#I like the new one the colors are so much better

[kykyonthemoon]

Comfort Sweets

Unable to contact you for hours, Zayne decides to bring a box of macarons to your place.

ಇ. Zayne x Reader|MC

ಇ. Tags: fluff, soft fluff, sweets, comforting, emotional hurt & comfort, new established relationship

ಇ. Word count: over 1k

ಇ. Requested by Oreo.

ಇ. Masterlist ♡ Request a fic

Zayne stood outside your house one day. A few beads of rain remained on his shoulders and hair, but the box of macarons he cradled in his hands was completely dry. On the way here, he had stopped by the bakery and deliberately chose for you the lovely macarons in this box. He wondered if it would be too sudden if he came to visit you.

Zayne had only reconnected with you not too long ago. Over the time spent together, he could say that he had become closer to you. However, he did not dare to dream too much. You vanished unexpectedly the same day. You did not come to the hospital to see him as usual. You had not seen the messages he had sent you in the last several hours. Worried that something was wrong with you, he decided to come to your apartment to check on you.

After a time, the door opened. He sighed with relief as he saw you standing inside. Yet, you appeared exhausted with unkempt hair and a pale complexion. You were taken aback to see him here; perhaps it was not the best time to invite guests to your home. However, you kindly welcomed him inside. 

Zayne set the macaron box on the tea table in the living room. He noted your sluggish demeanor and how you avoided looking at him directly. He spoke up:

“I brought you some sweets. Perhaps it will help you feel better.”

"I'm okay." You dismissed it. You acted as if Zayne could not see your red and swollen eyes, which told him you had been crying a lot.

“You say you're fine, but you're still not in the mood for sweets?” 

Zayne sat down on the sofa, placing one hand on the empty mattress next to him and softly patting it. He waited for you to get down before opening the treat box. 

“There are chocolate, oranges, almonds, strawberries, blueberries, green tea too…” 

Zayne went through each macaron with different colors. Just looking at them would make a gloomy day brighter. You chose the one with your favorite taste but had yet to eat it. Zayne saw you clutching it in your hands and asked:

"What's wrong? Don't want to eat it?"

“Thank you, Doctor Zayne…” You replied, your voice still wavering slightly. “I'm just a little tired…”

He put a hand on your forehead. “Your temperature is a bit high, but it's not a fever.” 

You gave a soft smile, took his hand and held it. “I'm fine.”

“Is there anything you want to tell me then?” Zayne inquired, knowing you had something in your mind.

You glanced at him for a time and then said nothing. You ate the macaron in your palm and remained silent for a long time thereafter. 

Zayne stopped staring at you. He got up and went to the kitchen to get water for both of you. Even though he had only been here a few times, he could remember the correct places where you put your stuff in your apartment. He noticed some new decorations in the kitchen.

While fetching water, he kept an eye on you in the living room. The usually cheerful girl, who always appeared mighty and could talk for hours to his ear, had become curiously withdrawn. He wondered whether something had happened to put you in such a bad mood. Or did he inadvertently make you upset with his dry conversations, or did his hectic schedule keep him from being with you much?

Zayne was terrified that he might unknowingly push you away. He had never dated anybody before, and he had never poured so much love into one person like this. So he would be furious with himself if he said or did something that upset you by mistake.

Zayne returned to your side once you had finished eating the first macaron. Your expression had improved a little, but the silence was still like a knife slashing into his heart. He wanted to hold you in his arms so much. Did you need his comfort? Or did you just want to be alone, and his being here made you even more uncomfortable?

Zayne was ready to say something, but you were the one who broke the silence:

Thank you, Zayne. Thank you so much for coming here... Otherwise, I'm not sure how long I'd have been sitting here sobbing..."

You decided to share with him, at last. Zayne listened patiently as you expressed all of your inner emotions. You had just had an argument with a long-time friend, who went behind your back and did something terrible. Such treachery left you heartbroken. But when you told Zayne, it seemed like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Emotions flowed out with words so naturally.

“The person who betrayed your trust is no longer worthy of your tears.” Zayne said, his hand reaching out to touch the corner of your teary eye. 

“Yes. I know... But I... I feel so sad and resentful..."

Zayne glanced at the open box of macarons on the table. “How about having one more? I know a girl whose mood would be brightened right away with just a little sweets, no matter how gloomy her day is."

You covered your face with both hands and grinned faintly. "That girl is so easy to coax!" But, in the meantime, perhaps a macaron isn't enough."

Zayne looked at you, unsure of what you were implying. Then you got closer, wrapping your arms around his waist. You rested your head on his chest. 

“She might need something even sweeter.” 

He heard your whisper. The corners of his mouth curled up as he patted your head. "That girl is quite difficult to coax. She wants sweets and cuddles all at once."

Zayne felt your arms tightening around him even more. You stated:

“The only person who can comfort her is Doctor Zayne!”

He smiled, tenderly like the way he was caressing your hair. He leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of your head. The talented Hunter did have weak times like these, which made him beyond pleased to be your supporter. He continued:

“Then every time you encounter something unpleasant, let me know.Doctor Zayne will always be available to listen and comfort you.”

[onskepa]

Hey saw tou were open!!

Could you do a ronal x platonic female reader, who is having her first mother's day as a new mom. She goes to ronal and explains the earth holiday. As part of her tradition she gives ronal a mother's day gift and ronal gets to see cute teeny tiny human baby!

Hellooooooo~!! So when I read this one, I knew just where to put it! Enjoy~!!

Irayo pt1

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Irayo: Best mama's around!

Ronal kept herself busy these past few days. More busy than usual. Anything to distract the lingering worry of her friend, Irayo. It has been 8 days now, Ronal counted since her last visit. Not just ronal who worries, but her daughter young tsireya is now questioning where her auntie is. Her, and slowly the villagers begin to worry. 

Not to make her worries any better, Ronal has no way to communicate with Irayo. She remembers clearly, the last time she was her friend. Everything was fine that day, irayo behaved normal, acted as normal as she could be. Made another set of friendship bracelets, helped take care of tsireya, did her part in the village. Everything was normal. 

So why now is she gone? Are the sky demons preventing her from returning? Did they deem her useless now? Is she alright? 

So many questions linger in Ronal's mind. Anything she does, her worries are not calmed down. If by day 10 irayo does not return, ronal can only fear the worse. 

“A little bit dramatic, don't you think?” Irayo asks as she plays patty cake with little tsireya. Ronal was too busy hugging her from the side, saying how worried she was and what possible routes irayo was going through. 

“Not dramatic, only worried,” Ronal says, a bit stubbornly. 

Irayo can only laugh at the tsahik’s antics. 

“What happened? Why were you gone for many days?” Ronal finally asks. Needing to know if whatever happened, that irayo was alright. 

“I am fine, its just I wasnt feeling well and I had to be examined to find out what was wrong” irayo answers. This made Ronal more worried. “And? Are you well? Why didnt you come to me? I could have helped you” ronal gently scolded. Irayo only shook her and answered in her own way. 

She smiled and grabbed Ronal by the hands, guiding them to her belly. 

“I am pregnant” 

Those three words echoed in ronal’s head, slowing taking in what the human just said. Her eyes were wide, almost unbelieving what she said. 

Irayo laughed at Ronal’s reaction. Tsireya laughs as well even though she doesn't know why. 

“And who is the fool who believes he is worthy of you?” 

Word spread of Irayo’s return and the news of her pregnancy, the people went a bit wild. Welcoming her back, many gave her gently hugs, being mindful of her belly. Even though irayo said she was only 2 weeks pregnant, none took it lightly. Pregnancy at an early stage, any stage really, is the most important. Anything can happen. 

So the villagers, and by extension ronal and tonowari, made sure irayo only did safe, light tasks. Some had given her many things for her baby when its born. Children would follow irayo and ask her so many questions, like what is the difference between a na’vi baby and a human baby. Will the baby be blue or a different color? Small or big? Cute or ugly? 

So many things and Irayo was just happy to resume it all. Even more now that soon, her little one will get to experience the same excitement as she does. Her stage is still early, but no doubt her motherly instincts kicked in. 

As time goes on, ronal allowed irayo to take care of tsireya more often, to practice in how to take care of a baby. Would talk about her experiences in taking care of an infant and so on. However Ronal does not know how much of the information will be useful to her friend. As she does not know how different a human baby is to a na’vi baby. 

And as the months go by, ronal witnesses irayo’s belly growing. While she may not fully show it, Ronal is secretly excited for the baby to arrive. One day, when Irayo was 4 months pregnant, she asked a sudden question. 

“Would you like to feel the baby?” 

This question surprised ronal. 

In na’vi customs, pregnant females only allow their mates or really close family members to touch their bellies.

Is it the same for humans? 

“Can I…?” Ronal asks hesitantly. 

Irayo nods and gently places ronal’s bigger hands onto her growing belly. 

“The baby is still small, but in future months, they will move and might even kick,” irayo explains. Being still, Ronal can sense a small heart beat. From her experience, this small heart beat sounds healthy. 

“You baby is strong,” she comments. Irayo giggles, she doesn't doubt ronal. She can feel her baby. 

“Baby?” little tsireya echos the word as she waddles over to the two mothers. Practicing how to mother with the little one, irayo feels she is ready. But slight doubt still lingers in her. 

Playing with the child's hair, Irayo confesses her inner struggles. 

“Ronal…do you think I will be a good mother?” she asks. 

Ronal looks at her friend, a sad smile on the human's face. “Of course you will be. Perhaps not perfect, but a good mother. I have seen you around my child, with the villagers' children. Why think you will not be?” 

“I don't know, maybe it is just my mind playing games. I see how you raise tsireya, when she was born to now. You are wonderful to her. You have far more experience than I. the other women, I see how they handle their babies. I fear that whatever I will try, it won't be enough. That maybe I will fail and-” 

Ronal places her hands gently on irayo’s cheek, making her look at her. 

“You will be a wonderful mother to your baby. Anything you will do, shall do, will be seen as perfection to your baby because it will be all that they know. I am not perfect irayo, no one else. I make my own mistakes, but we learn and so will you” 

“Learn!” tsireya repeated. 

Both ladies look down at the little girl with soft smiles. 

Irayo leans a bit to kiss tsireya’s head. 

“At least my baby will have someone to look up to”

9 months had come to completion. Ronal wasnt able to see irayo for a while. Irayo explained she will need to be under constant supervision since the due date was nearing. Ronal understood, but the inner fears and anxiety creeps every night. 

Will irayo be alright? Will the birth be safe? Will the baby be healthy? 

So many questions, ronal even suggested she helps to deliver the baby. Willing to push aside her own personal views of the sky demons for the sake of her friend. While irayo was happy, she couldn't. 

And it wasn't for another 3 months that finally, irayo returned. This time she wasn't alone. 

She came to the village with her baby. 

Everyone was so ecstatic! 

They all surrounded her and her baby. Welcoming her back and welcoming the baby as well. Her baby was so cute! Mothers praised the little one, seeing how healthy the baby looked. And many more for being curious, it was the first time they have seen a human baby! Who knew they could be adorable? 

However the crowd was quickly disbursed by the presence of ronald and tonowari with tsireya in her father’s arms. 

Ronal of course was the first to hug irayo, letting out a long relieved sigh. 

“Thank Eywa you have returned” she whispers. Looking at irayo, she didnt know if it was the sun, or something else but the human had a natural glow in her physic. That motherly glow all females have after birth. It made irayo look stunning. 

“I am happy to be back,” irayo says. 

Soft babbles were heard, in the small bassinet was the human baby. 

Leaning down, ronal took a good look at the human baby. 

“Has your eyes…” she comments. 

The baby stared at ronal, no fear, only fascination. 

“Would you like to carry my baby?” Irayo asks, knowing ronal wants to. Without needing to answer, ronal carefully and gently holds the baby into her arms. 

“Baby!” tsireya squeals. 

Tonowari chuckles, “yes me’ite, it is a baby. We must be careful and be gentle” he says, tsireya nodding. 

“Your baby is so beautiful…oh Eywa, maybe you bless this baby with a great life and a wonderful future” ronal prays. 

Tonowari gestures irayo to a certain direction, “come, there is much to talk about”

Tsireya was entertaining the baby, showing many toys and singing little songs. Never keeping her eyes away from her new friend. 

Irayo sits beside ronal, “I have a gift for you~” she teases. 

“I wonder what it could be” 

Already knowing what it is. 

As predicted, irayo brought out 4 bracelets, “new BFF’s bands!” irayo says happily. 

Carefully tying it around ronal’s wrist, doing the same for herself, tsireya and her baby. “We shall commemorate this day as our first mother’s day!” she goes on. 

Ronal looks at her curiously. 

“Mother’s day? What is that?” 

“Mother’s day is a human tradition. Once a year on a special day, we celebrate our mothers. Giving them gifts, a day to relax, and appreciating them overall. So, this is my gift to you and to myself. It is not often celebrated here with my co-workers but at least I can celebrate it with you!” irayo happily answers. 

Looking down at her new bracelet, tracing over the beads and sea glass, she likes it. 

“Gifts huh…well then, I have a gift for you as well” ronal says. 

This makes irayo get closer, already excited. 

“What is it?” irayo answers. Ronal answers deadpanned. 

“I am pregnant” 

NGL I got carried away but I like it! So, until next time! See ya!

[the9mm]

This artwork is a redo of a work from 2015. And I'm gonna whine about something under the cut.

