster, too.”

You hadn’t considered that, but now that you did, you wouldn’t have put it past her at all. “Thanks,” you huffed.

“Why do you even care, though?” he asked. “I thought you two broke up. Can’t believe you still won’t tell me why, by the way.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Because it’s not your business, Boss,” you told him. Truthfully, you wanted to confide in Tony, to tell him what Bucky had done, what he had said, so you could bask in the comfort you knew he would offer you, but you truly believed that, if he knew the full truth, there was a very good chance Tony would actually try to murder Bucky. You might not be prepared to fully forgive him, or be with him again, but you certainly didn’t want him dead. And honestly? The last time the two had gone up against one another, it hadn’t ended so well for Tony, either. You doubted Bucky would purposefully hurt him– he wouldn’t do that to you– but you’d never forgive yourself if Tony got himself injured because of you.

“Pfft,” Tony scoffed. “Not my business? What kind of pseudo-big brother would I be if I didn’t look out for my pseudo-little sister? Besides, you think I don’t already know it has to do with him and Carthage being a little too close?”

“Tony,” you warned. “Just find out how she got on that Quinjet, okay? Please?”

“Finnnnnne,” Tony conceded with a roll of his eyes. “You’re lucky I still feel guilty about that med bay incident.”

“Thank you,” you said. “I really appreciate it.”

“With that out of the way,” he said, sliding his rolling stool over to you, “I need a favor.”

You rolled your eyes. Leave it to Tony to ask for a favor in your moment of turmoil. “Go on,” you urged him.

“The annual shareholder gala is on Saturday,” he told you. You nodded, knowing that the event was upcoming. You’d been planning on being away on the mission, so you hadn’t given it much thought. “Big topic of conversation’s going to be your C-PAS. I want you to be there to talk it up, get the investors excited about it so they’ll open their wallets.”

“Ugh, Tony,” you groaned, “you know I fucking hate schmoozing. Can’t you do it? You’re so much better at bullshitting rich people than I am! Besides, I’m sick. What if I throw up on everyone important? Is that really a risk you’re willing to take? Think of the optics.”

Tony rolled his eyes at you. “We’ll load you up with anti nausea meds if we have to,” he reassured you, “so you’ll be fine for a couple of hours. Come on, Pocket. You’re my Chief Technical Officer. This program is your baby. No one is going to sell it as passionately as you. You know that. Don’t you want to show your hard work off?”

You considered it for a moment before dropping your arms and let out a groan. “Fiiiine,” you conceded. “But you’re really gonna owe me for this one, Stark.”

“I’ll buy you a pony,” he said with a smile.

“Oh my God, really?” you squealed. You knew he didn’t mean it, but you sure as shit were going to play into it.

“No,” Tony said, looking at you like you were a complete idiot. ��Where the hell would we keep it?”

“I dunno.” Your expression turned into a sour pout. “You could buy a farm Upstate or something.”

“I suppose we could raise some sheep there,” he said thoughtfully.

“Oh my god,” you laughed. “That takes me back.”

Tony grinned at you. “So, all seriousness, what do you want in exchange for a few hours of your time on Saturday?”

“Buy me a new dress,” you said. “And shoes.”

“That’s it?” he asked, sounding somewhat disappointed, as though he’d expected you to ask for a yacht or some such thing. Maybe you did need to up your asking game.

“Okay, how’s this– new dress, shoes, handbag and jewelry, PLUS,” you added with a pointed look, “official write ups in Carthage’s file listing her as unfit to continue beyond her probationary period for recklessness and conduct unbecoming an Avenger. Enough to guarantee no amount of votes will allow her to stay.”

Tony put a hand on your shoulder. “My dear Pocket,” he said, smirk growing wider, “here I was hoping you were going to ask me for something difficult. It would be my pleasure.”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[writing-positivelyexisting]

Sometimes. I forget. Just how symbolic some of these clones’ names are.

Dogma? We was dogmatic. He was aggressive and arrogant when it came to following Jedi Krell.

Omega? Several different meanings: gentle and to be a peacemaker or final part. Either meaning fits. Considering the information that the scientists on Mount Tantiss need Nala Se to cooperate and the only way to do that is to capture Omega.

Crosshair, Hunter, Wrecker, Tech, Echo, and Fives (and some others) are easier to connect. But it make sense for them to be a little more obvious, especially (and personally) with Echo.

Echo not only repeated back orders like a parrot but he’s the last of the Domino squad. Their last voice of hope. When he joins Rex, he’s not just fighting for the whole of the clones but for Cutup, Droidbait, Hevy, (and Fives even if he doesn’t realize he’s dead).

Commander Mayday, is another one of the obvious names. Left to defend a withering outpost with zero help that he’d requested. A distress signal that was never answered.

Rex, too. It’s origin is Latin meaning “king”. And it fits perfectly for him. Obviously a leader for the 501st troopers but even after order 66, getting his chip removed with the help of Ahsoka, he becomes this sort of new leader, helping the galaxy as he once knew it to be free of tyranny.

Feel free to reblog and add on to this list. I’m sure this has been done before and this is all more apparent to some of you but forgive and humor me, yeah? These clones are special to us and each of them were special to each other. It’s really fascinating to think about. We give family members, friends, crushes, etc nicknames for reasons that are good, bad, funny, and random. It’s neat alright?

[raygirlramblings]

Did what they did with Jade and Pey'j in Captain Laserhawk bother you, too?

SPOILERS AND RAGE BELOW

I AM SO ANGRY YOU HAVE NO IDEA

Beyond Good and Evil fans got SHAFTED BAD. THEY GOT DONE SO BAD AND IM LIVID.

All these muppets going ‘lol the Rayman fandom must be so upset about Laserhawk’ and NO.

NO WE ARE THRIVING WE ARE SO CRAZED AND STARVED AND WE ARE ON CLOUD NINE THAT OUR BOY GOT ALL THIS SCREENTIME

In the first trailer for Laserhawk Rayman was an EASTER EGG. We didn’t even know if he’d have a role with speaking lines until the second trailer. AND WE WERE OK WITH THAT! If baby bean was just a background element to expand the world we would have been happy for the crumbs. But no! Our boy got a full speaking role with a CHARACTER ARC IN A SIX EPISODE SHOW. He got BACKSTORY and RELEVANCE TO THE PLOT. And he DIDN’T GET KILLED OFF.

All that for a character we were expecting to get NOTHING from.

But JADE?!

PEY’J???

They were front and centre from the first trailer. They were established as being as central as Dolph and Bullfrog and WHAT DID IT GET THEM.

Jade gets taken out in ep 2 of 6, and Pey’j goes down the next episode.

At LEAST Pey’j went down being exactly what I expected him to be. A kind protector trying to make the world better. Trying to stop conflict. Trying not to take his pain and suffering from the loss of a girl he loved deeply out on an unfair world. He died a noble if pointless death and from Bullfrog’s expression alone we can see how much it hurt.

JADE GOT NOTHING. Jade died when we barely knew her. We needed more of her. We wanted to see her shine, see more of this wonderful awkward tomboy with a gentle heart. We needed to see how she interacted with others. She DESERVED BETTER. SHE DIDN'T EVEN GET ANY FINAL WORDS.

AND DON’T GET ME STARTED ON THE ‘I HAVE FEELINGS FOR YOU’ SCENE OR I WILL SNAP AND PUNCH SOMETHING. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

In a show where I watched my favourite childhood character swearing, wielding guns and doing sushi and blow off a hookers back THIS JADE AND PEY’J SCENE IS WHAT MADE ME CRINGE.

I am willing to forgive so much from this show. So much of it was a wonderful, ridiculous, beautifully animated rollercoaster.

But implying any kind of romantic sentiment between these two characters only to kill one of them off in the same episode was so damn weird. It was wrong on so many levels. There was NOTHING WRONG with their older mentor/young ward relationship. It could have been great. I don’t understand why they did this. It didn’t add pressure or gravitas to the situation, we KNOW Pey’j would do anything for Jade, HE DOESN’T HAVE TO HAVE A CRUSH ON HER FOR THAT TO BE REAL.

And seeing Jade and Pey’j in Dolph’s VR dream sequence just felt so hollow. We needed at least an episode to establish any kind of team energy from these four, but we didn’t so seeing Jade give Dolph a pep talk about relaxing more came off as flakey and not good enough for a character who deserved better. They didn’t even establish what Jade and Pey’j were supposed to bring to the team. Pey’j is just ‘the tech guy’ in the same episode he dies. Jade has to play a femme fatale against her type but we don’t even get to see her being her best. To quote Rayman ‘IT’S NOT FAIR’.

Oh boy.

I feel a little better getting that anger out. I’m just sad. I’m sad we lost them. They deserved better.

[vodika-vibes]

Undersea/Merfolk AU with the Bad Batch please! Can be romantic or platonic.

Stand By You

Summary: You spent your whole life living in the Royal Orphanage of Atlantis. According to the Matron, you were found on the front steps when you were hours old, and no one ever showed any interest in adopting you. You’ve since aged out of the system, luckily, you made some pretty solid friends. Unluckily, you’ve also landed squarely in the crosshairs of a Sea Wizard.

Pairing: platonic TBB x F!Reader, hinted Crosshair x F!Reader

Word Count: 2792

Prompt: Merfolk AU

Warnings: reader is attacked

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So, I wasn't sure, at first, where I was going with this, and then I had an idea. And then I had to change the idea halfway through because it was edging into Little Mermaid territory. Anyway! I hope you like it~

“I’m telling you,” You say with a roll of your eyes as you flip so that you can look at Tech while swimming backward, “I am a very poor fit for the Atlantis military.”

“You have not even tried,” Tech points out as he adjusts his glasses, then swiftly grabs your wrist to keep you from swimming into a statue, “You can not continue living in a cave outside of the city.”

A petulant pout forms on your lips, “Watch me.”

