#awkward-radar-tech

[coffeeandbatboys]

The Magic Touch (Kix x Reader)

A/N I had a thought. The natborn GAR officers have to go through intensive physical training regardless of their field (like most militaries that I know of). This is self indulgent right now because I got harassed into doing a crazy hard workout and now I’m sore :/

The first half feels awkward but I had to set it up.

Warnings: sfw; reader’s body is really sore, massages, fluff.

You’re not even halfway through the training program and you’re already hating it.

You thought that you’d been working out substantially all this time, but that theory has since been proven wrong.

The GAR wants your little old radar tech ass to haul the whole damn venator apparently.

You sigh as you near the front door of your apartment, legs still shaky from the exercise.

Kix is already inside, putting together the dinner that you’d left partially prepared in the conservator. You halfheartedly return his smile when he sees you.

“This better be kriffing worth it.” You grumble, setting down your bag and stretching your unsteady arms and legs.

“Did you get enough water? Or electrolytes?” He asks, wrapping you up in a gentle hug.

“Aaaand I stretched before and after.” You confirm.

Satisfied, he smiles and kisses your forehead. “Dinner’s just about ready. I figure we could watch a holo?”

Finally, you smile genuinely. “Yeah that sounds nice.”

You end up showering before dinner, since the ones at the training facility are hardly what you’d call cleansing. As soon as you’re out and dressed in some more comfortable clothes, Kix has both plates of food situated in front of the holoprojector.

Once dinner’s been finished and the holovid is long over, you’re tired and ready to sleep. The two of you retire to the bed, nestled into each other’s embrace.

The first thought you have when you wake up is to stretch.

That’s turns out to be a bad idea, because your body protests with aching muscles. A soft yelp leaves your lips before you can stop it and Kix’s eyes flutter open.

“Y’kay, Mesh’la?” He asks, rubbing his eyes before bringing his hands to your shoulders with concern.

“Mhm.” You hum, trying to sound convincing.

He doesn’t buy it.

“Yeah because you yell in pain every morning.”

You huff. “Fine. I’m sore.”

A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest. “C’mere.”

You trust Kix—he is a medic after all. But you give him a wary look nonetheless as he gently tugs your back against his chest.

“Alright, cyare. Tell me where it hurts.”

You hesitate, suddenly becoming very flustered.

“C’mon. Where does it hurt?”

You gingerly touch your shoulders. You feel his warm, steady hands rest on them and begin to knead the stiff muscles. You stifle a sigh of relief and relax under the touch. His chuckle reverberates on your back, sending goosebumps across your skin.

After a few minutes of giving your shoulders attention, he asks where else it hurts. You sheepishly tap the sides of your torso, near your hips. Again, his hands slide over the skin and work out all of the pain that’s been building up overnight. You don’t even try to stifle the moan that leaves your lips, earning a laugh from your lover.

“Does that feel good, Cyar’ika?”

You hum happily in response.

Kix showers the back of your neck with tender kisses. “Glad I can help.”

“Gonna need to keep you around,” you laugh, leaning back into his chest. “This is gonna be a routine with you for the foreseeable future.”

“And I’ll be here every time you need me.”

[thepixelelf]

this is definitely a stretch but a slightly off kilter dimension 20: mentopolis au where, consider Jeon Wonwoo, "junior researcher at Gobstopper Industries, a retro-futurist conglomerate, working on all sorts of amazing art deco technology in a gilded, non descript, past-like past..." ("gah, he paints a picture with his words!" 03:12) who works in the neuroscience department, kind of a loner, always focused on his research. Often closed off because he is led by his logic and ambition. Pushed down his sense of conscience years ago because of an incident involving an ice skate to the face but he doesn't like to talk about that or frankly even think about it so... work it is.

Anyway, one day Mr Big Boss Guy walks into Wonwoo's office/lab with you, and he introduces you to him as a specialist in projectiles. You two are going to be working on the new Psychometer project together. Wonwoo just nods, shakes your hand, and registers your sweet nice to meet you smile too late because he's already turned back to his calculations and now it would be too awkward to say nice to meet you too and damn it, why is he so damn awkward?

You don't pay it much mind— you've met plenty of awkward, shy nerds at Gobstopper Industries and while Wonwoo is maybe one of the nicer looking ones, you're no stranger to clipped greetings and noses buried in research. You yourself are quite the nerd, anyway, so it's no skin off your back.

[warning: fake science ahead! also cw for guns!]

For a while you two just work on your own things— him with his weird neuro something something tech, and you with your projectile prototypes. You're signed on as a temporary contract, so Mr Big Boss Guy never really told you what kind of thing you're making the projectiles for. But it does occur to you at some point... why would you put a projectiles guy and a neuro guy on the same project? What the heck are you even building?

So you ask him. "Hey, Jeon. Can I call you Jeon?"

He seems a bit jumpy at the sudden appearance of your voice, which is fair since you guys haven't really talked in the days since you started working together, but he turns to look at you and eventually nods.

"What is it exactly that you're researching?"

"Well... it's— it's... uh..." And it takes him a couple seconds to get his bearings, but then he goes on about brain waves and electrons and oxytocin and aromatherapy and a lot of other stuff that you honestly don't understand much of, but the more he speaks, the more you realize he's very much into all this research he's done. "It'll be a pioneer in mental health, this machine. If we can go into the mind and find exactly what's wrong— just imagine what that can do for the world."

You try to. You think about how the whole "mental health" thing is just starting to get on the public's radar, and what it would mean if doctors could just... look in there and then tweak the undesirable bits. Huh.

"That's fascinating," you tell him, not seeing the way his eyes practically light up at your, albeit monotone, interest. "And... why am I making it into a gun?"

At that, Wonwoo just blinks. "I... don't know. I think the decision came from marketing? Perhaps they think it will be more valuable if the machine is portable."

"Portable, huh," you mumble, but you don't say anything else. Wonwoo goes silent too because he literally cannot carry a conversation (esp with someone he finds smart and attractive) unless he is answering questions. So, you both just go on with your work.

Until another day, after you dropped off the latest prototype on the boss' desk, when you ask Wonwoo, "Hey, Jeon, with your mind reader thingy—"

"It's not a 'thingy'," he interrupts with an almost imperceptible pout, but you catch it and smile at how oddly cute your fellow researcher is.

"Okay, your Psychometer..."

(His eyes light up again. They keep doing that.)

"...is it only for looking?"

He frowns, not understanding. "What do you mean?"

You tilt your head to the side, tapping your sharpened pencil on your desk. "I mean... can you use it to do anything about the stuff it sees?"

"Tampering with the brain is an extremely dangerous endeavour. There's no telling what could happen if the Psychometer were used to manipulate emotions or desires—"

"Wait, so it can be used like that?"

Wonwoo's frown deepens, he scoots to the edge of his chair towards you, one hand on his knee. "No. The technology could potentially be altered to manipulate the brain, yes, but the result could be disastrous—"

You jolt up onto your feet. "It's a mind control device???"

"I don't think you understand—"

But you're not listening to him anymore. You lean over your workspace, eyes darting over all your blueprints and scrap metal prototypes. "Holy shit," you mutter to yourself. "And I designed it into a weapon..."

You didn't always know there was something off about Big Boss Guy, but after meeting and getting to know Wonwoo and his research, you thought it was a little strange. Big tech industries like Gobstopper don't care about the good of the people like Wonwoo does... they care about money. And Big Boss Guy always seemed so smug when you updated him on the Psychometer project... yeah, a patent for a brain scanner would probably make him millions... but a mind control device? He could move to fucking Mars if he sold it to the right people.

Or used it on the right people.

In a frenzied panic, you begin swiping your hands over your desk to try and collect all of your research into a pile, while Wonwoo watches you with his confusion mounting.

"What are you—"

"Wonwoo," you breathe out, heart beating much faster than healthy. "Can I call you Wonwoo?" You don't wait for his answer; you're not even looking at him. "You need to get all your shit on a hard drive, and then you need to delete it from every Gobstopper computer—"

"What? Why would I—"

You walk straight up to him and put both your hands on his arms. If he wasn't confused and defensive right now, he'd probably be flustered.

"We made a fucking mind control gun, Wonwoo. Do you know what that means?"

Who is he kidding? He's flustered. He shakes his head.

You close your eyes as you let out a sigh. "We made a weapon. A very dangerous weapon. And the only way to stop it from going to the wrong people is if—"

Wonwoo watches you stop, and it's not like when he can't continue speaking because he doesn't know the answer, or when you pause because you thought of something funny, like you often do, but you actually freeze. Your mouth stays slightly open, caught in whatever you were going to say next, and your arms go stiff. Wonwoo is about to speak when he hears his boss' voice from the entryway.

"The wrong people?" he says, calm as ever as he lowers the Psychometer prototype he'd just had pointed in your direction. "C'mon, Jeon. You know I'd never put this in the wrong hands." He admires the machine in his hand. "It's much better off with me, don't you think?"

It's not that Wonwoo has no idea what the fuck is going on. In fact, thanks to you and your recent revelation, he finally actually knows what the fuck is going on.

It's just that he has no idea what the fuck to do now.

"You can't— this—" He looks at you, who have never been so close to him for so long, and right now it's completely against your will. He hates that thought. "Whatever you did with the Psychometer, turn it off! Reverse it, just— let them go!"

His boss shows off a mocking pout. "But they were saying such mean lies, Jeon. I told you: this machine is going to change the world. Don't you want that?"

"Not like this!"

"Tell you what, Jeon," his boss says, unfazed. "How about you finish doing your job like you were asked, and I make your little projectile friend fall in love with you, eh? You'd like that, wouldn't you? I see the way you look at them when you think no one's watching."

Bile threatens to rise up Wonwoo's throat. To make you like him— no, he never wanted that.

"Don't," he growls.

"Alright, alright. Then I guess I'll just have to offer a slightly worse deal. You make me my fully functional Psychometer, and I don't go through all the steps up to making their death look like an accident." He pulls out a sleek, silver gun and points it straight at you.

"Fine— fine!" Wonwoo holds out a hand, the other one now holding onto your arm. "I'll build it, but..." He bites the inside of his lip. He hasn't taken anything close to risk in years. "...but I need their help."

His boss raises a brow. "I don't think they're gonna want to be helpful."

"I'll make sure the comply," Wonwoo assures him, although he's not that confident in his ability to convince you.

He just needs you back to normal.

His boss clicks his tongue and tucks away his gun. A long time ago, he told Wonwoo he liked him because he listens well to authority. "Alright, Jeon, but make sure they do, and fast. Otherwise, I'll have to find somebody else for the job."

Wonwoo doesn't miss the thinly veiled threat, but he pays no attention to it. His boss points the Psychometer at you once again, and with a gasping breath, you fall to your knees. Wonwoo immediately joins you at your side, not hugging you like he kind of wants to, but patting your back as you cough.

Faintly, he hears his boss ordering people to barricade both exits from the lab.

"Holy..." You gag, and cough, and almost throw up, but don't. "...shit."

"Are you alright?" Wonwoo asks.

You whip your head to glare at him. "Am I alri— Wonwoo, do you know what you just agreed to?!"

So you heard everything, huh.

(It's not what he should think about first, he knows that, but Wonwoo feels heat on his face knowing that you heard his boss talking about the way he looks at you.)

"It was the only way for him to unfreeze you..."

At that, your panic and anger soften. You sigh. "I... Thank you."

"You're welcome," he says automatically, then cringes at how the words sound.

"You know I'm not helping you make that thing, right?"

Wonwoo nods. "I don't want to make it either."

"Good, then..." You stand up, Wonwoo keeping his hands hovered only inches away in case you're unsteady on your feet, and you reach into one the the inner pockets of your labcoat.

From which you pull out a grappling hook.

Wonwoo's eyes widen, and he has half the mind to ask you if you keep one of those on you at all times (???), but you stride past him to look out the floor to ceiling windows of the lab— which is four floors off the ground.

You turn to him with a sickeningly sly grin. "You ever looked at a window and asked yourself if you could break it with a good ol' shove?"

Wonwoo shakes his head, incredulous. "No!"

"Well." You shrug, going to grab as much of his and your paperwork as you can and stuffing it into your bag. "It's either the window, or mister 'I'm gonna rule the world' out there."

Wonwoo weighs his options. On the one hand, you're...

Well, you're there.

And, okay, on the other is a guy with two different guns, so...

Wonwoo goes over to his computer, taps at a fews keys, and initiates a total manual reset.

Once he turns back around, you've already started tying rope around yourself. "Get over here," you grunt.

And so Wonwoo lets you literally tie him to you, and then he jumps out of a god damn fucking window.

and that's all for this episode of diMEN—

[lerry-hazel]

Yep, still ranting: 4x17 Honor Among Thieves

Weird continuity, plus more of Root-centric thing

Remember that scene at the very end, where Shaw needs Root’s help to “translate Harold’s instructions”? 

I get it’s supposed to show Sameen seeking Root out. I mean, I have as much to say about that as about any other awkward romance buildup the show’s been tiring to force-feed me, but I get that I’m not expected to wonder why she didn’t just ask Harold.

Nevertheless, since I was planning to anchor one of my silly fix-its to this dialogue, I went to figure out where exactly Harold was at that time.

Imagine my surprise when I rewinded further back and saw Harold leaving Root’s side not even 5 second earlier. Literally: there is no fade-to-black and location change; Root just watches Harold walk away, takes two more steps, and here Shaw is, on her other side, the same burning building at the background.

What had Harold and Root been doing in front of the burning building? Hadn’t we seen Harold rushing back to the subway after sabotaging the printers, to help Shaw with her own break-in? Yes, we had. I can’t think even of a bullshit reason why the screenwriters had him – both of them – go back.  

Especially after he explicitly told Root she had to stay off the radar after unnecessarily attracting Samaritan’s attention – again.

I mean, it was incredibly convenient that the secretary was close enough to Root’s height, built, complexion and hair colour, but it doesn’t really explain how Harold got in. Well, the security guard was perfectly willing to let in a random guy with an SMS for credentials; and the cameras wouldn’t have been installed in the first place, had Root not been caught sneaking around Wilkins’ computer.

The question that has always bugged me about that part (oh so casually dismissed by Harold): Where had the original two children she showed up at the playground with come from? And where did they go when she ended up leaving with Wilkins and his son?

But now that I’ve started paying attention to what exactly Root is doing, plot-wise, it also leaves me gapping that the only reason why she gets to dress up as  “French Mary Poppins Barbie”, have a clandestine meeting with Harold, whine about her ever-changing identities and boldly hack into Wilkins’ personal files under Samaritan’s very nose –

– the only reason all that screentime went to Root is because –  

Jared Wilkins, a software engineer who left a lucrative job in the tech sector to start a legit computer-related charity he is obviously passionate about and is actively recruiting for –

 apparently, – wait for it –

DID NOT SET UP A WEBSITE!!!

No further comments.

[phycology-lemon]

The nuerodivergent batch (mostly)

Me and my bf watched up to episode five of season 2 (all that is available rn) of the Bad Batch, and we now have headcannons.

Spoilers for season 2 under the cut!

Note: we both are nuerodivergent, using research, personal experiences, and experiences of others as reference. Neither of us are professionals. These are HC for fun. :]

Even in their concept, they reflect a lot of things that happen to people considered 'abnormal' in real life. Being avoided, often disliked and generally being marked as different.

Let's start with Wrecker, he's actually one of the most interesting.

It's very easy to see he's childish, initially he may seem underdeveloped BUT clones age twice as fast, so what if his brain is just developing at average speed? His body is leaving his head behind, he's were he should be. Everyone else is just going at double the speed. He may have some form of dyslexia or discalcalculia, with him having issues reading and understanding numbers in the show.

Next is Tech, who I believe is autistic. He takes things very literally, as seen in his deconstruction rather than reaction to Wanda Skyes' compliment/flirting. Has a special interest in technology, studying and mastering it. Along with his general social awkwardness with strangers, oftentimes due to his lack of emotional reaction and taking things literally. Also seeming uncomfortable with physical closeness, disliking when the survivor got too close while celebrating how he fixed the memory bank thing with his people's history saved in it.

Also on the autism spectrum we have Hunter. With his elevated senses being a parallel to how many autistic people have more intense (and often overwhelming) senses and ability to perceive the world around them. Often culminating in 'picky' eating, texture preference, overstimulation and perception of things others may not notice. He seems the most 'normal' compared to his squad mates, being the easiest to mask (act like a 'normal/average person to fit in) and generally go under the radar. He also seems to be the most trained of the group, needing to hone his skills into something useful in combat. He hasn't had any noticeable signs of overstimulation yet, but most of the places he goes to regularly have rather simple color palettes. Along with the uniforms worn in the imperial/Republic's army. Even when he is often in combat, things are fairly simple and he could even have ways to adjust/cope if it does bother him because of all his experience. I also thought of this fun little hc detail.. he could mask, he already seems to be the best at befriending 'regs'. But he doesn't, he customizes his uniform, grows out his hair, wears accessories like his bandana, because he is proud to be different. He is happy to have his squad. He won't hide it. :)

TW: DISCUSSION OF DEPRESSION (in this next paragraph, skip if you aren't comfortable reading about that)

Crosshair shows signs of clinical depression in the episode 'The solitary clone'. He doesn't finish his food, just eating a bit and giving up on it when he's called to the admiral or whatever guy's office. (Loss of appetite) Is seen sitting awake before the daily alarm goes off both times holding his head in his hands, seeming just kind of..depressed honestly. (Early rising/insomnia) He also seems to be very isolated from other clones, social isolation is also a symptom. This one is a very obvious sign his mental health is not in a good place, being one the the most noticeable symptoms of depression. And a loss of interest/enjoyment of activities, he seems to be living in routine. Many people with depression describe experiences of 'being on autopilot' just going through a daily routine with little to no positive or any emotion at all. We are informed he was waiting to be medically cleared for duty, being in a sorry state when he was retrieved after the squad abandoned him. This would have left him alone and possibly in that autopilot state for weeks or even months. The military is a place that runs off its routine, causing this behavior to not be picked out as abnormal or concerning. He also seems to lack much motivation, just finishing his missions. Possibly even becoming reliant on assignments to give him a sense of purpose.