Last night I had an "ouch" experience. Other than super low engagement on social media ("cool this took me 4 months to finish and 6 people saw it cool cool cool"), when I posted the work side-by-side with the old work, I had one person I barely know comment they liked the older work better ("Is it weird? I like the old one better. It's so much less flat," they said. I told them they're free to like whatever they want. I drew both in different stages of my life.) but my significant other, apparently not knowing which work was old and which was new, lauded the old work and trashed the new work to my face.

While I take both of these opinions with a grain of salt from people who don't create 2D art like this and couldn't really accurately pick apart something that "looks shiny" from something that's actually more technically proficient (and it's entirely unsolicited criticism), I still cringed.

Ouch. That hurts. Almost 10 years of improvement and the older is preferred or it's not immediately apparent which is old and which is new.

Still, I'm doubling down on my artwork because of the spite. If I need to talk about the reasoning for my changes and what I think is better I'm going to say the pose is better, along with the angle and perspective on it - it looks more believable and less like I just made something up, indicating I've improved my knowledge anatomically. The wings are far better -- I didn't swath everything in black because that looked the most like "convincing black feathers"; you can actually make out the details of the feathers and the anatomy of the wings is far more believable, as well as aligned to the bird in which the wing/feather shapes are based on rather than just "whatever feathers on wings because they look cool". The lighting relies less on a ton of rim lighting for no real reason, and I've more accurately depicted what feathers look like when harsh light is in front of them. I've placed the figure in an actual landscape instead of "nebulous who knows what" by putting in clouds and rock formations and grass -- and I thought I was placing it in a specific point in time too; by removing the footprints in snow I'm depicting first light snow on frozen ground, likely around November. The color choices I've decided to use a more purposeful, going for an ethereal/dreamy recollection (because the title is "Remembering") during golden hour than the slightly golden but overall greenish vibe of the old one. Lastly, having known how I made the old one, I didn't create it on a whim and jam some wings into the compositional space. Instead I really thought about it, flipped the canvas, and made room for it all to fit. I spent a long while drawing it in pencil, shading, blending, before I took it digital to colorize, and even then after colorizing gave it plenty of time and room to breathe instead of trying to whip something complete out like I used to do.

That's it. That's my whining. Anyway, here's Wonderwall.

[elisysd]

18. You know I dream in color and do the things I want

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack: Stronger (What doesn’t kill you) - Kelly Clarkson

Charles was so excited to have you back in the paddock with him. His performances and the car were starting to get better and he knew that your presence would only bring extra motivation to him. You had explained to him in thorough detail your plan and showed him notes and a list of guests you would love to have. If it had stung to not see his name on top of it at first, he quickly understood where your goal was lying. 

“Luc would be so proud of you, you know,” he whispered in your ear as you were drifting on and off of sleep in his private jet as you were on your way to Austin.

He was almost sure to find you smiling sadly hearing the name of your brother or to see the spark in your eyes dim. But it wasn’t the case. Instead, your smile got broader and your eyes shone brighter. 

“I’m going to try to have Newey on the podcast. He was Luc’s idol.”

“I thought I was!”

“And you are,” you laughed. “but Newey isn’t far behind you. And truthfully, I’m so curious to chat with him. I want to know what is written inside that red notebook.”

“Me too. Please, if you manage to have access to it, can you take pictures of what is inside so Ferrari knows how to build a fast car for next year?”

You laughed as you cuddled to his side, trying to make yourself comfortable. There was nothing you hated more on earth than taking the plane. Being thousand miles away from the ground without any options to rely on if things started to go wrong was not a pleasant feeling. You couldn’t wait for the flight to be over and to step out of the private jet, breathing clear air. 

It was the late evening when you finally made it to Austin. You were not that tired and wanted to take the opportunity to meet your old colleagues downtown. Some would say, you had hidden motivations and the get together was not coming from pure intentions. You preferred to see it as mixing business with pleasure for once. Seeing Jean and Marion made your heart miss a beat. You had braced yourself with the feeling that meeting them again would inevitably bring back old memories. Their friendly faces reminded you of the first time you stepped foot in the office, as a freshly new joiner, all lost, confused but still eager to learn. The first GP and interviews under Marion’s wing, the first pre-race meeting and first debrief. It seemed like a lifetime ago when in fact it had only been a few months. So much had changed. You had changed. 

“Y/N! I’m so happy to see you,” Marion greeted you, a smile on her face before engulfing you in a hug. 

“It’s good to be here with you guys.”

“So… your little project? Care to tell us more about it. I have to say, I’m very excited,” Jean threw an arm around your shoulder, before guiding you to their table.

You spent the next hours explaining in every detail your plan and how you would put it into action. When you finally were over, Marion smirked and rummaged through her handbag before handing you something you knew very well. 

“If you really are going to create your own media, you need a pass,” she winked. 

“I suppose. But I don’t think this one works anymore,” you said, bittersweet, caressing your old pass suddenly feeling nostalgic.  

“Well, you are arriving with Charles so you don’t have to scan his one at the entry. But no one will verify thoroughly if you wear it inside the paddock. They only need to see media on it to let you have access to the areas,” Jean assured you. 

“I don’t know if I’m okay with lying.”

“You don’t lie. You’re still a journalist, right?”

Coming back to the hotel, later than expected, you found Charles mindlessly scrolling on his phone, his cap backwards and in his loungewear. You kissed him before sitting in front of him to expose him the situation and your plan. 

“So it is like a James Bond roleplay? You’re infiltrating the paddock. Can I be your James Bond girl?”

“You’re an idiot,” you chuckled. 

“But seriously, isn’t it risky?”

“It is, I guess. But if I give up because it is a bit risky, what does it say of me? I really want to make this media happen. And I know you could help and you also know that I appreciate it, but it is something I need to do by myself. I’ve been so used to living my life for others that I don’t know who I really am. What I like and what I want.  This is the first time I’m doing something that feels right on every level. Please, allow me to get to the bottom of my idea. If it’s not working, then I’ll ask for your help. Until then, please step aside. I know you believe in me and I know you support me. It’s enough.”

You could see on Charles’ face that you were asking a lot from him but after a few seconds, he nodded. 

The next day, you arrived a little later than him at the paddock and made your way to the Ferrari’s hospitality where Rebeca, Carlos’ new girlfriend, was typing on her computer, probably working. You hadn’t had the occasion to talk to her that much besides a few ‘hello’ here and there. You didn’t have anything against her, you just knew you didn’t have anything in common to talk about. She was the typical wag, you were not and you had no desire to become. Most people were busy, as always when it was media day. Everyone had their own thing to do and babysitting wags were not on their list, which was exactly what you needed. 

You were searching for one person in particular. You wanted to launch the first episode of your podcast during the break between Interlagos and Las Vegas, so you could have time to meet with graphists to launch the promotional operation of your baby, for which you still didn’t have a name. But it was almost at lunchtime that your best opportunity appeared. Silvia Hoffer, Ferrari’s media team lead, entered the room and you almost jumped out of your seat to reach her. 

She seemed surprised to see you and you could feel her judgmental eyes scanning you from top to bottom. You never had the occasion to talk to her much, Charles advising you to avoid her, but you had always been curious of her position. She was a key element in the well oiled machine that was Ferrari’s PR and you were sure she was a very interesting person. That’s why she was in pole position on your people to interview list. 

“Silvia. Nice to see you here,” you started the conversation. 

“Well, I’m working here,” she replied, almost ignoring you.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m talking to you,” you blurted out with confidence, catching her off guard. 

“And could you tell me what you need, Y/N?”

“Two hours of your time.”

She laughed in disbelief but you didn’t budge. If you wanted to make this work, you needed all the self-confidence you could find in you. 

“And for what? What mistakes have Charles made that I need to fix? Are you pregnant?”

“Actually, he didn’t do anything and he also doesn’t know that I’m talking to you. I’m here for a more… personal matter.”

She glanced suspiciously at you and you gulped before continuing. 

“I’m launching my own media, a podcast, where I want to interview people from the paddock who work behind the scenes and you are on my list. You have such an important role inside of Ferrari. You are a direct link between us, the media people, and the drivers. It’s essential and I would love for more people to get to know your role, get to know you. I’m sure you could inspire so many people out there. It would be an hour-long interview where you could talk about your journey to F1, all the hardships and amazing moments. I know you worked with Fernando Alonso and McLaren, surely there are things that you could share.”

“I see you did your research.”

“I came prepared.”

You saw her hesitating and contemplating the idea. It was already a win for you. She sighed and sat on a chair, her coffee between her hands as she motioned you to join her. 

“I’m not used to people wanting to talk to me for who I am and what I do. Usually they depict me as a witch and that’s it, it doesn’t go deeper than that.”

“Maybe it could be the occasion to prove them wrong, then,” you smiled as you left her alone to think your offer through. But as you were making your way to your side of the hospitality, you smirked, convinced that you had managed to book your very first guest. 

She came to find you at the end of the afternoon as you were working on the interview’s conduct.

“When would you like the recording to take place?” she asked. 

“Does it mean that you are okay with the interview?”

“I wouldn’t ask this question if I wasn’t.”

“Well, as soon as possible, I guess. I have all my equipment with me and I can set them up easily.”

“I should be out of there around 8pm, we could do that in my hotel room, if that suits you.”

“It’s perfect,” you smiled and nodded as she came back to where she was coming from. 

When she was out of eyesight and no one was around to witness it, you bumped your fist in the air and jumped around. You were ninety percent convinced she was going to accept but you didn’t want to consider it like a done deal before you had her fully agreeing.  

You finished preparing everything right when Charles appeared in the hospitality, cowboy hat on his head and a big buckle around his waist, making you laugh. 

“Howdy lady? Where is the bull that I have to take down today?”

“You look amazing. Let me take a picture, I’m sure your fans would appreciate the view.”

“Please don’t! They are making fun of my clothes enough,” he shook his head as he bent down to kiss the top of your head. “What is that?” he asked, nodding in the direction of your screen opened on your notes and making you close it precipitaly. 

“Work. I have my first guest lined-up and ready to be interviewed tonight,” you announced, excited. 

“Already? Damn, you are fast! I’m so proud of you, baby. I knew you could do it. And who is it?” 

“Silvia.”

“Silvia? As in red witch Silvia? The one who wanted me to find a girlfriend to make me look good? We are talking about the same Silvia?” 

“We do, indeed.”

“And you are interviewing her? Why?” he asked in disbelief. 

“Because I believe she is not what you make her look like. You are judging her based on how she behaves and does her job. Which is also what you did with me and what I did with you and look how we turned out. She deserved to have a chance to tell her story and to let people judge her based on who she really is and not what we made her out to be. Don’t you think?”

“You’re too nice.”

“No, Charles, I’m not nice. I’m nosy as fuck.” 

You met Silvia at eight, like it was planned and she was already waiting for you. She had changed out of her Ferrari’s gear for a more casual look. You setted up the microphones, the recorder and the two cameras, one behind your ear and one between both of you so you could get filmed too and once it was all ready, you started the interview. You quickly understood that Silvia, if she was appearing like a witch for most people, was doing it out of protectiveness. She cared a lot about the drivers and their reputation and well being. Like a she-wolf with her wolf cubs. She was passionate about her job and you could see her eyes sparkling when she was talking about it. And soon enough, it was over. You noticed that you had talked more than what you had agreed on and as you were packing everything with her help, she suddenly stopped you. 

“I think I should thank you. It’s the first time I get to talk about my job and reflect on my career with someone so willing to listen and to know more. It was a nice moment, way nicer than what I expected it to be.”

“I had a nice time too. It was very enlightening and I can’t wait to release it.” 

“When will it be?”

“I still have to announce it and promote it, so I guess it will be at the end of the season. After Abu Dhabi. It gives me enough time to record and edit enough episodes to last a while.”

“Well… if you need help to find other guests or if they need someone to testify how good you are at making the interviews… just reach out.”

You opened and closed your mouth, not sure of what to say. It was unexpected but it meant a lot to you. 

“Thanks Silvia. For having been such an amazing first guest and for having been willing to trust me.”

When you arrived in your shared room with Charles, he was already fast asleep. You smiled to yourself, changed into your pajamas after a quick run to the bathroom to wash your face and slipped under the blanket. You looked at your boyfriend’s face, frowning in his sleep, and you lightly touched his face making him relax under your fingers. For the first time in a long time, you were feeling at peace with every area of your life. You were feeling fulfilled in your personal life and your professional one was starting to get exciting. 

But you knew that all good things had to come to an end at some point and a part of you was bracing itself for the blow that would make your world crumble. You knew it would happen eventually. You could only hope it would arrive in a very long time. 

Author's note: When I was saying in the previous chapter that updates should be more frequent, I wasn't expecting to be able to write a whole new chapter this soon lmao. But here we are. I hope you liked it.

