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bigasswritingmagnet · 21 days ago

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Fandom: Girl Genius Pairing: Oggie/Oggie's Wife Summary: De night it vos my turn to taste de Jägerdraught, she left camp. Din leave nottin, din take nottin. It vos ten years later, ven ve vos out pillaging, dot Hy found out she had taken someting avay vit her after all.

Ten long years ago a story was left without an ending. Radka believed if she simply stopped telling the tale it would never need to be finished. Before she could tell Ognian about her pregnancy and before he could risk his life taking the Jägerdraught, she fled, leaving the pages of their story open and free of that final note of tragedy.

But the reality is, lives are not chapters in a book, and the story doesn't go away just because you stopped reading. Ognian gets the surprise of his life and Radka has a lot of explaining to do.

AO3 Link | Sequel to The End - Or Lack Thereof

“Vasil.”

The boy scowled at his feet, shoulders hunched.

“Vasil.”

Finally, he lifted his head and met her eyes. Vasil was the spitting image of his father, except for his eyes (which was unfortunate, but better her eyes than be burdened with her chin). Ognian might be dead, or he might be alive, but either way Radka could see him every day in Vasil’s laugh, his voice, in the wrinkle of his nose and the light in his eyes – even if they were the wrong shape and color.

It was exactly what she had wanted, and it was a knife in her heart every time.

But while the face was Ognian’s, that sullen, stubborn glare was all Radka.

“You cannot fight the world for me.”

“He called you a whore.”

“He called you a whoreson.”

“That’s the same thing!”

“Only technically.”

Radka had tried to teach him her way of dealing with people, cutting them with words, which could hurt just as well and didn’t get you in near as much trouble. She thought he might take to it – he had not inherited Ognian’s mental acuity, for which Radka was also thankful – but Vasil found physical retribution faster and easier.

“I hate this stupid town!” Vasil exploded. “Everyone thinks they’re better than us! They all talk about us behind our backs, and you want us to just smile and ignore it!”

Radka had travelled as far from Mechanicsburg as she could get before travel became too difficult, and settled in a little town called Poveste, which she came to loathe exactly ten minutes after it was too late to leave. The tavern owners were condescendingly sympathetic to a young woman in the family way by a mysterious man she would not name who ‘might be dead’, and allowed her to perform for their guests when they had them, and scrub the floors when they did not.

They even offered room and board in exchange for a percentage of her earnings, but Radka would rather scrape by in the lean winter months than put up with daily compliments about how surprisingly moral she was for a ruined woman.

“You don’t have to ignore it, and you don’t have to like it, but we live here, Vasil, and that means we have to get along with people.”

“So why don’t we just go?”

“Even if we could afford to move, anywhere we could afford to live would be just like this, with no guarantee I could find work.” It was an old argument, and one they had been having more and more frequently as Vasil grew older and less satisfied with the life around him. Radka didn’t like it much either, but what else could she do? Pack up and go to Mechanicsburg and hope whatever family Ognian had believed her?

“We could—”

“You are changing the subject,” Radka pointed out. “I want you to stop fighting each and every person in the world who makes the smallest slight against me. Do you think you might be physically capable of that?”

Vasil opened his mouth, but before he could answer – not that it mattered, she knew the answer would be ‘no’ – the bell in the center of town began to ring the frantic, desperate tones of alarm.

Radka flew to the door and stuck her head outside. Doors were slamming shut, men and women were running for shelter or for weapons. When she looked down the road out of town, she could see a distant red glow drowning the stars.

“Jӓgermonsters! Jӓgermonsters coming from the west! It’s the Heterodyne!”

“Well, shit.”

Radka closed the door and shot the deadbolt home, as if it would buy them more than a few extra seconds.

“Mama?” Vasil was looking up at her with wide, worried eyes. Radka tried to think sensibly. She could not trust that every one of the Heterodyne’s men would recognize her, especially in the chaos of an attack. She needed to think of them as the monsters they were, not as the men she performed for.

“Close all the shutters, lock the back door. Poveste is too small and too poor to be their main target. This is just them blowing off some steam. They’ll burn a few buildings and kill a few cows as they ride through, but they won’t stop.”

I hope.

“How do you know?”

“I know many things. Go.”