He sighs as he carefully tugs you so you’re swimming next to him, “Why are you being so stubborn about this?”

You glare at him and flick your fingers towards your tail. Your very mammalian tail. Unlike the other merpeople of Atlantis, your tail looks more like a seal than a fish.

Tech glances at your tail, and then at you, “No one cares that your tail looks different.”

“Correction, you don’t care that my tail looks different. Everyone else cares a lot.” You fold your arms, “Just because they don’t say it around you, doesn’t mean they don’t say it.”

“Well, that is a good reason for you to get a military job,” Tech tries, “Make people see you differently.”

“It’s like you’re being deliberately obtuse, Tech. Why aren’t you listening to me?”

“I am listening to you!” Tech stops and grabs your shoulders, “You are not listening to me. It is not safe for you to live outside the city. Do you know what it would do to us if something happened because we were not there to protect you?”

You sigh and lightly wrap your hands around his wrists, “Tech. I know you’re only being like this because you care—”

“Because you are family,” Tech says.

“But you’re making me feel like you don’t actually care about what I’m saying.”

He closes his eyes, and drops his hands, “That…is not my intention. I am sorry, vod.”

“I forgive you.”

You fall into a comfortable silence, and then Tech bumps your shoulder with his, “I would feel more comfortable if you moved behind the walls.” He says, “But I understand why you might not want to do that.”

“It’s not like I want to live in a cave like a sea witch, Tech. No one will hire me. And, without any money, I’m kind of stuck.” He opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off with a press of your finger against his lips, “And don’t even think of saying that I can move into your barracks. There’s barely enough room for the four of you.”

Tech sighs, “I do not like that you are right about that.”

You grin at him, “Relax. I’ve been living in that cave for years now, and nothing bad has happened.”

“Yet. Nothing bad has happened yet.” Tech corrects.

“Well, maybe I’ll be lucky.” You shrug, as if you’re unbothered, “Anyway, thanks for coming shopping with me.” You add as you lift your netted bag.

“You are welcome. Are you heading home?”

“That’s the plan. Tell the others that they can come and visit whenever,” You say as you back away from him, “And be careful at work, all of you.”

“You do not have to worry about us.”

“Truth, I’m going to do it anyway.” You quickly dart in and press your lips against his cheek, “I’ll see you later, Tech.”

“I will tell the others that you say hi,” Tech replies.

You toss him one more grin, and then turn to swim down the path that will take you out of Atlantis proper, splitting from Tech, who continues straight to the military barracks. 

Your home is near the kelp forest, several miles away from the solid walls that mark the city of Atlantis. The location tends to work in your favor, seeing as there’s a lot of food in the kelp forest that you can gather, or catch, without having to pay for it.

On the other hand, your neighbors aren’t the best.

One of your neighbors, a Cecaelia sea wizard, who goes by the name Verdant, has been trying to coax you into his employ for the better part of the last two years.

He’s nice enough, you suppose. He understands what it is to be seen as not normal in Atlantis and has always been your biggest supporter when it comes to helping you advocate for yourself.

Still, you have no intention of working for him. 

You have the feeling that working for him would put you in opposition with your closest friends, and you’d sooner cut off your arms than allow that to happen.

You slow as you approach your home, a single brow arching when you see Verdant, and his two most loyal retainers, in front of your cave. “Something you need, gentlemen?” You ask as you swim over to them. 

“Ah, my dear,” Verdant beams at you as he swims over to you, “I was wondering where you were.”

“In Atlantis,” You reply, “They get deliveries of surface fruit this time of year, and it’s something that I enjoy when I can.”

Verdant’s grin seems to widen, “How wonderful! Tell me, my dear,”

There’s something about the way that he’s grinning that makes your skin crawl, and you begin to regret not taking Tech up on his offer to crash with him and his brothers for the night. 

One of Verdant’s cronies moves so that he’s almost circling you, ushering you closer to Verdant, “Tell me, you’re friends with several members of the Atlantis Military.”

“We grew up in the Orphanage together,” You reply, it’s not an answer, not really, and judging by how his smile fades, he agrees.

Roughly, Verdant grabs your chin, “I want you to convince your friends to look the other way while we enter the city.”

“No.” The answer falls from you almost without your permission. 

“No?”

“No. I’m not going to help you. Let me go.” You try to jerk your head out of his grip, but he just tightens his hold on you, until it’s painful.

“I have been exceedingly patient with you, child. You have to help me.”

“I don’t have to do anything.” You counter, “Can’t we go back to just being neighbors who sometimes say hi to each other?”

“No.” Verdant releases you and you try to back away, only for the twins to latch onto you, holding you still. “If you won’t work with me, then I suppose you’ll just have to suffer.”

“What do you—?” You’re cut off when you feel a sharp pain in your lower abdomen.

“I am a variant of the Blue Ringed Octopus, little one. Your death is going to be very slow and very painful.” He lightly pats your cheek as your vision starts going grey at the edges, “Assuming you don’t bleed to death first, of course. Release her. We have places to be.”

The arms holding you still vanish, and you sink to the ground.

They swim away while you struggle to cling to consciousness. Whatever they did to you, you can’t seem to move your tail, wherever you try, it sends shockwaves of pain through your whole body.

The next thing you’re acutely aware of is a cry of your name. 

Omega leans over you, her hands pressing firmly against the wound on your abdomen, “—ld on, just hold on! Help is coming!”

What a shame.

The last thing you would have ever wanted was for Omega to find your body. The only thing worse would be dying in her arms.

Shame that it isn’t your choice anymore.

You sink into darkness with Omega’s increasingly panicked cries of your name ringing in your ears.

The waiting room in the Atlantis Military Hospital is silent save for the muffled sobs of Omega as she buries her face in Wrecker’s side.

And while Hunter would usually love the fact that it’s not loud, after six hours of waiting for some news, any news, the silence is beginning to be deafening. 

He drums his fingers against his side for a moment and then swims over to the window, just for something to do, while he tries to stop thinking about what she looked like when they found her.

He wants to forget the blood and how unnaturally still she was.

Hunter wants to be angry that Omega was the one who found her, he wants to rage at her, and tell her that if she just listened to them, this wouldn’t have happened.

But after 6 hours, his rage has been totally extinguished. Replaced with an icy terror.

What is he going to do if she dies?

How is he supposed to keep their family going if she dies?

Hunter flickers his gaze around the room. Omega isn’t crying anymore, though it looks like she’s cried herself to sleep while cuddled against Wrecker. She still has blood on her hands and shirt and streaked down her tail.

Hunter should have helped her get cleaned up, why didn’t he help her get cleaned up?

Wrecker is tense, his hands curling into fists, and then relaxing, before curling back into fists. This has to be torment for him, the sitting and the waiting. He seems pretty calm, all things considered though. Probably because Omega is right there.

Hunter wants to say something to him, to reassure him that she’ll be alright, that she’s stronger that people give her credit for. But, in truth, he doesn’t believe it himself.

So he keeps his mouth shut and flickers his gaze over to Tech.

Tech is sitting closest to the doors that lead to surgery. He’s flipping through a book, very quickly, and a glance at the titles makes Hunter shake his head. They’re books on medicine, surgery, and poisons. Of course, Tech is dealing with the situation in the only way he can. His hands are shaking, though.

Makes sense, Tech was the last person to see her before she was injured. He’s probably blaming himself. No one else here blames him, of course, but Tech has always been his own worst critic. Hunter will have to keep an eye on that, and maybe call Phee if he starts to spiral too badly.

Finally, Hunter turns his attention to Crosshair. Crosshair is folded into a chair, his head in his hands.

Right. Crosshair has always been closest to her. She’s always been very good at handling his mood swings, even when they were kids, and Hunter’s pretty sure that Crosshair’s feelings towards her have long since stopped being simply platonic. 

Not that he’d ever admit it, even to himself.

“You’re staring, Hunter.” Crosshair says quietly.

“Just making sure you’re alright.”

“I’m not the one that was nearly murdered. I’m fine.”

“She’s going to be fine.”

Crosshair releases a bitter laugh, “You don’t even believe that yourself.”

Hunter doesn’t say anything for a moment and then turns to face Crosshair fully. He opens his mouth to say something, only to pause when the door to the surgical suite opens, and the Doctor enters the room.

He looks exhausted, but pleased with himself. 

The Doctor’s gaze sweeps the room, and he nods once, “Her injuries are severe, but I’ve managed to repair the worst of the damage, and she has been given the first of three doses of anti-toxin. We won’t know the extent of the damage until she wakes up, but assuming nothing goes wrong over the next couple of days, she’s going to be just fine.”

The tight string of tension that had been running through all of the brothers snaps at the doctor's words as they slump in relief. “Is she allowed visitors?” Hunter asks.

“Not just yet. Give us some time to get her settled in the observation ward, and then you can visit her.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Tech says as he straightens, “This is very good news.”

The Doctor smiles at them and then turns and leaves the room.

No one moves for a moment, and then Omega lets out a delighted noise and she twirls, “She’s going to be okay!”

“So it seems,” Hunter agrees, a relieved smile on his face.

Slowly, you open your eyes, feeling like you’ve been asleep for far, far too long. You feel warm and comfortable, and it takes you a moment to completely push the sleep away to figure out where you are. 

There’s a quiet beeping noise coming from nearby, and you roll your head to see what is making that noise, momentarily confused when you see a heart monitor next to your bed.

You slowly sit up, the blanket tumbling from your chest to settle at your waist, and you absently tug on the sleeve of the shirt you’re wearing. It looks, and feels, like the soft material used in hospitals. 

And then you remember. Verdant. His Cronies. The stabbing.

You lift the hem of your shirt and peer down at your stomach. There’s a massive wound, running from just over your hip, across your stomach, and stopping just under the breast at the opposite side.

You touch the injury, and aside from some faint pain, it doesn’t hurt.

You must be on some good painkillers.