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[artdcnaldson]

UGH terrible, i just knew tumblr ate it. i had a feeling. deeply upsetting. but i will try to rewrite and remember what i was thinking.

prodigy au thoughts:

okey so i think he contains himself through dinner and brings you back to your hotel. he manages to keep himself from making a move, despite the fact that your eyes are BEGGING him to kiss you. he doesnt give in. the next day youre playing another match, but you remember what he was telling you about improving your backhand, youre following his advice. he can tell from his seat in the stands, he can see how much better it is when youre doing as he told you to. youre such a fast learner, he didnt even have to show you, you figured it out just from his instructions. he feels so proud of you. he also feels very turned on over how eagerly you follow his lead. makes his mind wander to what else you would do, if he asked you to...

you win the match, naturally. he knew you would, especially with your new and improved technique. it almost feels like deja vu, the way he's being lead backstage to congratulate you, still semi-hard from watching you the whole match. he swears your skirt is even shorter than the one yesterday. but this time you come running up to him and jump into him arms. you're spurting praise and thank yous at him, he's so amazing, and he was so right, and did you see how good i was? he barely has a chance to get a word in. even then he wouldnt be able to think straight enough to know what to say. youre still hanging on him, arms and legs wrapped around him like a koala to a tree, his hand on your ass to keep you from falling. he has to hold you up higher on his waist so you wont feel his hard-on pressing against you. so he wont cum in his pants from just feeling your pussy against him.

he invites you to dinner again, wanting to spend as much time with you as possible before the tournament is over. you spend the whole evening raving about him, talking about his career as if he wasnt there for the entirety of it. he thinks its very cute, how you look at him like hes a god. hes getting off on it way too much, he insists that you stay for dessert, exclusively because his boner is just far too obvious for him to be standing up right now.

he knows youre going to ask before you even get the first syllable out, and hes fully ready to shoot you down and tell you that hes just not ready to get back into a game he only just left behind. your eyes are already pleading him to say yes before the question is even out, all big and round and adoring. he cant help but imagine that it must be how youd look begging for his cock... he almost gives in before you even have the chance to beg him, before youve even asked. god he really is a weak man, but he's never had someone look at him, worship him, like this before, he would do anything to keep you like this. so he only puts up a little fight when you ask him to coach you. he knows he'll give in, but he cant help but make you feel like hes doing you a huge favor. its wrong of him, to further the, already huge, power imbalance between you. but he cant help himself, and he knows you dont mind. he agrees to coach you until wimbledon (a few months away), he's well aware that he'll gladly keep coaching you after as well, but its more fun this way to pretend you owe him a big thanks.

and you do feel like you owe him everything, before your sessions you were a great player. but after just a few sessions your game isnt just great anymore, its effortless. he's quick to teach you not just the physical technique but the mental work that truly separates your game from the one in the past. the professional facade you two had been putting up is over the second you start training on his person courts at his house. the second he invites you over to his house you know exactly how you want it to end. you show up in your usual short tennis skirt, but neglect to bring your usual shorts to wear under, and instead you opt for a brightly colored pair of lacy panties and a clear agenda. art gets hard as soon as hes helping you stretch and he catches the first of many glances of those bright pink panties. he nearly cums in his shorts when you call him coach with that sickly sweet smile, pretending you dont know exactly what youre doing. you dont even make it to any type of practice that day, because as soon as hes stretching your leg, his cock bruses against your pussy, and youre moaning obscenely. his resolve snaps that instant and he cant hold himself back from pushing you panties to the side and eating your cunt right there on the court...and then fuck your face against the back his couch...and then fuck you silly in his bed... all day long. he just cant get enough of you.

i think when he fucks her he really gets off on the power imbalance, on being the one in control after lacking control for so much of his life. he revels in being the better knowing, the one who holds the answers and is being looked up to. the way you hang on to his every word like its your gospel, the way you look to him like he's your god, begging him to answer your prayers. it makes him dizzy with lust, it makes him fuck in a way he never has before. with tashi she was the one in control, she knew what she wanted and expected him to fulfill her wishes. and he did. but you, you would do anything to make him happy, you disregard your own pleasure to ensure his. he never lets you go without, but even if he did you wouldnt care. you get off on his pleasure in a way he didnt know was possible. he swears one time you came just from him fucking your face, true devotion.

i think when he's fucking her, hes really bullying his cock into her pussy. shes so tight around him, he almost wants to ask if shes sure shes not a virgin, even though hes fucked her at least 100 times and she wasnt one when they met. he loves to talk during sex, how tight her young little pussy is (shes like 20-something, but hes thirty-five and tashi hasnt fucked him in years, so her pussy feels like heaven on earth), how good she is for him, how shes a little groupie slut, how lucky she is to be fucked by him. her attention had truly grown his ego to an unhealthy size, but they both love it. she brings out a side of him that's almost more like patrick... at least sexually.

took me a hot minute to recraft this lol, and its probably way too long (being concise is not a skill of mine, clearly), hope you like it pookie!!!

-🐞

YUMMMMMM all of this has me rubbing my dirty little hands together

Because your devotion is so sweet, so earnest. Art Donaldson has been at the center of your vision boards since you were sixteen, for a myriad of reasons. And now there he is— across from you on the court, making you run for drop shot after drop shot. A weak point he’d noticed at your last match.

You’re dripping sweat— soaked in it so it’s sheering your practice clothes. Your skin glistens in the unrelenting sun, your hair sticks damp to the back of your neck.

You know you’re a little pathetic around him, how your heart races whenever he gives you a pointer, how you live bouncing on your toes waiting for him to compliment you. But you ache for that validation, for your hero to shine a bit of that light on you.

He’s making you better— he’s making you perfect. Your ranking has shot up steadily, they’ve been saying you’re a contender for wimbledon on the tennis channel.

You wanted it. Of course you did. But you wanted it for Art too.

His skin is tinged pink after the day in the sun, and you watch him intently as he runs through more places you can improve. Your gaze softens as you listen, until he realizes you’re distracted by him. It makes a tiny smile twitch at his lips as you walk back to the house.

“How’re you feeling? Sore?”

You shrug. “My hips feel a little tight,” you reply, your gaze all soft. “Can you help me stretch?”

That’s how you wind up on your back on his massage table, the one that was collecting dust until you moved into the guest house.

One of his hands warm on your thigh holding it down, the other on your knee, bending you slowly until your knee touches your chest.

He’s so strong above you, so domineering. You exhale a shaky little breath, eyes locked on his.

“C’mon, hold it a little longer,” he says, his voice more like a coo. “Feels good?”

You nod, try to ignore the rush of arousal in your core at how close you are. He brings your leg back down, pats the side of your thigh affectionately.

He’s holding you closer as he stretches out your other leg. His hand higher up on your thigh to hold you down as he presses your knee up to your chest. A desperate little whimper escapes you when you feel him— hard and pressing against your cunt.

“Hold it,” he says, and you exhale shaky and nervous. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, and he presses harder against you. “That’s it. Good girl.”

You’re wearing the cutest little panties— pale blue cotton with a frilly lace edge. He’d caught tiny glimpses of them on the court, wondered where the usual shorts you wore with your tennis skirts were.

But he understands now, up close. His thumb brushes against the wet spot at your core, where your juices had saturated the fabric. You whine on the table. Embarrassment makes you itch to close your legs, but aching hot desire makes you keep them open for him.

“Art—“ you gasp. He can feel your cunt pulsing, twitching for him beneath the thin fabric. His thumb brushes against your clit and you moan softly. “I’m all— so sweaty—“

He pulls you to the edge of the table by your ankles, sinks to his knees. “Gonna take care of you. How can you focus on the court if you’re so needy, huh?”

Your panties are pulled down your legs, tossed somewhere to be forgotten about until they’re found by his cleaning staff, laundered, and returned to you.

His tongue is on you in an instant, lapping at your slick cunt. He puts your legs over his shoulders, nuzzles as close as he can get. He moans at the taste— of salty, sweaty skin, of tangy arousal. He could lose himself in you— I mean, god, you’re already writhing and moaning like a pornstar just from his tongue. Getting off on him as much as you’re getting off on what he’s doing.

And god, you’d jerked off to fantasies like this since he agreed to coach you. Thoughts of Art’s mouth, of him wanting you so desperately. Your fingers are in his hair, mussing up his sweaty hair.

His lips seal around your clit, suckling until your breaths turn into fucked-out sobs. Until you’re reduced to whines of Art and oh fuck and god, yes and please please please.

He’s so good at everything— so perfect— you should’ve known he’d be good at pleasing you. It would’ve been impossible for him not to be. Barely any effort, and you’re already right on the edge.

He draws out your orgasm like it belongs to him. And it does, really, everything you are belongs to him. He kisses your thigh, gently.

You sit up on your elbows, your entire body running hot with lust. “Let me,” you say, sweetly, obediently.

He swallows, shakes his head. He came in his pants like a fucking teenager, high off of the unfettered need you held for him. But he wasn’t going to let you know that. “Not this time,” he said, so you didn’t take it as an outright rejection. “Maybe after you get your serves to 110.”

You nod, eager like an obedient puppy— a dog with a bone. He knows you’d do anything he asks just to please him when he hears you on the courts, slamming balls across the net, desperate to improve.

[gintrinsic-writing]

Redesigned

Inspired by this comic by mmelete, which is very cute and lighthearted! This short fic is not. CW implied body horror.

--

It was there, at the end of the hall—a splash of color on otherwise gray stones. Monster remains lay scattered beneath as though paid in homage. 

“No way,” Hyrule exclaimed. “Is that painting supposed to be Legend?”

Warriors took care to step over a segment of twitching jejunum. “It certainly looks like it. I wonder who or what did this?”

“Other monsters, maybe? But… Hm.” Hyrule glanced around as though the answer to their little mystery might suddenly present itself, ears twitching back and forth. The hall remained empty.

“Paint’s dry,” Warriors remarked, brushing his fingers across the little blue hat, “so it can’t be that new.”

“But not old enough for the colors to have faded.”

“Right. So…” 

“So?”

Warriors spread his hands wide, dousing the curiosity in Hyrule’s stare. “I don’t know. It’s weird as hell, but not the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Creepy?” Hyrule teased, leaning like he might playfully bump Warrior's shoulder. For both their sakes, he kept a sliver of distance between them. “I think it’s kind of fun.”

“You clearly haven’t encountered enough fanatics,” Warriors muttered.

“Ahh, well.” Hyrule laughed awkwardly. “Should we move on?”

“No, let’s stay put. There are no immediate threats, and between Twilight and Sky the others should be able to track us down easily enough. There’s no reason to risk getting turned around or running into whatever killed these monsters.”

“Right. That sounds logical.”

“Don’t look so glum,” Warriors said with a smirk. “You can explore to your heart’s content when we’re all reunited.”

Hyrule huffed. “As if.”

“Enjoy the break, kiddo. If this dungeon’s anything like the last, we’ll find chaos by the end of it.”

Hyrule’s returning smile was crooked and dimpled. “Yeah, fair. What should we do in the meantime?”

“Meditate? Count rocks? Contemplate all of our past regrets? I don’t know, don’t ask me.”

“Lame,” Hyrule concluded, channeling Wind as he faked a yawn. He glanced back at the little painting of Legend again. “I think his bracelet might be off.”

“What?”

“Legend’s bracelet, in the painting. The stone is supposed to be purple, isn’t it? But the artist made it all black and red.”

Warriors blinked, reevaluating the painting. “It’s not exactly a masterpiece, Hyrule. So what if some of the details are wrong?”

“I don’t know, I’m just saying.” He tilted his head, trying to imagine all the ways his friend and mentor were different from this childlike rendition of him. Then, curious to see if he could, Hyrule reached out and scraped his fingernail across the tip of one of Legend’s ears. Flecks of skin-toned paint came away under his nail. 

“Well,” Warriors drawled wryly, “I guess it’s not cursed. Thanks for that.”

“Oh hush,” Hyrule answered without looking back. “I would’ve sensed a curse. Probably.” He grinned suddenly. “Hey, can I have your makeup?”

“No. Why?”

Hyrule began searching through his own bag. “The ears are too long, and the eyes aren’t the right shape. Legend’s eyes are more, um… almond? And I want to fix his fingers.”

“You’re not wasting my makeup on this.”

“It’s not a waste, it’s creative inspiration—ah ha!” He pulled a clump of charcoal from his bag, along with several blackberries. "It's not like we have anything better to do."

Warriors made a futile effort not to look amused. “What are the berries for?”

“Color. The juice won’t be exactly red, but it’ll do.” He leaned away from the painting as if to get a better overall study of it, then started scratching away at Legend’s eye. 

“You’ll chip your nails doing that.”

“Don’t care.” Hyrule stuck out his tongue as he worked, using the charcoal to sharpen the slant of Legend’s eye. Once he was satisfied with the shape, he smeared a tiny amount of blackberry juice where the iris should be. “See? Much better.”

Warriors outright laughed, which earned him a half-hearted glare. “Keep your day job, hero.”

“Oh?” Hyrule attempted to sound haughty, but thought he sounded constipated instead. “I’d like to see you do better.”

“... Yeah, alright, shove over.” 

They worked on the painting for nearly half an hour, using stones, berries, and some of Warrior’s foundation (“sacrificed for a greater good”) to edit things as they pleased. On a whim, Warriors added bunny ears to the top of Legend’s head, and Hyrule erased, redrew, re-erased, then re-re-drew Legend’s left hand. 

“Fingers are hard,” Hyrule complained, frowning as he compared the drawing to his own hand. “Like, what?”

“I can’t get his nose down,” Warriors muttered. “Why do nostrils look so stupid?”

“Uh, guys? What are you doing?”

They both jumped in surprise, whirling around to see the other heroes entering the hall. “Nothing!” Hyrule blurted, then immediately changed his mind. “Look what we found. It’s Legend!”

Warriors stepped away from the painting as if he’d had nothing to do with it. “Everybody okay?”

“Yes,” Time answered, frowning as the seconds passed. “Legend drew himself?”

“No,” Hyrule answered. “We don’t know who—” He blinked, glancing between them all. “He’s not with you?”

“We thought he’d be here, with you,” Sky said, gesturing to the Master Sword. “Fi said so.”

As one, they all looked at the painting on the wall—redesigned with different proportions, half its nose missing, its fingers lengthened and crooked, bunny ears sprouting from its head, lips stretched in a rictus, its single eye smeared with blackberry juice. 