Radka took the box with their savings and buried it in the coal box, but left what little jewelry she had lying on her dresser. If someone did come in here, they might not think to look for hidden things if they found something valuable laying around.

They heard the thundering of hooves, the pounding of feet, and the unnatural howling of the Jӓgers — monsters and man alike. Radka clutched Vasil to herself, but when she glanced down at him, she saw no fear in his face, only a grim solemnity that made him look unusually unlike his father.

Vasil was five when he first asked why he didn’t have a father. Radka didn’t like to lie to him, but she didn’t think he would understand if she told him. He had been old enough to understand the concept of death and grief, but far too young to understand the fear of them.

“I had to leave him behind,” Radka had told him. “He might be dead now.”

“Are you sad?”

“Yes. But I have you.”

You couldn’t prove a negative. If she didn’t see him, it only meant she couldn’t spot him in the dark and the chaos. But if she did see him…

Radka slid open one of the shutters, just enough that she could see the road and the front walk. They were moving fast, and lit only by torchlight and burning buildings, and Radka could not see their faces beyond a jumble of fangs and snouts and fur.

One man, tearing by on foot, snagged the rose trellis at the foot of the path to the door and brought it crashing down, tearing the flowers up by the roots. He didn’t even stop to see his handwork.

“Unnecessary,” Radka muttered.

And realized she was no longer holding Vasil. The door was swinging wide open. Radka looked back out the window and – Vasil. Standing in the road. Holding a rock. Face twisted with outrage.

Radka let out a low moan of horror and lunged for the door. Just as she reached the doorframe, Vasil drew back his arm and threw.

The world seemed to slow. Everything was hushed and distant. Radka’s eyes followed the stone as it slid through the air and thought not this kind of tragedy, not this kind of tragedy, not this kind of tragedy—

Then the rock cracked against the back of the Jӓgermonster’s skull, and the screaming and shouting and chaos came rushing back. Radka’s muscles tensed, but before she could make a move to haul Vasil back inside to safety, her heart stopped in her chest because Ognian turned around.

Ognian.

Alive.

Battle axe clutched in one hand, a military greatcoat over a bare chest, rubbing the back of his head and staring at Vasil with a goggle-eyed disbelief that Radka would have gleefully mocked him for, once. His blonde hair was tucked behind pointed ears and in his open mouth she could see

Vill hyu still let me kiss hyu ven Hy gets de teeth?

fangs, but it was still Oggie. It was Oggie and he was burning the town down around her ears and she was so happy to see him she could have cried.

I will, she wanted to say. I want to kiss you, I will always want to kiss you.

Vasil pointed at the shattered trellis and uprooted roses.

“You’re a tough guy, huh?” he shouted over the crash of weapons and the screams of excitement and terror. “Yeah, really impressive, knocking down a plant. Why don’t you hit something that can hit back?”

Ognian checked his hand – no blood – and visibly shook himself.

“Hyu go back inside, kid,” he said, sharply. “Vere iz safe.”

Radka felt faint. Her heart ached. Just the sound of his voice nearly brought her to her knees. This had to be love, there was no other way to explain how she could be standing on the wrong end of a Jäger raid and feel for him exactly as she had when she knew him as nothing but her lover.

Vasil raised his fists, feet sliding into the position she had taught him. He’d learned the fighting part well; it was the your goal is to end the fight and get away as quickly as possible part that consistently escaped him.

“Fight me,” he demanded. “You coward.”

Ognian’s face went hard. He bared his fangs and stalked towards Vasil.

“Hyu vant a fight?” He lifted up his battle axe, which had never seemed to sharp and so deadly as it did now, the light of the burning bakery glinting off its edges like fresh blood.

Vasil stood, unmoving and unafraid, as Ognian stalked towards him. Radka felt panic make her chest go tight. Vasil was exactly as stubborn as his father. Unstoppable force and immovable object: Ognian was going to try and scare him away, and Vasil would call his bluff, and then what would Ognian do?

Ognian raised his axe one handed over his head.

Vasil tensed, drawing back his fist.

Because Ognian was bluffing. He had to be bluffing. He had to be. She knew Ognian, and yes, it had been ten years but she knew even the worst of the Jӓgers thought twice about mowing down children, surely he would never…

Radka realized she was standing there like the prize maiden sworn to be handed off to whichever knight in shining armor won the fight.