Echo very likely has PTSD from going through an explosion and being rebuilt. His concept on a base level sounds very dark and traumatic. He isn't shown having any flashbacks or extreme reactions suggesting this though. But he is also marked as 'other' by Regs and Kaminoans. Being somebody who is disabled, or possibly differently abled, being able to hack systems with his replaced arm-screw thing. Being seen as abnormal due to his changes, even though they are helpful and were made to help him survive.

Omega doesn't show any obvious signs of neurodivergency. But she likely isn't going to be completely normal with such an...unconventional upbringing.

I'd be really happy to hear about you guys' thoughts! I'll be back with more stuff like this.

Note: they were seen as advantageous, so they may have had some 'undesirable' qualities removed or not appearing, otherwise they may have been euthanized. :(

[tryingthisfangirlthing]

Imma be cheeky: When The Blurred Line Breaks and Fobwatch And a Sapphire Stuffed Choker. (I need to know how they end. XD)

*chuckling* I suppose that's fair. I'll give you some hints. ;3 They are both still on my "these will haunt me until I finish the damn things, and I do not consider them abandoned" list. But they are also on my "being very obstinate about the next part, in particular" list, too.

When the Blurred Line Breaks

As you've noted, Helen seems inclined to wake up on the wrong side of the bed. She's certainly been vulnerable in a way she's not used to, not with Nikola, and I don't think either of them know how to navigate that very well. Emotional, snappish conversations, hard to write.

Of course, this piece was always intended to slot into canon, to take them more or less to where we find them in S1 of the actual show. Nikola's borderline antagonism, Helen's wary, exasperated tolerance that turns to something like horror when faced with what he's been up to. So they're not going to end in a good place, I'm afraid, and I think knowing that is also part of what's blocking me from writing the rest, because there's very little that's fun about the rest.

Irritable early morning, a slow, torturous, snowy drive up to the safehouse, and a fraught parting: Nikola asking Helen if she won't consider staying, because he wants her to, and imagine what they could do, just the two of them together with peace and time and a lab, and they just shared something and he can't not ask knowing he likely won't see her for goodness-knows-how-long... Helen feeling a little betrayed that he would ask that in the first place, putting his own selfish desires first, despite knowing what her work means to her... it's perhaps bittersweet, but mostly bitter, in the end. They'll need those years in the interim to reflect a little and mellow out. Helen realizing she was perhaps a little unfair to him, emotionally; Nikola making the extremely misguided decision to impress her with The Monsters and propose a project she certainly can't refuse.(Spoiler alert: she definitely will. xD)

A Fobwatch and a Sapphire-Studded Choker

So, the next chapter is, broadly speaking, a whole fuckton of worldbuilding. In particular, living conditions and the nuances of the vampire society public transportation system, and also Rose and J'aen settling into their new place. The further alienation of J'aen having to give/set "permissions" for Rose for everything. The lovely awkwardness of settling into bed and cuddling with/being cuddled by someone who is... well. Everything J'aen is to Rose. >:3

Obviously the beginning is... intense. Time is pretty dilated, and I'm not quite sure how to transition it from that almost minute-by-minute framing, with small chapter "jumps" in between, to a more measured thing that will likely be necessary for the longer time frame (of at least a few weeks) that I'd envisioned this story taking place over the course of.

J'aen actually works for the big tech company that creates and manufactures those lovely oppressive scanners. So that's gonna be a fun conflict. Rose, meanwhile, more or less left to her own devices as a stay-at-home "bondmate," makes contact with the InRiCol underground - in part because that's what she believes in, in part because that's the only way she sees any possibility of getting the fobwatch back.

Rose has a fuckton to balance, between her obvious personal mission with the fobwatch, her dealings with the InRiCol while trying to stay under the radar, not arousing J'aen's suspicions, and also negotiating the boundaries of her status as "bondmate" and what seems to be expected of her. (And, hrm, maybe she's not actually all that averse to it... But she and the Doctor don't have that kind of relationship. But she also really needs to keep up this charade to be able to get the Doctor back. And she cares about J'aen, too, this gorgeous woman who obviously adores her, and the continued distance from her bondmate for no reason Rose can honestly give her is obviously weighing on her, too...)

I don't really want to spoil the ending, because I do intend to finish it myself! (...someday.) I can assure you that an eventual happy ending is planned. Hopefully this is enough fodder to let your imagination run wild in the meantime. ;3

[breitzbachbea]

!!!

Oh boy, OC show and tell! My favourite thing!

Send me a !! and I'll introduce you to an OC of mine

I'd like to talk about Massoud Yusufi!

(Credit to @c0ffinated for the picture and all the following ones I will use. Massoud is on the right).

One of Roderich's right hands, together with Alois Huber (the blondie on the left).

Arrived in Austria as an Afghan refugee and was noticed by Roderich when he tried to get a job under the radar.

He bought a binder with the first money Roderich gave him and got a tattoo a week after. It's a loading bar in his neck that correlate to his transition milestones. (Binder: 25%, going on t: 50%, top surgery: 75%, bottom surgery: 100%).

He's a nerd for machines, both when it comes to software and hardware. He likes to teach himself about hacking as much as he tries to design mechanical contraptions. Sadly, he's a bit too overzealous and often tries to run before he walks, which has ended especially badly when Alois is reckless enough to let him design prosthetic leg prototypes.

He's 24 and speaks three lamguages: Pashto, English and German.

He's grayace, which makes his dating life as an awkward nerd who's trying so desperately to be always cool even harder. Massoud would love a cute and sweet partner, but he doesn't know how to flirt and no one else is of use. (No, not you either, Hugo. Hugo is my friend Jonah's OC aka c0ffinated.)

I'm pretty sure by now he is somewhere on the spectrum, because he often has trouble grasping relationships and the social norms around working together.

He broke his nose on his way from Afghanistan to Austria.

His glasses are purely aesthetic. He thinks they make him look better.

Caught in his own toxic masculinity. Always wants everything to go to plan and appear as cool and calm. Hates crying, because it's 'girly', but often does when he has an angry outburst. Got a lot to unlearn on what he's 'allowed' to do as a man and what not.

Team Austria actually has a very interesting combination when it comes to types of stubbornness, because you can have three duos: - Alois and Massoud with their toxic masculinity, each in their own way, while Roderich is very confident in his own while he bakes cake and dresses like a gay time traveler. - Massoud and Roderich with their pride and expectancy that the world works a certain way and that their good behaviour gets rewarded, while Alois is pragmatical about how the world works and doesn't give a shit if he has to get himself dirty to get the job done. - Alois and Roderich are both easily provoked/love to hold grudges, whereas Massoud doesn't really care for all the hereditary hate and pettiness.

Wipes the floor with his friends whenever he plays video games with them, but couldn't take his loss in Mario Kart against Omar, so much that he sabotaged his switch. It turned into somewhat of an international incident.

He has a lot of smart tech in his flat, DESPITE being aware of its flaws. I assume he got it all very early on in living on his own and didn't care enough for the downsides to turn down a cool gadget. He'll probably replace it with a system of his own creation as time goes on.

[unknownjpegs]

red string

Mouse likes her.

Which is fucking rare because Mouse doesn’t like people by default—they have to earn her trust, her companionship, a single kind word even. And this little tech should do nothing more than bother Mouse. Which she does at first. Because she’s so fucking shy. Tucks into herself when working, lets her dark blue hair fall in front of her glasses. Uses hand gestures to get her point across more often than not, nearly cries when she knocks off a drum cymbal, actually does cry when someones temporarily misplaces some vital piece of tech that puts the whole show together.

Mouse should hate her. Hates weak people. Hates people that let themselves get walked over, hates shy little martyrs. Oh, look at me, I’m just so soft and meek. Aren’t I so much better than everyone? They make her claws come out, not playful and sweet like they are when hooked into Ewan’s soft skin, but nasty and mean. Draw blood. Hurt people.

But one day, someone fucked up a cable; just before a show and this person was so notorious for fucking up, had been grating nerves since day one, just kept getting away with it because sometimes on tours, people slid under radars because everything went so fast. But Nomi—pretty, small, shy, neurotic, awkward, Nomi—just lost it. Shoved them with both hands to their chests, you fucking tosser, you have any idea how expensive this cable is? You know we’re going to have to get this posted to us? Overnight mailin’, yeah? You think you can walk into a store and get this off the rack? You ruin this show, I’ll have your head off.

And Mouse had stared, with big eyes, thinking, oooooh, that’s why Matilda likes you.

So they become friends. Fall into that easy, because Mouse goes from lifting her nose around her and sneering to hunching down to her level as she works. Mouse tucks her pretty blue hair behind her ears and grins at her and asks what kind of coffee she wants some errand boy to pick up. She starts helping chuck the electronics around (“Oh, careful, Mouse, please be careful) and her and Nomi become real friends, real friends.

Which is why it isn’t surprising when the two find themselves secluded after a show. There’s a bit of an after party raging between all the bands, something loud and obnoxious and full of alcohol and weed. Ewan’s down for the count in the tour bus, which Mouse is happy for. Not because she doesn’t want to see him (she does, she does, she does) but because she likes when he avoids the mess. The alcohol, he can’t do, and all the drugs make her nervous someone might place a beer in his hand anyway, without thinking. And one always becomes more for him…

And she’s admitting this to Nomi, explaining it to her as they sit outside the venue. The blue haired tech runs cold, so she’s got Ewan’s jacket on, which Mouse had stolen earlier in the night. His jean jacket smells like him and something spicy, masculine and nice. Mouse puts her nose to the shoulder, Nomi laughs and ruffles her short, choppy hair. They talk about Ewan—they talk about Xavier and Benji and how obvious they are. Mouse talks about how happy that makes her and how jealous it makes her. They talk about movies and anime and they talk about music. They talk about Nomi’s boyfriend, that big Dancer and how sweet he is, how safe he is, how kind and handsome.

It’s natural, when the conversation sort of goes there.

“I think I knew when I was ‘round eight?” Nomi has the sleeves of the jean jacket folded over her hands, tucking them in to keep herself from going chilly. She says it, in that posh accent, chil-ay. Mouse tries not to let the smoke from her cigarette bother her, swatting it away and up into the night air. “Like, it’ll sound real cliche—and it really is, but,” Nomi leans in, bumping against her and grinning. “But, my dad wanted me to play sports. He wanted me to be a lad’s lad. Wanted me to get all big an’ tough—get friends, because didn’t really have any.”

Mouse can’t picture Nomi as anything other than she is now, but she tries to conjure an image of an eight year old version. Scrawny, awkward, friendless. Mouse has to clear her throat because it feels suddenly tight and she flicks the cigarette away even though it isn’t finished.

“Well, that didn’t work out,” Nomi continues with a sigh. “And then by the time I was maybe eleven, twelve? The way I dressed, or the way I kept my hair, or the music I listened to.” She tucks her knees up close to her chest, hands around her shins. “After that, he stopped trying so hard. He just sort of went, well,” she clapped hands on her shins. “Son’s a faggot, yeah?” And Nomi laughs, but Mouse feels like she’s been slapped by the word. She feels such a physical reaction to it, for a moment, she’s dizzy at how casual Nomi has just said it. And then she feels sad. Just purely sad, this bleak, oppressive sensation because, Nomi must have just heard it so often that the word lost its meaning.

Blue, flower, refrigerator, faggot, grass, highway. Lost it’s meaning, amongst it all. But did it ever stop hurting, Mouse wonders. Lost it’s meaning, but not its burn?

“Got worse when I started taking estrogen. And then it didn’t get worse or better—just stopped altogether.” Her blue hair has fallen forward again, so Mouse launches herself toward her, tucking hands into that hair and brushing it back. Nomi’s pale eyes are widened, staring at her as she does it.

I hate mine too, Mouse wants to say. I hate my dad, I wish he was dead, it would be easier if he was dead. But she doesn’t, because this is about Nomi. And she knows sweet fucking Nomi would let her rail road the entire conversation to talk about her own dad; did you know he almost made me join the navy? But, there’s a time to commiserate and a time to just listen. And Mouse wants to listen, because she has a feeling Nomi needs to talk. So instead of saying anything, she just cups cheeks.

“Wish—” Nomi clears her throat, rolls her eyes and laughs. “Wish I didn’t think about it so much, right? You get that, yeah? Wish it just weren’t a thing.” Mouse feels so instantly reflected, so peered into, mirrored it makes her feel light headed. In love. “Like, I started transitioning because I didn’t want to be—well, am not a man, right? But, then there’s this side of it all—this big, now I’m a girl that I don’t agree with either. Other people tucked me into that box.”

“Wish I could be both,” Mouse admits, smiling.

“Exactly,” Nomi agrees, her lips twitching up, brows pinching in. Her big round glasses have slid all the way down to the tip of her nose, making her look owlish. “Yeah, like—or neither and be—”

“Nothing.”

“Or just be Nomi.” They’re hugging, almost awkwardly, because Mouse is mostly kneeling on the cold ground outside the still very alive venue. And Nomi’s legs are still tucked up, so her knees are basically sandwiching Mouse’s cheeks and making her look squished and funny. “And you’d just be Mouse. And people would just fuckin’ shove off and stop caring.”

“And what the hell are you two doing without me?”

It’s Matilda, all tall and beautiful and haloed by the venue light spilling through the door she’s slipped through. Both of them stare up at her and Mouse feels, in that moment like she can read Nomi’s mind. It’s saying, I love you, big and bold and loud and happy. It’s saying, Matilda. Just that, because she’s their friend, both of theirs, and all three of them get to be friends now. All three of them share a thing that makes them hurt sometimes, or feel weird or stutter around or embrace or feel euphoric in, feel proud about. Mouse feels that thread, slipping through Matilda’s collarbone, winding around bones and through Mouse’s ribs and around to Nomi’s spine, getting all tangled together. The strings red and beautiful.

Mouse sighs dramatically, taps her temple into Nomi’s forehead.

“We were talking shit on you.”

“Proper shit, like, really hate that nail color on you, babe,” Nomi says in a snarky, mocking voice. Matilda uses her long legs to step between them, pry them apart and simply sits on either one of them. Her long arms wind around both their shoulders, her head inclining toward Nomi but her hand yanking a bit on Mouse’s short choppy brown hair.

“Fuck you both,” she says fondly, sighing it out.

“No, like, wasn’t kidding, Til, I think you should let me do your nails.”

Which makes all three of them laugh their way to the tour bus. Stumble inside, where Ewan sits with his acoustic guitar, raising brows at them. Has the trio stopping to stare at him until they once again dissolve to secretive, shared giggling behind hands until they disappear into the back of the bus. 

[lostwithspace]

@galranrepard

"Yeah..." Danika nodded as she changed the topic from the awkward feelings conversation that had popped up. As much as she wanted someone to talk to, it was best to not let the mood sour. Though she did appreciate Rio trying to comfort her. The blue, red, and white galra thanked Rio for the napkins as she composed herself as best as the fellow blade could while looking with peaked interest as Rio got up to go over towards the droid on the workbench. Torval, huh? "I see, and no I doubt I have much skill with toolkits or tinkering with things. It's a nice hobby to have though, and an even greater asset to use as well," The female galra smiled watching the grapefruit sized droid crawl up its inventor's shoulder. "I mostly train and do well with using weapons to wield like blades and some ammunition. Granted I like exploring so its a good trade off. I know it doesn't pay the bills, but we could spar some time if you'd like...and maybe in return you can teach me a bit about tinkering with space tech." Danika raised her hand out for a fellow blade handshake. Just then though her comm rang. She silently cursed when the commander's name popped up. There was just not enough time, but hopefully she gave enough vital information for Rio to follow before heading out to spy on her commander. "I have to go now...but I'll let you know when we can meet up. Thank you for the hospitality, and for taking on this mission. I know Kolivan will appreciate you helping us out. Or at least I would think so." The multi-colored galra gave a friendly wave before heading back onto the dock to let the galra commander know that the inspection was done...and that the crew could depart for their R&R aboard the Onyx Moth.

"Its really more than a hobby, its really want I want to do, but I gotta keep it on this level really to make sure I can eat and keep going" He smiled sadly.

He agreed that it could be something he would appreciate and went to shake, but was left holding it out for a moment as the comms came up. Rio let out a soft curse, and took a step back as if his proximity to it could give something away, even if Dankia hadn't picked up.

"Uh, yeah, don't send me any direct notices, obviously, but if you get in here an I'm not around, just findoneof my droids and they'll let me know."