The paint beneath Hyrule’s fingernails itched. He absently picked it out, startled by the wetness he could feel. He must’ve cut his quicks on the stone. There was no other explanation for the blood. 

[enjoythesilentworld]

Simon's Month - (Beyblade) Towel

day 5! @youngroyals-events

Oh, the places you’ll go. (Or, memories of Simon’s life as seen by his Beyblade towel)

read below or on ao3 (G, 900) (light angst warning)

Most of the memories are warm and sweet. Those are the ones to remember, to reminisce on. 

The very first one is of a store. A standard store that sells birthday cards and laundry detergent, Lego sets and hardback books. A standard store that also rotates its goods based on time of year and has just moved in a new line of kids swimsuits and towels as the end of spring melts into summer. 

A small child, curly haired and sunny eyed, comes careening around the corner of the aisle, skidding to a stop in front of the array of beach towels. He jumps up and down in his spot, turned back towards where he came from and waiting impatiently to be followed, hopefully by a guardian of some sort.

Sure enough, a few seconds later a nice-looking lady with similar curls and a warm smile appears. 

“Simon, please don’t run off like that,” she says and pets the boy’s hair. Her voice doesn’t sound scolding, though. It’s the voice of a mother who knows her child will listen to her but is maybe a little bit too excitable at times. 

“Sorry, Mamá,” he apologizes sheepishly, toeing his shoe into the ground. Then, he perks up and points with a small hand. “Can I get this one, please? Please, please, please! It’s from that show, the one that Ayub showed me!” 

Simon continues to bounce around, rambling and laying out a pretty well-crafted argument for a six-year-old. The pretty lady smiles fondly down at him, pretending to consider, before giving him a small nod. He yelps excitedly and pulls the towel off the shelf, depositing it carefully in the cart.

There’s a plethora of memories from that same summer. They blur together, the visions of lake days and orange slices, tiny sandwiches and big smiles.  

Simon, the young boy, radiates happiness the whole time, save for one time he falls and scrapes his knee. Even then, he smiles up at his mother through the tears and says, “I’m okay, Mamá. It’s just a scratch.” 

Sara, his sister, has her own towel. It’s covered in horses and sometimes they argue about whose is better, until Linda steps in and distracts them with treats. 

There’s a man, too, Simon’s pappa. He has a deep laugh and makes Simon giggle uncontrollably when he tosses the young boy into the water or pretends to be a sea monster, chasing after his two small children. 

Micke starts appearing less and less as the boy gets older. Soon, rather than seeing him wrap Simon with his towel as he climbs out of the pool after swimming lessons, it’s only his voice that is heard. Shouts muffled through a shut bedroom door, a still young boy hiding under his towel, hands pressed to ears, trying to block out the noise. 

Then, the man is gone altogether, and the boy grows a little older, and his smile returns, if a little dampened. 

He and his sister add their towels to a blanket fort in the living room. Though Simon’s towel has remained the same, Sara’s has lost its flair. It’s a simple purple one, now, with no pictures or sparkles or childhood memories. She says none of the other kids at school have kid towels anymore, so they shouldn’t either. Simon likes his towel, though, and he doesn’t so much care what the other kids at school think. 

The boy grows older still, and rings in another birthday at the pool with friends, towel wrapped around his shoulders, blowing out candles that read ‘16’. 

There are fewer happy water days after that. Now, the memories all come from one small, slightly stinky room. There are dozens of other towels around, but they are all pristine and new and made from expensive cotton. None of them have faded colors or small rips, but none of them have any good memories, either. The locker room is boring and has no great scenery, but there is one other boy who keeps staring at Simon with sad brown eyes. 

The boy, Wille, holds Simon’s hand and they tangle up together on the bench, whispering promises that cannot be kept. 

Then, they stop talking to each other, only furtive glances across the humid room. That, the silence, is worse than the fights, because then at least they’re talking. 

After that, the memories of the locker room and the prince stop, too. The towel ends up stuffed into a cabinet and maybe that is the end of it, maybe there are too many holes and too many bad memories outweighing the good and the young boy has grown up too much to cling to memorabilia of childhood TV shows. 

But, then, a crack of light and a laugh. 

“We’re going on a trip, Mamá!” Simon shouts across the small house, between giggles and gentle hushes. The prince is back, though looking much less princely than usual, and he’s wrapped around Simon with a big, relieved grin, pressing small kisses against his bare neck. 

This summer rivals that first happy summer from a decade previous. More lake days and orange slices, but also stolen kisses under the towel and a million whispered I love you’s. Wille wraps Simon up in the towel and carries him up the dock, ignoring Simon’s complaints because they come between wild bouts of laughter. They stand pressed up against a tree and grin at each other unbelieving that this is real. 

There are a million more memories like that from the summer, of tackling each other into the water, of shared sodas and water-logged sandwiches, and of lying side by side on the shore, staring into each other's eyes and making promises for the future. These promises, now, can be kept. 

[halcyon-doll]

Full name: ####### ########

Nicknames: vlad, vodka

Birthplace: michigan

Birthday: jan 3rd

Where Do You Live Now?: michigan

Parent(s): dad passed, moms alive

Sibling(s): a brother

Looks: fat 5'3 emo

Favorite Animal(s): borzoi dogs, wolfs, foxes

Favorite TV Show(s): smiling friends, heartbreak high

Favorite Kind(s) Of Music: trap metal, rap, dsbm

Favorite Movie(s): black metal veins

School: none

Future School: fuck i hope none

Future Job: tattoo artist

Boyfriend/Girlfriend: none

Best Buds: sam, josie, zakk

Favorite Candy: anything blue raspberry

Hobbies: drawing, painting

Things You Collect: monster cans, knives

Favorite Body Part Of The Opposite Sex.? thighs and stomach

Any Tattoos And Where Of What?: none

Piercing(s) And Where?: ears

What Do You Sleep in?: pajama pants and a bra

Do you like Chain Letters: theyre alright idk

Best Advice: follow your intuition, listen to your gut

Favorite Quotes: none

Non-sport Activity You Enjoy: sh B)

Dream Car: black 69 camaro

Favorite Thing To Do In Spring: sit in the rain and connect with earth

What’s Your Bedtime: none

Where Do You Shop?: local businesses, sometimes amazon

Coke or Pepsi: coke

Favorite Thing(s) To Wear?: bracelets

Favorite Subject(s) In School?: pottery / ceramics

Favorite Color(s): lavender, sage green

Favorite People To Talk To Online: zakk

Root-Beer or Dr. Pepper? dr pepper

Do You Shave? not often

Favorite Vacation Spot(s): frankenmuth

Favorite Family Member(s): my brother and mom

Did You Eat Paint Chips When You Were a Kid? no???? help

Favorite CD you own: my 2 type o negative cds

The ONE Person Who You Hate The Most: victoria

Favorite Food(s): polish cucumber salad mmm

Who Is The Hottest Guy or Girl In The World?: guy, ruby the cherry. girl, snooki

What Is Your Favorite Salad Dressing?: red wine vinigarette

When You Die, Do You Wanna Be Buried or Burned Into Ashes? ashes

Do You Believe In Aliens?: hell yeah i do

If You Had The Chance To Professionally Do Something, What would You Do?: kill myself

Things You Obsess Over: music, blankets, tc

Favorite Day of the Week: saturday

A Teacher You Hate: my 7th grade math teacher. fvck you mrs toe

Favorite Disney Movie: mulan

What Is Your Favorite Season? autumn

What Toppings Do You Like On Your Pizza? cheese

Do You Like Your School Food Itself (As In The District Food): i dont go to school so... no

If You Could Live Anywhere, Where Would You Live? poland

Favorite Thing(s) To Do On Weekends: create spell jars and burn incense

Favorite Thing(s) To Get Clean up: ??? what

Favorite Magazine(s): kerrang

Favorite Flower(s): lily of the valley, babies breath

Favorite Number(s): 444, 888

Favorite Ice Cream flavor(s): mint chocolate chip

What Kind of Guys/Girls Are You Attracted to?: nerds, emos, scene queens

What’s Your Most Embarrassing Moment? catching a felony at the ripe age of 15

If You Could Change One Thing About Yourself What Would It be? how fat i am

Do You Eat Breakfast First Then Brush Your Teeth or Brush first ten eat breakfast: breakfast then brush teeth

Favorite Time of Day: sunset

Can A Guy and Girl Be Just “Best Friends?”: ofc

Do You Ask The Girl / Guy Out Or Do You Wait For Them To Come To You?: wait for them to come to me

Do You Mind Paying For Sex? im so much better than that LMFAO

What’s The Most Important thing In Someone’s Personality: being open minded and kind

Do you have a pager or cell phone? neither (im on pc)

Favorite Sport: figure skating

What Was the Best Gift You Ever Received? tickets to the re-impera tour for my birthday

How Long Did This Letter Take You To Finish?: probably a good 20-30 mins

What Did You Listen To While Completing It?: $uicideboy$ new world depression

Are you or would you like to be married in the near future (next 5 years)? yes

Don’t u just hate how psychics never win the lottery? the lottery is fvcking gay

[sadiecoocoo]

It's Growing On Me - The Bad Batch fic

trying something new with how I format these posts, lmk what you guys think :)

Also I thought abt it and this fic could count for the Summerofbadbatch prompt, “it’s not what you think” so yeah ig this is a summer of bad batch thing :)

Relationships - Crosshair & Echo

Tags - Bonding, Fluff, Minor Injuries, Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Fluff and Humor, CT-9904 | Crosshair is Bad at Feelings, Protective CT-9904 | Crosshair, CT-9904 | Crosshair is a Little Shit, CT-9904 | Crosshair-centric, CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo-centric, Soft CT-9904 | Crosshair, Hurt CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo, Clone Trooper Tech is a Little Shit (Star Wars), Hunter is So Done (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Mission Fic, Brotherly Bonding, Platonic Cuddling

Summary - Crosshair has a moment of realization after Echo humbles a reg that picked on the Batch. He tries his best to make up for the time he had been mean to Echo, and tries to treat him like a brother.

Or, Crosshair trying desperately to get mama Echo's approval.

Word Count - 10,647

Read on A03

The alleys of Coruscant never really got dark. There were neon signs everywhere that reflected off of puddles and windows. Most places were open all night and kept their lights on. Coruscant was a planet that never slept unless all its residents were hungover.

Sometimes Crosshair had trouble believing that Coruscant was the head of the Republic and Jedi. Spending time in the lower levels can make it suffocating to spend time above. All the senate buildings seemed bland after seeing all the shops and bars with their bright colors and lights that never dimmed.

Clone Force ninety-nine had only been to Coruscant so many times. They were always on some mission or would rather just stay on the Marauder. Crosshair never complained about that. The Marauder was quiet (most of the time), and Coruscant was noisy and obnoxious. Anyone could guess which he preferred a majority of the time.

However, He did enjoy this certain outing to sample a few of Coruscant’s bars. Echo seemed well versed in the area, being a reg and having the chance to spend time on leave. He gave them a multitude of good bar recommendations, though his favorite seemed to be 79’s. Crosshair couldn’t agree, there were too many regs there. He was surprised that a fight didn’t break out while they were there.

Of course, a fight did break out. It was just at a different bar, a very rugged one that looked out of place on Coruscant. For once, Crosshair hadn’t even been the one to start the fight. Instead, their newest member was the guilty suspect.

They were about to leave, Hunter and Tech barely being able to stand; they were so drunk. Crosshair was a little disappointed, having enjoyed the drinks he got at this particular bar. He and Wrecker both held their liquor better than The former two. Echo, unsurprisingly, didn’t drink that much. The reason being something about Tech not wanting the alcohol to possibly give him a setback in his recovery, that he was still too underweight to handle it all well. Of course, Tech didn’t stay coherent long enough to make sure Echo did as he was told, so that duty fell upon Hunter, then Crosshair once the sergeant succumbed to the drowsiness of the alcohol.

He had begrudgingly patted Echo on the shoulder, mumbling “that’s enough reg, Tech’ll kill you in the morning if you have anymore.” and the ARC trooper frowned and placed his glass on the table, sliding it instead to Wrecker, who gladly took it. It wasn’t long before the group decided to call it quits after that.

Wrecker was practically carrying Tech, with how much the splicer leaned on him, as they stumbled out of the bar. Hunter looked like he already had a headache forming, and Wrecker decided to take up the job of guiding their sergeant as well. Crosshair rolled his eyes as he shared a glance with Echo.

Both of them had started to get along better, but the ARC was still a reg. Crosshair would tolerate occasional glances and fighting beside him, but he doubted they’d be friends anytime soon. They certainly had been in a few arguments that turned physical soon enough.

Wrecker, with the added weight of his brothers and clumsiness from the several beers he had had, stumbled to the side and just barely caught himself from falling. He did, however, cause someone else to fall. Crosshair groaned as he noticed it was a reg. Because of course they would piss off a reg.

“Hey! Defect, watch it!” The clone snarled. He didn’t have any paint on his armor, neither did a majority of the group with him. Wrecker held up his hands placatingly, still trying to hold up Tech, who was practically dead to the world. Hunter seemed to compose himself slightly and listened in. Crosshair doubted the sergeant would be much help if a fight broke out, though.

“I-I didn’t mean to- ‘m sorry,” Wrecker mumbled in response. Crosshair let out a huff. He didn’t need to apologize to the jackass.

“Oh yeah- sure! It was an accident?” the clone drunkenly antagonized.

“It was!” Wrecker tried again. The bar had fallen fairly quiet around them, waiting to see if a real fight would break out. Crosshair looked at Echo again and saw an expression that looked angrier than any he had seen before. He quickly wondered who it was pointed at.