“Ognian! Oggie, don’t!”

Both her boys froze. Both looked to her.

Ognian’s jaw dropped.

Very slowly, moving no other muscles, Vasil and Ognian turned their heads back to stare at each other. The axe fell out of Ognian’s still upraised hand, landing blade-first in the dirt road and sticking.

Radka darted forward, grabbed them both by their collars, and dragged them into the house. Pushing them inside, she slammed the door behind herself.

“Vasil,” she said, conversationally. “Do you remember the conversation we just had when I said not to fight the world for me?” Radka gestured at the door. “That? That was exactly what I was asking you not to do.”

She was vibrating with nerves and something like fear, her eyes flicking back and forth between Ognian and Vasil’s faces so quickly it nearly made her dizzy. Both were still staring at her, Vasil as if he had never laid eyes on her before, Ognian as if he couldn’t tell if she was real or a hallucination.

Radka wondered what kind of a picture she made to him. Part of her was surprised he’d recognized her – sometimes she barely recognized herself. Her clothes were practical wool dyed practical colors, no flashy silks or low-cut vests. Her figure had gone soft after the pregnancy; life had seen fit to sneak early greys into her ginger curls. Worry and stress had carved their lines on her face.

But Ognian had changed, too, now that she could see him closer in the light. Not older – he would never look older, not anymore – but different. He had never been a fastidious man, but he had kept himself clean cut. Ognian was unshaven, his hair shaggy, looking long out of neglect rather than design. Beneath even that, there was something else she could not quite put her finger on. Something harder and sharper. Perhaps the Jägerdraught changed things on the inside, too.

Jerkily, she gestured between the two.

“Ognian, Vasil. Vasil, Ognian.”

Radka clasped her hands in front of herself and waited while the two stared at each other. At no point had she ever imagined this moment. Secret sons and fathers were deathbed revelations given by a woman who would immediately die and thus never have to explain herself to either party or face any consequences for her actions.

Radka was in a lot of trouble.

“A Jӓgermonster?” Vasil shouted. “You said he was dead!”

“I said he might be dead.”

“You didn’t say he might be a Jӓgermonster!”

“Because, Vasil, my having had a Heterodyne raider for a lover would be quite a problem here, and you – like your father before you – are a great big blabbermouth.”

“I am not!” Ognian and Vasil both said at the same time, and stared at each other again.

Then Ognian looked at Radka, who forced herself to meet his eyes and not shrink back.

“I was going to tell you,” she said, “and then you were going to be a Jӓger, and you…and then I didn’t tell you.”

No immediate response. Radka’s strength failed her, and she looked away. When at last Ognian spoke his voice was low, disbelieving, and full of pain.

“Hyu did dis to me on purpose?”

“I didn’t do anything to you—”

“Didn’t do anyting?” Ognian interrupted, anger slowly consuming betrayal. “Didn’t do anyting? Hyu tell me hyu von’t care if Hy become a Jӓger, den hyu leave vitout effen a note! Hyu haff my son, und hyu vuz neffer goink to tell me! Hy vould go my whole life not knowink und it iz gonna be a real long life, Radka!”

“No, you wouldn’t know! It would not hurt you, because you were either dead or ignorant of the fact, and therefore, not in any position to be injured—”

“Hyu tink hyu leavink didn’t hurt?” Ognian demanded, and Radka flinched. “Hy thought—hyu said hyu didn’t care but den hyu left!”

Radka shut her eyes. What a marvelous plan she had had, if Ognian had been a character in a story who disappeared the moment he was off-stage. In leaving, she had avoided her tragedy and served Ognian his on a silver platter. Can you still love me when I am a Jäger? No. So very no that she would take off running and never look back.

That was the hardness in his face, she realized. She had cut him deeply enough to leave scars. She’d broken his heart.

“How many soldiers do you know who would be pleased to discover they are suddenly saddled with a pregnant lover?”

“Me!” Ognian shouted. “Me! Hy vould! Hyu tink Hy vould, vut, trow hyu avay? Iz dot de kind of man hyu tink Hy am?”

“I didn’t know what you would do!” Radka snapped. “It wasn’t like we’d ever discussed it!”