The captain walked his passenger back down the hallway to the main area, closing up his living space once again and watched her depart. He wore a scowl, fitting someone who had just been put through the harsh steps of a high end inspection. Inside though, Rio hoped he might actually have someone he can hang out with, and maybe even relax around. Friends? Eh... maybe, hopefully. But now he was on the higher up's radar, and he wasn't sure how excited he was for that

[direnightshade]

Hey Britt, do you happen to know of any fics featuring Professor Zachary and “Concerned Dad” from SNL?

Hi, nonny! I’ve written two small things for Zach here and here.

Zach fics/prompts:

@ohiobluetip has some Daddy!Zach fics here.

@awkward-radar-tech has a little somethin’ here.

Concerned Dad fics/prompts:

@ohiobluetip has a fic or two here and here.

These are the only ones I’m aware of/can think of off the top of my head. If anyone has stories they’ve written or know of more, feel free to reply to this and add to it so nonny has more things to read. ♡

[stevengrant-my-beloved]

(he love me) he give me all his money I Part 2 [18+]

Part 1 I Series Masterlist

summary: A brief interaction with a catfish on a sugar daddy website leads to something quite unexpected and suddenly you're on the radar of genius tech billionaire Nathan Bateman, and honestly, you don't mind the attention.

chapter warnings: none (?), light sprinkling of daddy kink (as a joke mostly but...)

a/n: honestly i dont even know where im going with this but here we are

also just a note about the texts in this fic

> Texts like these are from Nathan. [bold and italicized]

> texts like these are from you [italicized]

The next morning finds you laying in bed, eyes wide open as you scroll through the text thread you now had with the CEO of BlueBook.

You're really hot.

That's the text that the Nathan Bateman had sent you the day before, the one you'd opened but still hadn't replied to, and honestly you didn't know what to write back because Nathan fucking Bateman had called you hot.

Thing is, you know that you're hot, you're fucking smoking, you had thousands of pictures on your Instagram to prove it, but you never did get used to compliments, especially when they came from someone like Bateman (a man you'd lowkey been thirsting over for years).

And, fuck, you realize how casually you'd spoken to him yesterday, and a part of you cringes because he's probably just sitting in his huge cabin in the mountains or some shit, gawking at your audacity to not only speak with him like you were old pals but to also seen zone him.

Then there was the issue of the eighteen hundred dollars just sitting in your bank account. Somewhere along the way you'd managed to forget he'd actually sent you money because of a stupid joke in a video.

You open up your mobile banking app, your finger hovering over the send button for a few moments, before hurriedly typing out the necessary info to send back the money you'd received.

Successfully sent.

You sent $1800.00 to Nathan Bateman.

Not even a second later, you get a banner notification from the man himself.

You seen zone me AND you give me back my mon...

And in the panic to put your phone away, you fumble and accidentally click on the notification, which meant Bateman could now see that you'd seen his text.

> You seen zone me AND you give me back my money?

> Were you lying in your Top 10 video? About me being your favorite?

And not even a second later-

> Well?

You imagine him sitting in his swivel chair, in some big office in his cabin in the middle of god knows where, one eyebrow raised up like it usually is in almost all the pictures that have been taken of him. Maybe he's stroking that luscious beard of his as he waits for you to reply, and there's a part of you that wants to ignore him a little more, see what he might do next, but you don't want to risk the possibility of him just not ever talking to you again so you text back.

> i panicked okay?? ur like this rich CEO guy and im just some silly goofy internet person ..

> and bout ur money. that was just a lil joke for the video, please keep your dollars Mr. Bateman

> Fuck off with that Mr. Bateman shit. Call me Nathan

> And, it's my money, I can do what I want with it.

You chew on your bottom lip, typing out words and deleting them, unsure of what to say to him.

> ik you've got enough of it to go around but i really dont know how i feel about just taking your money..

> Think of it as compensation for what you had to endure at the hands of Imposter Bateman.

> i- dude that was a JOKE

> Too bad I'm quite literal-minded.

> Okay in all seriousness, can you go back to how you were yesterday? 

> Just talk to me like you would with any other friend.

> And I'm sending the money back. Treat yourself to something nice.

You've received $1800.00 from Nathan Bateman

"Daddy Bateman sends his regards."

---

Texting Nathan became a regular thing after the initial awkwardness. It was simple stuff at first, short greetings throughout the day, followed by things like 'spent some of that 1800$ u sent on this shitty coffee' with a picture of you holding your coffee cup or 'thoughts?' accompanied by the Imposter Bateman drawing you made one day, basically just a rough sketch of an Among Us astronaut with Nathan's head instead of a visor. He'd always reply, no matter how late he got sometimes (he was a busy man after all, you could understand), even sending back blurry pictures, sometimes of piles of paperwork, sometimes of strings of code on a computer with messages like 'that looks awful i'm suing you for psychological damage' (with regards to the Imposter Bateman sketch) or 'good to know my money's being put to use' and 'let me know if you need more'.

That last kind of text was always followed up with a transfer of money into your account, anywhere between fifty dollars to two thousand, and any attempts you made to return the money were just straight up rejected.

> am i a charity case?

> No.

> so why spend ur money on me when u could be donating?

> First off, I barely send you any money. Second, I do donate, actually.

> 2000$ isnt 'barely any money'

> wait i forgot who i was talking to nvm-

> so why give me money?

> Because I can.

> ugh whatever

> can i post about u? about us being mutuals and u sendin me money n shit

> Sure.

> cool

---

You'd felt a little bad about keeping your followers in the dark about everything that had transpired after you'd posted the sugar daddy video, especially when they'd been so invested in getting Nathan's attention for you, but in the end it didn't matter because once you posted the screenshots of the notification that you'd received when Nathan followed you and when he'd sent you money, your fans had excitedly started tweeting about your 'sugar baby era' and about how you'd gotten Nathan Bateman of all people to follow you first (because yes, you'd made sure to clarify that little detail, which Nathan later confirmed in a tweet).

And since everything was now out in the open, you and Nathan began interacting outside of your Instagram DMs, tweeting at each other about the most random things. You'd even tagged him in a couple of Instagram posts with captions like 'this post was sponsored by @thenathanbateman_official . cause i bought these clothes with his money' or '@thenathanbateman_official can u please text me back im sorry i used ur money to buy new airpods i know better now #bluebookissuperior'

Your fans loved it. It seemed like they lived for every interaction between you and Nathan, and honestly, you lived for them too.

You'd even turned on notifications for the guy! You didn't even do that for the friends you knew in person, although, it didn't really amount to much since Nathan rarely posted anything on his Instagram. It was usually just reposts from different accounts that had mentioned his work, or the occasional post on his stories about life at his secluded cabin.

You'd asked him about it only once.

> where do u actually live tho??

> cause im dying to know

> Can't tell. Last thing I need is the press coming out here.

> i wont tell anyone. pinky swear

That's the first time he'd called you.

"Hey," his low voice sounded through your phone. You could hear a faint buzzing in the background but besides that, it remained quiet for a few seconds.

"It's Nathan."

You swallow the lump that had suddenly formed in your throat. "Uh, hi, yeah, what's up?" you ask, mentally kicking yourself for how awkward you sounded.

"Needed both my hands free to get this job done, so I thought I'd call."

"Yeah, no, that's fine."

"You wanted to know where I lived yeah? Any guesses?"

You hum, like you're deep in thought. "I always thought you might be on a private island or up on a mountain maybe."

Nathan chuckles, and you try not to focus on the way it causes a shiver to run down your spine. "I have better things to spend money on than a private island. And no, I'm not up on a mountain."

"Okay, so where are you then?" you ask, holding back a remark to the comment he'd made about 'having better things to spend money on'.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he asks, and you try not to focus on the way your thighs had involuntarily clenched together at the way his voice dropped just a little.

"Yeah, that's why I fucking asked, Bateman," you bite back, hoping he doesn't catch onto how out of breath you sound, because holy fuck, Nathan Bateman was talking to you on the phone and you were pretty sure you were having a mild heart attack or something.

"Relax sweetheart," he says softly, and yup, that definitely made you throb a little in the nether region. "And didn't I tell you not to call me that?"

You try not to focus on the way he calls you sweetheart, either.

You and Nathan ended up talking for hours (2 to be exact), about your work and his, about your next video, about his money that was still in your account, going back and forth trying to argue about what you should and shouldn't spend it on ("Kitten, you absolutely cannot spend my money on anymore Apple Products, I will block you I swear-" he'd said, to which you'd replied "I posted a picture wearing cat ears once, a year ago. Let it go. Also, screw you, it's my money now, I get to buy whatever the fuck I want."), before you eventually said your goodbyes and headed to bed.

You try not to focus on the way your heart is still hammering in your chest even hours after your call with Nathan.

---

"Did I wake you up?" Nathan asks one night, after he'd called you at around 2 a.m. in the morning.

Luckily for him, you'd actually been getting ready to do a late night Twitch stream.

"Nah, I was up. Going live on Twitch in a bit."

"Right, right. Reacting to another bad web series? Or are you gaming this time?"

You pause for a few seconds, still not used to the fact that the Nathan Bateman was so aware of your online presence. Technically, he was aware of everyone's at any given moment, but it still threw you off.

"Gaming," you reply as you check on your cam settings and make sure you have everything set up for the stream.

The calls had become a regular thing too, at some point. Usually you'd text Nathan, and ever since that first phone call, without fail he'd call your phone instead of replying to your text, and that conversation almost always went like this-

"Why the fuck would I put everything aside just to text you, when I can just call you and work at the same time?" he'd say.

You'd scoff and reply with something like "Wow, fuck you too asshole," before the two of you would settle into pleasant conversation about anything and everything under the sun.

This time was just like every other time, except-

"Alright, I need to start the stream soon, so..."

You hear him sigh, before saying, "Yeah, yeah, I'll let you go. Don't stay up too late."

"Yessir. I'll text you later."

"Good girl. Have fun with the stream." And with that, Nathan hung up.

The next few hours had gone by pretty quickly. You'd started the stream, played a couple of hours of some old indie game that your subscribers had been requesting for you to check out, before signing off.

It was only after you had gotten ready for bed at 4 a.m. that Nathan's words had really settled in.

Good girl.

You didn't think that would do it for you, but surprise, surprise, it obviously did, especially because it came from Nathan, and you find yourself tossing and turning in bed with a growing ache deep and low inside you, your skin growing warmer by the second.

"Fuck," you whisper out into the darkness for no one to hear, squeezing your thighs together only to feel how wet you'd gotten and it was honestly a little mortifying how one man's voice coupled with the words 'good girl' had gotten you to this state.

You always had been a sucker for praise, but this was new.

Just as you're about to turn over to sleep on your side (because yes, you're going to ignore the way your underwear is essentially sticking to you from how wet you are), your phone pings with a new notification.

> Make sure you're home tomorrow at around 3 p.m.

> ?

> Just make sure you're at home.

You roll your eyes at your phone (with the biggest smile on your face), before typing out-

> yes daddy

You see Nathan typing for a few seconds, which is a little weird since he's usually quick to send a reply.

> Good girl.

> You should sleep. We can talk later.

> Night.

You stare at your phone, wondering what the fuck happened because Nathan usually isn't one to leave a conversation first, at least not with you. Even if he said you should sleep early, he usually was up and texting you until the sun rose, but apparently not tonight.

Weird.

You don't have much time to dwell on it though, because you get another notification from your mobile banking app.

You've received $2500.00 from Nathan Bateman

"For being a good girl."

[roscgcld]

what about DDreader meeting naoya zenin?i can imagine him being so annoyed yet intrigued by her

I feel like he is aware of her existence, because she is also from a noble family. Maybe not as big as the Zen'Ins, but well known regardless. 

Plus, let's be honest here alright - Y/N is known as the 'airhead heiress' amongst the jujutsu world. If that is a good or bad thing...well, that depends on you lol. But on a serious note - I think that she is definitely on Naoya's radar for a long time now. 

Okay, see - Naoya is a slimey fucker who has talked about Mai's ass. His own niece for crying out loud; dude is sus and slimey as hell. But he is hot lmao, so he has that going for him. 

Genuinely think that the first time he heard of her, he wanted to meet her out of sheer curiosity. Firstly, if she really is an airhead, how the hell is she a sorcerer? Secondly, she is under the care of the Gojo Satoru in Jujustu Tech...Naoya just needs to see this girl with his very own eyes. And when he finally met her, in the flesh and blood? ....He has so many questions. 

It also didn't help that Y/N, having heard from Maki and Mai about how to mean this man is, and how downright weird he is. So she definitely feels awkward when Naoya took a chance during a huge dinner to talk to her parents; whilst getting a good feel of her powers. He is probably impressed by just how much Curse Energy she has and had previously gone around information scouting about the young girl. 

To say he is intrigued about her would be quite an understatement.

[operafloozy]

Metabolizing Personal News through Fandom

So, uh, for those of you not on twitter (I do not blame you), turns out I'm a BRCA1 carrier. I gots the death tits (well, somewhere between 60-90% lifetime chance of breast cancer, as well as 40-60% chance of ovarian cancer and then slightly elevated chance of pancreatic cancer, skin cancer, and eyeball cancer which is apparently a thing?).

I do not currently have breast cancer, I'm looking into getting the ovaries yeeted as soon as possible (maybe next month), and they're going to do a skin check in November. I'll take my chances with the pancreatic.

(If you're wondering why I was sort of cryptically refusing to do anything for certain this summer, this is why. There's no alarming history of breast or ovary cancer in my or my parents' generation, so it wasn't on my radar until my seven year-old nephew got tested as part of a genetic study and it turned out he was positive, of all fucking things. That was April. It's been a weird couple of months.)

But onto the fandom shit:

So mammograms are incredibly awkward - not really painful (for me), but awkward. You're standing in weird positions while someone shoves your tits around so they can be pancaked by a machine. And it occurred to me that the only thing that would make it even more awkward is if you were attracted to the tech performing the mammogram. So obviously, meet cute! Disaster lesbian goes in for a mammogram, feeling incredibly awkward with their awareness that this is the least sexy tit handling possible and joking the entire time. Offended on their own behalf to learn that dense breast tissue is a thing, because they've handled many a tit and never knew about it. The tech is not attracted until the mammogram-haver gets their shirt back on, then has an 'oh no' moment. This is an extremely awkward start to a modern AU romcom, but also the most straightforward romcom fanfiction idea that I've ever been interested in.

A couple of months ago I was saying that if I ever had the time to watch Supernatural again from the beginning through to the end, I'd probably try to write a very short ficlet for a minor sidelined character for each episode. And then it occurred to me, if I'm actually going for a double masectomy and reconstructive surgery, I might actually have enough time to do that. At eight weeks' worth of recovery time, I'd be able to spread it out to... okay, still nearly six episodes a day, that is still way too much supernatural. But it is entirely possible that I'd be able to make decent headway.

This is still entirely too early, but if I do get post-masectomy scar tattoos, I'm thinking of getting a lightning and flowers motif, for reasons.

[angstsfordays]

Beautiful Pain (2)

Chapter Two- Here I Am

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced! Reader

Summary: Post-Blip, you started to feel lost when most of the Avengers team are gone. Coping with your loss, you still find hope in the connection with your remaining friends. However, it is not easy as everyone is trying to figure their lives after the Blip.

Having a long history with Bucky ever since you both saved each other from Hydra, you were still glad you had Bucky after all this time. However, as you try to give Bucky space to find himself after being pardoned for his past, you start to wonder if you should ever cross the line of friendship before it’s too late.

That thought might have to be put on hold though, when you, Sam and Bucky find yourselves having to deal with threats that continue to rise in a post-Blip world.

Chapter synopsis: Shocking news brought you and Bucky back together with Sam. You three find out that a new threat arises in a post-Blip world.

Warnings: A bad word or two or three because come on, John Walker is in this chapter.

Word count: 4.5k

Notes: This chapter is nothing too crazy but warming up as it delves into the tv series' storyline. Here you can see how the reader's character plays out in the storyline.

I started a tag list for this series! Let me know if you want to join in with a message or comment in the chapters!

Leave a like, reblog or comment to let me know what you think! 🥰

Previous: Prologue | Chapter One |

Next: Chapter Three

-------------------------//---------------------------

Bucky promised to make your coffee while you went to take a shower after you came back. Switching off the hairdryer, you placed it back in its place before stepping out of the bathroom.

Perking up at the sound of the television, you made your way to find Bucky sitting on the floor. Seeing he made no sign of acknowledgement at your presence, you looked up to see what he was so entranced at.

Eyes averting to the screen, you saw a man being interviewed at what seemed like a stadium in the background. Scanning over his features, you quickly noticed the familiarity in his suit and how he was supposed to remind you of someone you held dear in your heart.

The caption that appeared on the bottom of the screen only added on to confirm your suspicions. A sudden rush of emotions started to wash over you like a huge tide.

Disbelief. Outrage. The nerve.

You glanced over to Bucky who was sitting still with a disbelieving look when the announcer asked her next question.

“Did you know Steve Rogers?” Before you knew it, you already started to shake your head in disapproval as the man, John Walker started to respond to the question.

He spoke of how he closely followed Steve’s career as an Avenger and drew inspiration in his work from Steve, citing him as a role model. Nodding in satisfaction at John’s answer, the announcer continued. “You’ve always wanted to be a hero?”

John Walker answered that he liked that his job would help to make people feel safe. He added how Steve was someone who was able to accomplish that and gave him hope.

While his answers sounded pleasant enough, you couldn’t help but feel displeased with it. His next sentence only served to make you feel worse.

“Even though I never met him, he feels like a brother.” John Walker could have chosen any other words. Mentor. Role model. The fact that he said brother like as if he wanted to draw some sort of association to Steve felt wrong.