“Oh kark you!” The reg said, then threw a punch at Wrecker. The crowd cheered at the potential chance to start a fight and get some entertainment. Crosshair clenched his fists and readied himself to join in to defend his brother, who honestly hadn’t budged from the blow. Maybe Crosshair wanted to join more so to put the reg in his place than to actually keep Wrecker from getting hurt, as if he could get hurt by this guy.

Echo placed his scomp on Crosshair’s shoulder, holding him back slightly. The sharpshooter glared at the reg. Of course he would stop Cross from joining the fight, giving his old buddies an advantage.

Contrary to what Crosshair had expected, Echo went forward himself. Crosshair blinked as the ARC grabbed the reg by the back of his armor and pulled him away from Wrecker. The reg complained and yelled, but it did little to deter Echo.

“Damned shiny.” Echo muttered as he pulled to reg far enough away to… scold him? “He did nothing to personally offend you and you karking punch him?” Echo’s tone sounded dangerous, and even Crosshair felt a little sheepish. It reminded him of all the times he had heard Cody scold a younger looking reg for something.

“Yeah! I’ll punch him,” He raised his fist and reared back. “And I’ll punch you too-” He didn’t get a chance to finish his threat before he was sprawled out on the floor. Echo held one arm up, and his foot was on the reg’s back, successfully pinning him down. The crowd cheered again, some cringing at the blow. This time Wrecker and Hunter joined in on the cheering as well.

“Listen, kid.” Echo said, sounding very much like an order, “If you wanna prove you’re tough, go scrap some clankers. Leave my brothers alone. We’re all clones, we’re all fighting on the same side in the same war.” He reprimanded sternly. Crosshair felt almost in awe.

“Get your osik together.” He finished as he let go of the reg’s arm and stepped off of him. The reg sat up, but all the fight he had earlier seemed muted.

“Sir, yessir.” He mumbled. Crosshair heard a few chuckles in the background. Echo walked back to the Batch, patting Wrecker on his arm and deciding to shoulder some of Tech’s weight as well. Crosshair blinked at the ARC. That was not all what he had been expecting.

“Shiny?” Hunter asked. Echo let out a huff.

“Clones with unpainted armor, barely out of being cadets.” He explained, elbowing Hunter lightly with a grin. Crosshair listened quietly. He still felt as though he were in shock.

“I could have handled it…” Wrecker mumbled, though there wasn’t much anger to it. He sounded a little sad that he didn’t get to fight anyone. Crosshair couldn’t blame him, he did kind of wish that Echo hadn’t stepped in, only so he could have stepped in. Even so, he was still a bit amazed at Echo for standing up for them. He hadn’t expected it at all.

“Of course, big guy!” Echo responded, “I just didn’t want a fight to break out. We’re tired and drunk.” He explained with an understanding smile. Wrecker laughed, patting Echo on the back, making the ARC trooper stumble.

Crosshair trailed behind as they continued towards the hotel they had been provided for their leave (They would have just had to stay in the barracks, but Crosshair may or may not have gotten into a small scuffle with a few of the regs on their first night). He either kept his eyes trained to the ground or on his brothers’ backs. He worried his bottom lip, wishing he had brought a few toothpicks with him. The sharpshooter almost didn’t notice Echo start to slow to match his pace.

“You alright?” He asked quietly, trying not to let the others hear. Crosshair, seeing Hunter turn his head slightly back towards the two, knew that it only partially worked.

“Yeah.” He replied curtly. Crosshair looked back towards the ground to avoid Echo’s worried gaze. “Don’t worry ‘bout me.” He drawled. Echo let out a good spirited huff.

“‘Course not.” He said mirthfully. They fell into silence. Crosshair expected the ARC to catch back up with the others. It became apparent that he had no plans to do so once the hotel was in view and Echo was still walking next to him.

When they made it back up to their room, the majority of them collapsed on their beds. Echo went to the ‘fresher immediately, and the water started to run soon after. Crosshair sat heavily on his own bed, Tech having already been laid out next to him so he could sleep.

He ran a hand down his face and let out a sigh. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but he felt a strong guilt. He had treated Echo poorly compared to how he treated the others, having expected him to be like any other reg. The ARC had made it apparent that he really was different.

He knew Wrecker had practically forgotten that Echo was a reg, having grown attached only hours after Echo had joined their squad. Hunter’s heart bled for any stray, and he was clearly protective of the new addition to the Batch. Tech found in Echo a new pair of ears to listen to his ramblings, and even sometimes understand what he said. Crosshair… Crosshair had tolerated his presence.

Crosshair had certainly indulged in sharing teasing glances as the two found humor in something one of the others did. He had listened to some of Echo’s vents, though they had been spoken to Hunter in the middle of the night and not him. But he also held low expectations of Echo. He had honest to Maker expected him to join on any regs’ sides if there was a fight. He had been ready to hear some complaints about them being defective. He had expected him to not care as much about them while on the field.

He had been cruel in that. Crosshair fumbled for one of his toothpicks and stuck it in between his teeth, chewing on the wood as he thought. It wasn’t something he felt he needed to be redeemed for. It was just something he wanted to do a bit better on.

He stripped off his armor to get comfy in his blacks. Crosshair laid back against the pillow, opting to shower in the morning. Tech had already snuggled up to him seconds after he got under the covers.

The door to the ‘fresher opened and an arc of light flooded the room. Echo left the door cracked, giving the Batch a small night-light as they slept. Crosshair watched silently as Echo’s figure walked over to his and Hunter’s bed and plopped down next to the sergeant.

Hunter had an arm covering his eyes and he peeked out to look at the ARC as the bed creaked. Echo handed something to Hunter, probably medicine for the approaching headache, and the tracker mumbled a sleepy “thanks.”

There was a pop and a hiss as Echo removed his headpiece, the familiar sound indicating that Echo was about to sleep like the rest of them. He put in his hearing aids so he could actually hear in case anyone needed anything. Crosshair heard the ruffling of covers before it settled.

He let out another soft sigh. He would do better for the reg. Nothing too crazy, just better.

Echo groaned when he woke up. His head throbbed. He really wished he hadn’t drinken that much. At least he felt somewhat clean, though sleeping ruined that. He turned in the bed to try and get comfy again, hoping that he could sleep just a little longer.

“Echo,” There went that plan. “We’ve gotta leave in two hours.” Hunter informed him. He cursed the Batch’s need on the field. If they worked so well, why not make more special ops teams like them? It’d be nice to have a break that lasted more than three days for once.

“Well that leaves me ‘n hour to sleep.” He mumbled, face pushed against the pillow. His eyes felt heavy and all he wanted was an actual good night’s sleep. He had tossed and turned all night, finding it impossible to get comfy enough to lay still. Hunter had elbowed him multiple times for it. He couldn’t help that all his prosthetics were uncomfortable as shit when he was trying to sleep. And there was no way he’d sleep without them unless he was on the Marauder, he’d be too vulnerable.

“That is incorrect.” Tech stated, “It usually takes you an hour and a half to get ready after we’ve been on leave, since you spend more time than needed drinking caf.” He explained. Echo let out a rough sigh.

“Why d’you know that?” He grumbled loudly.

“I thought it might be useful.” Tech stated simply. Echo knew he was doing one of his annoying, yet somewhat cute, shrugs when he thought something was obvious when to literally anyone else it wasn’t.

He groaned again when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He blinked his eyes open to see Crosshair standing above him. His gaze turned to the mug in his hands.

“Made you some caf.” He said, almost sheepishly, if Echo didn’t know any better.

With a sigh of defeat he sat up and took the mug. He nodded and smiled at Crosshair. Being woken up sucked, but getting some decent caf out of it was somewhat worth it. Crosshair nodded back, clearing his throat, then went in the refresher to get ready to leave.

Echo let the warmth of the mug warm his hand before drinking any of it. Eyes still half-lidded, he took a meager sip and smiled a bit brighter at the taste. It was sweet enough for him to enjoy it.

“Well that was strange.” Tech pointed out. Echo looked up to see Hunter and Wrecker both nodding in agreement. He let out a confused hum.

Tech opened his mouth to give a long-winded explanation, but Hunter cut him off. “It’s nothing.” He dismissed with a wave of his hand. Tech frowned and shared a glance with Wrecker. Echo shrugged and continued enjoying his caf.

His headache had started to ebb by the time Crosshair left the ‘fresher. He rubbed his neck to work out a crick, hearing a satisfying pop. It got rid of a bit of the soreness, helping more with his headache.

Echo covered his mouth as he yawned, then finally got out of his bed. He placed the now empty mug on the bedside table, then placed his hearing aids beside them. The world quieted before he had the chance to put on his headset. Any movement could no longer be heard; though he saw Hunter rummaging through his pack, the shuffling was muted.

He replaced the hearing aids with his headset and released a breath. He hated how vulnerable he could be without even one of his cybernetics. There wasn’t much he could do about it, he was lucky enough for Tech to have upgraded them so he could feel fairly normal with them on.

“Feeling alright, Echo?” Hunter asked. The ARC turned to the sergeant, meeting his worried gaze with his own tired one.

“Yeah. Just a headache, it’ll pass.” He waved it off. He smiled at Hunter, who seemed pleased with his answer. He yawned again and stretched before getting up. He started packing up his stuff, a task that wouldn’t take longer than a few minutes.

His shoulders slumped as he checked and realized, unsurprisingly, Tech was right about his morning routine. He looked over his shoulder to see Tech’s smug expression. Echo fixed the splicer with an unimpressed glare, then stuck his tongue out playfully.

He shouldered his bag, stubbornly refusing to let Wrecker carry it, then waited at the door for the others to get finished up. Crosshair approached and stood beside him quietly. He looked like he had something on his mind, but Echo knew the sniper wouldn’t utter a word about it until he wanted to.

“I can carry that,” Crosshair pointed to his bag. Echo blinked, looking from the bag on his shoulder to Crosshair. He let out a light chuckle before answering.

“I got it, thank you though.” He insisted, similarly to how he always answered Wrecker’s offering. He hated how much they all coddled him sometimes. Though, it came in pretty handy often enough for him to never bother saying anything. He knew that if he needed help with something, a break, or a bit of quiet, any of them would help him to their best abilities.

Crosshair nodded wordlessly, then leaned against the wall. He had a toothpick in his mouth, as usual, and was moving it from one side to the other. It was something he usually did when he was nervous or worried. Echo rolled his eyes subtly.

“You doing okay?” He asked carefully. The sharpshooter glanced at him, then to the ground.

“Fine.” He muttered quietly. Maybe Tech had been on to something when he commented on how weird Cross was acting. Echo shook the thought away, everyone has their days.

“All right, let’s head out boys.” Hunter said once had finished packing their stuff (there wasn’t much to pack, but still). They all followed the sergeant out of the room and towards the lobby. Echo waved politely to the lady working the front desk as they all passed.

“Can we get something to eat?” Wrecker asked hopefully. Hunter let out an obvious sigh.

“We have to be on Ryloth in a few days, it’s a long trip.” He said, trying to reasonably turn it down. Echo pursed his lips. Wrecker released a loud ‘awwww!’

“I can head into town and get some snacks while you all prep the ship.” Echo offered, pointing down the crowded street. Wrecker’s face brightened and Hunter mulled it over.

“Alright, but be quick.” He relented. Echo and Wrecker both smiled brightly.

“Sweet or salty, big guy?”

“Both!” he replied excitedly.

“On it.” Echo saluted with his scomp arm, then hoisted the bag off his shoulders for Wrecker to carry. He went down the street in a rushed gait, not exactly running, but he looked like he had places to be.

He turned a corner and continued down the street until he came upon a familiar store. A small smile spread across his lips as he pushed the door open. The smell of chocolate and salt made his nose sting, but he ignored it. He started down to the corner of the store, waving a small greeting to the familiar cashier.

Hardcase had shown this place to him and Fives when they were on their first leave. Fives had practically bought out the store with all the credits Rex gave them while they were on leave. They had taken several bags of sweets aboard the Resolute and stashed it for later… until Rex found it and got onto them for having contraband, or rather, for not sharing it.

It became a small tradition for Echo, Fives, and anyone else they could convince to visit this place. The store owner had gotten to the point where he could recognize the two in a crowd of clones. Echo grabbed a small wrapped bag of salted caramel filled truffles.

He remembered the place fondly, but it got difficult to not tear up being in here. He had always had a brother beside him when he walked through those doors. He swallowed the lump in his throat and focused on his mission.

Echo picked up a few other things, something that each of them would like, plus a few extra things for himself (that Wrecker would most likely steal). Then, he walked up to the counter and paid for the treats.

“Echo,” The shop owner, an older Togruta, greeted solemnly. Echo tried to smile while he looked over his pale and skinny form. His eyes lingered on the scomp arm and headset. “It’s been a long time.”

“Yeah,” Echo said with a laugh, “A lot happened.” He placed everything on the counter and talked while Umata rung everything up.

“I was sorry to hear about Fives, and to hear about you, so long ago.” a bit of grief flooded his tone. Echo smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Sorry you lost a bit of business without us!” He joked lightheartedly, not feeling up for heart-to-hearts.

“Oh, I’ve always got someone around.” Echo was grateful that he understood. The war had made it so just about everyone lost someone. Umata had lost many people before he made it to Coruscant, Echo and Fives had been given all the stories of his travels when they had time to talk.

“Glad to hear it, I don't know what I’d do if I’d come back and this place wasn’t here.” Umata handed him the bag, and Echo tried to hand him the credits. Umata held up his hand in refusal.