It’s about that time when you realize that you can’t feel your tail. For a moment you think that Verdant cut your tail off to punish you, though as you move the blanket, you can see your tail is still there. 

White and dark grey with black spots.

The same tail you were born with. The same tail that had you treated as an outsider. 

You stare at your tail as you try to move it. To twitch your flipper, or anything.

But nothing happens.

The door to your room opens, and you turn to stare at the Doctor. He looks surprised to see you awake, but then he smiles, “How are you feelin—?”

“I can’t feel my tail.” You interrupt.

His smile vanishes.

The next couple of hours fly by. Tests and more tests, and long conversations with dozens of different doctors, and they all say the same thing.

The attack that nearly killed you permanently damaged your spinal cord. You’re likely never going to be able to move your tail ever again. And then they leave you on your own, with little more than an appointment with a therapist to help you learn to live with your new circumstances.

And so, you’re not in the best mood when your family arrives to visit you. 

Though, Omega flinging herself into your arms, wrapping her arms tightly around your neck, and burying her face in your hair is almost enough to make you smile again. 

“How are you feeling?” Crosshair asks, as he moves to the other side of the bed, his sharp gaze flickering across you as if searching for any injuries the doctor might have missed.

“I’m…okay, all things considered.”

“Just okay?” Tech asks.

You frown slightly, “I’m going to be in the hospital for a bit longer.” And then you hesitate.

“What’s wrong?” That’s Wrecker, from the doorway. The room isn’t really big enough for everyone.

“Um…well,” You pause, “The attack left some lingering damage.”

Hunter lightly takes your hand in his, “Tell us.”

“I’m paralyzed,” You clench your jaw, to keep yourself from crying. You’re still alive, there’s no reason to be upset. “I can’t swim anymore.” Hunter’s grip on your hand tightens, “The doctors are working on coming up with a way for me to still be independent, but—”

You start when Crosshair lays his cheek against the top of your head, “We’ll help.”

“As much as we can.” Wrecker agrees.

“If we pool our money,” Tech says, “We can afford a place outside the barracks for all of us to live. I will work up a budget.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Don’t be silly,” Omega says stubbornly, “We’re family, this is what family does.”

Some of the anxiety fades away, and you flash the smallest smile towards all of them, “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank us,” Hunter says, “We’re not doing anything that you wouldn’t do for us.” He flashes a small smile, “We take care of each other.”

“You are going to have to talk to Marshal Commander Cody about the attack,” Crosshair says, “Everyone is very interested in knowing who attacked you so close to Atlantis.”

You nod at him, “I know. I’ll tell him everything he wants to know.”

Two weeks later, you’re released from the hospital with your new mobility harness strapped around you. You’re going to need help for a while, while you adapt to it, but you’re not too worried.

You have a pretty solid support system, after all.

And they’ll never let you get hurt.

[grayishgiggles]

You Can Rest

Being the big brother can come with expectations, like solving everyone’s problems and being strong for those who feel weak. When this weight gets too heavy for Peter 2, he resorts to spending long nights in Dr. Otto Octavius’ lab. One night, the six armed scientist catches him overworking.

———

A dim overhead light flickered in the dark lab of Doctor Otto Octavius. However, said physicist wasn’t the one up that night. Instead, his apprentice, Peter Parker (Peter 2) was hard at work on a project he kept to himself: new web shooters for Peter 3.

With an arc reactor in possession of his mentor, Peter 2 was hoping he could find a way to harness its energy into a small enough device that didn't need a change of batteries or charging. All he had to figure out now was…how to do that. And that’s what he was stuck on.

With wires connected to the pegs of the reactor and various small tools strewn about the desk, Peter 2 groaned. Maybe if he asked Otto for help, this would’ve been easier.

But no, the sun had to have set hours ago. The last thing Peter wanted to do was bother the scientist in his sleep. He could do this on his own. He was smart. He was the Peters' big brother, for gods sake.

He should know how to do this…right?

Peter 2 rubbed his bloodshot eyes and leaned back in the chair to crack his spine. No wonder he had a bad back after all these years. He must’ve been craning his neck for hours now.

Suddenly, a buzz from his Peter tingle tapped the corner of his eye. He spun around.

“Otto…”

“Peter, what are you doing up?” Otto was in his robe, night clothes on and his actuators drooping from sleepiness. “Have you looked at the time?”

“I...Otto, it’s all good. I’m just working.” The man gestured to his desk. “You can go back to bed.”

“I can’t now. It’s four in the morning.”

Peter 2 sighed, “that late, huh?” He lowered his head. “I just…I need to work more on this thing, that’s all. I’m fine, don’t worry.”

Doc Ock scoffed at that. “You clearly aren’t. You’re working in jeans!”

“Yeah, so what?” Peter 2 turned back to his work, picking a screwdriver up.

Otto stepped closer. “You’re wearing the same uncomfortable clothes you've worn all day into midnight. I've done the same thing. And from experience, it means you should go home."

Peter felt the heat in him rise as his sleepiness lowered his tolerance.

“Why does it matter to you?” The Spider-Man’s voice grew louder.

Out of all people, Otto should’ve known that hard work comes at a cost. Heck, Peter remembered when Doc Ock didn’t sleep the night before his fusion reactor demonstration. He had no right to tell him to rest.

“Because I care, dear boy. Please, you can sleep here if you want…”

“Otto!!” Peter 2 snapped at him.

The doctor had never been yelled at like that by him, his shocked expression meeting Peter’s. The exhausted man's face softened, and took a deep breath. “I-I gotta make progress on this web shooter, doc. If I don’t, then I dunno what to do.”

“You...you have organic webs.” Mumbled Otto.

“It’s for Peter 3," grumbled Peter, "Peter 3’s shooters are all old and they..and they need new tech, okay?!” The man clenched his fists. “Just let me work. I owe it to him.”

“Peter, what are you doing?” Otto asked softly, now next to his apprentice.

Peter Parker bit his lip. He felt his throat tighten and his eyes sting. Peter 2 swallowed. “I..I dunno, Doc. I’m sorry I yelled.”

“I forgive you, dear boy…" His mentor put a hand on his shoulder. "Let’s get out of here. This isn't good for you.” A metal arm slithered around around the man’s waist and gently pulled him out of his chair and into Otto’s real arms. Peter 2 went limp, propping his head up against his chest as he was carried out of the lab.

“I’m sorry…Doc.”

“You’re alright, Peter.”

The numbers 4:30 AM were displayed on the microwave clock in Otto’s kitchen. The doctor's drowsy state was wearing off as the smell of brewing coffee became stronger.

As he was waiting, Octavius kept watch across the kitchen in the living room, where Peter 2 laid on his large sofa. He gave him some of his own pajamas which were oversized but comfier than sleeping in jeans in his opinion. 

Otto hoped he would’ve been tired enough to sleep by now, but no, Peter 2's glazed over expression was fixated on the flickering TV playing a soap opera. The poor thing.

“Would you like something, Peter? I could make hot chocolate. I…I know you liked it back then.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

Otto huffed softly. Something was bothering the man, something that had to do with the web shooter he was working on. Why did he feel compelled to make a new one for Peter 3? Did he have a fight with the other Peters about it? Oh dear, he hoped not.

Once his coffee was brewed and poured into a mug, Doc Ock slumped on the couch beside Peter. The way Peter was curled up in the plaid blanket given to him reminded the scientist of when he was young, spry, filled with life. He missed it a little. The TV clicked off with the remote in Otto’s hand.

“So, if you aren’t going to sleep, how about we talk about what’s going on?” He set the mug and remote on the coffee table and turned his body towards Peter.

An actuator gently nudged Peter’s shoulder. All he did was let out a big sigh. “It’s a lot, Doc. I don't know where to begin.”

"How about with the project you have going on in there?" Doc Ock gestured in the direction of his lab. "Why do you wanna work on it so bad?"

"I feel it's the least I can do...for Peter 3. He's in need of upgrades and...I dunno, I wanna make him happy. I have to get them done for him." Shrugged Peter.

Otto squinted. "You always act like...you have to give everything to everyone."

Peter gave a sad laugh at that, avoiding eye contact. "It's what being Spider-Man is about."

A few moments of silence passed.

Otto fiddled with his fingers. “Is there something going on with you and the other boys?”

Peter 2 clenched his jaw. “I mean…yes, but no. We’re all doing great. Nothing happened like a fight or anything." He chuckled. "I love them, doc. They’re my brothers. And..and I wanna be there for them, but...I don't know if they should be there for me."

Otto’s silent attention indicated him to continue.

“I’ve been afraid to…to ask them for support. They got a lot on their plate already, being Spider-Men, especially Peter 1...that poor kid. I don't wanna add onto their problems, Otto,” Peter 2 slowly sat up, hugging his knees. “What if they think they have no one to lean on if I'm weak in front of them? Because I’m the big brother. I should have things under control. I’m their rock, ya know?” He sniffled as his composure began to crumple.

"Peter..."

“I have to be strong for them. They need me, and...I really need them too. But how do I tell them when I'm supposed to have everything together in my life?!”

“Peter."

“I can’t be a burden, Otto. Not to them.”

“Peter, stop that talk.” Doc’s stern but kind voice broke through Peter 2’s rambling. The man glanced up, his vision blurred by tears. He blinked them away as they flowed down his face. Peter wiped his face. “Sorry…”

“Why’re you all the way over on that side? You can come over here…I’m here for you.” Otto opened his arms. Peter weakly began scooting over, but he ended up being carried by metal tentacles into his mentor’s warm embrace. "Goodness, you're being so hard on yourself."

"I know, I know," hiccupped Peter, his arms tightly clasped around the doctor's midsection, face buried into his shirt as the floodgates opened. He thought he was done crying about things, but with these new brothers, he felt so strongly to protect them. He didn't want them to go through what he went through. He couldn't let that happen. But right now, he felt so weak, so tired. For once he wanted to feel protected. "I just...I love them and...I want them to be safe."