You immediately kneeled down to Bucky’s level and waited for him to look back at you. Bucky shook his head while clenching his jaw tight.

“Buck….” Whispering his name gently, you hoped to get him to open up on what he was feeling.

“This is just wrong. I can’t believe….how could Sam even-” Struggling to put together his emotions properly, you gave him a soothing rub on his shoulders to ease his flustered state.

“I know, I understand.” You went ahead to embrace him in a side hug. Bucky leaned in and rested his head in the crook of your neck, relishing in the comfort you were giving to him.

“We need to talk to Sam.” He gave you an affirmative stare before you nodded in agreement.

-------------------------//---------------------------

Waiting around absent-mindedly at the hangar, you were brought back to focus when you heard Bucky speak up and already walking towards Sam.

“Shouldn’t have given up the shield.” You could hear how Bucky was trying to hold in his distaste and quickly followed behind him.

“Good to see you, Buck.” Sam acknowledged him in response. You could tell that Sam was trying to avoid the topic of conversation as he continued in his tracks only to stop when his eyes met yours.

“How’ve you been doing?” Sam took a step forward to give you a quick hug and you grinned at the sight of your friend.

“I’ve been good, Sam. How about you?” You asked to which he said he was doing alright.

“You still not tired of him?” Sam made a quip and you bit your lips to prevent a burst of laughter from coming out. You nervously glanced to see Bucky not looking one bit amused by the exchange and averted your eyes away.

“This is wrong.” Bucky tried to bring up the topic again to which Sam tried to put down. He remarked that he was now working and whatever outrage Bucky was having had to wait.

They continued their argument as they bickered back and forth about their views on John Walker becoming the new Captain America. Even saying that in your head left a sour taste.

Sam tried telling Bucky that there was nothing he could do to rectify the situation. He gave the shield away to the government and it was no longer in his hands. Retracting the decision simply cannot be done.

You understood both of their perspectives and you couldn’t take a side entirely. Yes, you all felt the heavy emotions about having Steve’s legacy just handed over to someone who you weren’t even sure was deserving of it. John Walker might be an exemplary soldier but he wasn’t the one that Steve chose to take over him.

Then again, you recalled how Sam was still unsure if he could leave up to Steve’s legacy and even remarked that the shield didn’t feel like it wasn’t his own, but someone else’s. You were sure that it was definitely not an easy decision for Sam to make and he wouldn’t have made it if he knew what the government had decided to do with the shield once they had their hands on it.

You winced at the heated exchange as your friends continued to assert their points. Sam had enough of the conversation and stressed that he now has work that he needed to attend to. Bucky scoffed at how Sam could even disregard the matter but Sam went on to tell you two about an online group called the Flag Smashers that seemed to have connections with rebel organisations across Europe.

He had intel from Redwing about their last known location and that was where he was heading to. Bucky gave a disapproving look and talked about his mistrust of the tech.

Even though Bucky was dear to you, you couldn’t help to sigh at how stubborn he is.

Sam went on to say that he wants to check if this group could be part of the Big Three. Bucky gave a confused look before asking what’s that. Sam looked like he couldn’t believe what Bucky had just said.

The two continued to have another exchange, but one that you now observed to be light-hearted and displaying their child-like tendencies only when they are around each other. You shook your head and just thought, men.

Sam decided he didn’t have time for any more banter and made his way to the plane with Bucky insisting on going with him. Well, guess that’s where you’re heading then.

-------------------------//---------------------------

Somehow, Bucky managed to get his hands on a tactical jacket and suited up. You looked down to your tailored suit, one that you often wore as a S.H.I.E.L.D agent. It was not the most mission friendly, but it will do.

It had been an hour since you have boarded the plane but Bucky and Sam had not spoken since. You found yourself to be the buffer between the two and couldn’t help but feel a little awkward.

“Hey Y/N.” Your head tilted up from looking at the ground when you heard Sam calling for you.

“Yeah?”

“Sorry, I haven’t been in touch but what’ve you been up to lately?”

“Oh, not much. I recently reached out to Wanda, wanted to see how she was doing.” Sam nodded in understanding before continuing to ask if you had found any work. You weren’t sure where to start because you didn’t know how to.

Given your condition as an enhanced and recalling your last meeting with someone from the state office, you couldn’t find do much without getting on their radar. You were lucky you still had some money left to tide you over but you honestly do not know how you were ever going to get a proper job.

“I’ve been volunteering with a social service centre.” You answered after taking some time. When Sam gave you a surprising look to your answer, you started cracking your knuckles- a habit you had when you got nervous. Sensing your nerves, Sam decided to withhold himself from prying further.

“That’s nice to hear. An unexpected career change but it’s a good job.” He tried to reassure you.

“Yeah, I’m still not sure what I want. You know after everything that has happened.” Sam did not say anything else but just nodded in agreement.

You suddenly felt a hand on yours and looked to see Bucky glancing at you with slight concern. You tried to muster up a smile to show that you were alright.

Looking down to the ground again, you missed the intense staring contest that started between the two men as Torres announced the one-minute mark before drop-off. When you heard the plane door being opened, the two men went forward to get their comms.

Bucky passed you yours before turning to ask Sam on what’s the plan. Sam kept silent and Bucky scoffed at the fact that Sam had none.

“No, you can’t call me that.’” Bucky retorted when Sam called him Buck.

Sam questioned why not and claimed that you and Steve could call him that.

“Steve knew me longer and I actually like Y/N so she can call me that. Steve also always had a plan.” You took a double-take at what Bucky just said and tried not to overthink. He only meant you were tolerable in his eyes compared to Sam.

Sam could not deal with Bucky’s attitude before walking off to the door and countering that he indeed had a plan. When Bucky asked once more about it, Sam just leapt off without a reply.

Rolling his eyes, Bucky asked Torres for the parachute but was told that there wasn’t any. Bucky stalked off towards the door and claimed he didn’t need one anyway. Torres gave him a second glance and asked if he was sure.

Bucky affirmed that he was fine and then proceeded to tear off the sleeve of his jacket. You had to control yourself from laughing out loud at his dramatics and he glanced back at you.

“Buck, you know I can help you down-” You tried to convince him before he jumped off first and you heard the yelling after.

Letting out a groan at your stubborn 106-year-old friend, you rested your hands on your waist as you looked out the door over the landscape.

“Mam?” Torres looked over at you in curiosity.

“I’m not that old, Lieutenant.” You grimaced at how he addressed you even if it was a sign of respect.

Huffing out a sigh, you thought here goes nothing.

Fisting your hands by your side, you took a deep breath and channel your energy towards your palms. Fanning your hands out, Torres was taken aback when energy flames emitted from your palms and you used it to propel yourself off the ground and out of the door.

It has been a while since you flew and you took a moment to steady yourself before trying to look for where Bucky landed.

You could hear Sam talking to Bucky on the comms about his less than graceful fall and couldn’t help but giggle before finding your way to the building with Bucky. You had to stifle your laughter when Bucky tried to swipe Redwing off as his irritation grew.

Once you met up with Sam, he went to note that the people you were after were in the building. Your friends being the ‘friends’ that they were started to clash once more about how to go about this mission.

Bucky went to use his expertise as an assassin to assess the situation and stealthily walked ahead first. Sam was amused at how he came out as a white panther after his time in Wakanda to which Bucky corrected as white wolf.

Sam gave you a confused look to which you shrugged your shoulders in response. It was a story for another time.

The two of you caught up to Bucky faster than he thought. When the two started bickering again about the next course of action and trying to one-up the other, you had enough and placed your hands over both parties mouth to shush them.

“Enough the both of you, I feel like a kindergarten teacher with two children engaging in childish conflict.” You hissed to show your annoyance at the both of them. Seeing you this upset got Sam and Bucky to take a step back and tone it down.

When you let go of your hands, you expected them to behave but they continued to stare at each other. Bucky wanted to quickly proceed while Sam wanted to wait it out. Their bickering caused a slight commotion and you were suddenly wary that you might have alerted the group of your presence.

All three of you stood still before observing that it was all still good. You heard someone instructing the group to get a move on and Sam used Redwing to check that there might be a hostage on board.

Once you heard the vehicles rolling out, all of you sprang into action. You and Sam took to the air while Bucky went full speed ahead on the grounds. Everything happened so fast all at once and before you knew it, Bucky opened the doors of the truck and spotted the hostage. He noted that medicines and vaccines were in the truck.

As you processed the information, you could hear him talking to the hostage before you heard the loud slam next.

You saw Bucky suddenly got shoved back and slammed into the front of the truck that was following behind. You noted a redhead woman who put on a mask and then the other two men who hauled Bucky up to the roof of the truck.

Seeing that both men whom you assumed were incredibly strong to hold Bucky down, you went for those guys first while Sam took care of the woman. You tried throwing a few punches at them but they barely flinched.

You turned your back to see Sam being thrown off to the next truck by the woman and another huge man with shoulder-length hair going for Sam. Who were these guys and how did they have such strength? It was almost like they were….

Your next thoughts were interrupted when you sensed a fist coming your way to which you dodged. You tried to hold your ground by avoiding the attacks. They keep coming relentlessly and you knew you couldn’t hold back. You had to use your powers now.

Channelling your powers to your fist, you sent a blast of energy to knock down the two men that held Bucky down. The woman turned to look at you in surprise at the sight of your abilities.

You wanted to go for the man that was about to attack Sam before you heard the sound of metal clashing. Your head tilted up to see a helicopter with someone peering down. He swooped down onto the truck and you immediately recognised who he was.

Why was he even here? You briefly thought before you turned your focus to the fight. John Walker proceeded to use the shield almost effortlessly to knock down members of the Flag Smashers before introducing himself. His partner followed after. They both claimed to help before everyone started to focus on their own fights.

You used your powers to knock people over and fend yourself. In the midst of all the actions, you noticed that Bucky got knocked down and was holding onto the bottom of the truck, avoiding to fall flat onto the road surface. You wanted to help him but got stopped by the man with shoulder-length hair.

You raised both hands surging with flaming energy and saw how he stood still for a moment. You believed that he was more hesitant knowing you were an enhanced individual.

“Be warned, this might leave a burn.” You were nice enough to give a heads up. Before he could take another step further, his companions took you by a chokehold. You grabbed onto the person’s arms and gave them a slight burn.

The person exclaimed in pain and let go. You saw that Bucky and Sam were nowhere in sight while John Walker’s partner was out. Another person came for you and you let out a burst of energy that blinded everyone in their surroundings with its sheer brightness.

You saw how everyone hunched over and the shoulder-length haired man started backing down and it led to him leaning over to almost fall off the truck.

On instinct, you went over to grab his hand. Even though he was the enemy, you didn’t want to take lives unnecessarily. You felt him grabbing onto your arm tightly and pulled him back up by having your right arm blasting energy to weigh you down on where you stood.

He managed to recover and you left him be. You looked over to see John Walker taking on the redheaded woman but to no avail as he got shoved off the truck and landed on the front of a car below.

Seeing that you were the only one left, you gulped as you realised you were outnumbered. Should you even take the risk? Before you can think of your next actions, someone came up from behind you again and you quickly turned to intercept.

What you lacked in strength, you made sure to utilise your powers. You managed to slam the person down in a chokehold which you learnt from Natasha and aimed a fist that was covered in energy flames.

You heard a loud ‘NO’ and before you realised you were picked up and dragged off to be thrown off the truck. Quickly gathering your energy to soften your blow, you barely floated off the ground as your energy acted as a cushion to lift you off the surface.

Letting yourself stand steady on the ground, you didn’t give John Walker and his partner a second look before you flew off to find your friends.

-------------------------//---------------------------

When you found Bucky and Sam, they were huddled together in a flower field. The two of them looked more irritated than ever. You gave both of them a hand and pulled them up. You gave Bucky a glance over and noticed he had a bruise forming near his eyes.

He shook it off like it was nothing and asked after you. You reassured him that you were alright, just a little worn out. You asked after Sam and was glad to know he did not sustain any major injuries.

The three of you decided to make your way back on foot. The road ahead looked far and Sam started to strike up a light-hearted conversation with Bucky. You quietly listened in as you were too tired to even bother participating.

You smirked at how even though Sam was trying to tick Bucky off, you knew he only had good intentions to check on Bucky’s state of mind.

Bucky ignored whatever Sam said and then noted that there was a need to find out where the group back there got their super serums from. Sam couldn’t fathom how eight super soldiers were on the loose after eighty years.

You chimed in that you thought that the super-soldiers were eliminated in Siberia years ago. As you three were figuring out, you heard a vehicle coming from behind you. You saw it was John Walker and he stopped slightly ahead to open the door for you three.

You were almost slightly tempted to save your aching legs if not for the fact you weren’t so keen on him.

The men were all in a discussion about the group and you could all confirm for a fact that they weren’t part of the Big Three. In fact, they had to be super soldiers. John Walker proposed to work together but Bucky wasn’t having any of it.

“Just because you carry the shield doesn’t mean you’re Captain America.” Bucky shot back harshly. John Walker with that thick skin of his brushed it off and countered that he was more than qualified.

You could not stop yourself from intervening this time.

“Being Captain America is more than about just being a good soldier! There’s a lot more where it comes from.” Sam and Bucky felt the emotions from your statement, knowing that it wasn’t just out of distaste for the new ‘Captain’ but of how you really felt about Steve’s legacy.

Hearing your words, John Walker let out a sigh before continuing to persuade everyone again. He claimed that it was still a long way to the airport and that you should just accept the ride. Asking the driver to stop the vehicle once more, you, Sam and Bucky gave each other another look before you all hopped on.

Sam went in first. Bucky was ahead of you but stopped short before holding your hand to help you up. You took the seat next to Sam and Bucky took his place beside you. Looking across John and his partner who you remembered was Lemar from earlier.

Everyone started discussing about the Flag Smashers and what their purpose was. You listened in until you heard something from John that made you livid. He remarked how the serum doesn’t exactly have a great track record and meant no offence as he glanced at Bucky.

“Offense is already taken! How dare you-” You burst out before being motioned to calm down by Sam. Bucky was moved that you stood up for him.

“Woah easy there.” John tried to look innocent before Sam interjected and continued on the topic of the Flag Smashers. You learnt that John and Lemar managed to track you three by hacking into Redwing. They were acting on behalf of the government to keep things stable while resources were being managed, claiming there were violent revolutionaries happening post-Blip.

John went on to propose that you, Sam and Bucky should team up with them but Bucky flat out refused in a second. Lemar then went on to quip that all of you weren’t really handling it well until they stepped in.

“Y/N.” You scrunched your face in response when John called you like a familiar friend.

“I have only seen you from your profile but I must say I am glad to finally meet you. You look even prettier in person.”

If looks could kill, John would be dead a hundred times over under Bucky’s death stare.

You wanted to blanch at John’s word but controlled your expression. You tried to return a polite smile as he continued on.

“Why didn’t you accept our offer to be recruited to our team?” You gave a bewildered look before realization dawned upon you. The government official from that time wanted you to join Walker?

“What is he talking about, Y/N?” Bucky perked up at the new information and you looked over nervously, unsure what to say.

“When we were first brought together, we wanted to recruit Y/N here to be part of the team. We see her as a great asset given her powers and abilities. It would be amazing if we have her on our side.” You looked over to see Bucky literally looking like he was going to combust.

Bucky really hated the word asset, knowing that was how he was addressed back in the days. The word had a connotation of objectification and he was mad that John actually used it to describe you. You were more than that.

“Yeah, you should join us. We could really use your help. You were literally the last one standing with the Flag Smashers back there!” Lemar egged on.

“When was this?” Bucky asked with a tinge of hurt in his voice. He couldn’t believe you didn’t tell him about it at all.

“It was several months ago Buck, I refused their offer straight out.” You answered him before looking straight at John and Lemar.

“I did not want to give them a chance to exploit me for my powers. I know your type. You claim to appreciate what I can offer but I would never be free of my own will.” Your words were sharp and laid with revulsion.

“They only seek me to control me, they are afraid of what happens if I am left unsupervised.” You added with finality. You spared no sugar-coating and everyone kept silent for a moment.

This was the price to be someone like you in this world. Even when you know you won’t do anything out of turn, the government bodies would never trust you.

John pretended to clear his throat before speaking. “Y/N. I can assure you that I will do my very best to make sure that does not happen if you join me. I will speak up for you.”

No, you won’t. You can’t. You wanted to shoot back.

Bucky placed his hand over yours and held onto it as his way to show his care. He then went to ask again who Lemar was and Sam chimed in that he needed to know more. When Lemar gave his alias, that tipped the iceberg for Bucky before he called for the vehicle to stop.

He then immediately stepped down and started stalking off. John tried to call after Bucky and talk sense into him but of course, Bucky didn’t care for it.

He then went on to try to tell you and Sam that he wasn’t trying to be Steve or replace him and that he just wanted to be the best Captain America he could be.

You scoffed out loud at his words as it only served to rile you up. His next sentence took you off the edge.

“It’ll be a whole lot easier if I have Cap’s wingman by my side.” Disgusting. Does he even know what he was saying? You look over to see Sam in disbelief and you felt angry for him.

“It’s always that last line,” Sam said before you and he proceeded to step down from the vehicle.

“Eat shit, John.” You spat at him before you turned your back. You couldn’t go before you showed your loathing for him. Sam clapped your back and shook his head to tell you that Walker wasn’t worth it.