“Please, on the house.” Echo opened his mouth to protest, “as a welcome home gift.” Umata insisted. Echo shook his head with a sigh. He pocketed the credits and instead shook Umata’s hand.

“It’s good to have you back, Echo.” Umata said as Echo started to turn to leave.

“Good to be back.” Echo replied with a smile, this time more genuine. He left without another word, feeling Umata’s worried gaze on his back.

When he turned to head back towards the Marauder, he nearly lept out of his skin. Crosshair stood leaned against the wall, very close to the door. Echo released a breath and blinked at the sharpshooter.

“Hey?” He said awkwardly. Crosshair looked up at him, having rested his eyes for a moment.

“Hunter wanted me to tell you to hurry.” Crosshair muttered. Echo let out a huff. Hunter had certainly sugar coated it more than that. He patted Crosshair on the shoulder with his scomp and headed back towards the Marauder. Crosshair was hot on his heels.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, passing several groups of people. Crosshair stopped dead in his tracks at some point. Echo turned curiously to the sharpshooter.

“What did you just say?” Crosshair grabbed the arm of a civvie to stop them from leaving. Echo blinked at the strange exchange and his brow furrowed.

“What does it matter to you, clone?” the civvie snarled. He was a weequay, probably a bounty hunter or pirate, by how scuffed up he already looked.

“Answer the damn question.” Crosshair ordered threateningly.

“Cross-” Echo tried.

“I called him a damned meat-droid! That’s what he is, can’t be pissed ‘bout that.” The weequay defended. Echo’s shoulders slumped and he breathed heavily through his nose. Crosshair’s nose scrunched in anger and disgust.

“You sleemo!” Before Echo got the chance to step in, Crosshair had grabbed the man by his shirt and pinned him against the wall. He didn’t seem very confident anymore, his hands raised in surrender. Crosshair reared back to punch the man.

“Crosshair!” Echo hissed, grabbing his elbow to stop him from attacking the guy. “Drop it.” he ordered once the sharpshooter looked at him. Crosshair studied him silently, then, literally, dropped it. The man fell to the ground with a grunt.

Crosshair glared at Echo for a moment, then shouldered past him. Echo regained a bit of his composure and glanced down at the man. He didn’t bother apologizing, he knew the guy didn’t deserve it.

He followed Crosshair with a similar scowl on his face.

Hunter didn’t know when it started, or why, but he knew it was weird. Crosshair, the person who, up until now, liked Echo the least, was acting like he couldn’t stand two minutes away from him. Everyone else, except somehow Echo, noticed it too.

Tech was the first to comment on it, and they all seemed to have the epiphany then. Echo was still too tired to even notice it. Crosshair had made Echo caf. He never made anyone caf unless he lost a bet. Hunter would know, he tried several times to convince him to make him some when he had a migraine.

Then, he started to hover around Echo. Right before they left the hotel, he seemed oddly close to the ARC trooper. It wasn’t really a big deal, it was just different from his usual behavior. Sometimes Crosshair acted like he couldn’t stand Echo’s presence, and sometimes they got along okay, but the sharpshooter never actively looked for Echo.

He even offered to go get Echo when they were about to leave. Hunter was more worried about the two looking pissed when they got back than the action alone. He wondered if maybe Crosshair was starting to get on Echo’s nerves, and the ARC had snapped.

Even so, they were all greatly distracted from the sweets Echo had brought back. Wrecker made a ruckus as he cheered, almost knocking over Gonky as the droid passed. Tech and Hunter were both pleased with the treats, but weren’t quite as excited.

Once the group was in hyperspace, Hunter left the cockpit to go mitigate things. If Echo and Crosshair were having issues, he didn’t want them to get in the way of the mission. Apparently some karked up shit was happening on Ryloth, the seppies were adamant about taking the planet. That only meant bad news and he didn’t need his squad shooting at each other more than the droids.

Echo was on his bunk (technically it was Wrecker’s, but they cycled out since they had a new addition to the squad), leaning back with his arms crossed and eyes closed. Hunter was sometimes worried with how often he slept, but Tech assured him that it was just because of his recovery and it wasn’t anything to worry about. Crosshair was sitting on the chair near the console, cleaning a part of his firepuncher. The other parts were strewn about the small counter in front of the screen.

Hunter sat down next to Echo, shaking the bed as he did so. The ARC trooper peeked an eye open, then sighed as he met Hunter’s eyes. He adjusted his position and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

Hunter looked over to Crosshair, whose attention was now on the two. Hunter lifted a brow, and Cross scoffed. He placed the part he had been cleaning next to the rest. He rested his head in his palm and leaned his elbow on the counter.

“Okay, what’s going on between you two?” Hunter asked, getting to the point. Echo looked at Hunter with an unreadable expression, and Crosshair rolled his eyes in an exasperated manner.

“Nothing?” Echo replied confusedly. He looked over to Crosshair, who only shrugged. “We’re acting… normal?” Hunter sighed.

“No, you’re acting normal,” He pointed to the ARC’s chest, “he’s acting weird.” he jammed his thumb in Crosshair’s direction. Echo looked at the sharpshooter, blinked for a moment, then shrugged.

“We just got into a small fight with a civvie.” Crosshair muttered.

“You got into a small fight with a civvie.” Echo corrected with a scoff. Crosshair glared at him, but Hunter didn’t see any real anger behind it, at least none directed towards Echo.

“He called you a meat-droid?!” Crosshair retaliated. Hunter’s eyes widened and he turned to Echo. The ARC looked unimpressed.

“Crosshair,” He replied, a bit of humor in his tone, “I appreciate you defending me, I really do, but just about every clone gets called a meat-droid, I’m just a bit more droid than others.” Echo played it off with a shrug.

“I don’t put up with people calling any of them names, I’m not gonna put up with anyone calling you names.” Crosshair continued, unwilling to let the matter drop.

“And I appreciate that, but it’s really okay.”

“Okay?! Are you serious-”

“Okay that’s enough!” Hunter interrupted sternly. The two looked guiltily over to him. He released a rough sigh and shook his head. “Just, both of you, please don’t get distracted on the mission.” He urged. Echo nodded and Crosshair scoffed.

“‘Course, Sarge.” Echo said, almost spitefully. The ARC had always seemed to get offended at the notion that he could be the one screwing up a mission. Hunter couldn’t blame him for it, he had a lot going on in his head and a desperate need to prove himself useful.

“We’ll be at Ryloth in about a day,” He informed them, changing the subject. The two clones nodded silently, content with ending the discussion. Hunter got up, leaving the two to sort out things on their own, and headed back to the cockpit. He plopped down in the copilot’s seat, usually Echo’s spot whenever he was in the cockpit, and released a heavy sigh.

“That went well.” Tech announced sarcastically. Hunter dragged a hand down his face as he groaned. There was always something.

“About as well as a bantha in a pod race.” Hunter mumbled back. Tech let out a humored hum in response.

“Perhaps Crosshair is finally warming up to Echo.” Tech suggested, trying to grasp an answer. Hunter shrugged, slouching further in the seat.

“Maybe, but why so suddenly?” He responded. “Last night He looked just about ready to punch Echo when the fight broke out.” Tech hummed again at that. The room was filled with silence, aside from the beeping of the navi computer as Tech keyed in the coordinates to Ryloth, as the two thought.

“I suppose it doesn’t really matter,” Tech concluded with a shrug. Hunter arched a brow, “ As long as they’re getting along and no one is getting distracted on missions, like your previous worry, then nothing bad can come of it.” He explained. Hunter blinked at him for a moment.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He agreed. He crossed his arms and propped his feet on the console. Tech swatted them off immediately and Hunter rolled his eyes playfully.

The mission went terribly. There was always something that went wrong, Echo had learned that quickly. Usually, though, the Batch could easily remedy it and come up with a new plan. Sadly, he wasn’t very conscious for that to happen.

The mission was meant to be a simple infiltration and data retrieval. There was a new separatist base found that was suspected to hold vital information for the Rylothian rebellion. Commander Ponds’ battalion was still being stationed on Ryloth, despite General Windu going back to Coruscant. Echo had been hoping to see Cody again, but the 212th were sent elsewhere.

The mission consisted of most of Clone Force 99 sneaking into the base through the vent system, while Wrecker snuck around outside and planted a chain of detonators set on a timer. Echo and Tech would take charge of the data retrieval, though Echo would be doing most of the searching while Tech would do his best to annoy the shit out of the separatists and screw with all their systems. Hunter and Crosshair would stand guard and cover them if any patrols passed by.

Echo was currently crouched in front of a terminal, his scomp inserted into the port and whirring quietly as his mind processed the code and files being given to him. His eyes held the familiar glassy look as his vision darkened.

He could hear Hunter asking Tech for an update on their progress, though it sounded very muffled. The splicer placed a hand on Echo’s shoulder to rouse him slightly. He blinked away the code for a moment and glanced at the Sergeant.

“Few more minutes,” He mumbled before focusing back on finding the data. There were so many useless files, Echo wasn’t sure how even the separatist generals found what they were looking for. He supposed it was somewhat smart, making it far more difficult for anyone to steal the files without being caught.

“Hurry it up.” Hunter urged stressfully. He must have heard a patrol of clankers approaching. Echo started skimming through the files faster, looking for anything that might jump out at him.

He felt the edges of another headache approaching as his eyes started to water from the strain. He tended to forget to blink when sifting through code. It was another habit Tech had been trying to help him break.

A lot of unhealthy things tended to happen when he was scomped in. If he was connected for too long he might think in code for the next few hours, he wasn’t even sure how it was possible, he just knew it gave him a miserable headache. Sometimes he would get a nosebleed, Tech had explained that mental strain can do that sometimes. Most of the time he had a dizzy spell, though he could work through those in the heat of battle, it was when the adrenaline wore off that he felt the urge to collapse. Almost every time he was connected for more than half an hour, the next day would be spent sleeping or suffering through a headache.

Despite all of the downsides, he was grateful for having the unique ability. It made him feel useful. It made him feel needed. It was probably the only thing keeping him from decommissioning.

A file finally stood out to him, “found something!” He informed them. He started the download, feeling a spike in his headache as the information rushed in. He read it as it loaded, looking over the battle plans and schematics. This would be very useful, and made the after effects of scomping in more than worth it.

Echo flinched as he heard blaster fire in the background. He looked up towards the door to see Cross and Hunter firing into the hallway. He blinked some of the code away and took in the sight of a large patrol of droids quickly approaching.

“Go help, I’ve got things covered here.” He told Tech. he only hesitated a moment before nodding quickly and unholstering his blaster. Tech ran over to the door and joined in the fray.

Echo focused back on the download, ninety-eight percent completed. He released a breath knowing that his headache really would be worth it. He felt a triumphant ping in his brain, as if his circuitry was celebrating the completed download, as the entirety of the file was finally downloaded. He started the process to disconnect his scomp.

“Echo! Disconnect now!” Crosshair yelled urgently. Echo started to ask what had happened, and say that he was already working on it, but a loud blaring sounded in his head. He yelled as error warnings filled his vision and he moved his other hand to press into his skull tightly, as if the pressure would relieve some of the pain.

“Echo!” the sharpshooter yelled again as Echo fell limp after his body seized. An electronic pulse, like on Anaxes, his mind supplied him before it fell dark.

“Echo!” Crosshair yelled as the ARC trooper fell limp. He broke off from the attack, rushing to the fallen trooper. He crouched down and propped Echo up, lifting his head to press his fingers to his pulse point.

“Wrecker get in here! We need backup!” Hunter ordered over the comms. Crosshair’s shoulders sagged as he felt the steady pulse under his fingers. He settled Echo’s head down, then turned his attention to the ARC’s scomp arm, still inserted in the port. Crosshair extracted it carefully, thankfully it gave way easily.

“I’ve got the reg,” Crosshair announced, “he’s unconscious but otherwise okay.” He reassured them all. Crosshair turned back towards the hallway, firing above his brothers at the droids. He didn’t leave where he was guarding Echo’s unconscious form.

He wished he had caught it sooner, the way that one droid seemed to peek around them and turn to its comm afterwards. He had still quickly picked up on what was about to happen, but he wasn’t quick enough. And now the reg was going to be deadweight.

It wasn’t long before the tell tale sound of droids screaming and metal smashing came down the hall. Soon, Wrecker had broken through and made it to the others. Crosshair kept an eye on the hallway as the bruiser quickly scooped Echo up in his arms

“Thanks, Wreck.” Hunter said, patting him on the arm. “Let’s get moving.” He announced, throwing his hand forward to motion for the group to get going. They all fell in line and they rushed down the hallway that was previously filled with battle droids. Crosshair kept his eyes on Echo while also watching the group’s back.

Several more patrols met the group as they went, though they were taken out quickly. Crosshair threw mirrors on the walls in preparation for the patrol that would likely follow them from behind. He almost felt a twinge of guilt for inevitably beating Wrecker again.

“What happened to Echo?” Wrecker asked after a long time without meeting another patrol. Hunter was at the front and peeking around a corner. Even if the mission had turned sour, they could still try to sneak past some of the droids.

“An electronic pulse was triggered while he was still connected to the systems.” Tech supplied. At Wrecker’s worried gaze he corrected, “It only did as much damage as a stun would, he will be fine.”

Crosshair would never openly admit it, but he was glad for the clear up as well. Wrecker sagged in relief and adjusted Echo to support his head better. Crosshair frowned as Echo’s arm fell and hung limply. He silently moved to adjust the limb, placing it on Echo’s chest.