"I do too, but you don't get that when you hurt yourself in the process. You're one of them too." He lifted the man's chin to meet his eyes. "What gives them the right to be loved and not you, hm?"

Peter's face was flushed from tears and tiredness. He shrugged halfheartedly. "Y-you got me there."

"You are allowed to be weak, dear boy." His four additional arms wrapped around the two of them to provide support, making sure Peter was properly held. "Weakness is part of being a human. You are still human, Peter, no matter your age or strange super power."

"Heh...true," he leaned back for a moment to wipe his face, "ugh, I haven't cried like this in...forever. And this...this is what I needed."

"A hug?"

"Not just that...but just a big cuddle like this." He laid his head down on Otto.

"I shouldn't be surprised. All you Peters love it." Snorted the scientist. Peter furrowed his brow at that. Otto cleared his throat.

"Peter 1, the little one, I gave him a hug like this and he just...fell asleep. He wouldn't let go of me. Stayed curled up for hours. And that tall one, Peter 3, heh, he's a hugger, alright. He lifted me off the ground, you know? Scared me half to death. I forgot you boys had super strength."

Peter 2 chuckled and shrugged in admission. He wiped his eyes again. "Okay, we do like being cuddly, so be it."

"You probably need this more than they do. Are you usually the one holding them?"

"Yeah, but I don't mind." Peter smiled. "It's nice having baby bros."

"Well, tonight, or should I say this morning, you're getting held. Got it?" He gently pinched Peter 2's cheek, getting a weak giggle out of him. The man nodded with a yawn. "Okay...okay."

Peter let his muscles relax and melt into the embrace. He closed his eyes, finally feeling the waves of sleepiness get to him.

"You know, I was going to tickle you..."

Peter shot his eyes open. “What?!”

Otto laughed. “You probably hate that, huh? That I know your weakness?"

“Otto, no!” Peter tensed up.

"But, now's not the time, I know. I won’t tickle you, I promise.” The tentacles repositioned themselves a little so Peter 2 could comfortably lay on Otto's chest. The man squinted playfully. "You better be telling the truth, doc.”

"I am, Peter. Now close your eyes. Spider-Man needs his sleep.” He was genuine in his tone, gently resting a hand on the back of Peter’s head to run a few fingers through his brown hair.

And the scientist did tell the truth. Otto and Peter nestled into a peaceful slumber, letting the warmth bring comfort to their souls. Never in a million years did Peter imagine his idol/once enemy would be cuddling him like this, but he wasn’t complaining. It was nice to have a father figure like this around. It reminded him of when Uncle Ben would care for him.

For once, he could rest easy.

Otto Octavius was the first to wake up. Groaning, he rubbed his eyes before noticing the man curled up on him. Oh yeah, Peter had a long night, didn't he? But at this moment, he looked so peaceful despite the bit of drool dried up on his lip. The scientist couldn’t help but chuckle.

But now he was in a predicament. In no way did he want to wake his apprentice from his much needed slumber. On the other hand, the scientist needed to get a little bit of work done today regarding the arc reactor.

So, he gently used his metal arms to begin moving Peter off of him. But Peter didn’t let go. Maybe his sticky hands were activated when he slept or something, but he wouldn’t budge. Otto sighed, and returned to the cuddle. “Clingy, hm?” Maybe he could relax for a few more hours.

1 PM rolled around, and Otto completed yet another season of Grey’s Anatomy. While it was fairly inaccurate, he quite enjoyed the acting. When the credits rolled on his newly finished episode, he glanced down. Peter was still out like a light.

A long rest is good, but if it lasts too long, it won't be healthy, Otto thought to himself. Maybe it was time to get up.

"Peter," mumbled the doctor, gently rubbing his shoulder. But he didn’t stir. Otto tried tapping his cheek: nothing. Maybe calling to him louder would work? Nope, not that either. 

Otto sighed. He was going to have to use bigger guns to wake the man-child. And that's when it hit him.

"You know, I was going to tickle you..."

Doc Ock felt a smile tug at his lips recalling the night before. What a perfect idea! He leaned down, closer to the Spider-Man.

"Peter..." Otto talked in a singsong voice this time, wiggling a finger under Peter 2's chin. The man twitched, his brows furrowing.

"Peter, you gotta wake up." His fingers switched to poking his sides, which got his Spider-Man to smile in his sleep. Peter mumbled out a few giggles as he curled up.

"Oh, come on, Pete. Don’t make me really tickle you.” Otto was being gentle so far, but it looked like this would take more than a few little pokes and prods. A metal claw from his tentacles whirred curiously over the man. It faced Otto as if asking for permission. “Get em, Flo,” the doctor encouraged.

Flo nuzzled right into Peter 2's stomach, eliciting a stream of sleepy giggling. "N-Nohoho..." Peter squirmed halfheartedly away from the sensation, but couldn't do much trapped in the cuddle.

"Wake up, Peter," cooed Otto as a metal claw tased his side. That's what woke Peter 2 up.

"Ahack-! Whahahat the heck?!" The Spider-Man sat up to only get a onslaught of light tickles from two playful actuators. "EHEEhehehey!! Gehet off!!" They nudged and nuzzled his stomach and sides like dogs do, only making him laugh louder. He curled back into a ball on Otto's lap. 

"Good morning, dear boy!" Doc Ock chirped. It was refreshing to see his Peter smiling like this again. "How do you like the wakeup call?"

"Gehehet em off! OhottOOHOHOMYGAHAD!!" The tentacles discovered his ribs and pinched them. Peter 2 doubled over in cackling, his arms pinned to his sides. He buried his face into the doctor's shirt. "GEHEHET tHEM OFF!"

"Hey now, don't get rough!" Otto scolded the arms. They stopped the tickling for a moment to lower their heads in agreement, returning to his sides, "nibbling" them with their claws. Peter 2 squeaked.

"Now this is the perfect way to start your day, wouldn't you agree?" Cheered Otto, in which his apprentice whined through his grin.

“Ihi-I just wasn’t ehehexpecting this!!”

"How is it?"

"Ihihit-" a snort erupted from Peter, "-TIHIHickles!!"

"Good, I'm doing my job, then." The doctor chuckled. At this point Peter 2 realized no matter how much he wriggled, he wasn't escaping this. So he did what had to be done: rested his head on Otto's chest and let himself giggle his heart out. Just the sight of it warmed his mentor's heart.

Otto couldn't help himself. He wanted to be a part of the fun too. "Moe? Flo?"

The pair of metal arms perked up. All they needed was a look from their owner to know to stop.

"Wha-?"

"Are you up yet, Peter?" Doc Ock's free hand snuck under the oversized shirt and gently scribbled on his bare stomach.

A stream of light laughter bubbled out of Peter 2, surprised by the new type of tickly feeling compared to the metal claws. He leaned into Otto. "NAAHahahaoo! DOhoc I'm up!! I'm uhUHUP! You can stahahap!"

"You slept a whole eight hours, so theoretically you should be up and off the couch right now." Sneered Octavius. "But lo and behold, you aren't. Still brilliant but lazy, Parker."

Peter snatched Otto's hand with both of his, giggling nervously. "Ihihif you let me go, I'll get up!!" 

"Hmmm...no." Otto broke out of the man's grasp and gave a squeeze to his lower ribs. Peter threw his head back as he wheezed. "NAHAHOO!! COMEON!" The man shook his head. "NAHAT FAIR!!"

"Peter 1 was right; you all have bad ribs!" The doctor laughed. "Oh, this is too fun!"

"NOHOHO MOHohore!" Peter 2 whined.

The playful scientist hummed. He didn't want to overdo the whole wake-up-tickle method, right? In all honesty, he just wanted to see his Peter's smile, and he sure as hell got that. And it looked just like it did years ago, curled up at the corners of the mouth and his nose scrunched up whenever he laughed. Some things don't change, do they? 

"Alright, I'm done." His hand rested on Peter's stomach, motionless. "You feel awake?"

The older Peter lightly panted, arms wrapped around his midsection as a few more small giggles wheezed out. The butterflies in his stomach seemed to be tickling him still. "Mahahan...yeah, yeah I'm awake. Wooo..."

"I knew I had to tickle you. It feels good to hear you laugh, dear boy." Otto exchanged a gentle look to him, making his Peter blush.

"Uhugh...you're the worst."

"How are you, physical-wise?" The doctor turned the page.

Peter sat up on Otto's lap and groaned as he stretched. "I'm better. I, uh, feel rested." He shrugged.

"Good, that's good to hear," he nodded. "I was worried about you."

"Yeah." Peter looked away. "Thank you again for...for last night. I probably needed to hear it. I can't really care for my brothers if I don't care for myself, heheh." 

"That indeed, Peter." Doc Ock ruffled his hair. He pursed his lips after a thought flew through his head. "How about I help you with those web shooters today?"

The oldest brother blinked. "Really?"

The scientist shook his head yes. "I'm sure we can figure out what troubles you're having if we work together," he stated, "the real question is: do you want my help?"

Peter 2's youthful smile curled up. "Yeah...I'd like that."

Otto thought he was going to cry happy tears at the sight of that face. "Then let's get you something to eat, first," he said as he freed Peter from the cuddle.

Oh, how he loved this boy.

[blazingstar400]

[Clavell trying to understand everyone better]

Clavell: Tell me about your friend group, Florian.

Florian: If I explain all that we’re gonna be here for a while… where do I even start?

Florian: Hm… well… I guess I can go ahead and start with Carmine. She’s tough, smart, hot-headed, hard to read, and scary as heck sometimes. But I think she’s secretly nice.

[Flashback]

Carmine: Tell me who has me for Secret Santa.

Juliana: What? Noooo! That takes all the fun out of it!

Carmine: *glares daggers at her*

Juliana: It’s me. I got you a scarf. It’s blue and ugly. I can return it if you wan—

Carmine, snatches the gift before she can finish: Well now it’s my blue and ugly scarf! Back off!!

