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ladylooch · 6 months ago

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Best Thing I'll Ever Do - Lio x Savannah (Part 1)

A/N: It is here!!!! Part 1 of 5 for Lio and Savannah's long fertility journey. Sorry in advance because y'all are gonna hurt with this one... and the next one.. and the next one... and, well you get it 😬 These parts will span over multiple years. Currently, Savannah and Lio are back together, but it's new.

Word Count: 5.1k

Part 2| Part 3 | Part 4 |

On a sunny day in Southern California, Lio Meier looks out the bus window, nodding his head to the beat of the song blasting through his AirPods. He is deep in his pre-game routine, ready to hit the ice for another battle in the greatest hockey league in the world. His eyes trail over the flat surface of the hotel lot, looking up at the blue California sky. It’s hot today, welcome compared to the snow currently falling on the East Coast. He feels the bus begin to rumble as the break is released, then glances towards the front of the bus as Hockey Ops director, Marc, comes towards his seat.

“Sup?” Lio asks, popping an ear bud out when it’s clear Marc wants to speak to him.

“Hey, Savannah isn’t feeling well. She’s staying behind to rest.”

“Oh. Okay.” Lio frowns. “Thanks for letting me know.”

He hasn’t seen his girlfriend today, but that isn’t unusual for game days. She is busy working on game-day content with her staff and he has to worry about getting in the right mental state for the game. They had been texting earlier about a few things, actually work related, but she never mentioned she wasn’t feeling well. She must have started to feel sick after they both took their pre-game naps.

Marc heads back to the front of the bus as Lio pulls his phone out. He navigates into his messages to check in on her.

You okay?

Yeah, just not up for the game.

Okay. I’m sorry you’re sick, babe. Can I do anything for you?

Win 😘 I don’t need angry fans in the team DMs.

Yes ma’am. Love you 😘

He chuckles, then puts his phone back in his pocket. He pops his earbud in his ear and returns to his pre-game focus.

By the time his skate blades hit the rubber mats of the visiting locker room after the game, Lio is on a high. Not only did the team win, but he had two goals and an assist. He was on fire tonight, flying through defenses, hitting his picked corners, and saucing ridiculous passes on the power play. He felt like he was in a little funk before this West Coast trip, but that all faded away tonight. He loves being on the road with the boys. And Savannah, even if she likes to tease him and keep him at an arms length so she can focus on her job.

Normally, Lio plays along well, but tonight he isn’t going to let her close her hotel room door on him.

Not because he wants sex. Mostly, he wants to cuddle with her and fall asleep together. Nights like this are rare, where they are going back to the same hotel and not catching a plane to the next destination. Instead, they are having back to back games against the Ducks and Kings.

Lio can’t wait to drill Luca into the boards tomorrow. Although, they don’t usually match up together, the boys have a tradition of finding the other in the first few shifts of the game. It’s a competition on who can hit who first. The two hockey players love it. Checking helps shift their mindset from brothers to opponents for the next 60 minutes.

Lio grabs two slices of pizza from the catering table, then makes his way down to the bus. He checks his phone, not seeing anything from Savannah, but plenty of texts from his parents and siblings. His parents are proud. His sister is reminding him he better not pull any shit tomorrow. His younger brothers are cheering about his top titty goals. There is also a text from Connor asking when he is back in town because him and Lucie are itching for a date night. He holds both pizza slices between his teeth so he can text Connor back right away. He misses Stella so much and knows Sav will jump at the chance to hang with her too.

Tuesday or Thursday this week works.

After texting Connor, he pulls up his phone app, clicking on Savannah’s name to call her. The phone rings and rings and rings, then goes to her voicemail. Lio clicks off the call, sending her a text instead.

Hey babe, we should be back in like twenty minutes. I’m gonna change then come up. No negotiations tonight 🤐

He smirks. He can’t wait to get his hands on her. Maybe let them wander over her curves, see what they can get up to tonight, but only if she is up for it.

The ride back to the hotel is quiet with most of the boys trying to wind down to go to sleep. Back to backs are brutal at this point in the season, so conserving energy and attempting to recover faster is important. Lio is one of the first ones off the bus, heading to his room and pulling on a fresh pair of sweatpants. He hangs his suit up in the closet, then gives his teeth a quick brush to remove the coating of gatorade and saliva on his teeth from the game. After, he heads up one floor to Savannah’s room. He continues responding to his dad as he walks down the hallway, slides gliding on the carpet below while his thumbs work on the phone screen.

He raises his hand to knock, rapping his knuckles against the solid door. He chuckles at his dad’s gif back to him of Swiss cheese when joking about the Kings goalie they face tomorrow. He looks at the door, surprised Sav hasn’t answered yet. He knocks again.

“Babe, it’s me.” He calls through the door.

Lio puts his phone in his pocket, then stuffs his hands in each one. He shifts his weight from side to side, stretching out his hips a bit. They’re feeling tight after the game. He mentally reminds himself to stretch before bed.

Lio pauses all his movements and thoughts, listening intently, trying to hear if Sav is walking towards the door. He steps closer, pressing his ear on the door. Of course he can’t hear anything. Instinctively, he tries the door. Of course it is locked. He steps back, double checking the plaque to the right that he is at the correct room.

“Babe?” He says louder. “I need you to open the door or respond or something…” He trails off, anxiety rocking through him. He knows something is wrong.

He pulls his phone out, calling her. He can hear her phone ringing close to the door. Then he hears the click of the lock. The door creaks slightly open. Lio sees Savannah on the ground, tear streaked down her face. Her face is pale and her body heaves with each heavy breath she breathes.

“Oh my god, baby.” He crouches down to her level immediately. He puts a hand on her cheek, feeling her skin. She feels fine. He moves his fingers to her jaw, feeling how clenched it is. Lio’s eyebrows furrow. “What is going on?”

Savannah whimpers. She is in complete disarray, crumbled clothes, hair fumbling out of her braid like she has been tugging on it endlessly.

“How long have you been like this, honey?” Lio whispers tenderly. His hands roam over her, needing to touch her but worrying about hurting her.

Savannah shakes her head. Lio pushes the door open, mindful of not hitting her legs. He works his way into the door fully, then cautiously picks her up. She shudders in his arms as he kicks the door shut. Her head rests on his shoulder, eyes screwed shut tight as she clutches her abdomen with coiled fingers.

“You’re in pain?” He asks. She nods vigorously. “Okay, I am going to call Doc up here.”

He gently lays Savannah on the bed. She immediately curls into a fetal position, moaning. Lio rests his hand on her thigh, rubbing along it in soothing circles as he dials the team doctor, Darius.

“Hello?”

“I need you to come to Savannah’s room. Something is wrong. 610. Please run.”

“Okay.” He hangs up.

“He’s coming, baby.” Lio leans forward, brushing her hair of her face. “I’ll be right back.” Then he kisses her arm, before walking to the door to wait.

The elevator opens and Dr. Darius comes out with his bag in his hand. He runs down the hall.

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. She can’t really speak, but she is in pain and holding her abdomen.”

“Okay.” Dr. Darius darts into the room, opening his bag. “Hi Savannah.” She looks up at him with fresh tears on her cheeks. “Can you give me a rating from 1-10?”

“Its a 9.” She wails. “I’ve thrown up three times. And I passed out in the bathroom.”

“Okay. What hurts?”

“It’s my Endo.” She grits out. “I have my period. I’m bleeding through everything too.” They both look down at Savannah’s pants, seeing the blood collecting on the fabric.

“Okay. We gotta go to the hospital.”

“I know.” She says. “I just… c-c-can’t.” She grits her teeth again, screeching through her teeth. Lio feel this heart collapse in his chest. He has never seen Savannah like this. He doesn’t understand what Endo is or what is going on. All he knows is she is a tough woman and for her to be wrung out like this, whatever she is feeling is extreme.

“Can you give her anything?” Lio asks, feeling slightly sick to his stomach watching her writhe on the bed. Darius is holding her wrist, checking her pulse.

“No. We don’t know what’s wrong with her.”

“She just said its… Endo… I don’t know what the is but it’s clearly painful.”

“We can’t give her anything. We will let the hospital take care of it.” Dr. Darius stands, walking into the bathroom. “Wrap this around her waist. Then I want you to carry her down to the lobby. I’ll grab Marc for the car keys and meet you down there.”

Dr. Darius leaves the room. Lio turns back to Sav. She still lays in the fetal position, eyes closed, focusing on her breaths, trying to even them out even as the pain clearly keeps her rigid.

“Hold on, baby.” Lio whispers, leaning down to kiss her temple. She reaches for his hand on her thigh, crushing it in her grasp.

“Lee, don’t leave me.”

“Never.” He promises. “I’m right here.”

Lio keeps his promise on the way to the hospital where he sits in the back seat with her and then in the chair next to her hospital bed. Although they get a bed quickly, it takes forever for them to be seen in the ER. Eventually, Dr. Darius finds a nurse who he explains the organization they are with. Then, a doctor comes to see them in another few minutes.

After flipping through the chart and asking a few basic questions, then taking her vitals, he sighs and flips the stethoscope back around his neck.

“Well, you’ve had endometriosis since you were young. But with the severity of the pain, potentially an ovarian cyst burst. Do you have a history of that?”

“Yes.” Savannah says.

“Okay, well let’s get an ultrasound done and see if that may be the cause.” Savannah nods. Lio squeezes her hand, finally happy with progress being made to get her pain relief.

The ultrasound confirms the cyst, it has burst, and Savannah should be feeling better after a few days. However, the radiologist warns Savannah there is significant build up of endometriosis in her uterus. Savannah stares blankly at the screen as the technician points to the areas of concern.

“You will want to follow up with your primary care provider when you return home.” Savannah nods, then looks away from the screen, playing with the edges of the paper blanket that was placed over her lower half for the ultrasound.

“What about the blood?” Lio asks the ER doctor when he comes back in to discharge Savannah.

“It isn’t significant blood loss to warrant further action. She may become anemic. Iron supplements will help. She will be tired for a few days while her body replenishes her supply, but nothing more to be done here.”

“Wait, what?” Lio shakes his head. “So she just has to suffer until her body creates enough blood. Why can’t you give her a transfusion?”

“Because other people have a greater need.” The doctor snaps back. Lio is taken aback. His mouth drops open in surprise, then he looks over at Dr. Darius like, ‘is this guy for real?’

“Savannah has been in significant pain for some time now. Can we get additional pain management prescribed for her as her body works on absorbing the cyst?” He asks. The doctor nods, tossing his notepad on the table.

“Any medication allergies?” He asks Savannah without looking up.

“No.” She weakly responds.

“Okay, this should be good then.” He rips off the note pad and extends it to her. She frowns.

“Can I have something stronger? This doesn’t really work for me. It’s basically stronger Tylenol.” The doctor contemplates.

“The circumstances don’t call for anything stronger at this point.”

“Seriously? What the fuck is your problem dude?” Lio snaps.

“And your boyfriend seems to have an anger management problem so I wonder if he wants you to get some pain pills for himself.” Lio puffs his chest out, trying to stand, but Savannah grips his fingers tightly.

“No.” She murmurs to him.

“This is very unprofessional.” Dr. Darius frowns. “Standard hospital protocol should allow for strong drugs in circumstances where patients have been in severe pain for over 8 hours, which she has. She was also give stronger medication than what you have prescribed here when she first came in and is now in a comfortable position.”

The doctor sighs again, like he’s so bored with this conversation and these three people, then writes out a prescription for a strong dosage.

“Please follow up with your provider when you return home.” He calls lazily over his shoulders as he leaves the room.

Lio pops up, following him out of the room with Dr. Darius hot on his heels.

“Look, I’m sorry I got upset, but you’re not listening to her. This is not normal. She can’t breathe, man. You have to help her.”