“Hyu could haff asked!”

“Oh, yes,” Radka said, sarcastically, and put on a voice of poisonous false cheer. “’Hello, my swain, apropos of nothing, how would you feel in a purely hypothetical situation if I were to say, accidentally get pregnant by you just as you are about to become a Jäger?’ Ognian, you have your moments, but you are not that stupid!”

“Hyu iz goink to make fun of me now? Hy’z not an idiot, und Hy’z not a bird!”

Radka stared, brow furrowed, and then put her hand to her face. “Swain, Ognian, not swan. It means lover.”

“Now hyu iz tryink to give me a vocabulary lesson!” Ognian shouted, hysterically. “Vut iz wrong vit hyu?”

“I didn’t want to know!” Radka shouted back. “That was why! It had nothing to do with you being a Jäger, it was about you becoming a Jäger! There was a ninety percent chance you were going to die horrifically, and I didn’t want to know if I was living in a world that didn’t have you in it! You wouldn’t be a tragedy if I never saw the ending!”

Ognian stared at her, mouth wide open. He let out a wordless scream of frustration, burying his hands in his hair. He walked away and then swung back, furious, marching towards her, jabbing a finger at her.

“Hyu and hyu damn stories—!”

Vasil, who had been watching, silent and forgotten, leapt in and shoved Ognian hard. It was only because Ognian was in motion and caught off guard that it made the Jӓger stumble back a few steps.

“Don’t yell at her!” Vasil shouted, fists clenched.

“Und Hy dun effen know vut to tink about hyu!”

Tears began to stream down Vasil’s face, and Radka’s heart shattered again and again with every word. “How do you think I feel? All my life she told me my father was so great and she loved him so much and I get you! I get a Jӓgermonster and you’re yelling at her and you wrecked our garden and I hate you!”

Radka crossed the floor, dropped to her knees and hugged him tightly. Vasil collapsed sobbing into her arms.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

Their door burst open and three Jӓgers came pouring in. They immediately screeched to a halt, their laughter dying on their lips. Radka glanced at Ognian, and knew what a picture they made. Mother and son cowering away from the big bad Jӓgermonster.

Not a man having his entire life turned upside down by the woman he’d...

“Get out!” Ognian bellowed, and the Jӓgers scrambled away, the last one even pulling the door shut behind him.

The surprise had drained the tension from the room. Vasil was hiccupping and sniffling, but his tears had stopped enough that he could wipe his face. Ognian leaned against the table, rubbing his forehead and staring at his feet.

And Radka…

“I didn’t think it would hurt you,” Radka said, softly, “because I didn’t think you’d be alive to be hurt. It was too...poetic. I show up to tell you I’m carrying your child moments after you’re chosen for a ceremony that kills most people who take it.” She looked at Vasil, who was watching her with an oddly wary expression. “I never told you that your father might be a Jäger because I didn’t think he was. And he is absolutely right.”

Ognian looked up in surprise.

“He is perfectly justified in being angry at me for making major life decisions that affected us both, based on the assumption that the real world operates like a story, without his input.”

“So vut vuz all dot about me beink too stupid to die?” Ognian demanded, without much ire.

“Narrative convention would outweigh your intellect, obviously,” Radka said, with a dry and humorless twist of her mouth. “It would have been the perfect end to a romantic tragedy, and I played my part, resigning myself to a life of joyless drudgery, the fire of any kind of happiness gone out save the one piece of you I was so lucky as to get.”

And then Ognian and Vasil turned to each other and shared A Look – the look of two people commiserating over a situation that was exasperating, but not unexpected.

“Yes, alright,” Radka said, irritably.

“Mama…” Vasil said, with great pain on his face. “Mama, that’s stupid.”

“Thank you, Vasil, I am aware.”

“Now,” Ognian pointed out. He glanced at the door and cocked his head, listening. Radka heard it too—the sounds of chaos were a little further away. “Ve iz only passink through on our vay home. Hy can’t stay.”