[End of flashback]

Florian: Next I guess is Nemona. She’s hyperactive. Not the most brilliant, but she works harder than anyone else. She doesn’t have the best aim or grip on things though.

[Flashback, Nemona unwraps a muffin, then drops it on the ground.]

Nemona: Awww shoot! My muffin!

[As she picks it up, she smacks her head on the table.]

Nemona: Ow! My head! My muffin and my head!

[End of flashback]

Florian: Penny’s probably the most brilliant when it comes to tech and stuff. She was the Leader of Team Star. Gets underestimated because of her looks, so she’s always trying to prove she’s tough.

[Flashback, Penny puts hot sauce on her sandwich. She looks up to see Florian watching her.]

Penny: You think I can’t handle this much hot sauce? I can handle way more than this. *she empties the hot sauce on her sandwich and takes a bite*

Penny, in agony: In... your... face.

Florian: ...I never said anything…

[End of flashback]

Clavell: What about Arven?

Florian: Arven’s probably like the big brother of our group. And he cooks for all of us. If it weren’t for him we’d probably all eat unhealthy or starve…

[Flashback]

Kieran: *is eating a chocolate bar*

Arven: *quickly snatches it out of his grasp and crushes it*

Kieran, now slightly annoyed: Hey!! I was eating that!!

Arven: Not on my watch!! You have been eating nothing but chocolate and candy for the past few days! Don’t you know how unhealthy that is??

Arven, bringing out a well seasoned salad: Here! This would be a lot better for you to eat!

Kieran: *looks down at the salad with a disgusted/grumpy look*

[End of flashback]

Florian: Kieran is the shy and sweet one in our group but at the same time… he’s also really emo and edgy. Also, I think he’s secretly down bad for Juliana but he’s in complete denial. He’d probably kill me if he figures out I told you so just don’t tell him I said that…

Meanwhile, Kieran is in his room petting Furret but suddenly pauses: Why do I feel like Florian is out there somewhere… telling my deepest, darkest secret?

Clavell: And Juliana?

Florian: Juliana’s the strongest trainer in our group. Also, she’s the one with the purest heart. Loves music, helping others, saving the world, stopping then forgiving bad guys, and solving puzzles. The only puzzle she hasn’t seemed to solved though... is how to grow up.

[Flashback]

Florian: Stay here while I get more supplies for our up coming trip okay?

Juliana, beaming: Don’t worry, Florian! I’m not going anywhere!

Florian, closing his eyes and sighing: You better. This store is like a maze. So just stick close to me so you don’t get lost okay?

Florian: …

Florian: Okay?

Florian: …

Florian, opening his eyes: …Juliana?

[He sees Juliana rushing off in the distance after a butterfly]

Juliana: Heeeey!! Come back here!!

Florian, watching with an unamused look: I should have known…

[End of flashback]

Florian: And finally there’s me. I’m really just a typical average person. Not much to say about me.

Florian:

Florian: Honestly, I feel like I’m the only normal person in my friend group….

[random-blurbs]

I Need Your Help - Chapter 3

Masterlist

Hearing the plastic crinkle behind you - you couldn’t turn around before the treat was placed in front of you. “Almond?” You asked as your hand wrapped around the plastic bag bringing it closer to your body.

“I thought you would want to try that one.” He reasoned remembering the last time you got a plain one. But was able to see your eyes linger on the one right beside it. But considering you practically finished the case for them it’s reasonable to get the sweet treat you probably really wanted. “Thanks.”

Packing up your bag you sensed the same unmoving presence behind you. Feeling uncomfortable you turned around sending him a questionable look. “Is there something you need?” Looking over his body language he seemed so hesitant to tell you something. It doesn’t look like bad news, just general nervousness that he seems to carry everywhere he goes.

“If it’s ok with you…can we stay in contact? I just want to ask you some questions? And I just don’t know when we’ll see each other again.” He said it in a tone where it seemed like he didn’t even believe it himself. As you started to question his motives along with it.

Questions? What type of questions?

“Are you going to interrogate me or something?” You questioned trying to understand what he’s getting at. He seemed to get more flustered as the miscommunication continued. “N-No! I want to know you better!” He confessed his voice deflating as he realized how much he’s messing up this simple interaction.

Imagine if he were to ask you out on a date.

“Oh…” Flustered by his answer, you try recounting anyone who wanted to know you more after spending time with you. It’s depressing trying to think the last time it actually was. “Yeah sure…” You mumbled out not knowing what to do with your obvious expression now. He seemed to perk up as he looked up to your face, happy that his failing attempt actually succeeded.

“We can exchange emails!” You didn’t want to ruin his excitement as you realized the man in front of you just isn’t that tech-savvy like the rest of the team. Apparently exchanging numbers is out of the question. Giving him your personal email address he quickly wrote it down stuffing it in his pocket his face radiating with a smile. Is it because of you he’s smiling like that?

“O-Oh also!” Barely remembering he pointed at the room across from you guys where his team was packing up following suit. “Derek wants to apologize to you.” He said as your eyes moved away from his team to your fingers. You knew he wanted to apologize, as you avoided him every turn. But his words stung, and as you slept after the case officially being marked as solved, his words refused to leave your mind. “Just tell him it’s forgiven.” You said half-heartedly as you opened the croissant that Reid gave you moments ago.

“You don’t have to accept his apology Y/N, you’re allowed to be hurt by what he said. I-if it gives you reassurance I wouldn’t forgive him either.” He said positively with that cute tight-lipped smile you’ve seen him do.

Cute?

Coughing into your arm you motioned to Reid you were ok as you collected your thoughts in return. “Thank you, but I’m just not ready. There’s no bad blood, I just don’t want to talk to him.” You finalize trying to move on from this topic. “You ready?” Looking up you both saw Hotch in the doorway peeking half of his body through. Simultaneously had let out a yes, quickly looking at each other with slight surprise. You haven’t been together for too long you can’t already be saying stuff at the same time as one another. “I got your prescription that you asked for.” Thanking him you grabbed the prescription stuffing it in your bag.

“If you want you can ride with Reid and we’ll meet you at the plane.” Hotch offered as he stepped out of the room quickly probably to notify his team. You glanced at Spencer as he stood there with a confused furrow of his brow as his eyes followed Hotch. After a few long seconds you let out a cough finally bringing his attention back to you. “Is that ok with you?”

“You’re coming with us?” Confused by his confusion it seemed like you guys were going in circles. “I mean yeah? Did you think I live in LA?” You asked finally understanding why this back and forth was happening. He really thought he wasn’t going to see you again. Is that why he’s doing this awkward attempt of friendship? “If I’m being honest yeah. I really thought you did.”

“That hurts more than I thought.” You joked as he let out a small chuckle, glad that you brought the conversation back in a happier tone. “Do you want to join me? Derek lost a bet so now I can drive the car for a couple of months.” He said giddy with the reminder of how badly Derek lost a bet with him, even though he should know by now there’s no point in playing against him.

“Just us?”

“Just us.”

-

“This is your desk?” You ask even though the pile of books and the half-done chess board is enough indication that it’s his. “Yeah sorry it’s just a little…” Rushing over he carefully grabbed his books putting them in his drawers, tidying it up nicely. Trying to fix the general appearance of his desk that made him, him. “My apartment is probably a lot worse.” You comforted letting him continue doing what he needed to do apparently.

“Um here!” Motioning to his office chair he nudged it closer to you, as you gratefully accepted it letting yourself sit on it. “Do you want a coffee?”

“Do you want me to go get us some?” You offered which he immediately rejected, pointing at their little break area. “Don’t worry I can make it for us real quick.” Not waiting for you response he made his way to the coffee machine, waiting for him awkwardly at his desk. You came to drop off the necessary paperwork to finalize the case you worked on, hoping you can put this behind you. “Oh hi!” Looking up you see the woman who had your back somewhat when the whole fiasco went down. “Prentiss right?” You asked being horrible at names and faces. Never really sticking unless you care about them to a certain extent.

“Yes it is! And Y/N? Thank you for helping us on this one. I would’ve missed my paid vacation.” She said thankful that everyone was able to get back home safely and quickly. Nodding your head at her you didn’t know what else to say as she stood there as well. “And if you ever need anything - let us know. I know we’re not close, but if you ever need something-.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” You cut her off knowing the spill some people do. You were thankful for her offer, but an offer that isn’t something you’re willing to take. Giving you a slight nod she walked to her bag before quickly leaving. Just in time Spencer had walked up with two steaming cups in his hand. His head turning back to you as he was following Emily’s retreating figure. “Did she want something?” You shake your head as you gratefully grabbed the hot coffee placing it right beside you. Pulling up a chair beside you he scooted in making sure he gave you appropriate space. “Do you play a lot?” You ask looking over at the chess match that was happening. You understood the general rules and play. But it just wasn’t something you would invest your time into.

“Yeah I used to play with Gideon? I’ve heard you were close.” He felt like he had to be careful when bringing up that name. His name still bringing a sense of hurt in his chest as he remembered the times he would help Reid build up his skills.

“I feel like close isn’t the right word.” You correct remembering the time spent with Gideon. You memory refreshing whenever he mentioned the genius in his team when he would be at your apartment molding you.

“Then what do you call it?” He asked feeling more confident considering you haven’t turned him away just yet. Taking a careful sip from the cup you felt it burn your lips as you winced. This is why you settle with ice lattes most of the time. “He allowed me to see something nobody else wouldn’t.” He knew whenever interacting with you, confusion would come along with it.

“I don’t want to talk about it though.” You quickly add knowing that Reid would get more curious but you just weren’t ready. Not yet.

“Oh of course…” He understood not wanting to push you in any farther. “Do you want to play? I can show you a little bit?”