-------------------------//---------------------------

It was tense on the way back, but it was now for an entirely different reason compared to the first time. Sam checked in on you and Bucky to which you reassured him that you were alright.

“Let’s take the shield, Sam,” Bucky spoke up for the first time since the flight back.

Sam countered that it was not something that could be done simply and reminded him of a past similar event. The shield was technically government property and there was no way we could take it back without starting something.

Sam recapped how Sharon, Steve and he became fugitives and how he never wanted to live that life again. You couldn’t say anything to that knowing you managed to get a free pass in Wakanda alongside Bucky.

You all had no information to start with regarding the super soldiers but Bucky claimed otherwise. There was someone that Sam and you should meet.

-------------------------//---------------------------

That's it for chapter 2! I figured it will get too long if I cover the whole of ep 2 so I stopped here! We continue off on the next chapter! 😆

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@tanyaherondale @spookycereal-s

[true-blue-megamind]

FAN THEORY THURSDAY: Is Hal Smarter Than We Think?

This goes out to that one person who, for some inexplicable reason, still hasn’t watched Megamind: SPOILER ALERT!

Okay, let’s be honest: none of us like Hal.  DreamWorks did fat too excellent job of creating a truly frightening and despicable antagonist for him to elicit sympathy from most viewers.  (For more about that, read the post What Makes Hal Such a Great Villain.)  However, being unpleasant doesn’t mean this character doesn’t have hidden depths.  Perhaps one of the most notable is that Hal is likely more intelligent than most people realize.

I know, I know, a lot of Megamind fans will feel inclined to argue this point, but hear me out.  To begin with, let me clarify that I’m not claiming Titan is in any way brilliant; I’m only saying that he isn’t as complete a dunce as he may seem.  While Hal certainly possesses an entire laundry list of character flaws—laziness, misogyny, emotional immaturity, and a sense of entitlement, to name a few—stupidity does not appear to be one of them.  In fact, there is a fan theory, supported by evidence gleaned from the film, that suggests Hal may be smarter than he seems.

The first reason for this supposition is simply Hal’s job.  There are some indications he was particularly good at it before his “career change” to destructive super-powered man-child.  

Firstly, Hal isn’t merely a camera tech; he’s probably one of the best the KMCP news studio has to offer.  Keep in mind that Roxanne Ritchi isn’t just any old reporter.  Her connections with Metro Man and Megamind have likely given her celebrity status, and the fact that she manages to find Megamind’s Secret Lair—something that, presumably, local authorities had been trying and failing to do for years—is evidence that she must be a competent investigative journalist.  Then there is the (rather creepily defaced) poster of her in the background at Hal’s apartment, indicating that she must be popular enough to warrant merchandise sales.  (How many news reporters can you say that about?)  

All of this leads to one logical conclusion: Roxanne is KMCP’s star reporter.  That means that if Hal is her cameraman, he must have been considered the best the station had to offer.  After all, they wouldn’t likely send their most-popular, (and thus biggest ratings-boosting,) journalist out with an incompetent camera tech. Clearly, Hal must be sufficiently intelligent to be particularly skilled at his profession.

Next, there is the mere fact that Hal has continued his employment despite having obviously pestered and harassed Roxanne for long enough that she has clearly accepted it as “normal.”  Of course, there are other social and psychological factors at play here—a lot of people, especially women, endure harassment as work because they think it’s “not a big enough deal” to involve HR, and fear being perceived as contentious and overly-sensitive—but even that plays into this specific part of the fan theory.  You see, there are two things happening: first, Hal is, apparently, considered valuable enough to keep on the payroll despite being a bit creepy, and second, he seems to know exactly how far he can take his badgering and remain under the proverbial radar.  (Think about it: although he’s clearly pestering his coworker, and we realize later that he’s secretly stalking her, he’s careful never to openly do anything too overtly alarming.) Both speak to a certain level of mental aptitude.

More convincing still are the moments when Hal reveals that, despite his socially-awkward flakiness, he does actually think sometimes. The most obvious is, of course, the fact that he quickly realizes Megamind is himself in disguise rather than Metro Man after he hears the way the blue man mispronounces Metro City.  This may not seem interesting at first glance, but remember that Megamind had, supposedly, already made an appearance—Minion in his own disguise—and that, while Hal had learned of the holowatch’s existence, there was, to his knowledge, only one, making two holographic disguises impossible.  Then, of course, there is the simple fact that Metro Man appearing to save the day would have fit too well with most people’s expectations to be questioned.  All of that means that Titan would have had to think quickly to recognize the trick and react.  This is especially true considering that Captain Creepy was in a state of panic, fleeing from the fight, when that realization struck.

Similarly, there is also the fact that Titan, unlike most people, fairly quickly understood that Megamind had leaped into an invisible car for cover. Again, we can safely assume that this vehicle was a secret, and that most people’s first thought would not have been that something so far outside both the norm and the known limits of science must exist. To be fair, as Metro Man is based on Superman, x-ray vision may be one of his powers, which means that Titan would have the same ability.  While this is briefly touched upon in The Button of Doom—or, more accurately, we learn that Megamind’s super-suit includes x-ray vision capabilities—this power is never mentioned in the film Megamind, leaving some fans room for debate.  

Either way, Titan still would have had to realize that his opponent possessed never-before-seen technology, and that’s assuming Megamind’s vehicle didn’t have shields to protect it from x-ray penetration as well.  (Given the blue man’s long antagonism with Metro Man and his stunning inventions, this seems likely, especially when one considers that Metro Man, apparently, never realized the invisible car existed. It wouldn’t have even been particularly difficult as certain metals block x-rays.)

Finally, there is one more oddity to consider.  Think about this: Hal was with Roxanne when she found Megamind’s Lair, meaning that Titan knew where it was.  The carrot-headed villain also hated Megamind with a fiery passion, enough that he actually tried to kill him.  So why not destroy the blue alien’s Lair while he was using his laser vision to lay waste to large swathes of the city?  Well, according to one fan theory, it’s because Titan was waiting for Megamind to return to his home, essentially setting a trap.  This may also explain why Minion’s role in the final battle was so important.  Megamind could have simply gone to his Lair, retrieved what he needed, and confronted Titan himself to begin with, but he likely knew Hal was waiting for him to do exactly that.  By sending Minion in to rescue Roxanne while he prepared the ruse of his Metro Man disguise, Megamind successfully distracted Titan as well as buying himself the necessary time.

So, while it’s true that Hal/Titan could not boast anything close to Megamind’s impressive intellect, he certainly appears to have been smarter than he appears at first glance.  In many ways, this made him an even more terrifying villain.  He wasn’t merely some overpowered ignoramus facing off with Metro City’s new hero, but rather an enemy capable of strategy and manipulation, and that made him all the more dangerous.  The idea renders Megamind’s defeat of Titan that much more interesting and impressive, and proves yet again just how much work went into subtle character development in the tragically underrated film.

[bloodfromthethorn]

Misunderstandings

Their partnership might have gotten off to a bad start, but Mac has a good feeling about Jack Dalton - right up until he messes it all up, that is.

Or, the time Jack learns about Mac's fear of heights and it's still not the most important realisation he has that day.

Also on AO3

..

Mac had never really been sure quite what he expected from Afghanistan and now, six months in, he still wasn’t particularly confident on exactly what it was he had found. It certainly hadn’t been easy, and he’d already managed to experience the most profound loss he’d felt since the death of his grandpa, but there was still something undeniably… compelling about it all. The way he could fall into an uncomfortable bed at the end of the day exhausted but with the bone-deep knowledge that the work he had done was important, had made a difference. That there were people walking around out there, living their lives, because of the things that he had done.

It wasn’t good, precisely, but it wasn’t all bad either.

Jack was a wrench in the works. They couldn’t have gotten off to a poorer start and for a hairy moment there, Mac had been convinced that the next two months of his life were really going to be hell on earth. Jack was loud-mouthed, crass, opinionated, and had some of the worst taste in both music and film known to man. He had little to no regard for anyone else’s opinion of him and he was more than ready to settle a fight with his fists if he thought the situation called for it.

He was also probably the best soldier Mac had ever met.

It might have taken them some time to get traction but after the first few rocky missions, they’d both managed to settle down just enough to actually get a good look at one another. What Mac had found was nothing like what he’d expected.

For one, Jack was very, very good at his job. A crack shot, backed up with a keenly tactical mind that went far beyond anything Mac had been taught at basic. He’d never asked to see Jack’s file – and given that he was almost certain the man had been an Alphabet at some point, he’d probably get denied even if he tried – but he had a feeling that the record would be long, expansive, and impressive. He knew far too much about soldiering to not have been doing it most of his life and he handled a vast range of weaponry with too much familiarity to have always been saddled with Overwatch duties.

No, somewhere in his past, Jack had been crafted into an immense force to be reckoned with. He might tell jokes, laugh loudly, and act the fool, but buried underneath it all was something dangerous just waiting to be unleashed. It should have been scary – and in a distant, sort-of-intrigued kind of way, it was – but mostly Mac was just impressed. Whatever else he might have done, Jack had decided to use his extensive training to serve the purpose of protecting EOD technicians in a place where there were enemies at every corner.

More than anything, Jack made him feel safe . Safe in a way he hadn’t truly felt since watching Peña die barely twenty feet from him. After so long in the Sandbox, constantly having to watch his back as his hands took apart contraptions designed to kill him, he’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be out from under that constant cloud of dread. Jack gave him that freedom and Mac couldn’t help but be hopelessly thankful for it.

Of course, increasing familiarity aside, it wasn’t perfect. Two men trapped in very close quarters in a high stress environment were occasionally going to butt heads no matter what, and Mac wasn’t naive enough to think they’d be an exception.

Jack had been waylaid by a messenger as soon as the pair of them arrived back on base, both already worn out from a long, overly hot day in the sun. In an act of mercy, he’d waved Mac off to go on ahead in an attempt to spare him whatever bureaucratic nonsense was likely about to come his way – an assumption that was almost immediately proved accurate when three minutes later Mac saw him stalking off in the direction of the command centre.

He didn’t think much of it; Jack was perpetually being pulled in by the brass for reasons he was never particularly keen to explain. When directly asked, he’d always brushed it off with some sarcastic comment about how people just couldn’t get enough of his charm, but the hardness in his eyes had stopped Mac from trying to press further. If anything, it only added to his growing surety that Jack was a far more important person than he wanted to appear. Nothing Mac was doing was of particular note to anyone beyond what command already learned through his reports, but if someone with extensive training in observation and tactics was given free rein to roam the area under the radar for the sole purpose of watching what was going on – like, say, an Explosive Ordnance Disposal Overwatch – then that opened up a whole new avenue of surveillance.

If he’d had to bet, Mac would have said that according to the letter of Jack’s job description, keeping him safe was a secondary consideration at best. Fortunate, then, that the man himself didn’t seem like the type of person to do anything halfway.

Today, though, something was different. On the way back to base, Jack had been relaxed and easy, content as always to fill in Mac’s silence with a running commentary of his own about what he was most looking forward to when he got back to Texas, but clearly whatever had happened in the command tent had thrown that off. When he finally stomped into the dorm over an hour later, his brow was shadowed and tense, and he didn’t even acknowledge Mac’s presence as he grabbed a clean set of fatigues and headed for the showers.

Sitting cross legged on his bunk with his gear spread out before him, Mac watched him go with troubled eyes. Jack, as anyone in their situation did, occasionally had off days when he was less talkative and clearly wanted to be left alone, but Mac had never seen him turn on a dime quite so quickly.

Truthfully, Mac hadn’t thought him the type. But, he reminded himself forcefully, he still barely knew the man and regardless, it almost certainly wasn’t any of his business. Far better to just keep going through his kit, cataloguing anything he needed to replace or repair, and let Jack work through whatever his problem was on his own; if he wanted to talk to Mac about it, he knew where to find him.

Despite his preoccupation, Mac did end up immersed in his task. Kit checks were dull but important, and he was fastidious enough to make sure he did the job right every single time. As an EOD tech, he was lucky – everyone else had to do mandatory checks before and after any excursions outside of the FOB, no matter how frequent they may be. Officially EOD specialists were supposed to do the same but in deference to their unpredictable schedule and unique loadouts, command typically waived the usual report requirements and let them do their own thing. He was still liable to be disciplined should he get spot checked and fail, but he had a lot more freedom than most people on the base.

He was about halfway through when Jack made his reappearance, freshly washed but looking no happier for it. He dropped his dirty laundry in a heap next to his trunk and flopped down onto his bunk without a word, reaching out a few moments later to fiddle with the ancient radio beside him. He’d told Mac some time ago that he’d inherited it from his dad and it was clear from the reverence with which he spoke about it that it was deeply important to him. Important enough, apparently, that no one else sharing their tent complained when he had it blasting out whatever station he could pick up, even with the god awful crackle that all but drowned out any actual words that might try to come through.

The crackle that was evidently getting worse, going off the horrendous screech the radio let out the moment it was turned on. Mac flinched sharply at the sudden noise, but didn’t protest. Jack, if anything, looked more pissed off at the continued buzzing no matter how he adjusted the dials, rasping and hissing in turns but never letting any clear audio through. After listening to Jack cursing under his breath for a minute or two, Mac figured it was about time he offered a hand.

“That’s not sounding too good,” he pointed out unnecessarily, keeping his voice light. “Want me to take a look?”

“It’s fine,” was the short response, bitten out and frustrated.

Mac rolled his eyes, not catching the warning edge of Jack’s tone. “Look, I know I promised I wouldn’t touch any of your stuff again, but if you let me have a look, I can probably fix it.”

It was an honest offer – the radio was hardly a complicated bit of kit and Mac was pretty sure he already knew exactly what the issue was. If he was right, he could have it fixed inside of five minutes and he wouldn’t even need to cannibalise parts from anything else to do it. Sure the rule might have been that Mac couldn’t touch Jack’s gear again, but they’d been forced to relax that within a week of working together and recently it had felt more like an in-joke than anything.

Apparently, Jack didn’t feel the same.

“Or you’d just break it down for parts like you do with everything else,” he shot back acidly and for the first time, Mac realised the heaviness in Jack’s gaze wasn’t simple fatigue or irritation; he looked pissed . “Yeah, thanks but no thanks. Keep away from my stuff.”

Mac blinked. The words themselves were surprising, but it was the tone that really cut at him; sarcastic and unfriendly and mean . Mocking in a way that Jack often pretended to be when he was trying to lighten the mood, only this time neither of them was laughing. He looked dead serious.

“I-uh,” Mac said haltingly, forcing himself to suddenly adjust his entire perspective on the conversation. He really had just been trying to help. “Right,” he said after an awkward pause. “Sorry.”

He ducked his head and turned back to the gear spread out across his bunk, wishing fiercely he hadn’t bothered to open his mouth in the first place. Cleaning and sorting his kit had suddenly become a much less enthralling task – and it hadn’t exactly been the highlight of his day to begin with – but he kept his eyes down and vehemently forbade his attention from wandering back to his partner.

Less than a minute later, Jack let out a sharp sigh that might have included a curse, and stomped out of the tent. Mac refused to look up.

They didn’t talk about it. The next morning the pair of them loaded into their transport for the day – for once they’d been gifted an MRAP that in any other situation Jack would probably be crowing about – in stony silence that persisted straight through until evening. The only time Jack deigned to talk to him was for mission-critical comms, almost all of which was delivered via radio in a blank monotone that made it abundantly clear how little he actually wanted to be speaking with him. Mac surprised himself by how fiercely he found he missed the usual inane commentary in his ear.

None of it made sense.

Evidently he’d messed up somehow, done something that crossed a line he hadn’t seen, although he had no idea what it could possibly have been. Okay, yes, the radio was obviously important to Jack on some personal level Mac wasn’t allowed access to and maybe he really didn’t want Mac touching it. That was completely fair – Mac wouldn’t have argued against him at all if the man had just said ‘no’ and left it there. Instead his response had been- Well. There were a lot of words Mac could use to describe it and he didn’t really want to confront any of them.

It wouldn’t change the result either way. Mac had a sneaking suspicion that whatever it was he had broken had been something irreparable, especially if Jack wasn’t even going to let him talk it out.

The closest they came to it that day was during their last call-out for the evening, a surprisingly tricky little device some asshole had planted outside of a shop known to serve US soldiers. A bit of petty revenge most likely, but packing enough explosives to level the building and take out anyone unlucky enough to be standing within a twenty metre radius.

“Everyone within half a block of you is gettin’ out of dodge,” Jack reported about half an hour after their arrival. “No sign of whoever put that thing there.”

Mac digested that, doing a quick mental calculation to decide if the evacuation zone was large enough and ultimately deciding that it was. “Good. You set up somewhere?”

“Behind you, thirty metres back.”

There was a tell-tale tickle on the back of his neck that Mac had come to associate with Jack’s scope passing over him. At the start of their partnership it had made him uncomfortable; now, it was distantly reassuring. A part of him wanted to turn around to make sure of Jack’s position himself, but he knew that was sure to piss Jack off even more – he always got jumpy about Mac indicating his position whenever they were out in the field.

“I’m going to be a while,” he said instead of cracking a joke. “This thing’s complicated.”

“Fast as you can.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

There was a telling silence where a sarcastic retort would normally sit, and Mac had to pause for a second to remind himself that the IED in front of him needed his attention far more than his own unimportant tribulations. It wasn’t until another ten minutes had passed that he spoke again. “Okay, I’ve figured out what I’ve got to do, but I’m going to need some of your gum.”