“I am helping her. She has a diagnosis and needs to work with her primary care provider for a treatment plan. This is a chronic condition. Not an emergency.”

"So, that's it? You're just gonna leave her in that bed, pump her with drugs, and hope thats enough for her?"

"Lio, let's go back in with Savannah." Dr. Darius encourages him. Lio stands there looking at the ER doctor with his hands on his hips. There are so many things he wants to say. He wants to grab that guy and throw him against the wall to make him hurt like his girl hurts. Then he can try to explain the differences in chronic versus new pain while he has a few broken ribs.

Ultimately, Lio scoffs incredulously and beings to walk back into the room. He looks at Dr. Darius. “We need to find her someone better than that asshole.”

Savannah has her eyes closed, slumped back into the pillows when both men come back through the door.

“What a fucking prick.” Lio mutters about the doctor to Savannah.

“He’s pretty typical of the other ER doctors I’ve seen.” She mumbles. “They see worse than some fragile woman with an invisible illness.”

“How is it invisible?” Lio asks, eyebrows scrunched tight over his frustrated blue eyes. “He literally saw it on the ultrasound. We all did.” Savannah gives him a small smile.

“Women’s pain isn’t take seriously. Especially when it surrounds uteruses or vaginas or has anything to do with periods.�� She sighs, closing her eyes and laying back in bed. “I want to go back to the hotel and sleep for a day. Like literally a full day.”

“We can make that happen.” He murmurs, reaching up to hold her head softly. His thumb strokes across her forehead as his eyes drink her in, relieved that she seems to be pain free now. No thanks to that fucking asshat who just walked out of here. “You doing okay” He asks her. He reaches to her abdomen, adjusting the heating pad on her abdomen where it was sliding off without a hand on it. He rests his hand there gently, keeping it in place so she can stay in the position she is in.

“Mhm. Good drugs.” She smiles without opening her eyes.

“I didn’t know cysts could form internally…” He trails off, still brushing her forehead.

“Yeah, and I’m extra special, getting them regularly. They don’t always hurt this bad though. Guess it makes sense with how much fluid and such was on the ultrasound. Must have been big.”

“I hate that this happens to you.” He sympathizes. She nods through a yawn.

“Lee, I am gonna sleep for a bit, okay? Wake me when I’m discharged.”

“Okay, baby.” Lio whispers to her.

Savannah falls asleep quickly with Lio’s soft hands on her. He watches every second of her slumber, ignoring the other noises and distractions of the ER. Dr. Darius works with the nursing staff on her discharge paperwork, then signs releasing her from the hospital. They get a sleepy Savannah in the wheelchair, fill her prescription at the clinic in the adjoining parking lot, then head back to the hotel. Lio carries his girlfriend back into her room. He drops her off in the bathroom, stepping out so she can clean up on her own. Even though he wants to help, Savannah asks for privacy. He understands; it’s been a long, raw day for her.

Lio waits on the end of the bed, popping up when he hears the door click open. He wraps an arm around her, guiding her to the bed. He tucks her in with the new heating pad they grabbed for her at the pharmacy, then he tugs his shirt off to wind down for bed with her. It’s after 1am and he is dead tired- physically, mentally, and emotionally. Thankfully, Savannah doesn’t fight his presence. Instead she curls into him, sliding a leg between his so he can hold her as close as possible.

“Thank you for saving me.” She murmurs. “I would still be laying on the floor if you didn’t come looking for me.” Lio frowns, then kisses her forehead.

“I love you. I… want to talk more about what is going on with you. I should have asked before, but I didn’t realize it was this bad, baby.”

“It actually hasn’t been this bad in awhile.” Savannah confesses. “But the ultrasound confirmed what I had been thinking. The tissue has grown back and it is deeper.” She yawns loudly. “I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.” She confirms. “But right now, just hold me.”

- - -

The next morning, Lio wakes up before Savannah. He feels like utter shit. Luckily with it being a back to back, there is not morning skate to take part in. But there is breakfast downstairs, so he peels himself out of Savannah’s grasp and heads down to the conference room to grab something to eat for both of them.

“How is she?” Dr. Darius asks when he sees Lio.

“She is still asleep. But was stable the rest of the night and slept through it.” He surveys the options, grabbing a bagel with cream cheese for Savannah and a breakfast burrito for him.

“Good. I will come see her before we head to the rink. Determine if she should stay behind or not.” Lio nods.

“Thanks. I would appreciate that.” Lio says honestly. Dr. Darius pats Lio’s arm.

“You took great care of her last night. She will need that consistently with her condition.” Lio is silent, grabbing a few pieces of fruit for his and Savannah’s plate. He can’t agree or make any sort of response to the doctor because truthfully, he has no idea about Savannah’s condition. Last night was a huge shock to him. He knew she had something from their previous, short term relationship and from what she communicated to him in Switzerland this past summer about likely being unable to have kids. But he has never seen her as weak and sick as she was last night. It was terrifying to him.

“Last night… wasn’t normal?” He asks Dr. Darius as he grabs fruit right behind Lio for his own plate.

“Ah, it is hard to tell. I am unsure what her symptoms and the severity of her condition. I also do not specialize in that area. But in general, no. It’s not normal. She should be following up with her doctor after an episode this severe.”

“Is this like a once a month thing?”

“Lio, I think these questions need to be answered by Savannah. Talk to her. Listen. Offer support where you can.” Lio sighs, ultimately agreeing.

“Thanks again, Doc. For everything. Last night included.”

“Yes, please tell Savannah I will be coming up to see her later.”

“Will do.” Lio nods, then heads towards the doors, away from where his teammates are huddling together at various tables. Usually, Lio would sit down and shoot the shit, especially with a quick turn around from the game. But not today.

“Meier, where ya going?” Beckett hollers to him.

“He’s got a hot date.” Tony snickers.

“A lil breakfast in bed?!” Carter joins in.

The three rookies shut up and swallow hard at the glare Lio is throwing them. Lio doesn’t need to say any words; his message was delivered loud and clear. Lio carefully balances the two plates in his hands as he works the key card out of his pocket. He pushes the door open, looking around the corner to see Savannah up on her phone.

“Oh, hi. I was just texting you.” She yawns.

“Sorry, you were out when I left. Should have texted you.”

“It’s okay.” She smiles. She still looks exhausted and weak. Lio frowns back at her, even as she hopes for a smile from him.

“Good morning.” He says, dropping a kiss on her lips as he places her plate in her lap. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.” She sighs. “The drugs last night really helped.”

“Are you still… bleeding bad?”

“It’s manageable.” Savannah says. The way she drops her gaze has Lio unsure if she is being truthful.

“Is it?” He asks, gripping her chin so she has to look at him.

“Yes.” She says, unwavering this time. Lio gently combs his fingers through the sides of her hair. He had pulled her braid apart for her last night before bed and her blonde locks are wild and wavy around her face.

“Good.” He murmurs, then leans down for one more kiss. He lingers there, needing her lips on his more than the coffee in his hand. Savannah watches him after he pulls away and climbs onto the bed next to her.

“I’m sorry if last night scared you. I didn’t mean for that.”

“Baby, you were going through it.” Lio shakes his head, unwrapping his breakfast burrito. “No need to apologize. That’s what I’m here for.”

“You had a good game.” She tries to change the subject. Lio shrugs.

“Yeah, it was decent.”

“Playing Luca tonight will be fun.”

“Yeah.” He says after swallowing his first bite of eggs, cheese and sausage. “Wish the back to back had been Kings first then the Ducks so we could have spent time with him and Liv.”

“That would be nice.”

Silence settles over the room as the two of them start to eat. Lio tries to pretend it is comforting silence, but it isn’t. He doesn’t want to push his girlfriend, but at the same time, he doesn’t understand how she is sitting here like last night was… normal. A worried shake rolls through Lio’s body at the thought. He looks over at her again as he finishes up the final bite of his burrito.

“I would like to talk about last night.” Savannah slowly chews on a piece of pineapple. She grabs her coffee, taking a sip, then sighing heavily.

“Okay.”

“You don’t want to?”

“No, I do. I know I’ve been putting this off.” Lio watches as she puts her plate on the bedside table. He contemplates for a moment, wondering what to even say next. His fingers find hers in her lap, lacing together as they share a look.

“I’m not trying to force you into telling me things you don’t want to. I only want to support you. But I can’t if I don’t know what we are facing, babe.”

“I know.” She reaches over, cupping this neck, rubbing her thumb across his jaw. “I love that about you. That you’re asking and curious and… scared for me.” She whispers the last part, eyes brushing over his lips.

“It’s hard not to be after last night. I’ve never… seen or I guess noticed this with you from before?”

“It wasn’t like this before.” She answers, still watching his mouth. Her blue eyes meet his. “It’s gotten a lot worse the last year. I had to end my Europe trip early last summer because of it.”

“I don’t really understand what you have, babe.” Lio shakes his head.

“I have endometriosis. It’s been in my family for generations. My mom has it. My aunt has it. My grandma had it. My two female cousins have it. And I have it too.” She shrugs. “It is abnormal tissue that grows in places it shouldn’t. It can completely enclose ovaries and fallopian tubes and implant deep into your uterus, getting worse with every period that you have.”

“Tissue?” Lio says, surprised. He was almost expecting like lumps or something after what happened last night. “But that isn’t what they said last night.”

“Yeah, so last night I have an ovarian cyst, which can be more common with conditions like Endo. I’m lucky to have multiple issues.”

“Okay… so what have you tried for treatment?”

“Um, everything. Including surgery.” Savannah shrugs, pulling her hand away from his. Lio chases her as she pulls away, sliding his hand to her thighs to grip it comfortingly. “I had surgery three years ago to remove a bunch of tissue and lumps called fibroids in my uterus because I was in the ER every two weeks from how bad the pain was. It helped for a while. We found a good birth control pill that helped calm down the growth of the tissue, but my doctor told me there was always a possibility it would grow back.” She sighs, whimpering slightly. “And it’s back.”

“Baby, we gotta go see someone else when we get home. You can’t have nights like last night every two weeks. It’s not good for you and how are you gonna work? You’ve worked so hard to get here.” His voice waivers at the end. He clears his throat, licking his lips. “Let’s work with the team to find a new doctor for you, okay?”

“Lee, I don’t want you to use who you are for me.” She furrows her eyebrows.

“Babe, I do. I want to use my name and my status and the team to get you the best doctors on the East Coast. And I’m gonna do it. But I need your blessing cause HIPPA or some shit.” He squeezes her hand. “Please, let me do this for you. There is better out there for you and we are going to find it. Get you some longer term solutions than a few years, okay?”

“I am willing to try, but I don’t want you to get your hopes up, okay? If they tell me the same things…” She trails off. Suddenly, she looks way, towards the window, her bottom lip quivering beneath her top teeth where she has tucked it into her mouth. Lio brushes her hair back behind her ear.

“You’re so brave, baby. I’m so proud of you and in awe of what you’ve been living through.” He whispers, rubbing her cheek. He leans forward, placing his lips there and kissing his way to her mouth. His tongue glides along the seam of her lips, urging her to open them so he can have his way with her tongue. Savannah whimpers into his mouth, running her hands up his chest to grip his shoulders.

“Lee.” She whispers when they pull away.

“Hm?” He rests his forehead against hers.

“My condition means it is extremely unlikely I can ever get pregnant. And… you should know that about me before we go any further down this road.”

“I know. You told me in Switzerland. I also told you I didn’t want kids.”

“Yeah, but that was before we were… this.” Her eyes stay down towards the bed, unable to reach his even as he pulls away to try and see her fully. She rubs the comforter between her fingers in both hands. Tear drops hit the bed on either side of her hands. Lio can see the pain in her body even as she tries to hide it from him.