“Do you often play at work?” Somehow Reid made you feel comfortable in such a strict up-tight place. It’s the BAU for crying out loud being surrounded by other agents. One wrong move and you might as well be demoted. Even if you don’t actually hold a position here. ��When I need a breather.” He replied fixing the board between you two. Fixing the pieces you looked over the board. He gave you the white pieces.

With a careful hand you moved your pawn giving Spencer a small smile, letting you feel as normal as you could.

-

It was weird ‘emailing’ someone instead of simply texting. To the point where you’ve been close to asking him for his number. But even though there were shared pictures attached to the emails showing one another each other’s lives, it felt too intimate. The time to ask for his number had already passed.

You had just gotten a photo of his plant that Penelope had given him. It’s looking a little dry making you pity the poor plant. Naming it Spencer 2.0 showing his very loving parenting side. Sending him back of your cat, she was making biscuits on your lap.

It would be nice to see her

The thought made a small smile break out as you let your phone fall against your lips slowly. It’s a weird feeling he gives you. Imagining him interact with your man hating cat, allowed a chuckle escape from your lips. You know it would be a one-sided love but a love regardless. He seemed to enjoy your cat more and more with the pictures being sent his way.

You should come over with Spencer 2.0

His heart quickened as he read your words over and over again. Words etched into his mind enhancing his nervousness. Did you really want him to come over? Or was it just playful banter.

He truly wouldn’t mind going over.

For question purposes obviously.

-

Rubbing your eyes you left Hotch’s office in a terrible mood. The headache continued as you gripped onto the papers he gave you tighter.

“You emptied your clip. That brings up concern.”

His words confirmed the uncertainty of your own mind.

Reading the general report and the coroner’s report it confirmed his words rather than your own mind.

It was practically overkill. And you did that with your own hands.

Yelping as when you looked down at your hands the bloodied mess from a month ago appeared. “Y/N?” Looking up you see Reid’s team staring at you concerned as you realized the paper’s scattered the floor. “I’m sorry.” You mumbled quickly picking up the mess of papers not caring the order. Hearing some rustling in front of you, you see the person helping you.

“Are you ok?” Sighing you look him dead in the eyes, the most you have even given him since the case had ended. “Morgan I’m fine. You don’t need to help me.” Grabbing the papers from him you stuffed them in the file Hotch had given you. “I know just checking up on you. I know it’s not easy shooting-.”

“What are you talking about?” You cut him off as you looked between him and Reid who was now watching the interaction between you two. “I heard it was your first time shooting an Unsub. It’s hard for everyone.” He explained, leaving you disoriented. You can’t deal with this. You don’t want to deal with this.

“I can’t believe…” You couldn’t believe Reid was telling his team. You know you didn’t tell him it was supposed to be some secret. But you would think he would understand privacy. Obviously you were wrong. Scoffing you push past Morgan as you bee-lined to the elevators. Wanting what you can call home.

“Y/N!” Jogging up to you as your foot tapped impatiently for the elevator you continued staring ahead. The reflection of you two making sure you saw it either way. “What do you want?” You ask not wanting to talk to him. To anyone.

“It seemed like something happened between you two so I wanted to check up on you.”

“So you can tell him?”

“W-what? What are you talking about.” It was unfair. Blaming him it was so unfair. So as the elevator door dinged and opened infront of you, you quickly walked in. It was better to keep your mouth shut and not ruin what you have with Reid. And you wanted something so desperately. An understanding between you two.

Nothing you wanted more.

So the best you can do is leave him there with a distressed expression as your eyes linger on the dirty elevator floor.

-

It took you longer than you rather admit to reach out to Reid again.

And if you were to ask him he would know it’s been 2 months, three days, and 8 hours with 26 minutes since he last interacted with you.

He wanted to give you space.

But he wished he hadn’t.

He saw you from afar as you sat on the park bench. You looked exhausted, frazzled, on edge. How much happened?

Walking up to you, you seemed to be in your own world again. It’s like seeing a mirror of himself, a scarier version of himself in a way. “Y/N?” Catching your attention you finally acknowledged his presence, giving him a timid smile. Passing him the cup that was sitting next you, the warmth enveloped his hands. “Put a bunch of sugar.” You say quietly as you sip the replica of your drink.

“And I got us tickets.” You show him 2 physical tickets as he saw a glimpse of the title. “Slashers?” He asked skeptical about the movie topic they were going to watch.

“Horror movies don’t really scare me. I like watching it for the makeup and effects.” He wouldn’t mind if this was a normal thing between friends. But he doesn’t want to let it go. But he doesn’t want to ruin the normalcy you’re trying to have between you two. “Why did you reach out?” He finally asked. You weren’t surprised he wanted to know. It wasn’t fair to him.

“I want to get to know you more. But I’m scared.” You confess as the sleepless nights wouldn’t go away. The nights of tossing sleep evident in your eyebags. Terrified of everything. Terrified of your mind, and it not allowing you to relish in the friendship you wanted with Spencer.

“About?” He asked.

“You no longer wanting to be around me, when you find out how shitty my mind is.” You admit. “I want to tell you everything because I feel like you can understand. But I don’t want to drag you down with me.” You were screwed from the start, you accepted your fate. Gideon came around and gave you help but took it just as quickly.

But with Reid you swear. It’s something so complicated for a mind like yours you want to find out why that is. But you’re scared of what you’re going to see. And if Reid will see the same as you. “Y/N I mean this in the nicest way possible. But I’m a grown man, I can decide who I’m friends with and-.” Taking a deep breath he made sure you were looking at him as your eyes seemed teary with sleep and sadness.

“And I want to be friends with you. I want to know you. I want to do things with you. And if you can, let me do those things. I want you to confide in me, and I want to do the same. So I can tell you when it’s too much. Just have faith in me.” He professed.

His words did help, but that fear that was etched into you for years doesn’t just go away. But seeing Spencer being the only person willing to indulge in your wants made you smile. You don’t want to have hope.

It’s hard though.

Hope is an infectious thing.

TAGLIST

@maisyyyyyy

@britbratface

@khxna

@geepinky

[mutable-manifestation]

Summer Vacation Summoning Shenanigans Part 3

Part 1, Part 2

***

“D- shit!" Red cursed, leaping to catch him judging by the suddenly much-closer voice and the arms now cradling his head and shoulders to keep them off of the floor. "Steph!" 

"Names~!" Spoiler sing-songed.

"We were going to have him wear the sensory suppression helmet!"

"Well, this worked just fine didn't it?" Danny hears a sloshing noise - probably the recapped chloroform bottle getting twirled.

"No." Robin deadpanned. "The timeframe of his unconsciousness will not be sufficient to reach the batcave and we will need the helmet anyway."

"Pppshaw," Spoiler dismisses. "The last time any of you guys checked the time it was, what, when you were proving you weren't secretly cult maniacs by showing him those news articles? Between then and when he wakes up he won't have any way to tell how long he was out. As long as he can't see the entrance by the time he's up it'll be fiiiine."

"You will also have damaged what trust we had thus far been able to build with him, likely setting back our investigation and thus both our ability to interfere with the League of Assassins and to help Danny himself," came Robin's scathing reply.

"...ah."

"We're wasting time," Red sighed, moving to sling Danny over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, judged by the shoulder now jamming into his stomach. "Thank you, Spoiler, for volunteering to drag the captive. Robin, doors."

There was a lot of boredom after that, mostly just listening to the three shuffling around and hearing some kind of hissing noise that he assumed was a hi-tech door or something, given everything he'd seen so far.

Then they were moving, and Danny realized he had no idea how long he should pretend to still be out. 

Luckily, just as he was debating playing 'waking up' the group stopped, Robin commenting it would be best to be stationary when he awoke to increase the time he might suspect had passed.

After being carefully propped up against a wall, he counts to thirty before letting his breathing return to normal, slowly opening his eyes.

He looks to Spoiler - kidnapped assassin slung over her shoulder - first.

“I’m gonna be real,” he starts before anyone else tries to speak. “I think something might be wrong with your perfume.”

Spoiler snorts and Red’s lips twitch in a suppressed smile, but Robin remains stoic.

“That was not perfume,” he says carefully. “It was a mild sedative, so that we could further obscure the location of the batcave. Perfumes are generally incapable of causing unconsciousness.”

“If no perfume: why smell good?”

Spoiler bursts into cackles at that, Red making a strangled noise between a cough and a laugh and slapping a hand over his mouth.

“Please do not attempt to use or offer chloroform to others to use as a perfume, it is a highly unsafe chemical and can be fatal,” Robin says, brows pinched into a vaguely concerned expression.

“Aw,” Danny pouts dramatically.

Red clears his throat.

“Spoiler is very sorry for springing that on you,” he starts, with a pointed look her way. “We had intended to talk to you about the need for another layer of obfuscation around our security.”

“Yep!” Spoiler grins. “From the bottom of my heart, my bad.”

Danny lays a hand over his chest, using the other to wipe away an imaginary tear as he chokes out “Of course I forgive you!”

Then he snorts, dropping his hands to lounge in his pockets.

“So now that you’ve taken me to a secondary, and a tertiary, and a…um - quadrertiatry? - location, which way are we going?” He makes a point to look back the way they came.

They’re quick to correct him, leading the way through the tunnels at a more sedate pace - a fast walk instead of the running from before.

They claim to be half way there by the time he wakes up  - they definitely aren’t. It takes a solid 30 more minutes.

At least now that Danny is ‘awake’ they’re talking again - mainly about Spoiler’s questionable taste in ‘perfume’ and whether or not it would be safe for any of the aliens they know to use as perfume - a very sneaky way for Danny to acquire more knowledge of alien biology, if he does say so himself.

---------------------

Given their track record for getting along, everyone had been worried when Tim and Damian went missing at the same time. Sure, Damian had gotten a lot less murdery over the course of the last four years, but the worry was still there. 

When it turned out to be a self-imposed mission to Nanda Parbat they had worried even more. Unfortunately, no one else had been able to leave Gotham. By the time they could’ve caught up they would have been more likely to draw unwanted attention to their two strays than be of use.