He said it mostly without thinking, too used to being able to just state what he needed and for Jack to freely offer up whatever it was, albeit with some bellyaching about having to give up his stuff. The words were already out of his mouth before he remembered how vehemently Jack had been against Mac being anywhere near his personal possessions just yesterday.

Fortunately, Jack seemed to understand the urgency of the situation, because he simply sighed before saying, “Copy that. On my way to you.”

He didn’t offer any further protest when he appeared at Mac’s back either, handing over the stick of gum without a word, then hunkering down in the alleyway to keep watch with his rifle balanced on his knee. It was strangely normal for all that had come before, except for the silence that still hung over them like a cloud.

Exhausted, and with bigger things to focus on, Mac just went about his job and didn’t say another word.

Jack’s mood continued over the next few days, with little sign of abating. It would have been much easier to bear if Mac had any clue what exactly had triggered it beyond the vague sense that this was all somehow his fault, but it wasn’t like he could just walk up to the man and ask. Any time he’d even thought about striking up conversation or doing anything to try to make peace, Jack’s responses had been sharp and to the point. He didn’t want to talk, that much was clear, and Mac was nothing if not a quick learner.

After the first day of strained silence, he figured it was better to just keep his mouth shut and stay out of Jack’s way.

One thing he hadn’t really counted on was how strange it would feel now to be wandering around base on his own. Since being paired up with Jack, he’d hardly had a minute to himself – the man took his Overwatch duties very seriously even in the relative safety of the FOB – but now he was apparently free to roam as he pleased. Almost as soon as they returned to base each day, Jack took himself off to places unknown with a determined sort of look on his face and usually didn’t reappear again until he fell into bed beside Mac’s at night. Mac very firmly did not think about what that said about Jack’s newly-discovered ambivalence towards his safety. Now, after only a month of that partnership, it felt almost unnatural to be alone again.

At the very least it meant that he was free to go and eat whenever he felt like it, rather than having to bend around Jack’s schedule. It was that line of reasoning that had him heading towards the mess that evening, late enough to miss the main crowd who piled in at 7 but too early to run into the late shift teams who had a second run at things once the night had drawn in. The approach meant that he could count on getting a good table with minimal interference, but it did mean sacrificing any chance of getting decently hot food. The ‘buffet’, such as it was, would be topped up with fresh food at about 10, but for now Mac was stuck with the dried out, cooling remains that no one else had wanted earlier.

He nodded at the woman KP duty, earning an apologetic smile at the state of the food in return, then glanced around the marquee to find somewhere to sit. 

A group of camp runners were huddled together in the corner, loudly engaging in a round of ‘I have it worse than you’, but otherwise the place was pretty deserted. With his pick of the tables, Mac settled himself down as far from the runners as he could get, hoping for a little bit of peace, but with no other nearby noise to drown them out, their voices washed over him all the same. They’d taken no notice of his presence beyond a quick check to make sure he wasn’t wearing officer’s stripes and in the absence of any authority, they seemed quite content to air their grievances to anyone close enough to listen.

For the most part he studiously ignored them – he had exactly zero interest in the minutiae of memos being passed around the base – and went about the business of choking down the cold food in front of him quickly enough to avoid its bland flavour. 

It wasn’t until he heard a familiar name that he automatically tuned back into the conversation across from him.

“ Please ,” One of the runners was scoffing with an imperial hand wave, “As if Carter is anything to worry about. I’m the one who had to tell Dalton his reassignment request was denied. Thought he was going to take my head off when I said I didn’t know why.”

Mac froze in place, the rest of the discussion fading completely into the background as all the pieces of the puzzle he had been building snapped into place with painful efficiency. So that was why Jack had been so grouchy over the last week, why he’d been so sharp whenever Mac had tried to make conversation: he’d put in a transfer request to get away from him and been shot down. Jack wanted to leave and couldn’t. Of course.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Mac knew how he could come across, had seen how people reacted to all the weird quirks of his personality, and Jack would hardly be the first person in the world to take one look at him and start heading for the hills – hell, he’d barely crack the top hundred. And yet, despite all of that, all of his previous experience warning him that anyone could leave at any time for any reason, Mac still found himself caught wholly off guard.

He'd thought they’d been getting better. Sure, it wasn’t like they were close and half the time they could still barely stand each other, but more and more that had felt like an act they were putting on to avoid revealing they didn’t actually mind each other all that much after all. Clearly he’d been wildly wrong in that assumption. What he’d thought was increasing camaraderie was- what? Nothing but his imagination? Or maybe an attempt on Jack’s part to show the brass that he really had given their partnership an honest shot before trying to bail?

Worse than the simple rejection was how deeply unnecessary it felt. As Mac had so often been reminded, Jack only had twenty-eight days left of his tour before he was headed home for good and none of this would even matter anymore. Was he truly so unhappy with Mac’s partnership that he was going to go through the arduous process of reassignment for the sake of four weeks? He’d just had to stick it out for one more month and he would have been free and clear, and yet somehow that was still too much.

It might have been insulting if it hadn’t been so fucking painful.

But this wasn’t the place for that. None of these were revelations he should be having in the mess hall, in full view of anyone who cared to look in his direction. He shook himself forcefully, surprised to realise that his entire body had gone rigid while his mind raced in all directions, and made himself climb to his feet. There was still some food left on his plate but if it had been unappetising before, now it was positively nausea-inducing. Mac knew he wasn’t getting any of it down his throat without it making a reappearance sooner or later, so he quietly chucked the scraps in the bin, returned his tray, and retreated to the barracks as quickly as he possibly could without drawing attention.

Two of the guys were there, both camped out on their own bunks as they occupied themselves with whatever they got up to in their downtime, but neither did more than nod in acknowledgement as he made his way past them to his own bed. Truthfully, he was glad of the pseudo-privacy. He wasn’t entirely sure what he would have done if Jack had been there – most likely he would have said something regrettable – but in his absence, Mac was free to mull over this new information without interference.

A large, loud part of him demanded that he go and find Dalton right now so they could hash this out, get it all out in the open so that at the very least Mac wouldn’t have to feel so fucking stupid for ever thinking they might have been friends. He’d seen that Jack cultivated a very deliberate amiability with the other guys sharing their bunk, even if they weren’t all on the best terms, and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought for even a second that his Overwatch might be turning the same trick on him. He’d been so goddamn stupid .

Another, much quieter and injured part of him kept insisting that he must have gotten something twisted, connected the wrong wires to the wrong ports, and really this was all some big misunderstanding because he couldn’t bear the alternative.

He ignored them both. As much as he might want not want it to be true, he knew what he’d heard and all the pieces fit together too perfectly for him to have somehow misconstrued their meaning. His own feelings did not affect the facts, and he’d do well to remember that. And fighting with Jack wasn’t going to solve anything, it was just going to upset what little balance they managed to actually maintain. Despite his best efforts, Dalton’s transfer request had been denied so he wasn’t going anywhere for another month – Mac could grin and bear the discomfort until then, even if it meant having to sit next to a man he’d thought a friend for every single one of those twenty-eight days.

The humiliation of it all was almost unbearable, and he knew just how easy it would be to let it become rage instead – but he wouldn’t do that. If Jack wanted to leave then he wouldn’t be the first, which meant the fault almost certainly lay with Mac and there was no point trying to punish the wrong man for it. Sure, Jack pretending they were getting along was kind of a low blow, but it was understandable; they were stuck together in extremely close quarters, might as well act like they were comfortable there, right?

Maybe Jack had had the right idea all along. Mac was the one who hadn’t gotten with the programme already.

Besides, he reminded himself firmly as he bit down on the emotions threatening to get away from him, he hadn’t signed up to be sent into an active warzone to defuse explosives to feel safe . It didn’t matter one jot that Jack had managed to give him that for a time – that wasn’t his job and Mac didn’t have any right to mourn its loss. He needed to grow the fuck up and stop looking to others to protect him – he was a soldier in the US army and it was high fucking time he started acting like it.

With a tight sigh, Mac forced his stressed body to relax and flattened himself against his bunk, glaring a hole in the canvas above him.

Just twenty-eight days, and he could be done with this mess. Four weeks. He could do that.

Despite the bedlam going on inside his head, the heat and the shade must have got the best of him because he was jolted out of a doze an hour or so later by Jack Dalton himself smacking at his foot. He twitched the limb out of range with a muffled grunt of disapproval before his brain caught up with him and he remembered everything that had transpired before he fell asleep. The faux-irritated expression he’d pulled on crumbled instantly into blankness.

Jack blinked down at him, a bemused smirk on his face. Cuttingly, it was the friendliest he had looked in days. “What happened to you?”

Mac frowned, tried to do a quick mental assessment of what he probably looked like. “What?”

“You look like someone kicked your puppy. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Did you wake me up for a reason?”

His Overwatch’s smirk faded somewhat, his eyes taking on that calculating look he normally got a few seconds before he said something much smarter and more observant than Mac would ever have credited him with when they first met. It was almost a relief – focused was a much easier expression to react to than a smile. “Seriously. What’s happened?”

“ Nothing ,” Mac stressed, trying and failing to keep a thread of annoyance out of his tone. “Do you need me for something or can I go back to sleep?”

It wasn’t the right answer, evidently. Jack’s face darkened and he thinned his lips against what was very visibly going to be an annoyed outburst, but in the end all he said was, “On your feet. We’re heading out.”

That was- unusual. He cast a quick glance at the clock. “Now? It’s going to be dark in a few hours.”

“Yeah well, tell that to the T-men. C’mon, get up. I wanna roll out in five.” With that he retreated to his own bunk to retrieve his equipment and resolutely ignored Mac.

Still confused and really wishing that he could just roll over and go back to sleep if only to avoid what was obviously going to be another uncomfortable Humvee ride, Mac obligingly scrambled to his feet and started pulling out his own gear. For all the little bits and pieces of equipment they had to keep track of, both of them kept their packs ready to go at a moment’s notice, so it was really only a matter of slipping on his jacket and vest, then stopping by the mess to refill his water bottle and grab a few energy bars before Mac found himself sliding into the passenger seat of the Humvee. Apparently more prepared than he had been, Jack was already waiting for him.

“Got a bit of a situation a few klicks out,” He announced once Mac was settled. “Looks like someone’s trying to sabotage our communications – a scout team thinks they’ve found an IED on one of our radio towers. Shouldn’t be anything too complicated for you, but there’s a lot of visibility and no cover so we need to get this done ASAP, understand? The scouts are patrolling the area and I’ll have your back, but someone might try to get lucky with a sniper, so keep your head down .”

There was a lot there to work through – most importantly just what Jack meant by on the radio tower – but he didn’t bother voicing any of those questions. He’d see the situation soon enough and his priority needed to be elsewhere. “Did the scout team say what type of device we’re dealing with?”

“Negative. Couldn’t get a good look without approaching and they figured that probably wasn’t a good idea.”

They had likely been correct in that assumption, but it didn’t make Mac’s job any easier. Approaching an unidentified device was nothing new to him, but it wasn’t something that gelled well with the speed at which Jack was evidently hoping this was going to go. If he rushed anything for fear of being shot, he ran a much higher risk of blowing the pair of them up and doing the terrorists’ job for them.

As promised, it wasn’t a long trip and within ten minutes they came to a stop in the gathering gloom, about a hundred metres away from the tower in question. The 150-metre-tall tower. God, this was not going to go well.

“When you said the device was on the tower,” He started slowly, his eyes darting around the ground supports he could see and coming up blank, “You actually meant on , huh?”

Jack snickered, either not noticing or not caring about the thread of uncertainty Mac could feel in his voice. “Hope you’re ready for some climbing.” He paused, then relented slightly by adding, “We don’t have to go the whole way. Report said it was about half way up. There’s a platform for maintenance work.”

If he had noticed the apprehension, evidently he was assuming that Mac just didn’t feel like climbing up there with all his gear dragging him down. Technically he wasn’t wrong about that – he’d just missed the why. Mac wilfully held in a shudder.

“Now, normally I’d say you should wait down here while I go up and see what I can see, but given how open this is, neither of us can risk being up there that long,” Jack said, catching him with one of his no nonsense looks. Dalton might act the fool, but he was still a highly trained army sergeant and despite everything, when he gave orders, Mac would listen. “So we’re going to go up together, okay? You’re going to keep your head down and you’re going to get that device handled as quickly as you can. We’ve not got much daylight left to work with and torches are going to be a dead giveaway of our position, so unless you desperately need more light, you keep it off. Understand?”

“Got it.”

This would really be the time to tell Jack that the very thought of going up that tower was enough to make Mac feel physically nauseous – the man was his Overwatch, he needed to know when Mac couldn’t do his job – but he bit his tongue. There was a bomb somewhere up there and he was the only person in a ten klick radius who had any chance of defusing it. His personal discomfort was nothing against the lives that could be lost should their communications chain fail.

With that in mind, he slipped out of the Humvee and shadowed Jack as he strode towards the tower, not letting himself pause to think before putting his foot on the first rung of the ladder and hoisting himself up.

Here goes nothing .

Something was off with Mac. Jack couldn’t quite put his finger on it, exactly, but he was good at reading people and he’d been watching every single move his bomb nerd made for a solid month now so he had a pretty good idea when something wasn’t right. Right now, hunched over a bomb 250 feet in the air, something was very definitely not okay .

The kid had been quiet for days, wrapped up in his own head about something or other judging by the deeply thoughtful face he’d been wearing, but it had meshed well enough with Jack’s own pisspoor mood that he hadn’t bothered to question it. Mac hadn’t seemed anything more than a little subdued, something any soldier downwind was bound to encounter now and again. Their work was hard and the constant threat of danger could weigh anyone down given enough time. Now though? Now it seemed like more.

Admittedly, the whole bomb-250-feet-in-the-air situation might have been a contributing factor, but Mac had faced down hundreds of IEDs in their time together and he’d never once flinched. Whether he was the bravest man Jack had ever met or he just genuinely had no regard for his own wellbeing was something Jack was still trying to figure out, but the point was, he shouldn’t be acting like this. The situation was far from perfect and every second they spent on that tower had Jack’s anxiety levels ratcheting up, but Mac had always kept a level head.

“How’s it coming over there?”

Mac let out a low grumble of sound, his usual stand-in for when he had too many things going on in his head to worry about actual words.

“That well, huh? Well, in case you hadn’t noticed, we’re running out of daylight so if you wanna-”

“Rushing me isn’t helping,” Mac interrupted before Jack had a chance to finish, carefully pulling a now-disconnected wire from the bundle he had been examining.

“Ain’t trying to rush you, just letting you know-”

“Yeah, well, it’s not helping.”

Jack had worked with plenty of EOD techs who would have given him that response and it would have been the most normal thing in the world. With Mac, it was a glaring red flag. Well, that, as well as the fact that Mac hadn’t even bothered to correct Jack’s repeated assertions that they were perched on a radio mast, when he knew good and well it was actually a telecommunications tower. Momentarily lifting his head away from his rifle scope, trusting that the scouts could hold the fort for the next minute or two, Jack turned to stare at his partner. “What’s going on man?”

“I’m concentrating .”

“I’ve seen you concentrating plenty. That’s not what this is. C’mon, you’ve been weird since this afternoon – is this about the other day? ‘Cause I didn’t mean to snap at you and I’m sorry about that, but right now I need to know that you’re good to do this job.”

Mac huffed a sharp breath out of his nose in frustration, his eyes not leaving the place where he was carefully prying apart the panels of the device’s container. It wasn’t until then that Jack finally noticed the way the kid’s shoulders were up around his ears, his whole body rigid where he was hunched over. His hands didn’t shake in the slightest – a necessity in his line of work – but the rest of him was shuddering with fine tremors.

“Mac-” Jack started, alarms blaring to life in his head. He’d known something was wrong , but clearly he had deeply misjudged just how wrong until he’d actually taken the time to look. Goddamn, he was supposed to the kid’s fucking Overwatch! “I need you to talk to me man.”

There was no response so Jack put his eye back to his scope for another quick scan of the surrounding landscape – still as barren and unoccupied as before – before sliding the rifle strap back over his shoulder and turning fully to face his partner. He was far too well versed in working with EOD to ever touch Mac when he had his hands on an IED, but he only had to wait a few seconds before Mac backed up to fiddle with the tools on his knife and he was free to snatch him by the shoulder and forcibly turn him around.

“Jack, what-”

“Something’s going on with you and we are in way too dangerous a position right now for me to not know what it is so start fucking talking to me Mac.” The shoulder under his hand was rock solid with stress and the kid’s face looked bone pale in the fading light. What really grabbed his attention though was the way Mac had shot out his free hand to snatch blindly at the handrail beside him, anchoring himself where Jack had pulled him off balance. Coupling that with the sudden dart of Mac’s eyes to the yawning chasm of the drop beside them, it wasn’t exactly complicated math. “You’re afraid of heights,” he murmured with sudden realisation, his grip on Mac faltering in the face of his own surprise.

Mac’s expression twisted with some combination of resignation and guilt. “I’m doing fine. Just let me get this thing defused and we can all go home, yeah?”

“You’re afraid of heights and you didn’t think this was important information for me to know before now?” If he hadn’t still been sitting half an inch from an active explosive device, Jack would have shaken him.

“ Jack ,” Mac said, apparently also running to the end of his patience, “I’m fine. I’ve almost got this done and I really, really want to get down from here, so can you please just let me do my job while you worry about yours?”