“Sav.” She shakes her head. A shakey breath is inhaled then a sob wretches out of her throat.“Baby look at me.” He reaches for her hand, lacing their fingers together. Savannah is crying, silent tears falling down her face as her bottom lip trembles so hard.

“I can’t.” Lio maneuvers himself to his side, then drops his head onto her hands still fiddling with the comforter in her lap. Two of her tears hit his face as they drop off her chin.

“I love you.” He pauses, letting those words hang where they must between their bodies. “All of you. Your whole body and soul and spirit, baby. And I’m not going anywhere.”

“Lee, if you want babies you should find someone who can give you that. This isn’t fair to you.” Her voice shakes as she sobs the words out to him. Her eyes screw shut. Lio’s heart churns in sync with her pain.

“Savannah, trust me, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. I’m broken. You deserve-“

“You are not broken.” His voice is gentle, almost a silent whisper to match the tone of her voice. His hands hold both of her cheeks now, keeping her from collapsing backwards and away from him. She grips his wrists. Snot collects in bubbles out of both of her nostrils. Tears stain her pale cheeks as Lio’s heart shatters in his chest for her. “You are whole, exactly as you are right now.” She shakes her head no.

“What man wants a woman like this?”

“A real one.” He responds, then pushes up so he can kiss any remaining doubt from her lips.

#lio x savannah #Lio & Lucie #hockey fan fiction #NHL imagine

39 notes · View notes

marbleboa · 2 months ago

Note

Hiii sorry but lately I've been hyperfixated on the 7th division and Takeuchi ended up being my fav... And I saw your art of him and I loved it, I wanted to know if you had any headcanons about him ;3

Absolutely delighted to see a Takeuchi guy here, take my hand op. I do indeed have Many Thoughts, a lot of these more character musings than straightforward headcanons but! I hope these rambles interest you!

-I made this post a bit ago talking about how his whole Battle Mode deal changes his body, and further building on that— I imagine the frequent use of this has taken its toll, similar to Shibata: issues with his back, joints, etc. Projecting my TMJ on him as well, though I think all of this does ease somewhat as he uses his powers less and starts taking better care of himself.

-The power of his energy blasts is somewhat dampened by comparatively long charge up times and the way he always announces his attacks to enemies. He’s very particular about making sure all of his battle moves have impressive names—often several-words long.

-He and Mob are on a similar wavelength to me. Something something Ishiguro talking about how hard to read Takeuchi is, the way he skirts on the edge of the rest of the Scars’ circle, the way his powers seemed to be the only part of him valued by others…it’s like a different, lonelier path Mob could’ve gone on. I think he has similar difficulties figuring out what he wants from his future, like we see from Mob at the start of season 3.

-I think he’s close with Tsuchiya. Granted this is an anime only thing, but I really liked the detail where when Tsuchiya tackles Shimazaki off a building she calls out for Takeuchi by name and he immediately moves to help. It feels like a maneuver they’ve done before, like they know each other well enough to know what the other needs in a fight. It makes sense that they’d train together with both their powers being classified as qigong too.

-Post-Claw I feel like a few of the Scars go through this phase but Takeuchi especially, he gets in this mindset of like. I must now use my powers against Evil™️ so I can make up for what I’ve done. Because…fighting with powers, black/white ideologies, that’s a lot more familiar to the Scars than writing resumes or apartment-hunting or dealing with other people. Once Claw falls he does this vigilante stuff aimlessly for a while(maybe even runs into Teru again doing the same thing, haha).

-Following from that, I think eventually he gets back in touch with Tsuchiya and stays with her and Mukai for a while as he figures out what he wants to do. (I’m. Not quite sure what that is myself. I’m working on it)

-After Claw, he, Muraki and Sakurai have a book club every other Saturday. Takeuchi enjoys mystery novels.

-There’s more I’d like to research on the particulars re: ethnicities especially so I can improve on how I draw his features, but thus far I’ve been imagining at least part of his ancestry being somewhere from southern India.

-I’ve dabbled with the idea that his name is actually a tsūshōmei, or legal alias, something long-term residents of Japan from other countries can get for various reasons. One thought I had was that Toichiro picked him up in his global search for espers, and he was given another name by Claw to cover up any connection to his family. Or, someone in his family made that change after they started living in Japan, and he was born there under that name. Not sure if I’ll commit to this though, more to look into there too.

-I definitely think he was kidnapped by the organization some way or another— his powers were likely very strong at a young age so they probably got to him under the guise of mentorship. I’d like to think he eventually tries to get back in touch with his family once Claw’s gone.

-Really likes birds. He and Muraki are in close competition for Pigeons of Seasoning City’s Favorite

-He’s ambidextrous!

#THERES SO LITTLE TO BUILD ON IM REALLY OUT HERE JUST MAKING OCS AT THIS POINT SORRY #but still…takeuchi I like him. my friend.#mob psycho 100 #mp100 #takeuchi senkou #mp100 takeuchi #Casper chatter #asks #fektanist #long post #claw 7th divsion

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deconstructivesurgery · 11 months ago

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no literally, tropes are not an inherently negative concept. i find most of the time when people complain about tropes, their actual gripe is with a negative stereotype contained within the text and/or either how often the trope is overused OR how little is actually done with it

we like telling specific stories so much that tropes naturally form over time as we create similar characters and scenarios over and over again out of a desire to see those stories we love played out. can that be annoying as hell, when you see relatively similar story beats played out a million times? yeah. does it sometimes actually work really fucking well when the trope is applied to the right piece of media and executed with care? also yes

i think a great example is the classic "at the end of a story everything was revealed to be a dream/false/a simulation/ etc." trope that almost everyone i know hates. people hate it because it is 100 times out of ten a contrivance the author came up with to avoid creating a satisfying, more complicated conclusion in the setting they built. does that make the idea completely unusable? not in my opinion. really short and possibly shitty idea, but consider a story focusing on a character who believes themselves capable of travelling into other people's dreams and influencing them. in a story using that idea, an eventual reveal that this 'dream travel' the character is capable of isn't real and is actually their own dreams (signifying their inner desire to be able to influence others and connect with other people) could possibly be an appreciated ending, that fits the story it belongs to.

would i want to read that? no. i don't think i'd ever like the dream trope. but i would be less tempted to call it shitty writing if it was properly applied, and that goes for most tropes i can identify.

i have to say it. a lot of people hate specific tropes not because they hate the concept of the tropes, they just hate it when they are used badly. im sure some people will still hate these tropes even when done well, but most of the time you just hate this dogshit contrived situation that is only in the story because the author had no other fucking ideas

#sorry op this is a bit of a word blast but this one resonated with me #3am language arts student complaints hour #this is me yelling #reblogs

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pedrito-friskito · 1 year ago

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Happy Sleepover lovely Kay!!

You know how I love me some Steve Rogers, I’d love to request him with the prompt…

“You have any idea how much I hated seeing someone else touch you.”

Please and thank you!

🌹

ericca!!! thanks for such a fun request ☺️ the inspo jumped out of me on this one (but my apologies for taking so long to get it posted!) and out came a sequel/follow-up to walking the wire!!

would def recommend reading that before you read this (if you haven’t already 😉)

tell me your troubles - steve rogers x fem!super soldier reader (phoenix)

word count: 3k

warnings: lil more than canon-typical violence (i like netflix marvel more than disney marvel these days can u tell), lowkey possessive!steve, heavy make outs, shower sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v (they’re supersoldiers ok but wrap it before you tap it) - also russian translations from google so if it’s not right I’M SORRY

Nat gives the order to fall back, and it goes against every fibre of Steve’s being to obey.

They have you. They have his girl.

It’s Nat’s op. She’s in charge, and he knows this isn’t her fault, that she’s not to blame for the fact that you’re not by his side right now, that you’re instead being hauled into the back of a large van, too-thick cuffs banding your arms behind your back. He’s having flashbacks to Berlin, to Bucky in a cage. They put a hood over your head, and you manage to catch his eye before your face disappears from view.

Go.

His every instinct is screaming at him to go after you, doubly so when the van starts to drive away. But there are bombs planted between you and him, obstructing his path. One wrong step, and no amount of super-soldier serum could save him from being blasted apart. And then where would that leave him?

Where would that leave you?

“I want a plan,” he spits as soon as they’re back at the makeshift base they’ve been calling home the last few months. It’s no Stark Tower, but there’s running water and a bed he’s shared with you most nights, a haphazard sign scrawled on the door — Cap & Phoenix. Bucky drew a little cartoon shield and a flame to go along with it.

He sees Nat bristle as he barks his order, but when her sharp gaze flicks to him, something in him softens. He tends to forget, that she cares for you on a similar level to his own affection. Not the same type granted, but the Widow holds you close to her heart, and despite Steve’s own confirmation that Nat’s not to blame for your kidnapping, he can see in her face that she doesn’t think the same.

“You didn’t do this, Nat,” he says, following her into the large office they’ve used to map out missions. Bucky and Sam make themselves scarce, disappearing from the corner of Steve’s vision. “We all knew there was a risk.”

“She was right there,” Nat replies, shaking her head, sinking into a crouch in front of the table, surveying the map you’d all reviewed before leaving. “She was right there, and I let them grab her.”

“We couldn’t have known they’d have the capability, the means to—”

“This is my fault, Steve.”

“It’s not,” he reiterates, hand clenched into a fist, knuckles pressed to the table. “I know it, Phoenix knows it. But letting it get the better of you isn’t going to bring her back. You think you made a mistake, then fix it. We find her.” He plants his other fist. “No matter the cost.”

Nat arches one perfect brow, and he can already see the wheels turning behind her eyes. “Sir, yes, sir.”

Tracking you down is the easy part; recovering you proves to be a touch more complicated.

Natasha’s plan is airtight this time, outright refusing to split the team, the four of them moving through the building silently. They have each other’s backs, and soon enough, they’ll have you. But it’s a maze from the moment they step in. The map they have is accurate, but it’s more heavily guarded than they’re anticipating. Nat and Bucky both put men down with acute precision — assassin precision — and Steve finds himself lagging behind Sam, his knuckles aching from the sheer number of punches he’s delivered.

Part of him feels naked without the shield. He gave it up for a reason, before he had you. It’s something he’s talked through over and over, you sprawled on his chest, chin propped on the back of your hand, watching him talk as he stares at the ceiling.

Talk to me, drevniy. Tell me your troubles.

That last night, before the mission went awry, it was the same. He’d talked himself in circles, until his voice went hoarse and he was losing himself to the soft press of your body against his, and then all he really wanted to lose himself in you instead, so he did.

You held him close after and murmured something in Russian he couldn’t quite make out. He lifted his head to ask you what the words meant, but you kissed him before he could get the question out, and you’d drifted off to sleep a few minutes later. He didn’t have the heart to wake you.

Damn the shield, he thinks now, trying not to flinch when Bucky pulls the trigger on his gun, more men dropping to the floor. Damn it all.

They round a corner, and Steve nearly crashes into Nat’s stalled figure.

“Hello, Captain.”

You’re strapped to a chair. Restrained nearly the exact same way that Bucky was back in Berlin. Only him, the man Steve had watched cart you away, he’s got his hand knotted in the back of your hair, your head yanked back, your throat bared, a large knife pressed against it. It could be steel, but Steve would bet good money it’s vibranium.

Steve darts forward, but Nat throw her hand out, stopping him. She tilts her chin imperceptibly, and Steve’s eyes follow the direction, spotting a generator in the far corner. From the corner of his gaze, he sees Bucky catch on, and wordlessly, the plan is formed.

“Let her go,” Steve calls to your captor, and when the man starts laughing, Bucky slinks into the shadows, towards the generator. Nat raises her gun, aiming at the thugs flanking either side of your captor, and Steve’s hands clench into tighter fists.

“I would not do that if I were you, Captain Rogers,” the man taunts, waving a finger in the air. “You have not even heard the bargain I propose, for the return of your sweet Phoenix.”