“Well,” Radka said, standing and brushing her knees off, not looking at Ognian. “I can hardly keep you here—”

“Oh no, no, no,” Ognian interrupted, once more jabbing a finger at her. “Hy dun tink so. Hyu dun get out of dis dot easy. Hy iz not leavink hyu here to have to raise our son all by hyuself. Hyu tought Hy vould die because it vuz a tragedy, but Hy iz still here. If it izn’t a tragedy, it iz a comedy, und hyu said a comedy ends in a vedding or a feast, und Hy…”

He gestured around the room.

“Dun see any food.”

Radka’s mouth popped open.

“That,” she managed at last, “is the least romantic and most personally tailored proposal I have ever heard.”

“Iz dot a yes?”

There was an insistent tugging at her sleeve. Vasil stared up at her, imploringly.

“If you marry a Jägermonster, we don’t have to live in Poveste anymore,” he said, earnestly.

“I…well, no, obviously, but—”

Ognian took her hand and drew her in, putting his hands on her shoulders. Radka’s mouth began to wobble.

“It didn’t even work,” she whispered. “I put everybody through all that and it still hurt.”

“Vell maybe hyu learn hyu lesson for next time.”

He pressed his mouth to hers in the most wonderful, most emotionally complicated kiss of her life. His arms were as strong as she remembered them.

When they pulled away, Ognian’s expression was slightly worried.

“Dot’s definitely a yez, right?”

Radka smiled, her heart swelling, and put a gentle hand on his cheek.

“I am delighted to see you have not grown a single ounce of brain in the last ten years, you deeply stupid light of my life. Yes, Ognian, I will marry you. With all my heart.”

The kiss was longer and a little deeper this time. They both ignored the quiet blech from Vasil. When at last Ognian pulled away, it was with great reluctance.

“Hy should probably go before anybody sees me.”

“Go out the back. We’ll pack and leave at dawn.” She smiled. “You’re an easy bunch to track.”

“Ve iz takink de east road,” he told her. “De Heterodyne vill camp soon.” He kissed her again, briefly. Then to Vasil, he said “Hey, ven ve get to Mechanicsburg, Hy build hyu a new flower ting, ya?”

“Trellis,” Vasil sniffed. Then, with some forbearance, “Okay.”

Ognian squeezed Radka’s hand one last time, and was gone.

And then it was Radka and Vasil alone, again. If she didn’t look at the broken deadbolt on the door, she could pretend it had never happened. Some strange and terrible part of her brain played the story of her and Vasil running in the opposite direction, leaving Ognian waiting, waiting forever and ever, his heart breaking all over again—

She took a deep breath.

“Vasil, could you start packing? Fast and light. Mama’s going to lie down and have hysterics for a bit.”

#girl genius #ognian #ognian girl genius #the working title for this was The Conses Sure Do Quence #radka over here like 'oh no i forgot about narrative causality'

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rebelliousstories · 8 months ago

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Coming Home

Relationship: Luke Alvez x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Request: No

Warnings: Angst, Descriptions of Violence, Fluff

Word Count: 2,945

Main Masterlist: Here

Criminal Minds Masterlist: Here

Part Two of: That’s My Wife

Summary: It’s a race against the clock in order to get inside and find out where Luke’s wife has gone.

Previously…

“You are just gorgeous. Don’t know how that man ever landed you.” As he grew closer, Theodore raised his gun with his finger on the trigger, and fired.

Bang

Leonard grabbed his brother’s arm and raised it towards the sky just in time for the bullet to graze her shoulder. He wrangled the gun out of Theodore’s hand. “The hell are you doing man? We need her alive!”

“Maybe you need her alive, but I’m perfectly content in seeing how well agent Alvez copes with the loss of his little wife.” The man tried to make another pass at her, but was stopped once again by his brother.

“We kill her, and we have no chance of getting out of here alive. I mean, we’re already going to have a hard time with you killing that guy, and for someone calling the cops on us before we ever started.” Leonard leveled with his brother.

“The hell you talking about, Leo?” Theodore scoffed.

“The agent on the phone, Rossi, he said that this was the first time we’ve ever been caught. That could only mean that someone tipped them off before we ever got started here.” The two brothers were chest to chest, and toe to toe. They had forgotten about the hostages and the reason they were there.

“Ted didn’t canvas the place properly.” Wulfric suddenly piped up. Both brothers turned to the man who spoke.

“What did you say?” Theodore turned, a dangerous growl in his tone.