“What?” He asked indignantly after Wrecker stared at him. The brute shrugged in response, then seemed to share a glance with Tech. The splicer also shrugged with a shake of his head. Crosshair felt like they were having a conversation he wasn’t supposed to be a part of. He scowled behind his helmet.

“Come on.” Hunter said after he had decided the area was clear. The group rushed out from the corner and continued through the base. They were getting closer to the exit, and it wouldn’t be long before they made it to the Marauder. He would be happy to get off of this planet.

Soon enough, they had made it out of the base and were in the forest. Hunter signaled for Wrecker to detonate the charges, and the base went up in flames seconds later. The ground shook as the base blew, and Crosshair resisted the urge to look back and admire the carnage.

They piled into the Marauder, Tech and Hunter heading to the cockpit while Wrecker and Crosshair got Echo settled in a bunk. Crosshair cleared off the mess of pillows and blankets on Wrecker’s bunk, much to the brute’s complaint. Crosshair doubted Echo needed a nest right now, he might feel pinned when he woke up.

Wrecker set the ARC down gently, propping his head up against a pillow. Crosshair frowned as the reg still didn’t stir. That must have been one hell of a stun. Maybe Tech did need to make sure Echo’s metal bits were working right.

The ship jostled as it left the atmosphere. Crosshair released a long breath through his nose as he allowed himself to relax. He plopped down on Hunter’s bunk, across from Wrecker’s, and currently Echo’s.

Soon, he felt the ship make the jump into hyperspace. Tech and Hunter both came out of the cockpit and gathered around the other two conscious troopers. Crosshair didn’t make eye contact, instead opting to watch as the reg’s chest rose and fell silently with every breath. At least he didn’t look like he was hurt.

“How long d’you think he’ll be asleep?” Wrecker asked, trying to whisper. Hunter leaned against the ladder to the bunk above Crosshair as he looked at Tech for an answer. The splicer already had his face buried in a datapad and held a medical scanner in his other hand.

“Hopefully not long.” He replied, “On Anaxes it took him about a half hour to regain consciousness, though it might take longer depending on how big of a pulse he was hit with.” he explained. Tech waved the medical scanner up and down Echo’s form. It made a small beep as it picked up something, Tech let out a small hum.

“What?” Hunter asked.

“A few of his systems were damaged.” Tech stated. All the others tensed and looked at Tech sharply for a better explanation. “Just his headpiece, which functioned as a databank, pain reliever for headaches, and a more advanced hearing aid than the ones he used before.”

“So he’s going to feel like shit when he wakes up.” Crosshair surmises. He slouched, once again feeling a small wave of guilt for not being fast enough. At least he knew Echo wasn’t the type to hold a grudge. That was a small comfort.

Either way, he would just have to make it up to him.

Several hours later, Echo woke up with a groan and a splitting headache. The weight of his headpiece was missing, and he couldn’t feel his hearing aids either. The absence of noise was overwhelming, and he had to fill his senses with sight to block out his panic. He blearily opened his eyes to look around the Marauder’s cabin.

The cabin was dark, and the small digital clock on one of their supply crates (they still hadn’t figured out the best spot to put it) showed that it was well into the night cycle. The green aurebesh numbers blinked on the small device before changing to the next minute.

His headpiece was on the workbench, with cables and wires connected. Tech sat there, his face buried in his arms and resting on the small desk. He still had a small tool in his hand that was pressed against one of the screws on Echo’s headpiece.

Echo shifted slightly, trying to ignore the ringing that was starting to grow in his ears. Something tapped his knee, and he jumped. His eyes darted towards the person sitting on the end of his bunk, their face shadowed by the bunk above.

He blinked at the scowling sniper. His arms were crossed and he leaned against the wall, he was sitting on Echo’s legs. His legs were propped up against another supply crate. His lips moved as he said something, though Echo couldn’t hear it.

“What?” he rasped out, his throat sore. He felt the reverberations in his throat and could only hope that he had made himself audible to the sniper. Crosshair pressed his lips into a thin line and looked towards Tech’s sleeping form.

Echo blinked at him expectantly when Crosshair looked back towards the ARC. He saw Crosshair’s shoulders sag with a sigh as he held his hands up to sign something. The Batch used a modified version of ARC signals that took Echo some time to adjust to, but with his hearing less than reliable in moments like these, it was well worth the frustration.

Sorry. Was all the sniper signed before he let his hands drop into his lap. Echo’s brow furrowed as he waited for some kind of clarification. When he was given nothing of the sort, he let his head plop back down onto the pillow.

“My hearing aids?” he asked, looking at Crosshair out of the corner of his eye. The sniper blinked at him, before signing a quick where? Echo pursed his lips as he thought of the last place he put them.

“Never unpacked them.” He concluded with a shrug. He nodded towards his pack, still sitting abandoned on the floor, that he had used on their shore leave.

The weight on his legs lifted as Crosshair got up and started rummaging through the pack. He pulled out a bag of the sweets Echo had gotten before and fixed him with a smug look and arched brow. Echo rolled his eyes as he watched Crosshair pocket the bag. As long as he still got his cut, he wouldn’t mind sharing with the sniper.

Soon enough, after practically taking everything else out of his pack, Crosshair found his hearing aids. He placed them in Echo’s hand, who then set them in his ears. He pressed a small button on the sides that made a small beeping reverberate through his ears. Then, he could finally hear the whirring of the Marauder’s engine and every other background sound there was.

“That’s better,” He said with a relieved sigh. Crosshair let out a scoff as he plopped back down on Echo’s bunk. This time the ARC was given enough time to move his legs out of the way.

“What happened?” He asked.

“There was a power surge while you were still scomped in, Tech said it damaged your headpiece.” he explained unenthusiastically. Echo buried his face further into the pillow as he let out a groan. He remembered that unpleasant feeling all too well.

“It always happens whenever I’m about to unplug.” He groaned. Crosshair let out a huff and patted Echo’s knee again.

“Happens to the best of us, ARC trooper.” Crosshair comforted, at least Echo thought it was supposed to be comforting. Either way, he flipped off the sniper without looking up. He knew it was reciprocated after Cross’ hand fell off his knee.

“Thanks for the save, Cross.” he mumbled. Echo felt his eyes closing again as his headache begged him for another few hours of rest. Echo squinted open one eye as he felt Crosshair tense next to him.

The sniper was looking bashfully away, chewing on a newly acquired toothpick. Sometimes Echo wondered if he kept a pack of them on his person at all times. Crosshair glanced back at Echo and his hand returned to his knee. 

Crosshair was being a lot more touchy than usual, but Echo couldn’t complain about that. He welcomed any kind of comforting touch from his brothers, and getting one from Crosshair felt like a golden medal.

“Get some rest, reg.” Crosshair squeezed his knee as he said it. He didn’t have that ever present hiss that he usually held. Even though Echo didn’t have much feeling in his legs, it still felt nice. He let out a quiet hum as he drifted to sleep again.

What the hell? Tech thought incredulously as he watched Echo and Crosshair’s exchange. He knew the two were being more friendly towards each other, but what the hell?

This just didn’t feel like Crosshair. He was almost acting like Wrecker, though he still seemed to have some modesty in his actions. At least hadn’t pulled Echo into a full on bear hug. Honestly, if the others hadn’t been commenting on Crosshair’s unusual behavior, he might worry that he’d been going insane.

He rubbed his eyes as he finally decided to sit back up and work on fixing Echo’s headpiece. Crosshair eyed him quietly, likely guessing that Tech had been awake for far longer than he had been acting.

Tech adjusted his goggles as he rolled his eyes and shook his head. He turned his focus back onto Echo’s headpiece and fell into his usual, quiet routine.

“Oh, shut up.” Crosshair mumbled, somehow guessing what Tech had been thinking earlier, like he always did.

“I did not say anything.” Tech responded as he plugged another cable into the metal. He heard Crosshair huff behind him.

“I am not going soft on the reg.” he insisted.

“I never said you were.”

“Shut up.” He repeated. Tech rolled his eyes again.

“If you are truly worried about how we would all react to you and Echo getting along better, worry more about Wrecker’s reaction than mine.” he suggested, not looking up from his work. He had already done bad enough falling asleep, he had missed half of Echo and Crosshair’s conversation because of it too.

“Kark.” Crosshair muttered, dragging a hand down his face. Tech released a soft chuckle at Crosshair’s dread. Maybe he would tell Wrecker in great detail the conversation Cross and Echo had been having, or maybe…

“I will not tell, if you share some of the chocolates you snagged from Echo’s pack.” he bargained, though it would be better described as blackmail. He suppressed a laugh at Crosshair’s loud groan of defeat.

“I hate you.” Crosshair muttered. Tech heard the plastic ruffling of a bag as Crosshair relented. Soon enough, three chocolate truffles were placed on the workbench beside the headpiece. Tech smiled smugly as he popped one into his mouth.

“That is only because I actually know how to annoy you and win.” Tech said teasingly.

“Kark you.”

Echo would never undermine Crosshair’s kindness. After he had truly started to become friends with the sniper, he felt like he was really a part of Clone Force 99. He felt like he was really their brother, that there was no question about it.

Echo would always value Crosshair’s company, but sometimes it became too much. Sometimes he felt coddled by the sniper. Sometimes he felt like he wasn’t as valued as a soldier as he was a brother. But all he’s ever known was how to be a soldier.

He would admit it, sometimes Crosshair annoyed him. He felt horrible for thinking it, but he thought it nonetheless. Crosshair was his little brother, but he’d never met a sibling, clone or natborn, that never got annoyed by their vod’ika.

Echo let his head fall back against the wall, making a thud when his headpiece connected with it. He dragged his hand down his face, then rubbed his eyes. Today was just one of those days where he felt miserable where no amount of sleep could help.

Not like he had the option to sleep anyway. They were about to be on a mission to take out a smuggler's ring in less than an hour. He just knew it would be one of those missions where one thing after another would go wrong.

A weight landed next to him on his bunk, making the shitty mattress creak. A bony shoulder bumped into his own and he lazily opened his eyes to meet Crosshair’s. He tried his best to smile at the sniper, though he only managed a grimace.

“One of those days?” Crosshair asked quietly. Echo scanned the rest of the cabin, it was empty save for them. The others were in the cockpit getting ready for landing. Echo should have been in the copilot’s seat, but a certain sniper had insisted he go to the cabin and rest his eyes.

“Yep.” He said, popping the “p,”  trying to lace it with as much spite as possible. Crosshair raised a brow, but Echo only looked away. He didn’t feel up for any of Crosshair’s snark, or any of his kind gestures, surprisingly.

“Would caf help?” Crosshair tried. Something about it made him clench his jaw, his bottom teeth pressing against the tops painfully. Crosshair must have seen the minute change, and he moved away slightly.

His scomp started to whir quietly. He didn’t think about it, it just did. Sometimes, when he did something with his real hand, his scomp would spin. When he clenched his fists, it would spin. When he grabbed onto something, it would spin.

It worked for the opposite too. Sometimes when he was connected to a computer, pushing code in front of his real senses and blocking out the world, his hand would clench into a fist. Sometimes his fingernails would dig into his skin to the point that he bled. 

One time, Tech had caught him doing it. He must have realized he wasn’t doing it consciously, because he never brought it up. Instead, he moved Echo’s hand so it was pressed flat against the console, and his fingers would dig into the metal instead of himself.

Crosshair must have noticed it too, because when he saw Echo’s scomp spin slowly, he backed away further. Echo shut his eyes tightly. He didn’t want to deal with any of this right now. His head hurt, his muscles ached, and the legs that he didn’t have anymore burned with phantom pains.

“Do you want-”

“Go away.” He said sharply, cutting off the sniper in his troubleshooting. He raised his head slightly and let it thud against the wall again. The edges of his headpiece pressed into his skin like the pressure of a dull knife.

“But,” and really that was the final straw. Echo sat up quickly, his annoyed, glowering gaze looking down on Crosshair. He seemed incredibly small in that moment, his back hunched and eyes looking up at Echo like a kicked puppy would.

“Crosshair.” He hissed, that alone enough warning to get the message across. Crosshair got up stiffly and headed towards the cockpit. Echo released the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding as he visibly deflated.

Within seconds, he regretted his outburst. His shoulder suddenly felt very cold now that Crosshair wasn’t leaned against it. He dug his fingernails into the scratchy sheets of his bunk, the fabric scrunching up under his hands.

He pressed his lips into a thin line, biting his lower lip. Kark, he didn’t mean to do that. He didn’t want to get mad at Crosshair. The sniper was only trying to help. He ran his hand over his head.

He waited several minutes before he felt calm. He still felt like shit, but sociable enough to try to apologize to Crosshair. He got up, placing a hand against the top bunk as he felt dizzy for a moment, then he headed towards the cockpit.

Right as he opened the door, the ship jostled as it landed. Echo blinked several times as Wrecker passed him, carrying a pack of explosives, then was followed by the others.

“Ready to go, Echo?” Hunter asked, a soft smile on his face. His eyes were crinkled at the edges, and Echo frowned. He had definitely heard Echo’s outburst, and now he was acting like he was treading on glass.

“Yeah,” He said quickly, then tried to catch Crosshair’s attention. The sniper shouldered past him without a word, his head down. He left the ship after the others and left Echo standing there alone. He released a sigh, then followed the group. He would just have to apologize later.

A sharp explosion made the ground tremble. Crosshair lost his footing for a moment, but planted his feet firmly to stop himself from falling off his perch. He pulled his firepuncher up, balancing it on his forearm, then blasted the droid responsible for the grenade.

He watched as Tech and Hunter ran down one tunnel of the cavern, their lights getting dimmer the further they went. A squad of droids followed them, effectively taking the bait. Wrecker ran down another, blasting any droids that followed him so he could clear the exit.