“I don’t make it a habit of bargaining with kidnappers,” Steve returns, and the man yanks your hair back harder. He can hear your slight whimper from where he stands. “Let her go, and maybe I let you live.” From the corner of his eye, he can see Bucky near the generator, hidden by the shadows — perks of super-soldier sight and stealth.

The man starts laughing. He sees the glint of the knife press against your neck, and a single drop of blood beads along the blade. Nat’s eyes cut to Steve’s, he nods, and Bucky’s metal fist connects with the generator, sparks flying as the room is plunged into darkness.

It comes in flashes. Bullets spark through the air as Nat takes down the two thugs who have started running for them. Bucky shoots forward, yanking the metal away from where it’s restraining your arms and pulls you out of the chair. Steve disarms your captor, the knife now streaked with your blood, but before he can do anything else, you grab it from him, whipping it over your shoulder. The blade buries itself in your captor’s chest, and the man drops instantly.

Steve reaches for you, hauling you into his arms, and you cling to him as you all turn tail, heading out of the building. It’s not until you reach the Quinjet that Steve finally feels relief, but remembers the blood and takes you to the back of the jet while Nat and Bucky prepare for takeoff.

“Let me see,” he murmurs, and wordlessly, you push your hair away, baring your neck to him. The scratch is barely visible, already just the remnant of a scar, but Steve knows it won’t go away, not completely. He wipes the blood gingerly from your skin, his movements gentle even though he knows he can’t hurt you, not truly.

His brow furrows as he looks the rest of you over. There are no other obvious injuries, or evidence of them. Your clothing is tattered, dirt and grime smeared on your skin, and there’s a brightness in your eyes that he hasn’t seen in a long time — not since they pulled you out of that lab.

“I’m fine, drevniy,” you say, grabbing his wrist when his attention falls back to your neck, to the tiny scar now there. “It will take much more than a scratch like that to take me from you.”

Steve bristles at the mere thought. He feels like a live wire suddenly, exposed, vulnerable. You tug on his hand, pulling his palm until it rests over your heart, until he can feel the rapid beat if it against his skin. You lean up, fitting your lips to his pulse, a soft kiss to his throat. His whole body feels tight as a bowstring, and while the feeling of you has soothed it some, he can’t shake it.

“Steve,” you call, your voice low, almost cajoling. Suddenly, he feels guilty. You’re the one who was kidnapped; he should be comforting you, not the other way around. The corner of your mouth lifts. “Tell me your troubles.”

He groans, and the tether on his restraint snaps. Both his hands move to your face, cupping your cheeks in his palms. He hears your quick intake of breath right before his mouth covers yours, and you sigh into him, your body relaxing almost completely in his grip.

“You have no idea,” you murmur, and the purr in your voice makes his tac pants grow tight, “how much I missed your touch.”

“Baby,” he nearly growls, pushing you back against the metal wall of the jet. You’re tucked in the corner now, out of sight of Nat and Bucky, and Steve’s plan forms quicker than Nat’s rescue had. “I need you right now.”

Your breath hitches high, the noise catching in your throat, and Steve’s hands drop from your face to your waist, tugging your hips until they’re flush with his. “Right now?” you ask, a teasing smile on your face. “Buck’s hearing is as good as yours is, Steve. You want him hearing you take what’s yours? Want him to know what I sound like?”

The reminder tugs his restraint back into place. Something deep in his chest, something feral and wild, growls in response. Mine. He lifts you until you’re high enough to wrap your legs around his hips and his fingers press into your sides, feeling the rush of your blood beneath your skin, the heat of it.

He kisses you until the jet touches down again.

As soon as the ramp lowers, he hauls you over his shoulder and stalks down it, his boots clanging against the metal. He barely hears Nat’s low chuckle behind him and grinds his teeth when you palms settle on the small of his back, fingers tapping random patterns against his skin.

Once you’re inside, he heads straight for the bathroom you’ve been sharing. You barely get a word out as he turns the water on, nearly as hot as it’ll go, just like you like it. When he turns back, you’re naked, and more relief blankets him when he sees you’re untouched, unscarred.

“You’re wearing too many clothes, Captain,” you grin, and Steve backs you against the wall, desperate to feel your bare skin against his. You bite your lip as his palms skim up your ribs, but he feels your hands on his belt, unhooking it with ease. But then the light in your eyes changes, and as his belt thunks to the floor, your hand roves up his chest, two fingers tucked under his chin, tilting his face to yours. “I knew you’d come for me.”

Something in his chest cracks. “Of course I did. I…”

He’d barely let himself feel it, when he saw you there, strapped to that chair, that man’s hands on you, the knife at your throat. The…intensity, the way he instantly knew he would do whatever was necessary to get you back. If Nat hadn’t pulled his focus, pointed out the more sensible path, he can only guess what might have happened, what mess he might have left behind.

Your palm, light against his cheek, pulls him out of his head. “Hey, come back to me,” you call, your voice so soft, so sincere, it pushes away the violence in his head, the guilt that threatens to brew over things he hasn’t even done. “I’m here, krasivyy. Alive. Intact. Yours.” You get closer, your nose brushing his, lips grazing his when you speak. “Only yours.”

“Mine,” he repeats, like the word might bring him back down to earth. His hands grip your hips, lifting you with ease, growling when he feels your legs wrap around his waist. “Watching him touch you, you have no idea how I…” He bites off the sentence with a groan as you grind against him, your bare core leaving a wet patch on the spot just above his waist. Keeping you in place with his hips, he rips the shirt off, tossing it away as he pushes at his pants, barely getting them down his legs before his cock is springing free. The head taps between your legs and it makes you squirm.

“I’m yours, drevniy,” you say, and the nickname once made him bristle, but now it just lights a fire in his chest. “Only yours. No one else gets to touch.” You lean up, pulling yourself against his chest, nosing at his neck, scraping your teeth at his earlobe. “Just you.”

Steve growls again, holding you against him with one arm, wrenching the shower door open with the other. You hiss when the water hits you, but the sound drags out into a low moan as he positions you beneath the spray, steam filling the stall, smudging your outlines.

He lets his hands roam, massaging your limbs, cleaning the dirt from your skin. You hum along with his movements, your head tipping back between your shoulders when he works your chest, wiping away the dried blood and grime. Then he walks you back, pushing you against the tiles. You gasp when your back touches them, the porcelain so much colder than the water, but Steve’s made up his mind.

He starts at your lips. Kisses you rough, bites at you bottom lip, pushes his tongue past your teeth to tangle with yours. When your hands move to grip his hair, wet strands wrapped around his knuckles, he groans into your mouth, drags his lips along your jaw, down your throat.

He bends slightly, tracing your collarbones with his tongue. Your hands don’t leave his hair, only gripping tighter as he moves down, nose dragging along your sternum. But then he pauses, cheats left, scraping the scruff of his jaw along the curve of your breast. You breathe out his name when he closes his lips around your nipple, giving you just the edge of his teeth, pinching the other between his knuckles lightly before rolling it between his fingers.

“Steve.”

He grins against you, sure you can feel it as he pulls back, satisfied only when he sees your nipple is peaked, tight from his attention. Then he does it all over again on the right, only stopping when you tug at his hair, a panting mess as you look down at him, your eyes heavy-lidded with lust.

“What are you…” you start to ask, but the words drop off into a moan when he drops to his knees, using his shoulder to wedge your legs wide, leaning in to bite the inside of your thigh.

“Appreciating what’s mine,” he replies, tongue soothing the spot he bit. “Too much?”

You shake your head, rolling it against the tile, a blissed-out smile on your face. Fuck, he missed you. Can’t imagine his life without you. “Never,” you reply, meeting his gaze again. “Prityazhatel'nyy padezh.”

Steve’s brow lifts, and he puts his face against your thigh again, dragging his tongue up toward the heat between your legs. “Translate, please.”

“Possessive.” You moan the word, one hand staying in his hair while the other reaches up to squeeze at your breast. “Fuck, I should have gotten myself kidnapped a long time ago.”

The thought makes him see red, and you squeal as he grabs both your thighs, throwing them over his shoulders and diving straight between your legs.

“Steve!”

He eats your pussy like he’s never done before. Nips and sucks and licks until your thighs are quaking around his ears, until your cries bounce off the tile walls. You’re an oasis in a desert, his first meal after being starved for days. You’re everything.

You’re his.

He doesn’t stop until you cum, your hand an iron vice against his scalp, tugging so hard it gives him just that little twinge of pain, and he’s reminded how evenly matched you are. He takes everything you have to give, drinks down every drop until you’re pushing at him, overstimulated, body lax in his grip. He works his way back up to standing, worshipping you on the way up the same as he had on the way down. Your chest heaves against his as he pushes his body against yours, caging you in against the wall, keeping you safe.

“Tell me something,” he asks, and you nod, the movement lazy, your hands dragging up and down his ribs as he straightens, reaches up to brush a wet strand of hair from your face.

“Mm?”

Steve leans in, nosing at the curve of your jaw before pressing a soft kiss to your throat. “How do you say I love you in Russian?”

Your whole body jolts as the words fall past his lips, and he chuckles into your skin, pulling you even closer, wrapping his body around yours. Your head tips back, eyes trained on the ceiling, but you hold him just as close. “You’re going soft, drevniy.”

“Only for you,” he replies, nipping at your throat. “Yours, remember?”

Your quiet laugh seems to echo around the shower until you speak again. “Ya tebya lyublyu.” You say, and Steve gives his best repetition, earning himself another chuckle from you. After his second try, your eyes lower, and he sees the wetness in them. “I love you, too.”

#my fics #tell me your troubles #sleepover sundae #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smutt #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel fic #nomad steve rogers #captain america x phoenix

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islandtarochips · 8 months ago

Text

WELCOME TO MY BLOG!

Talofa everyone! I am IslandTaroChips or you can just call me Taro or Chips! I'm just scrolling around Tumblr for any inspirations for me to make any kind of Fanfic story that I'm very interested in (Which it's mostly COD). Let me tell you more about myself before you went on ahead of looking at the rest of my blog here!

Introduction: General:

· I am 23-years-old who loves any fandoms that I'm interested in · Creating OCs in writing is what I do (I can't draw but I'm learning to) · Writing fanfic or a short story about my OCs or any other people's OCs (For I know we all wanted to have comfort characters in our life or we wanted to comfort them) ·I am currently working at the moment and trying to help my family. So please don't expect me to get things done from here. ·I'm Samoan who was born from America and lived the rest of my life down in the Island (Doesn't know ALL of the Samoan language T-T) ·I really do love making OCs on any fandoms that is base with the Polynesian sides (Mostly the Samoan ones) and would love to share my culture with you guys here ·can write Y/n x Canon characters ·I'm a sucker for angst, fluff and romance

Fandom/Interests that I'm into:

- Call of Duty (Only the Modern Warfare that I know about but didn't play :D)

- Genshin Impact

- Honkai Star Rail

- Resident Evil

- The Last of Us

Some things I’m not Interested in:

·Not into writing NSFW ·Not into writing MLM or FLF ·Not into writing Spice either ·Not into writing a threesome or more kind of relationship

DISCLAIMER:

·You can interact with me if you would like but please be nice and kind before doing so ·If you are not and you decided to say something negative towards me. I will have to respectfully to ask you not to interact with me but if you don't respect that than I have no choice but to block you. ·If you would like to request of me writing a short story with your OCs x Canon or a Y/n x Canon. I would GLADLY accept it! But there will be boundaries for me not to do it. ·Letting you guys know that there will be some swearing words in the story ·JUST because I said that I'm not into writing MLM or FLF DOESN'T mean I'm disrespecting of who they are. For I am a Christian but I don't push my religion on here. For I only wanted to do some fun writing in here and expressing of what I'm passionate of.

Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 OCs: (No Drawings I'm Afraid :,( I'm sorry...)

What is the Warriors Task Force?

Tiala "Shark" Toa 🦈📄 Captain Kanoa Toa 🇦🇸📄 Nigel "Squirrel" Harrison 🐿️📄 Agnes "Blast" Falagi 💥📄 Dr. Aelan Kalani ⛑️📄 General Alana Kalani 🎖️📄

Las Almas OC: Camila “Rosa” Flores 🌹📄

Shadow Company OC: Callie "Snipe" Graves 🇺🇸📄 Kapo Taumoepeau 🇹🇴📄

Samoan Tattoo Ideas for my OC

Samoan Tattoo Ideas for my OC #2

Knowing the Toa Siblings (Oldest Edition)

Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War OC:

Koa “Hunter” Nikau 🔪📄

Aroha Arehe Nikau 📄

VAMPYR OC:

Diana Lune 🧛🏻‍♀️📄

Here are the story that I did so far if you're interested of reading it:

Opt In/Out: If you want to be tagged for the stories that I'm creating. Either Canon x Reader or OC x Canon or some of my OCs lore backstory or other story related post. Then you may pressed up there if you want to be part of it. If not then that's ok! Thank you!

Farm AU (141 x Reader):

Farmer!Price x Farmer!Female!Reader 🚬📝

Farmer!Ghost x Farmer!Female!Reader 💀📝

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

COD Characters x Reader

Obsessed!Makarov x Female!Reader

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

My OCs Stories:

The Blame (Kanoa's Angst Story)

Operation Red Tide

Chapter One

A Wedding Date (Gaz x Tiala Fic)

Part 1

Ok! That’s about it! Thank you for reading this far! Love ya!😘❤️

#introductory post #intro post #my ocs #welcome to my blog #about me #pinned post #my work

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small-bug-in-the-woods · 2 months ago

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HHIIII

so i’m not done, BUT!!

here’s what i have!! i’m allmlstt done and i couldn’t wait to share- since you seem to really like these little sillies :3

also sorry, it is Quite Long

Beth looked up as her dorky roommate flopped down onto the bed next to her with an exasperated groan, her Star of David pendant clinking against the metal of her earrings as she did.

“What’d Professor nitpick give you trouble for this time, Hun?” Beth murmured as she leaned over to rest her head by Ezra’s. The aforementioned art student sighed dramatically, springing up to pace as she stumbled halfheartedly through a sentence that was supposed to sound angry.

“If that woman tells me that she thinks” she made air quotes with her fingers,

“The darks in this still life aren’t dark enough!’” she stuffed her hands back into her pockets

“One more time-” She let out a semi-frustrated, semi-amused whine and rubbed her eyes with her left hand. Beth stood, gently placing her hands on her friend’s shoulders, the right closer to the base of her neck so she could rub soothing circles into the skin her thumb made contact with.

“Hey” Beth said gently. Ezra looked up to her,

“Hey?” she responded, breathlessly. Beth smiled and pulled her close friend into a tight embrace.

With her head on Ezra’s shoulder, she asked quietly “Do you think you need to blow off steam?” Ezra jolted, startled.

“What d‘yo-” she started

“I- I mean-” Beth stuttered, her face flushed as she pulled away and looked at Ezra. She was also a little red.

“I- I mean- I'm not op-” she interrupted

“I- I meant- um. My...” she took a deep breath,

“My friend, Melanie, invited me to a party at her granddad’s house, and-” she hesitated

“...and I was kind of thinking, Uhm... would you like to go with me?” she peered at Ezra nervously.

At the lack of immediate answer, she hastily added, “I- I kinda thought maybe a break from school and- and a change of scenery would help clear your mind?”

“Ooohh” Ezra drawled, avoiding her friend’s gaze “Yeah. Right, yeah, uhm.” she cleared her throat. She was a bit too off from that brief misunderstanding to give a verbal answer- so she settled for agreeing with a subtle nod.

Beth beamed at her, “Wait- really??” When Ezra looked back up, there was a toothy grin plastered on Beth’s face. Ezra nodded again, and now... Now she was too captivated by how the light reflected Beth’s warm-ish brown skin- and the way it made the woman’s eyes light up like amber –to speak.

...

Beth excitedly jumps from the passenger seat of Ezra’s small car, bouncing on her heels as she waits for the shorter, nervous girl to get out of the car and lock it. Ezra slowly climbs out, faced with a subtle chill from the beginnings of autumn and the ambiance of the surrounding woodlands.

“Could Mel’s grandfather have possibly found a house any farther from civilization?” She sighs as she locks her vehicle, eyeing the sizeable building wearily. Her bubbly friend grinned and shrugged.

“C’mon, Ezzie, Let’s get going!” Beth exclaimed, grabbing the shorter, pale and anxious wreck by the hand and dragging her to the front door of the house. Ezra can’t help but regret not bringing earplugs and her headphones as she felt her head begin to throb to the beat of the blasting music they could hear from outside. Beth knocked on the front door, and they were promptly greeted by a guy from Ezra’s Jewelry and Metalsmithing class at their university.

“Wait- Giles?” Ezra seemed pleasantly surprised to see her acquaintance here. He lit up upon recognizing her and opened his mouth to speak. Unfortunately, before the young man could actually get a word in, his close friend approached and enthusiastically dragged him off to who-knows-where.

“Well, so much for that conversation” She mumbled. Beth grinned, and they walked inside. Upon finally entering the house- Ezra could already tell she’d hate it here. It was loud, the lights were too bright and colorful- without really making it easier to see, which felt counterproductive -it was too crowded and, despite the season, weirdly hot inside the house.

Not from the heating, no, but from the sheer number of people around. Beth could see her friend’s expression turn from mild disinterest to an uncomfortable grimace.

“Hey, Ez, we don’t have to stay for long, okay?” she said as quietly as she could while still being heard. Ezra nodded. Beth took a step closer to her shorter friend and grabbed one of Ezra’s hands with her right, softly cupping Ezra’s face with her left.

“I mean it, Ezzie, just let me find Mel so we can go somewhere quieter and catch up- It's about time my two favorite people meet!” Beth said gently with an encouraging smile. Maybe if Ezra’s free hand hadn’t reached up to lightly caress the hand Beth was holding her face with, Beth could tell herself she was just imagining the way her friend leaned into the contact.

...She could still pretend it didn’t make her heart skip a beat, though.

They were startled from their moment by an excited gasp and a yell from a voice familiar to Beth and foreign to Ezra.

“Bethsie!!” an enthusiastic, tall and elegant woman shouted as she rushed over to embrace her friend. She and Ezra separated as Melanie approached them and loosely hugged Beth.

“Hey Beth!! How's your sophomore year going at uni?” she asked

“Oh, you know, nothing new!” Beth said vaguely. Mel still had that delighted smile on her face as she gently pulled Beth by the wrist and asked if she was driving. Beth shook her head, gesturing to Ezra with her right as she stated that the shorter girl was her designated driver.

Mel grinned mischievously and asked, “you wanna unwind? I know it’s got to be stressful with all those complex classes and junk.”

Beth nodded, turning back to Ezra with an apologetic gaze. “I won’t be long, I promise, Ezzie!” and then the two of them were gone.

Ezra found herself alone in a corner, trying to ignore the blaring music and the headache forming because of it. Beth’s friend, Melanie, had dragged her off to catch up and unwind- Ezra was absolutely not jealous or anything, why would you possibly even consider that? -and Beth had turned to her with the promise of brevity.

...That was a little under an hour ago.

“Oh my god, is that who I think it is??” a tall brunette shouted, standing and walking over to the woman in wobbly, confident strides. Ezra shot up, feeling her heart begin to beat faster as the blood drained from her face.

“No way, it is! Ezra, right? You do remember me, don’t you; it’s Sophie, from high school?” Sophie grinned wickedly as Ezra was helpless to stop the scene that old bully was trying to make. “Y-yeah, Uhm. I do- anyway, I uh. I really ought’ta get going-” Ezra said shakily, trying to get out of the conversation by side-stepping Sophie with a halfhearted excuse. Unfortunately, the taller woman evidently had other ideas. Sophie grabbed her harshly by the upper arm and tugged her back.

“You didn’t think you were getting out of this that easily, did you?” she spat, malice coating her tongue. Ezra’s pupils constricted; her breath shallower than before.

“Please, soph, you don’t really want this,” the shorter lady pleaded, shaking her head with watery eyes. Her hands around the wrists of the hands that held her in place.

“Oh, but I do.” She took a step back and announced some particularly embarrassing things about Ezra that she’d rather not repeat to anyone who would listen. Ezra could feel her throat closing up and her mind short circuiting as the panic set in. She began to berate herself for even coming here in the first place, and as soon as Sophie’s back was turned, she finally made a dash for the back door.

The cool air was a delightful change in comparison to the sticky, humid air of the building that reeked of college antics and bad decisions. Ezra took a deep breath, savoring the smell of rain on the horizon and the burn of the tears on her cheeks in contrast to the chilly air.

“Gods, this was such a mistake” she mumbled to herself as she made her presence as out-of-the-way on the small porch- primarily to get out of Sophie's potential view –by crumpling down into a small ball on the wood boards of the deck.

With her legs drawn close to her chest and her head on her knees, Ezra allowed herself to spiral. She knew it was a bad idea- that certainly wasn’t stopping her.

‘worthless. Absolutly pathetic- still the cowardly little girl you were all those years ago. You’ll never change. You should know better than to try by now- how did you ever think you could do this? Change this mess in your head?’ She sighed shakily and squeezed her eyes shut- Beth came to mind and she felt a pang in her chest.

“Beth wouldn’t like me thinking like this.” she mumbled to herself, eyes downcast. At some point she apparently zoned out, because it wasn’t till she heard the sound of the screen door to the back porch opening that her eyes refocused. She sat up straight and fidgeted nervously with her pendant.

“Ezzie!” Beth exclaimed, a little unsteady on her feet. She definitely wasn’t sober. Ezra looked up with watery eyes to the best person to ever stumble into her life, and the sight alone was enough to have Beth kneeling down, a hand cupping her cheek

“Ezz, hun, what’s” She stumbled over her words a little, “what’s wrong? What happened? I- I'm really sorry I took far, far longer than I meant...”

Ezra sighed and wordlessly pulled the woman into a tight embrace. “Remember that girl who relentlessly bullied me in grade school?” she asked quietly.

Beth stiffened. “Y-yeah, I remember, why? Did- uh. Did you see her or something?” she pulled away from the hug, her hands on Ezra’s shoulders for what must be the second or third time today.

(time skip- i’ll come back later to make a coherent transition!)

... In the car, the two of them sat there (i literally stopped mid sentence to send this ask, lmao)

AAAA THE SILLIES!!! I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!!!!!!!

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vivaislenska · 1 year ago

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Tech DOES NOT Mess Around with Cybersecurity [excerpt from a longer, TBB mission fic]

Republic specialists at Cyber Ops Squad try to spy on the Boys of the Havoc Marauder. They get their asses handed to them (in a sparkly gift bag).

Basis: A snippet from Chap. 15 of long-form TBB fic called ‘Success Rate’ that can be found here. These two regs just helped Hunter, Crosshair, and Wrecker rescue Tech and Echo from a brutal ordeal in captivity. How'd these mysterious regs meet Tech before all of it went down? Hunter and Crosshair find out… and sympathize.

Length: 3,100 words

CW: swearing and mentions of adult themes

An hour or so goes by, and Hunter and Crosshair are still up in Serpent Squad's shop, swapping stories with Easy and Slowpoke. By now, several more of Easy's guys have wandered over to meet the two Bad Batch commandos and revisit some of the epic tales that are being told. There are still a few guys at their various watch stations, but the ones who’ve been relieved seem to be forgoing their racks and personal time to join in on the fun.