“You didn’t canvas properly,” came his reiteration. “You were suppose to take care of this job, because we thought we could trust you to do it right.”

Wulfric stood and left the room to go find Samson, leaving the other two alone.

“Okay, thanks to Garcia, we have blue prints of the building. There is the main entrance and exit here at the front,” Matt pointed, “but there is one side entrance. It’s a wonder they haven’t even tried to use it yet.”

“What is their endgame?” JJ asked, looking down at the blueprints. Everyone stopped for a second as they processed the woman being there.

“What are you doing here?” Rossi inquired, with his brows arching.

“Heard you guys needed a little extra help so I postponed my vacation by one more day. Will is staying with the boys.” She smiled as she was refocusing on the case.

“Garcia brought me up to speed, but I’m still confused as to how and why they got caught now.” The rest of the team was with her there.

“There was something about the way Leonard reacted when I mentioned that. It was like he was just now realizing that they were stuck.” Rossi mentioned. Spencer held up a hand.

“That could be because he wasn’t thinking about that possibility. He could think they’re too good to be caught.” However, David shook his head.

“No. Get Garcia on. I think I know what went wrong.”

Luke paced back and forth throughout the room with his arms tucked in. He had not said a word. Emily had stuck him in the mobile command center while the rest of his team was working the case outside. While the air conditioning felt amazing, Alvez was losing his mind thinking about his wife that was stuck in the building. With a slam of a door, Prentiss stepped inside and closed it behind her.

“Have there been any threats made against you recently?” Her tone left no room for nonsense.

“No. Emily, what’s going on? Where is my wife?” Luke pressed, already on edge.

“Luke, answer my question. Have there been any threats made against you or your wife recently?” Once more, she asked. Alvez scrubbed his hands over his face before placing his hands on his hips.

“No. Nothing.” He admitted. His voice was defeated.

“What about anyone watching you?”

“No.”

“Okay,” Prentiss sighed, “what about the trial? You had to go and testify as the arresting agent. Did one of the twins make any threats against you?”

Luke had to pause. It had been so long ago, in time and cases he has worked, that he had pushed it to the back of his mind. Scrubbing his face for what seemed like the hundredth time, he tried to think about the trial. Nothing was coming to his mind the longer he thought about it. Luke pieced together the events of today and tried to search his memory when he finally found it.

“At the trial, when the verdict was read after my testimony, Theodore was screaming at me. He blamed me for them being caught and sentenced. He called my wife by name, and said that he would make me regret it. I didn’t pay it any mind at the time.” The look of revelation on Luke’s face told Emily everything she needed to know.

“Let’s go.” They walked outside and found the rest of the team to clue them in. However, before they could, Prentiss’ phone rang out.

“What have you got Penelope?” She asked, standing around with her team.

“Ma’am, it’s her. They just- they’re, oh god.” Garcia whimpered as whatever she was looking at was happening.

“What’s going on, Garcia? What’s happening to my wife?” Luke demanded, resisting the urge to yank the phone out of his unit chief’s hand.

“Theodore just hit her over the head. They’re taking her somewhere in the bank but I can’t find it.” The woman’s voice was weak as she tried to articulate what was going on.

“That’s it.” Alvez growled. He tried to make for the building, but was held back by Matt and Spencer. It was like they were corralling a wild bull with how much the man was thrashing around.

“Let me go! I need to go in there!” He screamed, but there was no moving the two men holding him back.

“Alvez!” Emily yelled over his protests. Turning around, the agent was panting with rage.

“I said I wouldn’t take you off. Don’t make me do it.” She promised, watching as the man walked off. Prentiss nodded to JJ to go look after him, before she turned back to the team.

“Garcia, you still there? What’s going on inside?” Recentering the rest of the team, Prentiss assumed her role as team leader.

“Yes, I’m still here. I’m trying to gain access to the CCTV cameras outside the bank to see if there is something that I can find.” Furious typing was heard over the line, when David piped up.

“Garcia, is there a camera over the side door of the bank? We know that there is one but we’re wondering why they haven’t used it yet.”

“Um, yeah. Oh, oh no,” she began, “um, so I see Wulfric and Samson transporting something out to a car but they keep going inside. Why would they do that?” Penelope asked confused.