Luckily, they’d managed to put the Riddler away that night, making it back to the cave just in time to receive Tim’s update - a success and a surprise guest.

A guest that, as far as they could tell, did not exist. 

No paper trail, no pictures, no appearances in any images or even audios as far as they could tell. Expanding beyond Illinois to the US in general didn’t turn up anything. A global search yielded yet another heaping helping of nothing.

There were some possible explanations, of course, but it was decidedly suspicious.

Any hope that the three had escaped unnoticed were dashed when they were over the pacific and the local branch of the League of Assassins began moving obviously enough for Oracle to detect them - branching throughout the city and posting up on various vantage points in some kind of search grid.

One group even made their way to Wayne Manor, posting up around the perimeter.

All in full view of cameras. 

One even waved. 

For a group like the League it was verging on something like polite. 

Or threatening. 

The utter lack of activity from any of them once they reached their apparent destinations put the latter option somewhat in doubt, however.

Even so, the situation was plenty alarming and Bruce had everyone arming themselves to the teeth while they waited and listened - not that Jason needed any encouragement even if he was still pouty about the lack of guns in the Bat-armory. 

Nightwing, being the loving older brother that he was, was quick to offer him a rubber band hornet to supplement his existing guns. He was immediately betrayed, narrowly dodging a projectile to the cheek.

Bruce had contacted the JLD about the situation not a second after the kid - Danny - said Ra’s was trying to summon the Lord of the Dead. 

Didn’t have to be deep into the occult to know that that was undoubtedly a very bad thing to allow to happen. 

With any luck, whatever ritual Ra’s was trying to use would be faulty and they would have more time to intervene and prevent him from finding something that would work.

Of course, to know that they needed to know what the circle actually looked like.

Good news: the kid saw the circle and seems to have a great memory.

Bad news: the kid set a condition for the knowledge and would not be swayed.

Good news: they personally know several aliens willing to help.

Bad news: literally every member of the JLD is ungodly hard to get ahold of at the best of times.

Good news: they managed to contact Constantine on the third try.

Bad news: he seemed very concerned by Bruce’s explanation of the situation.

Good news: he wanted to show up right away to help.

Bad (and worrying) news: he is currently too drunk to teleport. Or be awake, if the sudden snoring through the line is any indication.

So now Bruce is tracking his location and sending Supes to pick him up on the way so he can wait to sober up in the cave’s medbay.

Possibly for the best - given how talkative Danny was on the plane over Constantine might’ve lost it waiting for him to stop asking all the questions he’ll no doubt have.

Just another hour of playing suspiciously-polite-staredown with a murder cult and they might be able to get some answers.

---------------------

Damian watched Danny watch the door to the cave open in fascination, eyes alight with joy. Enthusiasm.

It was a large part of what made the plane-ride with him so much less distressing; normally being in a closed space with someone who’d taken a recent dip in a Lazarus Pit would be…exhausting. Manageable, perhaps, but requiring constant attention to avoid potential - likely - harm.

Any concern about erratic, violent behavior practically melted away in the face of Danny’s attitude.

His exuberant curiosity. 

The zest for life that colored each and every word he said or expression he made.

In combination with the skill he must have to have escaped imprisonment by the league? His sharp mind (even if he did occasionally lack information that should be common knowledge - Damian himself had been much the same when he first came to live with his father, he would not judge him for that)? The strong negotiation skills he had demonstrated in their talk? His unflinching will?

His beauty?

Damian was captivated.

He watched as he gasped like it was the last air he would ever breathe when he laid eyes on the T-rex, causing everyone else to tense up.

Then he moved - nearly too fast to track - before slowing back down when he was within a foot or two of the dinosaur - and many feet off of the ground. That certainly supported the sheltered meta theory.

“You guys have a dinosaur in here!?” he yelled, flitting around it in a manner not unlike a hummingbird. “That’s so cool! Is it real? Or like, not real because it obviously isn’t alive but is it, like, taxidermed - taxiderm-y-ed? Or is it a replica? Or-”

“Animatronic, actually,” Father cut in, drawing his attention. 

“It moves!?”

“It used to. We keep it shut down for safety reasons, however.”

“Aww, boo,” Danny pouted, snorting at some unknown joke as he descended back to the ground.

“It’s nice to meet you, Danny. Though I do wish it were under better circumstances,” Father gestured to the table near the batcomputer - where the rest of them had gathered to wait - before moving that way.

“It could be worse,” Danny shrugged, following after - still floating.

Halfway to the table, Danny gasped again, this time accompanied by a small blue mist.

His head snapped to Jason - fast enough Damian was vaguely concerned for his neck - and paused to stare owlishly at him.

A glance revealed him to be visibly bristling at the attention, every muscle tense.

“These are my associates,” Batman cut in before anything unfortunate could be said. “You’ve met Red Robin, Spoiler, and Robin. This is-”

“Red Hood,” Jason cut him off. “And we ‘associate’ barely.”

“I’m Nightwing!” Richard shouted, one arm waving in the air for emphasis. “And I can totally fly!”

“Grappling hooks don’t count,” Hood shot down.

“They do so!”

Hood just stared

“Orphan,” Cass interrupted, as brief as ever.

“I’m Signal,” Duke added, making the last introduction. “And I’d hate to see circumstances worse than being hunted by a globally active death cult made up of highly trained assassins.”

“Hunted?” Red Robin asked, straightening up at the new information. 

“Most likely,” Batman answered as Danny finally joined them around the table - still stealing glances at Hood. Damian frowned.

“Not long after you left Nanda Parbat, the local branch of the League began moving - their assassins have posted up throughout the city - and around our perimeter. They’re being subtle enough to avoid civilian attention, but they waved directly at our cameras. Normally we’d assume they were after the assassin we brought here, but Ra’s is normally more direct than this. He would’ve called, tried to negotiate, or just sent in men to retrieve him. That he hasn’t is unusual-”

“Which is why we suspect he’s still after you,” Spoiler added as she rejoined them, having gone to secure the prisoner.

“Spoiler!” Nightwing scolded.

“Whaaaat? It’s already obvious. No point in hiding it when the guy’s already been kidnapped once.”

---------------------

Danny hmmed.

“It comes to me that if your group is so well known, saying I’m ‘flying away with a pair of Robins’ is maybe, possibly, potentially not the incredibly vague and unhelpful clue I thought it was.”

He rubbed at the back of his neck, laughing sheepishly as all eyes whipped around to stare at him. 

“Ahaha… my bad?”

“Danny.” Batman asked after a pause. “Who, exactly, did you give this ‘clue’ to?”

“Uh…Ra’s?”

“Wh- How!? We’ve been with you the whole time since we met!” Red Robin asked.

“I just sent a duplicate,” He shrugged, splitting off a duplicate and popping it after a three-count.

“Sorry about that.”

“The fuck kid? Why the hell would you give hints about your location to a guy who wants to murder you,” Red Hood fumed, standing to slam his hands on the table.

“That will cost you two meetings with aliens,” he winked, putting a finger to his lips.

“That’s quite a high price considering you only asked for one meeting to learn the supposed summoning circle for the Lord of the Dead.”

Danny spun around at the unfamiliar voice, only to be met with Superman. He gaped.

“Sorry for the delay, I’m Superman, Kryptonian alien extraordinaire,” he topped off the introduction with a dramatic bow before landing gently on the ground. 

“I hear you have a lot of questions for me,” he smiles, holding up a hand when Danny opens his mouth to reply. “But first, I believe you promised my friends a summoning circle?”

Danny pouts.

“Yeah, I did,” he sighs, turning to Batman. “Got a pen and paper?”

___________________________________________________________

Tag: @bathildaburp @cannibalisticphantom @thegatorsgoose @skulld3mort-1fan @starmee-lodurrson @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair @sometimesthingsfallapart @osnii @coruscateselene @jaytriesstuff @seraphinedemort @ver-444 @impulsiveasshole @meira-3919 @apointlessbox @gunebugfic @starsblader4rise @screamingtofillthevoid @may-rbi @tired-yet-awaken @readerzj @lazy-bouqet @the-church-grimm @astirdreaming @bun-fish @punderfulfandoms @ispyblu @phoenixdemonqueen @cutelittlebeanie @we-ezer @treepainting @jerithe @all-eyes-no-dragon @addie-lover-of-stories @overtherose @akavincent @nappinginhell @naluforever3 @icepopstar5105us @itsloveleo @spooky-fm @undead-essence @nutcase8691 @promptingwips @zelabee @vythika96 @escelia @heartsong18 @gin2212 @ballzfrog @farmercale @ introvert-even-on-the-internet @jaggedheart11 @coruscateselene @snekullent

[nahoney22]

Heyyyyy love, I absolutely love everything you write. I have an itty bitty request!

Would you be able to write a cute fluffy fic with a plus sized female reader with tech with just a touch of spice to it?

You could also make it fun and do one for all the batch members?

Please and thank you if you can!! 🥰🥰

*fun fact - I made that tech edit many moons ago so I’m happy to see it still be used! 🥰🥹*

Embracing the Curves***

All Bad Batch Boys X F!Reader

warnings: Mild NSFW, suggestive themes, plus sized female reader, confident reader (we’re all beautiful plus size or not!), mentions of a busty reader in some parts. Tech and Hunters parts are with an established relationship, others are not.

Authors note: decided to do small one shots for each of them in this post, write more for Tech and Echo because… it’s them ♥️ hope that’s okay with you @clonehoe- sorry for the wait !!!

Masterlist

Tech

Tech was watching you work with great interest, proud of the progress you had made in learning all the tips and tricks necessary for ship repairs. As he observed you beneath the control panel, clad in a snug tank top and form-fitting black pants that accentuated your every curve, he couldn't help but feel his heart rate skyrocket.