“Looking out for you is my job, dumbass,” Jack snapped back, but he did at least let go of him and return to his post. As much as he might hate everything about this, the fact was that Mac was already here and there was an IED in desperate need of attention right in front of him. Getting that fixed and getting Mac back on the ground pronto had just become priority uno. “Work fast.”

With the dusk drawing in, it made sense to switch out his scope for the thermal one he’d thoughtfully decided to bring with him, though it did mean he’d have to zero the thing before it would be of much use to him. Then again, any shots ran the risk of drawing attention and from so high up, the sound could travel for miles without hitting anything. He held up the loose thermal scope to his eye while he mulled over the problem, making note of the scouts’ positions and checking any obvious spots for potential shooters. Still nothing.

“I’m not rushing you,” he said lowly, “But do you know what kind of timeframe we’re looking at here?”

Mac hummed absently. “Couple more minutes I think. Starting to need light though.”

Which really only meant they needed to get this over with as soon as possible, for Mac’s sake if nothing else. Jack slid the thermal scope back into its slot on his vest and tugged free the square of tarp attached to his pack. Its official use was to give him something to lie on should he need it when settling into a sniper nest, but right now it was of far more use to both of them as a light break.

“This thing isn’t going to go off if I tuck this around you both, is it?” He asked, holding the tarp where Mac could see it.

Even scared out of his mind and all but shaking with it, Mac caught onto the idea in a heartbeat. “No, we’re good. Just make sure you don’t jostle it.”

Jack did as he was bid, carefully constructing a makeshift tent around Mac and the device so he could use a torch without broadcasting his exact location to anyone in a five-mile radius. It wasn’t perfect, certainly, and from the way Mac’s breathing hitched ever so slightly the confinement was doing nothing for his nerves, but it would have to do for now. That taken care of and trusting that Mac could get on with things without further assistance, Jack returned to his rifle and performed another sweeping check of the area.

Still deserted. A quick check-in with the scouts reaffirmed his conclusion.

It was strange that someone had felt the need to climb up here to plant an IED and then hadn’t even bothered to hang around to see the fruit of their labours, but it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility. It would hardly be the first time a would-be bomber had seen the US army rolling in and got the hell out of dodge. Regardless, Jack couldn’t help but count the seconds until he was free to get his infuriating EOD technician back into actual, honest-to-god cover. 

“How’s that vertigo treating you?” He asked, more to distract his own mind from the sudden, crippling mental image of Mac being taken out by a sniper bullet Jack had no chance of stopping than out of any genuine curiosity. Mac wasn’t going to be happy until he had his feet back on terra firma, that much was clear. 

“If you’re trying to help, stop. It’s not working,” was the irate reply. 

Despite the gravity of their situation – literally – Jack snickered. “You’re mean as a snake when you’re uncomfortable, aren’t you?”

Mac didn’t bother responding to the dig at all. It could be down to his discomfort at their current predicament, but Jack’s instincts were warning him that there was something more going on here and he’d long since learned to trust his gut when it was trying to tell him something. Another anxious look over his shoulder revealed nothing more than that his tarp tent was mostly doing its job of stopping light spilling out into the growing darkness.

His normal go-to technique for prompting Mac to open up was teasing, but evidently that wasn’t going to get him anywhere this time. Certainly not when they were still so high in the air. Perhaps this was a conversation better saved for when the device was defused and they were back safe in the Humvee on the way back to base; at the very least, Mac couldn’t escape him that way.

Right on cue, the faint glow of Mac’s torch snapped off and his blonde head poked up out of his mini tent. “We’re good.”

“Defused?”

“Yeah. Explosives are still a risk though – we can’t leave them up here.”

Jack eyed the bulky shape still hiding beneath the tarp. “Getting that thing down isn’t going to be easy, kid.”

Mac might have scowled at that, but in the dwindling light it was hard to be sure. “I know that, but no clean-up crew is going to be getting out here until tomorrow morning and a well-placed incendiary round could still set this thing off. I can’t leave it.”

“Okay, okay, I getcha,” Jack soothed. “How’re we doing this then?”

 “I can take it apart. Split the weight and the bulk between us. Nothing’s motion or impact sensitive any more so we don’t need to be that careful.”

Jack obligingly slipped off his pack and pushed it in Mac’s direction, trusting him to have a better idea of how they could get everything down safely and instead using the time to dismantle the makeshift rest he’d constructed. Attuned to each other as they were, it was the work of mere moments.

In the interests of getting Mac out of the line of fire – and back on the ground – as fast as possible, Jack ushered him down the ladder ahead of him while he radioed the scouts to fill them in. They returned a chorus of relieved gratitude and promised to maintain their position until Mac and Jack were well on their way out of there, making sure that whoever had set the device in the first place didn’t come back to try again. Already feeling exhausted and knowing he had a debrief waiting for him back on base, aside from whatever the hell was going on with his bomb tech, Jack wrestled down a sigh, and started making his way down the ladder.

He was pleasantly surprised to find Mac waiting for him at the bottom. Jack had long ago implemented a rule that Mac was to stick to his side like glue whenever they were moving in potentially hostile territory, but with whatever was going on with the kid, he hadn’t entirely expected it to hold. That it had was encouraging.

“Alright, let’s- get out of here,” Jack announced on reaching the ground, only just managing to cut himself off from saying ‘blow this joint’ . Mac might normally appreciate the gallows humour, but now was almost certainly not the time.

As if to demonstrate that point, Mac just nodded silently and fell into step just behind his Overwatch without a word.

One of the scouts had been keeping watch over their ride to make sure no one left them any nasty surprises while they were otherwise occupied, though he melted into the shadows of the night as soon as they reappeared. Comforted in the knowledge that he didn’t have to waste any more of his evening waiting for Mac to do a trap check, Jack gratefully folded himself back behind the driving seat and heaved a great sigh of relief. Mac twitched at the sound, but said nothing.

In deference to their shared fatigue, Jack let the silence reign for a solid minute before he broached the subject. “So,” he started slowly, “I get the feeling you and I need to talk.”

Mac’s eyes flicked to him too quickly to be casual, but still he stayed silent. Well, if that was the game he wanted to play, he was damn well going to have to listen, wasn’t he?

“Let’s start by saying that you not telling me about the heights thing was reckless as all hell man, and I mean really, really stupid.” He did what he could to keep the anger out of his voice, but did nothing to soften the seriousness of his tone. For their partnership to work then they needed to be able to trust each other with their flaws and weaknesses; without that, they wouldn’t stand a chance. “You gotta tell me when there’s something going on that’s going to affect your ability to do your thing, no matter what it is. It doesn’t matter if you think it’s something small or unimportant, you have to fill me in. I’m not going to judge you for it if that’s what you’re worried about, but the only way I can do my job is if you’re honest with me. You get what I’m saying to you?”

The blonde was back to his usual sullen trick of staring straight out of the windshield, seemingly seeing nothing, but he did at least incline his head. Even when they’d first been starting out, he hadn’t been this difficult.

“Right. Well. If that’s out of the way, you planning on telling me what’s going on in that head of yours? Something’s been bothering you since this afternoon and clearly it’s important. Fill me in?”

Mac’s forcefully blank expression momentarily fractured into a frown before he got it back under control. “I’m fine Jack. Just tired. I wasn’t expecting to get called out again tonight.”

That was a reasonable excuse, except for the fact he was clearly lying. “Yeah, I’m not buying that. Didn’t I just get done telling you that you needed to let me know when something was going on with you? Whatever this is, I’m pretty sure it qualifies.”

The frown reappeared and didn’t immediately melt away again. Annoyance wasn’t exactly what Jack was aiming for, but at least he was getting a response. “I think I just proved that I’m perfectly capable of doing my job.”

Jack couldn’t help the sharp sigh that escaped him as frustration started to seep into his bones. Clearly he’d miscalculated just how far from alright Mac really was in that moment. Maybe he should have been paying better attention over the last few days after all; well, lesson learned, at least. “I know you are man,” he tried as gently as he was able. “That’s not what I’m getting at. But something’s clearly thrown you off your game and I want to help if I can, okay? This job’s rough enough at the best of times; you don’t need t’be adding to the pile.”

If Mac recognised that for the olive branch it was, he made no sign of it. His only outward reaction was to return his eyes firmly to the windshield and clench his hands together to keep himself from fiddling with a piece of wire he’d been worrying at since they started driving. There was a long, strained pause; Jack desperately wanted to press the matter, but he knew Mac well enough to know that trying would only shut him down further. If Mac didn’t want to share whatever was going on in his head, then he wouldn’t – it was as simple as that.

Fortunately for Jack though, Mac had never seemed all that comfortable with expectant silences. “It’s nothing. I’m just working through something in my head. Don’t worry about it.”

“Mac… Is this about the other day? ‘Cause I meant what I said up there; I’m sorry I lost my temper. It wasn’t ‘cause of anything you did-”

“Look,” Mac said with sudden force, dispensing of his heretofore unconvincing meekness and turning to put Jack directly into his sightline. “I get it. It’s fine. I’m sorry your request got denied but it’s- We’re both stuck here, okay? We’ve got four weeks left and then you can get back home and put all of this behind you. We’ve just gotta get through one more month.”

For the first time in a very, very long time, Jack was stunned into utter silence. Mac apparently took his frozen expression for one of acceptance and turned back to stare straight ahead with a sharp nod, as though they’d come to some sort of arrangement. Jack, for his part, did his best not to crash the Humvee into a ditch as the bottom of his stomach dropped away.

Then he rethought quickly; to have this conversation he definitely needed to be able to keep his eyes on his partner and driving wasn’t exactly conducive to that. He hit the brakes and pulled over. Mac chirped in surprise.

“Okay, woah, hold on,” Jack started, turning bodily to face the man beside him. “Let’s slow it down real quick because I think I’ve missed something here. What are you talking about man?”

Mac blinked at him like he was the one acting weird. “What?”

“What what?”

The blonde scowled faintly, but it wasn’t entirely clear if it was actually directed at Jack. Regardless, he relented with a sigh. “I heard about your transfer request getting shot down. I’m guessing that’s why you were so pissed off? Well, I’m sorry about it. You shouldn’t be stuck with me if you don’t want to be.”

A lot of things suddenly made a lot of sense. Jack could have kicked himself – he would certainly have deserved it. “That’s not- You’ve not heard the whole truth there, man. Shit I’m sorry, it’s-” He bit down hard on his tongue and forced himself to get the words in order. Mac seemed willing to take his stumbling apology as an embarrassed confirmation of the story he’d so readily believed and to be honest, Jack could hardly blame him.

“It isn’t what it sounds like, I promise you,” he said carefully. “I didn’t tell you about the request and that was stupid, but I swear I wasn’t trying to get away from you.”

Mac snorted very softly, a grim smile playing at the corner of his mouth for a moment before he choked it down. In all their time together, Jack had never seen him look so bitter.

“I mean it. I don’t know what you heard, but the request was for both of us.” That got Mac’s head snapping up to stare at him in visible confusion. Jack’s chest clenched painfully with emotion he didn’t want to put a name to. “I heard a rumour we’re being shunted to Paktia to shore up the EOD team in Gardez. They’ve taken some heavy hits lately and want more hands on deck.”

Mac’s brow was furrowed, clearly not entirely trusting what he was hearing but at least willing to listen. Given the circumstances, Jack was surprised he was even allowing that much. “And you didn’t want to go?”

“Hell no,” Jack said instantly. “The Gardez boys might need help but I don’t want to put you within a hundred miles of that place. Ghazni ain’t been kind to you, but at least it hasn’t blown your fool head off; worst we’ve had to deal with here is individual cells trying to make things difficult. Paktia’s crawling with T-men.”

“All the more reason we should be there, helping.”

“Yeah, and what happens in a month when I ship out and you’re stuck there without me to watch your back, huh? I don’t know who your new Overwatch is gonna be and if I can’t be sure they’re gonna have your back, I want to at least try to keep you as safe as I can while I’m here. I put in the request to shift us to Wardak instead. It ain’t safe there either, but it would have given you a cleaner run at things.” He huffed, remembering the raging argument he’d had with the Captain when his request had been denied. Looking back, he’d been lucky to walk away without disciplinary action but he didn’t regret it for a second. “’Course, none of that matters now, since we’re heading to Gardez regardless.”

He forced himself to meet Mac’s eyes and tried not to flinch at the calculating look being shot back at him. Evidently his partner needed a moment to work out whether or not Jack was lying to him to try to save face and that-

-That hurt. It was fair, completely fair , given that Jack had given him exactly no heads up about what was happening before going behind his back to try to rearrange his life without permission, but it was still crushing to realise how badly he’d fucked up. Their start together had been rocky, to say the least, but Mac had a kind of honest goodness about him that made him impossible to dislike after about thirty minutes of knowing him. Put together with his dry humour, endless patience, and his literal, honest-to-god genius, and Jack hadn’t stood a chance of not befriending the kid. It was somewhat convenient that it was Jack’s job to watch Mac’s back, because he had the sense he’d want to spend every second he could trying to protect him.

Then again, that’s what the transfer request had been about and look how that had all turned out. God, he was such a fucking idiot.

“I should have told you all of this before I did anything, I know that. I’m really sorry for it, and I’m even more sorry that you ended up finding out the way you did. That was shitty and you didn’t deserve it for a second. But I promise you, none of it had anything to do with me not wanting to be here.”

There was a pause while Mac’s face did something complicated, then he asked quietly, “You weren’t trying to get away from me?”

“Not for a single second, kid. I would never.”

It was the honest truth and yet Jack knew instinctively that it wasn’t going to sink in in the way he wished it would. Mac hadn’t talked about home all that much in their time together, and what he had let slip had some gaping holes where family should have been; Jack was good enough at hearing what people weren’t saying to understand that at some point, someone had let the kid down badly. Now, apparently, he had to add his own name to that list. 

This was all such a goddamn mess .

Whether or not he bought Jack’s attempt at reassurance, Mac did at least appear to accept the truth of his account with a small, thoughtful nod. To be honest, even if he hadn’t believed it, this was something Jack could easily prove once they were back at base by digging out the request file, but it was comforting to know that he hadn’t screwed up so badly Mac couldn’t take him at his word.

“Okay,” Mac said softly, still frowning thoughtfully but no longer twisted up with bitterness and hurt. “Okay. I understand. Sorry for leaping to conclusions, I guess.”

“You ain’t got nothing to be sorry for,” Jack replied instantly. This was not the kid’s burden to bear. “I should have told you. You have every right to be pissed as hell about it, even knowing the truth.”

“That’s not- It’s fine,” Mac said haltingly, not meeting Jack’s eyes. “I appreciate you looking out for me.”

Jack watched him for a long minute as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, taking in all the tiny little signs of distress he should have noticed days ago. It was only now that he was really looking that he could see how fucking exhausted he looked. Like the whole world had come crashing down on him and he was still trying to soldier on under its weight like nothing was wrong.

“Man, I really fucked up, huh?” He murmured quietly. Mac’s gaze twitched to him and away. Louder, he said, “I let you down and I’m sorry for that. I promise, no more secrets.”

There was a pause, then Mac seemed to decide something because he turned to look at him properly again. “That mean you’re going to tell me what you’ve been up to the last couple of days?” At Jack’s blink of surprise, he actually managed the shadow of a smile, despite everything that had happened. “What? You think just because I’m not Overwatch I’m not paying attention?”

Jack couldn’t help but grin at the spark of life returning to his partner’s tone. Of course he’d noticed when Jack had made himself scarce around the FOB. “I watch you and you watch me, huh? Should have known.” He shook his head ruefully. “Well, in that case, if you really want to know, I’ve been hitting up my contacts.”

Mac’s eyebrows rose. Jack rubbed at the back of his neck self-consciously.

“Yeah, yeah, I know I’m just a grunt but I know some people okay? I figured that if I couldn’t get us reassigned from Gardez, at least I could rope in someone I trust to replace me when I’m gone. No one’s as good as me, o’course, but it would be something at least.”

It took Mac a moment to digest that, as if trying to work out what he should react to first. In the end, he settled on, “I don’t think you’re a grunt.”

That was news to him. “No?”

Mac’s smile was a careful thing, like he wasn’t sure this was something he was allowed. “You play a good game, but you know way too much about- well, everything to not have been through something more than bootcamp.”

Jack should have known that he couldn’t get anything by a kid as smart as Mac obviously was, but he was still struck with a quiet swell of pride at how easily his EOD had figured him out.

“Plus, you know you’re by far the highest ranked Overwatch sniper on base? There can’t be many sergeants electing to watch bomb nerds day in and day out.”

There was an obvious question in there, but Mac was still too unsure of the situation to ask him straight up who he’d managed to piss off to get lumped with babysitting duty. And, honestly, that was a whole can of worms that Jack really didn’t want to dig into right now – or ever, really. Instead, he deflected. “Oh? That almost sounded like a compliment. You been checking out my record?”

“No. But if I did, I’d be surprised if most of it wasn’t redacted. Am I wrong?”

He definitely wasn’t. Jack’s smile was sharp as he started up the Humvee again. “You sound like you have some idea already.”

It was a clear invitation and, with only a slight hesitation, Mac took it. “You’re observant in a way that has to be taught. You seem too well travelled for it to not have been international, so I’m guessing CIA. Then there’s the tactical stuff – command wouldn’t ask for your opinion unless you’d been involved in something important. Putting that with that team of yours you sometimes mention without meaning to, I’m guessing you were special forces of some description. That’d explain the rank too.” He hummed thoughtfully. “Still doesn’t explain why you’re stuck watching me though.”