"So lemme get this straight," Hunter says to his and Crosshair's new mates: the OIC and AOIC of a highly secretive, highly reserved, gang of radar operators and crypto specialists. "You two were both ARC Troopers when you deployed to Geonosis, but you got hurt and now you're both cryptos. And you met Tech... when you were doing deep dives into encrypted networks?"

"I know it sounds mental," Easy affirms. "But it's the damn truth. Cadet's honor."

"Well,” Hunter says, first and foremost, “I’m sorry you boys got hurt.”

"Thanks, vod. Yeah, we were sorry too when they yanked our ARC designations," Easy says. "Not sorry right away, though. What happened was me and Slopes were caught in a bad blast during the final push. But it was all the typical injuries you know? We still finished the job and all."

"It was only later we learned we'd both sustained some pretty serious TBIs," Slowpoke adds. "When we tried to go back to duty after everything on the outside had healed, we were having a lot of trouble."

"Still do," Easy continues. "Slopes has these violent seizures now and then. It's really hard on him. And me, I get some nasty vertigo pretty often. Can't tell which way's up or down... it's madness! Also—not that my mind was a durasteel trap before—but my short-term memory’s just garbage now."

"The first time vertigo happened to him, we were in formation," shares Slowpoke as he takes a careful sip from his beer. "All of a sudden, he keels over and starts hugging the deck like the ship was going belly-up. Our CO was furious because he thought Easy was takin' the piss. I mean... we all did. But when he looked up at me, green as Endor moss, I knew something was horribly wrong."

"Yup. Then, not long after, Slopes kept getting 'the shakes' more often, and it became clear that both of us were still affected by whatever that blast did to our brains,” Easy adds, amiably. “Our CO transferred us to medical for eval and treatment, but the long-necks never could cure us. They put us on meds, and the meds do help, but we'll always have symptoms. They wanted to decommission us."

"How'd you dodge it?" asks Crosshair.

"Yeah," Hunter says, also craving to know how a medical decision made by one or more Kaminoans was thwarted. "The long-necks are heartless and stubborn when they deem a vod can't perform as promised."

"Kenobi," Easy says simply. "He heard we were being decommed, then he made other plans for us before the Kaminoans followed through."

"He said he 'negotiated' our 'lateral transfer,'" Slowpoke adds. "But really, we think he pulled us out of there and somehow hid us in Skywalker's inventory. We think he assigned us to crypto because there's not a whole lot of people who even have the clearance to look at our muster sheet."

"That and crypto at a top-tier command is probably the last place the Kaminoans would expect two infirm, unsound, adrenaline-addicted ex-ARCs to wind up," says Easy, grinning around the growing circle of brothers. "But here we are!"

"Here we are," Slowpoke agrees.

"And it’s a pretty good gig too, eh, fellas?" Easy says, turning his head to include everyone within earshot.

There's an excited murmur of assent from around the room.

"We do miss working directly for Kenobi, though," says Easy, sounding a little forlorn. "But he kept us close enough by stashing us with Skywalker's crew. We still see him every now and then. Plus, they're so close that if you're working with one, you're pretty much directly working with the other too."

"I can see that," Hunter tells the group, thinking about all the times he's seen the two men joined at the hip both in battle and in banter.

"Works for us," says Slowpoke. "Plus, we figure the best way to show Kenobi our gratitude is to look after Skywalker."

"Yeah. Just not in the same way we used to on the ground," says Easy. "But with crypto and espionage and slicing instead. Digging up intel and cyber-sneaking around enemy databases and frequencies."

"You're good at what you do," Hunter reminds them, thinking about how instrumental Serpent squad was in helping the Batch retrieve Tech and Echo. "Can't see how anyone could stay off your radar. Or how they could keep intel hidden from you if it's something you guys really want."

Easy and Slowpoke share a wry grin and a few mutters and sniggers break out around the room. Vexed by Serpent squad's communal reaction, Hunter and Crosshair glance around curiously, feeling very much on the outside of an inside joke.

"We're not laughing at you," Easy tells them sincerely. "Promise. We're laughing because it's so damn ironic you would say that."

"Oh... yeah?" Hunter says, still unsure. "Why's that?"

"Bet I know why," drawls Crosshair, revelation dawning on his sharp features.

"Why then?" Hunter asks him.

"They tried their little tricks on Tech," mutters Crosshair pensively. Then turning to Easy and Slowpoke. "Didn't you? And he knew it."

"At the heart of it," Slowpoke says, "that's exactly why.

"We weren't 'trying our tricks' on Tech, specifically," Easy clarifies. "We were doing a routine breaching exercise and Havoc Marauder was just one of the ships on our scopes. We didn't know anything about her but her name and designation, so we wanted to give it a go. Plus, Slopes and I were still relatively new here at the time, and our brass was adamant that we prove our worth."

"Yeah, we were new, but we'd already done a hundred tests on a hundred different ships,” says Slowpoke.

”And we'd cracked all of them without breaking a sweat. So there we were, dumb and cocky enough to think that spying on Havoc Marauder would be like spying on all the others," Easy adds frankly. "We soon learned the hard way that we were wrong."

"Oh man," Hunter says, feeling like he finally knows where this story's headed. "Wha'd he do when he detected you guys?"

"He identified himself as Marauder to confirm your vessel. And then he warned us fair and square," Easy says. "Said he'd recognized our efforts to slice into Marauder's mainframe and that they'd just be futile. Told us to turn back, or he'd be compelled to retaliate."

"And, what?" Crosshair asks. "You thought the arrogant nerd was bluffing?"

"Of course, we thought he was bluffing," Slowpoke tells him.

"Yeah, by then, we'd looked on the GAR universal database and saw who you guys were, and we figured the one called 'Tech' was on the comms,” Easy adds. “We thought you guys were too specialized to bother with crypto know-how, and we thought our advanced training and equipment platforms would give us the upper hand in this challenge. So we went right ahead with it, trying to show Marauder who was boss."

"He warned us one more time before he counterattacked. And then..." adds Slowpoke. "And then he made us learn just who the kriff we were dealing with."

"How?" drawls Crosshair.

"Then all of our display screens went dark for a few seconds," Easy says. "And when they recovered, a little feature film was playing for our enjoyment. On all of them."

"Oh no..." Hunter says, only daring to imagine what Tech had in store for them at that moment.

"An adult feature film," Slowpoke supplies.

"No way!" Hunter says, hooting in unison with Crosshair.

"And I know what you're thinking," Easy says, cracking up at the memory. "You're thinking, 'oh yeah, like you've never had one of those tacky vids passed around the barracks,' right? Well, it wasn't just any smut film, fellas. It was all Hutts."

The collective groan that sounds out through the rollicking atmosphere of the room only makes everyone laugh even harder.

"But-but! Not just Hutts!" Easy chokes, fighting back tears of mirth. "They were fucking ancient, elderly, old Hutts."

"Probably the sickest shit I've ever beheld," says Slowpoke, collecting himself just enough to put some sincerity behind the remark.

"And that's saying something!" comments one of the boys Hunter hasn't met yet, and Slowpoke looks on, playfully peeved and casually brandishing his middle finger.

"How long did he let it go on?" asks Hunter, almost afraid to find out.

"A good hour," Easy tells him. "And by then, we were on our humble knees, begging him to relinquish control before any of the brass caught on, or we'd all be sent up! And he did, just in the knick of time. So, that's the story of how we met Tech.”

"And," Slowpoke adds, "we've been friends ever since."

"Friends?" Crosshair grumbles. "You all then just decided you wanted some dangerous slicing maniac as your friend?"

"Yeah, why not?" Easy says. "He was perfectly civil about warning us, and we were the ones who bit off more than we could chew. I would have done the same thing he did if someone was trying to mess with my guys' info, and I had to teach them a lesson they'd never forget."

"True," Crosshair agrees. "He was protecting us. Sounds like it did the trick."

"Sure did," says Slowpoke. "But we couldn't help but like him.”

”Yeah so we stayed in touch. We see him logged in as "Marauder" at some of the virtual Crypto conferences that we attend for training,” says Easy. “We always say hey, and he does too. But, collectively, we never messed with Marauder again after that."

"Collectively," Slowpoke reiterates. "Doesn't mean we're above having some of the shinies give it a go on their own when they're getting too big for their britches."

"Yeah, whenever we get students or rookies who come through thinking they're real hot shit," Easy says. "We send them right to Tech. We have them do a test in which they target Marauder, and Tech takes care of them for us. You know, knocks them down a peg or two."

"How does Tech only target one guy at a time if they're working out of your shop?" Hunter asks.

"Well, we can't tell you how he does it because we have no karking idea," says Easy.

"None whatsoever," Slowpoke adds.

"But, we can gladly tell you what he does. It's different every time, but he'll usually send out a mass message from their personal account with something ridiculous typed in the body of it. We've actually got them all saved somewhere..."

Easy then swivels around in his chair to address the gathered members of Serpent squad.

"Oi, Serpent," he says to them. "Whose got that list of messages that were sent whenever we've had shinies try to spy on Marauder?

"Got it right here, boss," says a clone from Easy's squad, tapping and scrolling on the datapad at his console.

"Yes, Timbre, well done!" Easy then swivels back to Hunter and Crosshair. "Hunter, Crosshair, meet Timbre. He's gonna do a dramatic reading of some of the good ones. Aren't you, vod?"

"Can do Sarge," the reg says readily, clearing his throat. "Let's see... oh here's a good one. This one was from a rookie whose unit was here for training before they went on to check in aboard Tranquility."

To everyone's delight, the reg called Timbre stands up out of his seat to make sure everyone can hear, then takes on a serious tone of voice to read out the messages.

"Good morning, brothers. Sorry to bother, but does anyone have a spare set of sheets I could borrow for my rack? I pissed in mine again last night and they're absolutely ruined. Thanks in advance."

"Damn, Tech," Hunter hears Crosshair whisper fondly as the room erupts into more laughter.

"That one got sent to our whole battalion and the battalion he was due to check in with a few days later," Slowpoke adds happily.

"That one's one of my favorites," Easy says admiringly. "Timbre, give us another."

"Sure thing, boss," says Timbre.

Hunter finds himself wondering if Timbre is Serpent squad's designated orator when it comes to recitation of the absolutely absurd.

"Any requests?" asks the reg before sharing another.

"Do the aftershave one!" shouts somebody on watch at a comms console.

"You got it," Timbre says readily, as he repeats the same process but with a slightly different voice this time so that the audience knows a different rookie is now speaking.

"Hey Fellas!!!! Does anyone know what that alluring aftershave is that Commander Cody uses? I just passed him in the p-way and it made my mouth water. Can't get it off my mind and thinking of trying it out for myself. Cheers!"

"Hells! Tell me Cody didn't see that one," says Hunter, eyes going wide but with a guilty grin.

"He did," Slowpoke reports mildly. "From some ass-licker down in Air Frames who was trying to make chief at the time. And the Commander was fuming.”

"Ahhh, he sure was!" Easy agrees wistfully. "We actually caught flak for that one too, because it's literally our job to stop external tampering of any kind. And I just had tuck tail and say 'sir, look, if we knew how this guy was doing it, we'd put an end to it.' But, as you guess, that didn't really cut it for ole Code-y."

"'This guy'," Crosshair repeats curiously. "You didn't rat on Tech?"

"'Course not, Crosshair, you sullen prick!" says Easy, playfully cuffing the sniper on the chest. "Kriff, you're pessimistic! We were the ones who set that loud-mouth, blowhard shiny into Tech's lair to begin with. And it's well-known Bad Batch gets far less free time than most."

"Yeah," Slowpoke agrees. "He's doing us a huge favor every time he gives arrogant new guys like that a good lick because it's arrogance that could cost our operations everything. Plus we bounce ideas off him all the time. We kinda lean on him here and there."