"Has the light come on yet?" you asked, your voice slightly muffled by the spanner between your teeth as you glanced up at him for assistance. The ship was scorching hot and it didn’t help that you were settled on a planet that had two suns to add to the heat. The heat system has always been faulty and despite you telling Tech you wanted to focus on fixing that, he was set in you fixing the hyperdrive first.

"Not yet. Try rotating the wiring counterclockwise. That should do the trick," he replied, his voice strained as he watched you work under his guidance. "There it is..." he murmured, his gaze darting to the lights above the control panel as you worked to fix the hyperdrive. "Good girl," he added, his endearment causing a flurry of excitement in your stomach.

Despite the nickname making you momentarily lose your concentration and hit your head against the side of the panel, you managed to remain focused on the task at hand. "Is it working now?" you asked, seeking confirmation with a smile as you wiped sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand.

"Yes, I have to say, I'm very impressed with your skills," he said, helping you out from under the control panel until you plopped down in a nearby seat to catch your breath.

"Yeah?" you asked, seeking reassurance.

"Absolutely," he replied, though his eyes were preoccupied with the alluring contours of your physique. "Perfect," he added, struggling to meet your gaze.

You couldn't help but smirk as you watched Tech struggle to keep his composure under your teasing gaze. Folding your arms over your chest, you subtly pushed your bust up to enhance your assets, causing Tech to wipe the steam that had suddenly formed on his goggles.

"Anything in particular that you're impressed with?" you asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

"W-well, it's hard not to be entranced by you looking the way you do while working under my command," he stammered, sitting up straight and tucking away his data pad. "I've adored your appearance since the first day we met, and seeing you all - forgive me - sweaty and wearing tight clothes is quite a fever dream," he added, his words causing a blush to rise on his cheeks.

You stood up slowly and took a couple of steps towards Tech, tilting his chin up to meet your gaze. "That's very sweet of you to say, Tech," you replied, your voice dripping with false innocence and a hint of teasing. "I am feeling a little sweaty though. Perhaps a shower would cool me down," you hinted, hoping he would pick up on your not-so-subtle suggestion.

Tech stood up abruptly, his hands flying to your waist and his fingers digging into your fleshy skin. "Perhaps since you helped me repair my ship, I could help you get freshened up," he offered, his lips trailing down your neck and over your chest despite the sweat that covered your skin.

"Eager, are we?" you asked, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and suppressing a sweet sigh.

"Very much so," Tech groaned, holding you as close as possible. The two of you were rarely alone on the overcrowded ship, and with his brothers gone on a mission, Tech wasn't about to waste the opportunity to map out your whole body with his tongue.

Echo

"Trooper, what appears to be the issue?" Your entrance into the medbay had Echo stunned, his eyes locked onto your stunning, curvaceous figure and beautiful eyes.

He found himself gaping, struggling to find his words as he wished he had accepted help from the medical droid instead of being left in this state of awe.

"Trooper?"

Apologising for his silence, Echo managed to inform you of his injury to his femur that he sustained during a mission that had left him more grumpy than usual but your soft smile and calm presence helped to ease his nerves. Though, he was a little preoccupied on how your uniform was snug but not to the point it looked bad. It look really good.

He always took himself for a gentleman but as he gapes at you with hungry eyes, it was hard not to get enthralled by you.

You sat down next to him with a datapad, ready to take notes. "Can you tell me how this happened?" you asked with a soft smile.

Echo explained that he sustained the injury during a mission when heavy debris fell on him. You expressed sympathy and asked, "Are you in any pain, sweetie?" You were surprised by the endearment that slipped out of your mouth, although neither of you mentioned it. Then again, you did think he was much cuter than any other clone he had seen.

"Just a little, not as much as before," Echo replies steadily, hoping his blushing cheeks aren't too noticeable.

"I see. Have you been taking any medication for it?"

“No ma’am,”

You nod in understanding and stand to your feet again, placing your device to the side and slide on a pair of gloves. “Do I have permission to touch your leg to feel for any breaks?”

“Yes please.”

You both blink at one another and the quick realisation of what Echo just said sunk in fast but, you were blushing which was a good sign… wasn’t it?

“I mean, uh, do what you have to do ma’am.” He clears his throat, keeping his eyes diverted away from you but you could only smile at him in return and proceed to gently caress his thigh.

“Does it hurt here?” You ask, adding gentle pressure.

“No,” He says through gritted teeth, absolutely loving the touch of your hands on him - even if you were a stranger and even if it was simply your job.

“And here?” You ask again, applying pressure to a different area and as he winced in pain, your question was answered.

After a few more assessments, you highlighted that his femur isn’t fractured, only bruised and should heal naturally on its own. As you give the diagnosis, it went through one ear and out the other because again, his eyes being to wander and land on your hips as you turn away but caught him looking as you turn back to him.

You place your hands to your hips and smirk, “See something you like, Trooper?”

Echo’s eyes widened and he mumbled a thousand apologies at once, stumbling off the bed and thanking you for the help. You had a inkling that you may be seeing him again sometime. Well, you hoped so.

Hunter

Watching you work out was one of Hunter's favourite pastimes. The day was sweltering, and you naturally dressed in less clothing than usual for your workouts.

"Can I join you?" Hunter approaches you with a grin, sporting nothing but shorts that accentuated his tanned and toned body in the sunlight.

Finding yourself gaping in awe at his body too, you can only smirk back, slipping into a fighting stance and recalling every technique that Hunter had taught you. "How could I say no to you?" You ask and as you move, sweat drips from your body, enhancing your already alluring figure and heightening Hunter's senses.

"Good form," he compliments, stepping closer to you. His tone hints at his admiration for not only your workout performance but also your physique.

"Oh really?" You turn your head to glance at him, your eyes twinkling with amusement. "Why don't you demonstrate some other stances for me?"

Hunter relishes in the playful tone of your voice and steps up behind you, placing his hands tenderly on your hips, which he always yearns to touch. "Angle your body to the left and add a bounce to your knees," he instructs, guiding you through the movement. Though he knows you are capable of executing the exercise on your own, he can't resist the opportunity to have his hands on you.

You follow his directions but find yourself a little distracted by his touch. Even with his heightened senses, it feels as though Hunter is transferring his energy to you as his fingers caress the curves of your hips, trailing down to your thighs and back up to your arse, sending shivers down your spine. “Hunter…” you find yourself moaning his name, earning a low chuckle.

“Don’t get distracted by me,” he breathes down the nape of your neck but with his bare torso against your back and his hands roaming your body, it was so hard not to.

Wrecker

Wrecker had always admired your body, but it was your thighs that truly captivated him. At first, he was drawn in by your beauty, and it took some time for him to realize the full extent of his fascination. It wasn't until he saw you wearing shorts to bed one night that he truly understood the power of your curvy legs.

Now, as you lay on your cot reading a holobook, legs propped up in the air, Wrecker found himself once again unable to tear his gaze away from your thighs. He was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he didn't notice you watching him until you decide to speak up.

"May I make you an offer, Wrecker?" You asked, and he nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of your voice. He cleared his throat and tried to act casual as he responded.

"Sure, what is it?"

"If you promise to stop staring at my legs all the time, I'll let you come over and give them a massage," you smirk, lowering your holobook to look him in the eye. Wrecker felt his face flush with embarrassment. Had it been so obvious that he couldn't take his eyes off you?

He started to stammer out an apology, but you cut him off with a wave of her hand and a soft smile.

"I don't mind," you say, sitting up until you’re sitting on your legs and teasingly entice him over by beckoning him with your finger. “I like to think they’re my best assets,” you comment, patting your legs that made them subtly jiggle which almost made him drop his helmet he was cleaning.

“Well, they are pretty.” He stands and comes closer until he sits on the edge of your bed watching you shift from your current position to you sat with them laid out. “Did ya mean your offer?” He asks, fingers twitching to reach out and touch your skin.

“I did,” you smirk, “go ahead.”

His hands come down to your thighs, large and rough yet gentle as he caresses your skin. He watches you for your reaction and as you tilt your head back and sigh in satisfaction, he knew he made the right choice in accepting your offer.

Crosshair

Crosshair watched as you struggled to hit the bottles he had set up as targets. He shook his head in disapproval and clicked his tongue, his new found admiration for you mingling with his frustration at your poor performance. But, he couldn’t help but also admire the view of you.

"You're doing it all wrong," he chided from the sidelines. To which, you let out a heavy sigh and nearly threw the rifle to the ground in frustration.

"I'm standing exactly where you told me to," you huffed, earning an eye roll from Crosshair. He approaches you, a small smirk on his lips as he positioned himself behind you.

"No, you're not," he teased, but he softened his tone as he sensed your frustration growing. "Stand here," he instructed, pointing to a spot next to him.

Reluctantly, you obeyed, standing close to him as he instructed you to raise the rifle and relax your shoulders. Crosshair watched you with his sharp eyes, feeling a sense of power as he towered over you.

"Okay, now what?" You asked, breath steady as you glanced back at him. You couldn't help but feel weak in the knees whenever he looked at you like that. He always had a hold over you, and him being so close to you now didn't help.

"Don't look at me, look at the target," he commanded. His voice, which usually dripped with venom, was surprisingly soft and alluring.

Turning away, you let out a small and surprised gasp as his hands come to your waist but to your surprise, he let out a small gasp himself.

“Wow princess,” he cooed, his fingers melting against the curve of your body, “I always knew you had a beautiful body but to touch it… stunning.” He breathes down your neck.

Your eyes widened at his words but you succumbed quickly to his touch, your back pressed against his chest as his hands begin to roam your body. “Y-you like my body?” You question with a hint of insecurity but your question is answered as he finally places his lips to your neck.

“I love,” he sighs, caressing your body from over your clothes, “every inch.”

You end up dropping his weapon eventually, it clanging to the floor with a thud and as you go to apologise, he spins you to face him, close and dominant. “Screw it,” he grunts, devouring your lips with his own.

That was enough teaching for one day…

Masterlist

My Kofi

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