He whirled around towards Echo’s position. The reg had been silent since his outburst, and Crosshair was happy to give him space. He knew there was always something bothering him, be it headaches or phantom pain. He just wished he was better at voicing it.

Crosshair blasted a droid coming up on Echo’s six, it crumpled to the ground from the burning hole in its head. He got a small thanks from Echo, though it was barely audible. He sounded strained. Definitely a headache.

It was kind of annoying, being to tell exactly what was wrong with someone, but still not being able to help. He knew Echo was in pain, but the reg refused to admit it or accept any help. He wondered if it was just a reg thing, being too proud to admit that he needed a rest.

He turned towards Hunter and Tech’s tunnel as Echo entered his, another group of droids following him. The charges Hunter and Tech had left were blinking swiftly, and would go off in seconds.

“Hunter, hurry it up.” Crosshair hissed into the comms, a hand pressed to the side of his helmet. It wasn’t long after Hunter’s affirmation that the two rounded the corner and fled to the middle of the large cavern. Crosshair made sure they were in the clear before he went ahead and fired at the charges, setting them off early.

“Wrecker, how’s it looking?” Hunter asked, his voice staticky through the comms.

“Exit’s cleared!” Wrecker responded cheerfully. Crosshair could imagine him pumping a fist in the air as he said it.

The sniper turned back towards Echo’s tunnel. The charges were about to detonate, he should be coming out about now. Crosshair watched the tunnel for any movement.

“Echo, sit-rep.” Hunter asked warily. There was static for a moment, then a choppy voice came through. Crosshair couldn’t make out a word Echo said. The cavern he took must have some kind of dampener.

“Echo, get back here.” Crosshair hissed. The static came through again and Crosshair muttered a curse. “I’m going after him.” He said as he jumped down from his perch to a lower ledge. He was closest to Echo’s tunnel, and he could make it in time before the charges went off.

“Negative, we can't risk-” Crosshair turned off his comms before Hunter could finish. He jumped down the final ledge and ran for the tunnel. The sniper set his firepuncher on his back and sprinted down the corridors.

As he ran, he tried comming Echo several times. Each was met with static. The charges on the walls only served to make him more and more nervous. He checked his vambrace, ignoring the several pings from Hunter and the others, and watched the detonation time slowly lower.

He turned a corner sharply, almost getting shot by a stray blaster bolt before jumping back. He got out his DC-17 and peeked around the corner. Echo was being ambushed by a larger squad of droids than the ones that followed.

Crosshair jumped out and started firing. Several droids fell and he made his push towards his brother. He got out his viroblade and slashed at several as well. Soon enough, he was back to back with Echo, both of them firing wildly at the crowd of droids.

“What the kark happened?” he demanded as he kicked at a droid that got a little too close. Echo pushed them both down as a blaster bolt whirred over their heads.

“Ran into another patrol when I was leading the first away.” he replied gruffly, focusing more on blasting droids. Crosshair scoffed.

“And you didn’t think to call in back-up?” He teased. Echo elbowed him lightly.

“My comms were being jammed.” He replied indignantly.

“Yeah,” Crosshair said with a huff, “we noticed.” they fell silent for a moment, simply blasting droids and focusing on staying alive. Crosshair glanced at Echo several times, glad that he at least seemed to be in a bit of a better mood now.

“Sorry about earlier.” Echo said after a while. Crosshair blasted three more droids, then spun around to Echo’s side and blasted two. Echo handled the few that had started going for Crosshair while his back was turned.

“It’s fine, you felt like shit, and I pushed you to find a solution.” He replied restlessly. Because it really was fine. He couldn’t count on one hand the amount of times he got pissed at Wrecker for simply being near him when he was upset.

“Still, I shouldn’t have gotten mad.” Echo insisted. Crosshair rolled his eyes. They just had to play the blame game, didn’t they?

“Oh, shut up.” he said after blasting the final droid. “We don’t have much time before the detonators go off,” he informed him. Echo nodded before nudging his shoulder lightly. Crosshair smirked behind his bucket.

“Let’s get moving then.” Echo responded before running off. Crosshair shook his head with a huff, then followed the ARC.

Wrecker let out a wide yawn as he entered the cabin. That mission had been exhausting, even for him. He hated it whenever they had to split up. That felt like too much of a close call when Echo stopped answering his comms, and then Crosshair stopped answering his comms.

Those two were a force to be reckoned with, though. Even if he couldn’t get into contact with either of them, he knew they would protect each other. He had been overjoyed to be proven right when they both came running out of the cave system, not a scratch on either.

He and Tech had been making bets on how long it would take Crosshair to admit that he was going soft. Wrecker thought he would admit it, some day, but Tech insisted he would never say it out loud.

He didn’t really need to say it out loud, though, because Wrecker had walked in on the cutest scene when he entered the cabin. He suppressed a laugh as he saw what the two were doing.

Echo sat on his bunk, leaned against the wall, with Crosshair’s head resting on his shoulder. He had his arm wrapped around Crosshair’s slender shoulder, and his head rested on top of the sniper’s.

Wrecker covered his mouth as he let out a small chuckle. He bit his lips to force back any more laughter. He glanced around the cabin looking for a way to take a holo (even he knew getting some kind of blackmail on his brother’s was always a good idea, even if it wouldn’t really work on Echo. Crosshair, on the other hand, was a very different story).

He grabbed Tech’s datapad, then took a quick holo of the two. His heart plummeted as the flash went off, and he quickly chucked the ‘pad back onto the workbench. As Crosshair stirred, he pantomimed simply walking over to his own bunk to take a nap.

“Wrecker,” Crosshair said, a deep warning in his voice. Wrecker hummed innocently at his brother. “Delete that holo.” He demanded. Wrecker looked towards the datapad on the workbench.

“What holo?” he countered. “I didn’t take any holo!” He held his hands up innocently, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Wrecker.” Crosshair hissed, glancing at Echo’s sleeping form. The reg’s head had fallen onto Crosshair’s shoulder as the sniper had woken up.

“Really, Cross, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Wrecker insisted, looking anywhere but at Crosshair. He tried his best to suppress his smile.

“Fine.” the sniper hissed in defeat, “what do you want for it?” He relented. Wrecker let out a smug laugh of victory.

“You still have those candies?” He asked, knowing the answer. Crosshair’s flinch and immediate scowl only confirmed it.

“I hate you.” He grumbled as he got a small bag out of his back pocket. Wrecker held out his hands with a smile as Crosshair gave him five little chocolates.

“Awww, thanks Cross!” Wrecker said, as though Crosshair had just given him a gift out of the kindness of his heart. The sniper only flipped him off in response.

“Go to sleep, Wrecker.” Echo mumbled, making the two jump. The ARC still had his eyes closed, and his head was even more buried in Crosshair’s shoulder. Crosshair leaned back against the wall again and rested his head on top of Echo’s. He refused to make eye contact with Wrecker.

The bruiser only laughed. He popped two of the chocolates in his mouth before getting into his bunk. 

NPT: @travellingnorthwards @imreallymenow @ladysongmaster @jessica-caillte-jessicannot-draw @charliezzzz @here-comes-the-moose @saturn-sends-hugs @royallykt @padawancat97 @renton6echo @somestorythoughts

[fanaticsnail]

Random questions about Tobiou (bc why not?! I'm a curious gurl 👉👈):

1 - she's more a silver or gold kinda girl? 2 - what's her favorite color? 3 - she has a family? Pets? 4 - if she needed to eat any devil fruit, which one would she prefer? 5 - cold or hot? 6 - what was her favorite game when she was a child? 7 - what's her favorite hobby? 8 - what would be her alignment in DND? 9 - favorite food? Drink? 10 - favorite thing about themselves?

And that's it. When I create a new oc I like thinking in different questions about them. It's my way to get to know them better :D

Thank you for asking questions about her, Sunny! Tobiuo is so much fun to think about, and I would love the opportunity to show off some art my beautiful, talented baby sister made for her. I love how many interpretations there are of her so far! @since-im-already-here is a wonderful artist, and I love her.

I'll answer them below a page break just in case I go on too much! Again, I really really appreciate the opportunity of getting into her headspace, and I love the prompts!

1. Gold or Silver: she'll take what she's given

Tobiuo wears surgical steel in her webbed ears, dark onyx in colour. They were a gift from her captain, along with being the one she asked to pierce them for her. She hasn't been convinced to change them since he gave them to her.

2. Favourite Color: luminescent purple

Living in the lower depths exposed her to varying degrees of color The Above aren't regularly exposed to. She has vague memories of her past, but the purple is what she truly remembers.

3. Family and Pets: the Heart Pirates

She is not aware of any living relatives. Her lapse in memory from surviving the shipwreck carrying her to Sabaody Archipelago wiped all history from her mind. She does remember having petulant spats in her youth, but can't put a face to the memory. Her found family is her crew. She sees Jean-Bart as a grumpy uncle, Shachi and Penguin as younger brothers, Ikkaku as a close cousin, and Bepo as her baby brother.

Law is her Captain, and she respects him with every fiber of her being. At the smallest click of his tongue, and the phrase: "Show me something," or "Time to go to work," she'll immediately smile darkly and ready herself for combat for him.

When she thinks too hard on it, she may come to realise the purple color correlates with fins where feet should linger. A sibling, a cousin, a friend: she knows not, but they're lingering just below the surface.

4. A Devil Fruit: absolutely not

Her job is to protect her captain. Who would retrieve him if he's pulled into deep water? As a Fishman, she enjoys the ability to swim. There is no way she'd allow the ocean to take that from her.

5. Cold or Hot: Hot

Tobiuo is cold-blooded, enjoying warmth when it pricks at her skin. She doesn't really sweat, something Shachi and Bepo are greatly jealous of in warmer weather.

6. Favourite childhood game: grappling

She really enjoys expressing herself physically. Her friendship comes from a trial by fire: demonstrating her strength by wrestling with her polar-bear mink crewmate. Jean-Bart can keep up with her going fist to fist, but he has no real desire to engage with her like this. When she meets up with the Kid-Pirates, she thoroughly enjoys how physical they are with one another. Arm-wrestling is her love language, one that Kid and Killer greatly enjoy testing in her.

Notes: her strength comes from being a Fishman and originating at the ocean floor. The pressure difference adds to her already heightened strength in the air - which is the reason behind her and her people's mutism. Her lungs can't handle it, but her physical abilities enjoy the pressure change.

7. Hobbies: Dance

Coming with expressing herself physically is the need to make her body move. She makes a point of learning a local style of dance at the ports the Tang docks at. The most receptive crewmates to join with her is Shachi and Penguin. Shachi is often called to act as translator for her sign, a task he enjoys doing. Where the rest of the crew enjoy letting off steam with karaoke, Tobiuo enjoys dancing.

8. Alignment: complicated

While I would say she is more chaotic-good leaning, her loyalty towards captain is almost in line with Lawfulness (oh my gosh, what a horrible pun). She would cast aside her own desires to do "good" if Law asked her to. She is not fond of hurting people, but will at the bequest of her captain.

9. Favourite Food: texture-focussed

She has a barbed tongue and jagged teeth, her sense of taste not really in line with what her warm-blooded crewmates experience. She enjoys spice and texture. Sichuan pepper corns are one of her favorites, specifically for the herbal tingles it leaves on each of the divots and ridges of her tongue. She also prefers her meat as close to raw as she can get it.

10. Favourite Thing: her webbing

Ears, fingers, toes and shoulders. She enjoys their functionality for swimming in her natural environment, but also enjoys wearing clothes outside her boiler suit to accentuate them. Dressing in civilian attire, she will often dress to expose them more.

Thank you for letting me talk about her. I think about her often, not just for her romantic interest in Heat. I adore her!

[fregget-frou]

It’s been about a year since I posted a pose study with Angel and David so.. here’s another one!

I love how much they’ve evolved from last year,,,

[nattikay]

Wings all ready to be installed!

Wings are a pretty difficult piece to make, especially if you're an idiot like me who just haaaaaaaaas to have feather barring 🙃 But I think they turned out alright!

For funsies I pulled out my old suit to compare and...

HAHA YEAH THAT'S NIGHT AND DAYYYYYYYYY, the new wings may not be perfect but they are definitely a MASSIVE step up from the old ones!! and the improvement is the important part so hey ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

As long as I had my old suit out I hung it up next to the WIP of my new one and...

....YEAH WOW CAN YOU SEE WHY I AM TRYING SO HARD TO FINISH THE NEW ONE IN TIME lol

[trollbreak]

I’m sure I put my pocket wip arts together somewhere but idk how to find it so

Gender today

[chidoroki]

October 25th - Oliver’s Birthday

(with one Oliver from almost every chapter he appears in)

[sonknuxadow]

the fact that sonic x shadow generations costs 50 dollars makes me even more confused about the pricing for sonic superstars . because for a second there i thought they were going with the nintendo system of "all our games are 60 dollars now regardless of quality or content" now since frontiers also cost 60 and that price tag felt more reasonable there. but no sxs gens costs 50. which means that 60 Isnt the new default price for sonic games and they actually thought superstars was worth that much. okay

[glambots]

So, most Daycares typically look after kids ranging from 1-to-5/6 years old, which means that Sun and Moon aren't just looking after babies. Mans looking after Baby-Babies. At least 10+ of them a day. That makes me wonder what their limit is. Do they have a waitlist for the Daycare?? Did they ever have Daycare assistants?? Or just a daytime security guard who watched from behind the desk? I want to know how the ins and outs of this place worked man!!