"Also, it was a nice reality check for those of us who were thinking we'd take another swing at Marauder's database," Easy admits. "Some of us thought we could find a way past Tech's defenses. But the truth was, we'd just forgotten that if we tried to mess with the wampa, we were gonna wake up, swinging by our ankles, in his cave."

"He did feel bad though when we told him Cody had us on scullery duty for a week after the incident," says Slowpoke. "After that, he stopped including anyone else in the narratives by name."

"Let's hear another message, Sarge," someone requests.

"Alright one more," Easy allows after consulting with and sharing a knowing look with his number two. "But just the one or we could be doin' this all night. Pick another good one for our honored guests, lads."

"The one about the butterfly!" shouts a Serpent reg, to an outpour of general agreement.

"No, do the one about the dance recital!" cries another to a similar level of assent.

"Both are fantastic, but let's have the butterfly," says Easy, swiftly and expertly breaking the tie. "Go for it, Timbre."

"Butterfly it is," says Timbre, preparing for one last little speech.

Hey comrades! I'm looking for a tattoo artist onboard... anyone have any good recs? Preferably someone good with colors because I'd like a maridun butterly on my lower back. And also, someone with a tender touch. I've extra sensitive skin and I cried a lot last time because it really, really hurt. Best regards.

"Oh shit!" Easy exclaims. "He straight castrated that bloke!"

"He kriffing deserved it, if my memory serves," reasons Slowpoke, casually sipping his drink. "And it does."

...

Hunter and Crosshair laugh heartily together as Easy moves to finally break up the fun. The reg sergeant sends those on watch back to their stations, while Slowpoke sends those who aren't down to their barracks to get some rest. After the shop returns to a general state of order, the four clones sit together peacefully once again.

"And thus concludes the adventure of how we met your Tech long before the mishap with the Bounty Hunters," Easy declares as he pours another round for each of them.

"Well, the story officially did not disappoint," Hunter says, clinking his glass on Slowpoke's. "And to be honest, it's probably the least controversial thing Tech's accomplished with his… skills."

"Where does he even come up with that stuff? I mean, he really doesn't mess around," says Easy, still laughing. "And worse, he looks a bit funny ya know? Like someone you could mess with at the cantina. But he's a kriffing savage, he is."

"He is on another level," Hunter agrees fondly.

"He's on his own level," Slowpoke says in a sudden moment of mindfulness. "Bet it gets lonely."

"It did," Crosshair tells the reg flatly. "But that was before Echo. Now, Tech has a partner when it comes to perpetrating cyber crimes."

"That's trouble," says Easy, sounding blissfully intrigued. "Oh right, Echo! I keep forgetting that Echo's got a whole new skillset these days. Hey, do you think Echo would know how to get past Tech's security and then help us finally retaliate? Maybe he'd sympathize as one former ARC to another."

"Fuck no," says Crosshair with a dry bark of cruel laughter. "Fuck. No. And he's still an ARC."

By now, Easy and Slowpoke both understand Crosshair's aversion to sugarcoating anything. But Hunter senses that they're still startled at the rigidly abrupt change in the sharpshooter's tone. As his brother and batchmate, Hunter knows Crosshair meant nothing more than emphasis by it, so he readily smooths over any ambiguity felt by the regs.

"What my charming scout sniper means," Hunter says with a laugh and a relaxed smile. "Is sorry, that's not happening, fellas. Our ARC’s all business. He doesn’t trouble himself with devious pranks and scruples when there's work to be done.”

"Well, that and he'd never tell you," Crosshair mutters, taking a sip from his beer. "Those two have been inseparable since within hours of knowing each other. It's revolting."

"That’s true," Hunter adds. "They kinda just meshed from the start. I don't think you could even drive a lightsaber between them at this point."

"Fuck," says Easy, cautiously admiring them. "Well, cheers to them being on our side, eh boys?"

"Cheers," Hunter says in unison with Crosshair and Slowpoke as they bang their glasses together and take a long draught.

Thank you so much for reading. I hope it made you smile! Reblogs, critiques, corrections, comments, and new ideas are welcome. Have a great day : ]

Easy and Slowpoke ("Slopes") are two OCs that roll over from another fic hehe! Easy is sort of a cross between Hunter and Wrecker and Slopes is almost a cross between Crosshair and Tech, and I've grown rather fond of these two helpful boys.

@amorfista @anxiouspineapple99 @wolffegirlsunite @freesia-writes @523rdrebel @sinfulsalutations @destril @zaana @queenjiru @oceanamber24 @raevulsix @enigmatist17

#star wars the bad batch #star wars the bad batch fanfic #sw tbb fanfic #the bad batch #sw tbb #sw the bad batch #tbb #clone trooper crosshair #crosshair #the bad batch tech #clone trooper tech #bad batch #clone trooper hunter #bad batch hunter #viv fics

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steve0discusses · 1 year ago

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S5 Ep : I don't know the episode numbers anymore I never wrote them down, so from here on out, I'm just going to number up from my previous post. So I guess episode 49

Fun fact I finished this post a week ago and then never pressed send. I can blame this on a lot of things, (work, illness, brain fog, etc) but at this point we just know it's the universe trying to keep me from finishing S5 of my Yugioh reblog, lmao.

So, last we left off, Sad Seto was next to die.

What makes this extra weird is that the other Seto is going to just watch this entire thing happen. He apparently didn't have enough traumatic disassociating while watching his Blue Eyes Wife die, now he will disassociate from watching himself go out in a blaze of glory, too.

Sad Seto's strategy against Zorc is not really what you'd expect out of the #2 of Egypt's court. Although...I guess before everyone biffed it, Seto was more like #5? #6?

He's above Mana I feel. Barely. Mostly because Mana probably isn't the right age to legally work, even in ancient Egypt when the working age is like...if you can walk.

But he was apparently so busy doing Aknadin's taxes that he's decided it's good judgement to throw himself at a 800 ft tall dragon/crotch/man.

for his credit, Sun Tzu's art of war hasn't been written yet.

And Sad Seto realizes his true purpose, which is that he has a smarter, stronger, and more powerful girlfriend (ish.) Which is a running theme on this show, as we all know.

In a bizarre cut that I can't believe they left on US TV...other than I think they couldn't cut this any other way, the penis dragon attached to Zork extended it's neck up to grab Blue eyes by her neck and just fling her into the ground, killing her instantly.

I don't like that the neck can extend longer. I don't like that it's a function of the dragon crotch. They knew. They knew what this looked like. Thanks, I hate it.

Also what an embarrassing way for Seto's past self to die. Truly the hieroglyphs about this event will be wild, and thousands of years later, Grandma Muto probably looked at this event etched into stone and just thought it was weird ancient pervert stuff.

Sorry if you were thinking Sad Seto would recover last minute and realize he's like the most OP person in Yugioh. He instead rotted from his hand and joined the rest of our Egyptian cast in Shadow Hell.

Leaving us with just Mana. And like kudos to her, but how on EARTH did she survive so freakin long!? Like of all of them, I thought Seto would be the last one. Not Mana. Not in a million years did I think it'd be the girl who hid in a pot.

But youknow maybe that's why she survived?

And then Bakura casually walked away from the only Seto who matters. Which is fitting, because if memory serves, that's also what Yami did to Seto for like half of the Battle City tourney.

It's such a weird strange bod on this dragon. It's such a strange bod. He's both got kind of a belly, but also is ripped to shreds. Such a weird bod.

In case you were like "We haven't given Seto enough motivation," we also toss in a few nearly dead brothers just to make sure we have properly traumatized this boy to the point where he'd duel someone who isn't Yugi Muto.

Seto decided magic exists 6 minutes ago, and he's already better at magic than Yugi Muto who's had access to it for YEARS.

Like he learned about magic in a different culture, a different time, a different language, and now he's fighting the final boss.

But it's Seto, so I buy it. He would speedrun his life like this.

That's the dialogue of the show where he says his first words were "neutron blast attack" and youknow...he probably has very few memories of himself as a child since his parents died and his other family put him up for adoption...but he knows his first words?

That, or Seto likes making his brand a reality by making up whatever nonsense it takes to make that brand legit. Which I can also see him doing.

Also please don't look at this foreshortened hand, don't look at it, ignore that this happened.

So thanks to Bakura's weird choice to drag Seto into this universe in the first place, now Bakura has to fight Seto and his 3 blue eyes that would not have existed here otherwise.

++++++ME RANTING ABOUT THE SETO ARC FEEL FREE TO SKIP++++

TBH it kinda makes the whole Sad Seto arc feel kind of like it didn't need to exist. Like this is the Seto fight that matters. This one right here, and although they share a name, it's not with the same guy who fought Zorc at the beginning of this episode.

And like I could add it to a list of problems with this season. But Sad Seto started out so interesting, and then forgot. It was like he only existed to introduce the dragon, and not explain anything at all about the nature of Seto Kaiba we know and love. Like the possession of Aknadin can be a parallel to how Seto was raised following Gozaburo's footsteps, but youknow...that's all old territory.

Like, I wish I had any sort of new growth from the interaction of either of the Seto's together in the same room, much like we've been getting from Yami facing his past self. Yami's been growing a lot, he's been facing his demons, but Seto? Seto's been walking around this desert trying find wifi.

(which like he did find a "wifey" which is almost wifi but wasn't as helpful because she was dead)

The Seto Kaiba who is fighting Bakura right now, is the same exact guy we saw at the end of the last arc against Zeigfried Von Schroeder.

Which means the reason that Seto is now souped up and capable of going up against Bakura isn't because of anything we witnessed here in this arc, but because of the weird horse guy last arc who taught him how to put up a better firewall.

And maybe there was a draft where Seto decides he is a spiritual reincarnation of the Pharaoh of Egypt. Maybe there was a draft where he gained a new ability. Maybe there was a draft where he realized the gravity of what was happening and wanted to save the world.

But it ain't this draft, unfortunately.

Seto is here not because of an internal growth reason, but because he was on a tablet in S2, and we have to know where that plot thread went to have an ending...but the show rewrote what it initially said in S2.

Like in the OG timeline, it was Seto who killed Pharaoh. But here we found out it was actually Aknadin who possessed Seto to kill Pharaoh. (and at some point in that fight, Pharaoh stuck his soul in a box and sealed away Zorc)

Sad Seto was apparently a chill bro the entire time. Just a nice guy who arrested half of Cairo and had a sort-of-girlfriend for about 8 hours before she biffed it.

And I would have been OK with that, if it were more interesting than what we initially thought happened in the past: where we thought it was a kickass Seto launching a coup. But unfortunately, it's not, instead it's a boy who started out powerless, and continued to be powerless despite working in Pharaoh's literal court. He didn't even have the power to not get possessed.

And I am sure there were other drafts, and endings are hard, and the author did get hella hospitalized while he wrote this season, animation is a miracle of many moving parts and budgets, and we were lucky to even get an ending to this show. So I don't want to sound like I'm complaining when there are so many worse directions this show could have gone. I'm just a little surprised it went this direction, mostly.

But say what you will about Yugioh, it doesn't like to be predictable, doesn't it?

+++++++++++++++++++OK I'M DONE++++++++++++++++++++++

Speaking of characters who haven't gained anything from being here, Tristan is no longer possessed!

Tristan begs his apologies and Yugi takes it gracefully. Which means, it's time for the main character of this entire show to finally re-enter the plot.

And they do so, in style.

Y'all I remember being excited about the look and style of extreme sports, but I do not remember this many heelies in the 00's.

Anyway, this is the link to read these in chrono order, you know the drill. See you next time to see yet another girlfriend biff it!