Jack whistled in surprise. Evidently Mac had been paying much more attention than he’d given him credit for. “I’m not stuck doing anything,” he protested lightly. “I like working Overwatch; it’s more relaxing than most gigs.”

Mac shot him a wry smile. “So I’m right then?”

He chuckled easily, letting the strain of their earlier conversation start to bleed out of his shoulders as they settled back into their usual patter. He hadn’t realised until right then just how much he’d missed it and from the way Mac was leaning back in his seat, he was thinking much the same. “About pretty much everything,” he confirmed. “You’re far too smart for your own good, you know that right?”

There was a pause. “You aren’t going to tell me what branch of the special forces you were in, are you?”

“You’re a smart kid,” he said with a broad smile. “You’ll work it out.”

 ..

The scene I didn't write is in a few weeks, after Mac's done some thinking and some very careful asking around and he sidles up to Jack one afternoon and very quietly says 'Delta'. Jack smiles, says 'Hooah', and neither of them mention it again.

[superhusbands4ever]

The Chain - Chapter 2/15

Now to check in with The Bad Batch.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Full Work | AO3 Link

Fandom: The Bad Batch (Star Wars)

Characters: Crosshair, Hunter, Howzer, Rex, Wrecker, Tech, Echo, Omega, Various Clones

Relationships: Crosshair & Howzer, Crosshair & Rex, Crosshair & The Bad Batch, Crosshair & Omega, Hunter & Rex, Hunter & Omega

Additional Tags: Crosshair Redemption, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Found Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Violence, Eventual Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: One year after the events of The Bad Batch, Crosshair struggles to reconcile his choice with the harsh truth of the world around him. He finds enlightenment in the most unlikely of places and realizes he may have made the wrong decision. But is it too late to do something about it?

Two years after the events of The Bad Batch, Rex reluctantly agrees to allow Hunter and his squad to help him rescue a man who's been captured by the Empire, an Imperial double agent who's cover has been blown. What Hunter thought to be a simple extraction ends up having far greater consequences for their squad than he could have ever anticipated.

At any moment the decision you make can change the course of your life forever.

- Tony Robbins

“How much longer until we’re there?”

Hunter turned from the navicomputer to look at the young girl beside him.

“We should be dropping out of hyperspace in a few minutes, so not much longer,” he said, fiddling with buttons on the computer. “You should go ahead and get your stuff ready for when we land.”

“Okay,” she smiled, bouncing on the balls of her feet excitedly. “I can’t wait to see Rex. I want to show him how much better I’ve gotten with my bow.”

Hunter smiled. “I’m sure he’s excited to see you, too. It’s been awhile.”

She nodded, skipping away to her room to gather her things.

She’d grown so much since the day the Batch met her on Kamino two and a half years ago. Sometimes Hunter wondered if maybe Omega did actually have advanced aging with how quickly she’d shot up in so short a time.

Before where the top of her head had only come up to his chest, now she was tall enough to lean her head on his shoulder when standing together (though the others teased that had more to do with his own height than Omega’s.) Her hair was longer too, down to her shoulders in a frizzy mess of blonde curls. Her face had lost some of the baby fat she’d had nearly three years ago, and she was slowly but surely looking less like the awkward child they’d saved from the Empire, and more like the young teen that she was becoming.

She’d settled into her place in their squad much more comfortably now, too. Going on supply runs and various jobs for Cid would be impossible without her — she factored into all of their plans, worked fearlessly and flawlessly with the others, and had become so proficient with her bow it made Hunter’s chest ache when he watched her.

Her confident shooting and various games on missions with Wrecker reminded him so much of their missing family member it hurt. They hadn’t seen nor heard from Crosshair at all in the two years since they’d left him on Kamino. Since he left us, he tried to remind himself. He made his choice.

Their squad worked their hardest to stay under the Empire’s radar since Tipoca City, picking and choosing jobs that weren’t too risky, that didn’t grant too much exposure. Rex was right that day on Ord Mantell — being dead in the eyes of the Empire had its advantages. Especially when that meant the leftover bounties from the Kaminoans on Omega disappeared. From what Tech could glean from Imperial channels, as far as the Empire was concerned, the sole survivor of the destruction of Tipoca City was Commander CT-9904. The longer it stayed that way the better.

They couldn’t figure out why Crosshair would protect them, would lie and tell the Empire that they had perished in the bombardment. They thought maybe it was only a matter of time before they were caught out, before Crosshair’s anger at them got the better of him and he let it slip that they were still out there somewhere in the galaxy. But as a month turned into six, six months turned to a year, and a year turned to two with no Imperial bounties on their heads, they began to accept that maybe this was Crosshair’s last gift to them. A chance to survive the Empire, at least by him not giving them away.

Hunter would be lying if he said that knowledge hadn’t given him hope. That maybe his little brother, who’d slept in his bunk during bad storms as a cadet and gave him Lula to hold when the sensory overload got too bad, was still in there somewhere. That the cold, angry, and jaded man they’d seen on Kamino wasn’t all that was left of their kih’vod.

Nowadays he wasn’t so sure. As far as they knew, Crosshair was still with the Empire. And with each day as the Empire’s list of crimes and atrocities grew, Hunter’s hope for his little brother realizing his mistake and coming home to them dwindled. Maybe Tech was right. Crosshair was severe and unyielding and nothing could change that. Crosshair had made his choice.

This… is who I am.

Maybe this was who Crosshair had been all along, much as it pained him to consider.

The navicomputer beeped and pulled him from his ruminations just as the ship shuttered, dropping out of hyperspace in the Yavin system.

He stood and walked toward the cockpit, watching as the forest moon in front of them grew larger as they grew closer.

“Entering atmo shortly,” Tech announced, pressing buttons on the dash. “We should be landing at the base momentarily.”

“It’ll be good to see Rex again,” Echo said, stretching his arms above his head. “I wonder if he’s found any more clones since we were here last.”

“He seemed optimistic last time we talked,” Hunter agreed. “There were more clones than I expected there already a few months ago.”

“Rex is a proficient and effective leader,” Tech added as he brought the ship down through the clouds, “it is not surprising that he would have decent success on his mission.”

“I just wish we could help him more than doing the occasional supply drop,” Echo said. “It feels wrong to not be helping with the vode. To not be joining the fight.”

“Keeping off of the Empire's radar is more important right now,” Hunter reminded his brother for what felt like the hundredth time, “which we can’t do if we’re running rebel missions to help clones defect from the Empire.”

“I know, I know,” Echo grumbled, crossing his arms petulantly. He sighed. “I just…”

Hunter laid his hand on Echo’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“I know.”

“Beginning landing sequence now,” Tech called as he flipped the landing gear.

As the ship touched down on the landing pad hidden away from the base in the trees, a loud crash came from the back racks, followed by twin groans.

Hunter squinted back at the pair. “What was that?”

“Nothing!” Omega and Wrecker both shouted back.

Omega stepped out of the hold, bow strapped to her back, fiddling with the strap of her pauldron. She saw Hunter looking at her and smiled brightly and innocently at him, moving to stand in front of Wrecker as he rushed to clean up the knocked over crates. Hunter rolled his eyes.

Soon after the five of them were offloaded and walking through the trees toward the base. It didn’t take long to reach - as they drew closer Hunter felt worry stirring in his chest at the sounds of raised voices, scraping crates, and the general sounds of chaos that, in his experience, indicated something bad was happening.

He sped up a bit, the others following behind him, and he heard them all make their own noises of concern as they drew close enough to the base for the others to hear.

A couple of Regs standing at the entrance of the hangar bay moved forward as if to stop them, but waved them through once Hunter pulled off his helmet.

“Captain’s inside,” he said, nodding to the chaotic scene behind him.

They all walked inside slowly, Omega jumping out of the way of a frantic looking nat-born woman, the upper half of her jumpsuit tied around her waist, waving a datapad threateningly and shouting at someone on top of the freighter in the middle of the room.

“What’s going on here?” Wrecker grumbled as they watched clone and nat-born alike clamber around, gathering supplies and loading them into the freighter.

Hunter’s brow quirked as he watched two men load a crate of explosives while another loaded a crate of ammunition onto the ship.

“It would appear they are prepping for an urgent mission,” Tech said, adjusting his giggles as they watched the chaos.

“We just commed Rex an hour ago and he said everything was fine,” Echo looked toward the group, concerned.

“Hello boys!”

They all turned at the sound of a familiar voice and watched Gregor walk toward them, fully armored, with a wave and a grin on his face.

“And lady,” he added once he was next to them, smiling down at Omega and offering her a high five which she accepted.

“What’s the hustle for, Gregor?”

“Bit of an emergency came up in the last hour or so,” Gregor said with a sigh, face falling into a serious expression as he looked around. “One of Rex’s main operatives sent out a distress signal. Looks like he’s been busted and needs extraction.”

“I didn’t know Rex ran stealth ops,” Hunter said, surprised.

“Oh, he doesn’t. But this one is a bit of a special case,” Gregor explained. “He’s had a man playing double agent in the Empire for about a year now. He’s the guy who’s been helping us save all these clones.”

Glancing around, Hunter couldn’t help but be impressed. He knew Rex had made it his mission to fight the Empire and save all the regs he could, but Hunter hadn’t realized just how many Rex had managed to accumulate even since they were last on base four months ago. There had to be dozens of clones just in the hangar bay. Who knew how many were in the rest of the base.

“One man helped smuggle all these clones out?” Hunter asked, surprised.

“Them and more,” Gregor nodded. “Even helped some get their chips out first.”

“And now the Empire’s figured him out.”

“Aye, vod,” Gregor sighed. “Rex wants to try and extract him as soon as we can. He’s done so much for us… we don’t leave men behind.”

Hunter nodded, very carefully ignoring the way Echo shifted at his back.

“Trooper! Make sure you load a couple emergency field kits and a med scanner into the cargo. I don’t know what sort of condition he’ll be in when we get to him.”

The group turned to watch as Rex rounded the freighter, fully kitted up in his customary 501st blue armor, helmet tucked under his arm. Captain Howzer followed close behind him, similarly decked out in full armor. Rex stood and directed a few of the troopers around before turning to the group huddled to the side of the chaos.

“Evening, Bad Batch,” he greeted as he walked closer, chuckling when Omega ran forward to wrap her arms around the man’s waist.

“Hey there, ‘Meg.”

Howzer nodded respectfully to Hunter and the others.

“What’s going on here, Rex?” Echo said as he stepped around Hunter.

“Emergency extraction,” Rex said simply, accepting the gentle kov’nyn from Echo when the man reached forward. “Bit of a sketchy situation. We need to leave as soon as possible.”

“Heard about your man,” Echo said, “how deep was he?”

“Very deep,” Rex sighed, expression pinched. “Hopefully we can get to him before, well….”

Hunter nodded as Rex trailed off. By this point, they were all familiar with the Empire’s idea of justice against those they felt had wronged them.

“We should head out,” Rex said, nodding at Howzer and Gregor. The two saluted and Gregor slid his helmet on. “It’s a couple hours to Daro and I don’t want to waste any more time.”

Hunter started. “Wait, Daro--?”

“Rex, wait!”

The group turned to watch as a rather gaunt looking clone with a handlebar moustache ran up to the three captains.

“I’d like to request permission to go on this mission, sir,” he said, snapping breathlessly to attention and saluting.

Rex looked at the other clone with concern clear on his face.

‘I don’t know, Boil. You’ve only been here a couple of days, you should be taking time to recover--”

“I understand,” the clone - Boil - said, relaxing. “But I owe it to the Commander to help him. It’s my fault he got caught in the first place.”

“No it wasn’t,” Rex argued, reaching out and clapping Boil on the shoulder. “He knew the risks and it was his decision. Besides, you have no way of knowing--”

“That signal went out within days of getting me out,” Boil said quietly. “I know how high of a risk I was, but he did it anyway. I owe this to him.”

Rex held the other man’s gaze for a long moment before sighing and turning to Howzer.

“I hate to ask,” Rex began apologetically, “I know the two of you are close, but--”

“I’ll stay here,” Howzer agreed, reaching up to pull his helmet off. “Man the fort, as it were.”

He glanced over Rex’s shoulder at Hunter and the others before turning back to the other man.

“Just…” Howzer sighed, face pinched, “bring him back safe, okay?”

“That’s the plan,” Rex assured him as the two braced arms.

He unclipped his bucket from his belt and slid it over his head.

“Sorry to dash on you like this, boys,” Rex said, turning back to Hunter and the rest of their squad. “We’ll have to catch up another time.”

“I understand,” Hunter said, reaching forward to clasp the other clone’s hand. “Good luck on your--”

“We can go too!”

Everyone in the cluster turned to look at Omega, who pushed her way forward between Hunter and Boil to stand next to Rex.

“You can?”

“We can?”

Hunter and Rex glanced at each other before Hunter turned back to Omega.

“Yeah!” Omega insisted, looking imploringly at Hunter. “We’ve been to Daro and broke out Gregor before, you know the facility. You guys are trained in special ops, and if this guy is as important as Gregor says he is then they’re going to need all the help they can get.”

Rex glanced back at Gregor who shrugged.

“Omega,” Hunter sighed, “we can’t-- they’re going into a major Imperial base. If something happens and we get caught, we’ll be in serious trouble. The Empire thinks we’re dead and we need to keep it that way. Besides, Gregor knows the inside of that base better than any of us.”

“But we can help!” Omega argued, frustration clear on her face. “Whoever The Commander is has saved so many people, if our help gives Rex a better chance at saving him, I think we should do it!”

“Omega, we can’t risk--”

“We can’t run from the Empire forever, Hunter,” Omega said softly, grabbing Hunter’s hand.

“Besides, I--” she glanced over to Rex who had yet to speak, before turning and leaning closer to Hunter.

“I have a feeling about this mission,” Omega said quietly, eyes bright as she looked at her brother. “This feels right. I think this is where we’re supposed to be. I can’t explain it, but I… I think we need to do this.”

Hunter sighed, staring down at Omega’s hand on his.

He knew logically that their safety from the Empire wasn’t meant to last. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to hide Omega and his squad from them forever. The Empire certainly wasn’t going anywhere for the foreseeable future, so running into them again was ultimately inevitable. It was hard enough keeping his squad away already, Echo arguing with him about helping Rex and the rebellion more and more as the Empire grew. Wrecker and Omega were starting to back Echo up whenever he and Hunter argued, so he knew it was only a matter of time.

He just thought they’d have more time than this. Two years was admittedly a long time to continue on without Imperial detection, but Hunter had been hopeful their peace could last a little bit longer. Omega may have been growing up quickly but she was still a kid. Kids shouldn’t need to worry about rebellions and Empires and bounties and missions and death.

Besides, this seemed like an unnecessary risk to Hunter. Whatever feeling Omega had about this mission, Hunter wasn’t getting it. It felt like a waste to risk their tentative peace and safety from the Empire on a rescue mission for some man they didn’t even know. No matter how impressive his work against the Empire was.

But as much as Omega was a bleeding heart about helping those in need, she was also stubborn as hell. A trait she shared with all the clones, really, but it had gotten worse in her time as a member of the Bad Batch.

Hunter looked back into Omega’s wide eyes and felt his resolve crumble. He sighed, glancing back to the rest of the squad. Tech and Wrecker looked impassive as they stared back at Hunter, likely waiting for him to make a decision and follow whatever option he chose. Echo was looking back at him with the same amount of hope, the same determined resolve that Omega had in her eyes and Hunter knew he was losing the battle here.

He sighed tiredly, turning back to Rex.

“Got room in that ship for five more, Captain?”

Rex was frozen in place as he stared back at Hunter. His body language gave no indication as to what he thought of this development, though the incredulous tone he’d used to question Omega indicated that this was not a turn of events he was planning, or even hoping, for. With his helmet on and staring blankly at him, Hunter had a hard time getting a read as to what the other man was thinking.

Rex’s head tilted just slightly to glance briefly at Howzer, who was standing to the side watching the exchange with a strangely intense look in his eyes.

“I don’t know if--”

“Please, Rex?” Omega said, stepping up to the older clone.

Rex shuffled under Omega’s intense gaze, a feeling Hunter was very familiar with. Finally he sighed, dropping his chin to his chest before turning back to Hunter.

“I don’t have time to argue about this— fine,” he said, ignoring Omega’s happy whoop. “But you have to do exactly as I say, okay? No matter what happens.”

If Hunter didn’t know any better he’d say the Captain sounded tense, almost nervous. Hunter nodded and heard the others agree as well.

Rex kept his gaze on Hunter for another moment before shaking his head and turning toward the freighter.

“Let’s go,” he ordered, commanding tone back as he barked orders at the men around them. “We’ve wasted enough time as it is.”

Hunter turned back and nodded at the rest of his squad, who all nodded and slipped their helmets back on their heads as they checked their gear.

“Good luck,” Hunter heard Howzer mutter to Rex, who just shook his head. Something told him they weren’t talking about the mission.

Together they followed Rex, Boil, and Gregor up the ramp of the freighter, Rex and Tech headed for the cockpit. As everyone else got strapped in and the engines on the ship started, Hunter couldn’t help but wonder if he was making the right choice.

Omega may have had a good feeling about this mission, but Hunter had a feeling this mission was going to change everything for them, and he wasn’t sure it was for the better.