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

#yugioh #yugi muto #seto kaiba #bakura #yu gi oh #photo recap #S5 #YGO #theif king bakura #Tristan taylor #zorc necrophades

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pfhwrittes · 9 months ago

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Okay, follow up to Gaz and Ghost razzing Soap over comms and he can’t respond:

This time, it’s Gaz’s turn. Soap determines it’s payback time and Ghost goes along with it. (Because let’s face it, he would.)

Gemma I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this prompt out. My brain went off in a million different directions before finally settling on this one. It's not my best work but it did make me laugh, hopefully it makes you smile too! 459 words of silliness (again). Also, I'm sorry for the earworm. “Ohhhhhh an’ I would walk 500 miles an’ I would walk 500 hunner mair jus’ tae be. the. man. watin’ at yer doooooooooor!”

Kyle feels his left eye twitch in response to Soap’s godawful crooning. It’s been hours of the same fucking line sung over and over with different inflections and Kyle is seriously contemplating finding Soap’s overwatch position and beating him into a bloody pulp if he has to be subjected to the Proclaimers for even another second. Op be fucking damned.

“Johnny.” Ghost snaps down the comms, and Kyle feels his shoulders drop in relief.

Finally.

“Those aren’t the words.”

Kyle grimaces.

Here we fucking go.

“What’re ye on about Lt., of course those are the words!” Soap sounds delighted that he finally got a response out of the stoic Manc, which, in Kyle’s opinion, is the completely incorrect response to have.

“No.”

“How no?” Soap shoots back, not deterred by Ghost’s blunt reply.

“English Mactavish.” Christ, Ghost sounds downright fond of the prick. Kyle fights back the urge to make a disgusted retching noise in response.

“Sorry, sir.” A pause, then “g’wan then. Give us a tune.”

“Not a chance, sergeant.”

If it wouldn’t give away his position, Kyle would beat himself into unconsciousness. Listening to Soap butcher “I’m Gonna Be” is less painful than having to witness the way he flirts like a teenager with Ghost.

There’s another brief silence before Soap starts humming again.

Fucking hell. __

(Bonus scene I just couldn't scrap, even though it doesn't quite fit)

“Gentlemen. I expect you know why you’re here.” Kate’s voice is smooth and controlled, not a hint of emotion bleeding through. Her body language gives away just as much as her voice, that is to say, absolutely nothing. Beside her Price is the picture of barely tempered fury. In any other circumstances Kyle would quietly marvel at the way she holds court in the small conference room, would probably shoot her a friendly grin to reassert himself as her favourite troublemaker.

As it stands (at parade rest no less, wedged between the ever fidgeting Scottish menace on his right and the breadth of his Lieutenant on his other side), Kyle doesn’t dare to even move his eyes from the point he’s chosen on the wall behind Station Chief Laswell and Captain Price.

The silence stretches on and Kyle notices the faint tink tink tink of the ancient steel radiator as it blasts wave after wave of scorching heat into the room before his ears catch the sound of slightly off-key humming coming from his left.

There’s a brief moment of near silence before Soap’s composure crumbles, clutching at his stomach as he bursts into only slightly hysterical sounding giggles.

In his periphery Kyle watches a vein throb on Price’s forehead. Oh, they are all completely and utterly fucked.

#pfh answers #pfh prompts #friend tag #it's not my best but i needed to get the worms out #legend says that price actually shouted himself hoarse that day and was rendered voiceless for a solid week #kg #jm #sr #jp #kl

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eelhound · 5 months ago

Text

"Being scandalized by Republican hypocrisy sort of feels like getting mad at a dog for peeing on your carpet. If anything, you’re the chump for having any sort of expectations for them.

The far more perverse thing, to me, is the way the idea of 'political violence' has been invoked in the aftermath of [the attempted Trump assassination] as something totally alien and un-American. 'There’s no place in America for this kind of violence,' said President Joe Biden. 'It’s sick,' he continued, saying that this kind of political violence was 'just unheard of.' He later said the violence was 'contrary to everything we stand for as a nation.' Former President Obama shared similar sentiments, saying, 'There is absolutely no place for political violence in our democracy,' urging Americans to 'use this moment to recommit ourselves to civility and respect in our politics.' The headline for the New York Times Editorial Board’s take on events was that 'The Attack on Donald Trump Is Antithetical to America.'

I’m sorry, but what country do these people think they live in? We’ve just spent the last nine months being blasted in the face with images and videos of some of the most unspeakable carnage imaginable coming out of Gaza. Most of it has been carried out using U.S.-made weapons. Political violence is so 'antithetical to America' that on the very same evening that the op-ed was penned, the Israeli military dropped eight massive American-made bombs on the al-Mawasi refugee camp, an area that the Israel Defense Force had previously designated a 'safe zone' for civilians to flee. Israel claimed that two senior members of Hamas may have been hiding among the 80,000 civilians sheltering there. According to the Gaza Health Ministry, 90 people are dead and 300 are wounded. One of the survivors described the scene to Reuters: 'I left the tent and looked around, all the tents were knocked down, body parts, bodies everywhere, elderly women thrown on the floor, young children in pieces.' Not long before reports of this massacre rolled in, Israel Katz, the foreign affairs minister of Israel, issued a condemnation of the assassination attempt on Donald Trump, saying 'Violence can never ever be part of politics.' The irony was apparently lost on him.

Many of the people currently condemning political violence don’t actually hate political violence. What they really condemn is violence against politicians. But there is no act of violence more political than dropping bombs on a city of defenseless people because you want their land. Massacres like the one carried out Saturday have been going on for nine months, and, among the political class, they have rarely been condemned with anything nearing the force of the Trump assassination. In fact, the student protesters who spoke out against the war in Gaza — condemning political violence, in other words — were met with state violence themselves, which was cheered on by these same politicians.

On the contrary, the people right now who are dismayed at political violence are some of its foremost perpetrators. Biden is, of course, selling Israel the weapons they’re using to destroy Gaza and kill scores of its people. Beyond that, President Obama authorized so many drone strikes during his term of office that if he were to apologize to one innocent civilian killed by them each day, it would take him more than three years. Trump, today’s brave victim of political violence, not only expanded those drone assassinations and spoke openly about 'taking out terrorists’ families' but even bragged about ordering the assassination of an American citizen in an act of 'retribution.'

Even when they’re not directly ordering acts of what we might think of as 'political violence, U.S. leaders oversee a system that inflicts violence on both a national and global scale.

At home, both parties support a for-profit healthcare system that kills tens of thousands of Americans each year who can’t afford medical care. Each week, nearly 150 people (and nearly 1,500 in the wintertime!) still die of COVID-19, in part because treatments for the illness are so unaffordable. The Biden administration has abandoned most efforts to mitigate the virus, including workplace protections, and ended the public health emergency in 2023, which transferred costs of testing, vaccination, and care from government to health insurance companies and individuals. The CDC now tells workers that they no longer need to stay home from work for five days if they catch the illness, and only one state, New York, still requires businesses to pay leave for employees who are sick with COVID. And some state governments have even criminalized wearing masks in public.

The Supreme Court just made it legal for states and cities to jail homeless people sleeping outside. Police, whose departments both parties have showered with increasing amounts of funding, killed more people last year than at any point in the previous decade. The U.S. has so many mass shootings that it averages out to more than one a day, but our leaders have failed to pass even the most basic gun control laws, like an assault weapons ban or universal background checks at the federal level. And after mass shootings, Republican-led state legislators in particular have been more likely to loosen gun restrictions rather than tighten them.

When migrants flee poverty and war to seek relative safety in the United States, they are met with razor wire and buoys with blades affixed in order to maim them. Since the U.S. Border Patrol began its Prevention Through Deterrence program in 1994, the agency reports that 10,000 people have been killed while attempting to cross. Other aid organizations estimate the number to be as high as 80,000. Even those who reach the U.S. safely are often subject to inhumane conditions in immigration detention centers.

The United States provides military support to a majority of the globe’s dictators, which allows them to carry out their own acts of political violence. The U.S. has provided arms to Saudi Arabia as it has carried out a monstrous military campaign in Yemen that has killed more than 150,000 people, including tens of thousands of civilians. U.S. sanctions have inflicted collective punishment on the people living in enemy nations, like Cuba, Venezuela, and Iran, in an effort to foment regime change. One study found that U.S. sanctions on Venezuela, which deprived its people of food and medical supplies, contributed to as many as 40,000 deaths from 2017-2018 within the country.

Each act of violence described above is a consequence of political actions or political inactions. And I could go on with more examples, going all the way back to the founding of the nation and the genocide of Native Americans. As former Ohio State Senator Nina Turner wrote in Newsweek yesterday, 'America was founded on violence. [...] A nation founded in violence, whose economy is rooted in violence, will have a society that is violent.' And yet, most of this violence is inflicted on average people, not politicians — which may be one reason our policies are rarely conceived of as 'violent.'

To be clear, I don’t intend to diminish the significance of the attempt on Donald Trump’s life. It was indeed a destructive act of political violence that should be opposed. But the very same people who treat an attack on Trump as some horrifying anomaly — including Trump himself — are perpetrators of vastly greater violence than what occurred on Saturday.

In response to the assassination attempt against Trump, in an effort to 'lower the temperature,' the Biden campaign pulled its advertisements criticizing Trump from the air. And on condition of anonymity, campaign officials reportedly told Reuters that 'Rather than verbally attacking Trump in the coming days, the White House and the Biden campaign will draw on the president's history of condemning all sorts of political violence including his sharp criticism of the ‘disorder’ created by campus protests over the Israel-Gaza conflict.' (Reuters has since quietly removed this paragraph from the story, though they did not issue a correction or retraction, so the reason is unclear.) Apparently, now that Trump has been shot, he’s no longer a 'threat to democracy,' and they’re instead going to spend precious time bashing voters that Biden already desperately needs to support him.

This was an election where, in the words of President Biden, 'Personal freedoms are on the ballot. The right to privacy, liberty, equality, they’re all on the ballot.' But after the assassination attempt, according to Axios, a 'senior House Democrat' says 'We've all resigned ourselves to a second Trump presidency.' Two days ago, Trump was Hitler Jr. Now, the party that has spent the last nine years claiming to be the only bulwark against fascism is throwing in the towel with fascism on the doorstep.

It could not be clearer that, to the people in charge, all of this is a game and a joke. But seen from their perspective, the decision of Democratic elites to essentially throw the election in an act of decorum does make a sort of sense. Writer and attorney Dylan Saba put it quite well on X: 'Truly beautiful to see the ruling class come together like this… What’s most important is their personal safety — and the love they have for one another.'

He’s right! People in Biden’s position will be insulated, more than most, from the consequences of a potential Trump victory. They will not be deported if he wins the election. They’ll be able to pay to get their loved one an abortion if they need one. None of them are transgender and at risk of having their legal personhood revoked. Most of them would probably benefit from Trump’s plan to get rid of the federal income tax in favor of a regressive tariff.

To the extent that the members of the ruling class care about any of this, it’s only insofar as it affects their personal power and well-being. Just look at how Joe Biden has been acting in the past few weeks as he’s clung to the nomination. When asked how he’d feel if his decision to stay in the race results in Trump returning to power, he said: 'I'll feel as long as I gave it my all and I did the good as job as I know I can do, that's what this is about.'

That really is 'what this is about.' This is about them, their comfort, their egos, and their personal glory — all of it completely divorced from the reality of life for the vast majority of people on this planet. And that’s why an assassination attempt disturbs these people so much more than all the death and destruction that is inflicted on the world each day as a result of their actions. We must remember: the fights that matter are not theirs, they’re ours."

- Stephen Prager, from "'Political Violence' is All Around Us." Current Affairs, 16 July 2024.

#stephen prager #quote #quotations #violence #state violence #american politics #american imperialism #military industrial complex #2024 presidential election #american culture #free palestine #palestinian genocide #war on gaza #capitalism #trump assassination attempt

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