“Because they are wanting Theodore and Leonard to take the fall for the job.” Spencer stated, feeling dread fill his stomach.

Groups of people sat around the bank as Leonard kept his gun on them. Meanwhile, Theodore was busy beating on Alvez’s wife. The sounds of flesh hitting flesh caused even Leonard to flinch. He turned and saw the woman fall to the floor with bruises already forming on her face.

“Alright, give it a break man.” Leonard pulled his brother off of the woman. She curled in on herself while Theodore panted with a smile on his face.

“Where the hell are Wolf and Shark?” The man looked around as he waited. His brother looked as well, but stopped after a moment.

“They probably found a way for us to get out.” Theodore commented, turning his attention back to the woman on the ground who was still curled in. The phone rang again. This time Theodore answered.

“Hello?”

“Theodore,” David answered, “how are you doing?”

“I’m feeling fine. Can’t say the same for Mrs. Alvez. How is Mr. Alvez by the way?” He teased, keeping his eyes on the woman on the floor.

“For your safety, he is not coming in there. Say, do you know where Samson and Wulfric are?” David asked.

“They’re finding us a way out.” Theodore commented as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

“Oh, they’re finding a way out alright. I just don’t think you’re a part of their plan.”

“You’re wrong.” He hung up the phone, and walked over to his brother.

David sighed as the phone hung up yet again, and turned towards Emily. The two senior members of the team had a silent conversation with just their eyes.

“How do you want to play this?” He asked, hands resting on the table beneath the phone box. Prentiss thought for a moment.

“Let’s get Samson and Wulfric the next time they come out. Reid, you and Simmons take care of that. Dave, Tara, we need to find a way to get inside.” With their assignments, everyone took off.

The two men went around the side of the building and saw that the twins had just disappeared back into the building. Waiting for the right time, their firearms were drawn as they assumed their positions. Reid stationed himself behind Matt, who was right in front of the door. It was only a few minutes before the door opened again. Samson and Wulfric stopped dead in their tracks as they saw what was waiting for them.

“Hey boys.” Matt teased, motioning for them to drop to the floor. Samson noticed the other agent behind him, and dropped. His brother followed suit, and the two were swiftly arrested and placed in a car to be taken downtown. After that, the agents made their way back to the rest of the team, and hoped that there was an update. Luke and JJ had joined them again which was a good sign.

“Are the Mitchell’s taken care of?” Emily asked, receiving nods of conformation in return.

“Went down without a fight.” Matt commented, focusing on how to get the rest of the people out.

“So, Theodore is seemingly calling the shots. We need to find a way to get Leonard to get out so we can take his brother down. He’s the main threat to her right now.” The unit chief explained.

“Let me try something.” Luke finally spoke up. Everyone looked towards the man, whose voice was rough with emotion.

“Where the hell are those two?” Theodore growled as his brother looked around the back of the bank.

“I don’t know. They aren’t here.” Leonard stated. The phone rang again. He stalked over to it and wasted no time in answering.

“What did you do?” He screamed, waiting for Rossi to answer him.

“Hello, Leo. Looking for someone?” It was Luke instead. Leonard stopped as he processed the voice.

“Luke Alvez,” Theodore turned to face his brother in shock. “What can I do for you, mister agent?”

“How about a sign of good faith? Let some of the hostages go.” Luke’s request made Leonard laugh.

“What kind of husband- what kind of man are you? You don’t want to speak to your little wife?” The man leered, confused by the agent’s words.

“I can see that she is okay right now. If you let the hostages go, I’ll come in myself and we can talk.” Leonard held his brother’s eyes while on the phone. He heard the call mute, and then click back on.

“No firearm, no vest. Once you’re in, we’ll let the hostages go.” He hung up the phone, and felt a surge of adrenaline power through him.

“Looks like we’re getting our reunion after all.”

“Luke, you can’t go in there. We’re not giving them another hostage.” Rossi shut down the notion as Luke was removing his gun and vest.

“If it means getting those innocent people out and away from danger, I’m doing it.” He set down the effects and jogged to the door before his team could stop him. Shouts of his teammates disappeared when he opened up the door and went inside the bank. Once he was in, he could see the carnage. The body of the man from earlier was dragged off to the side at some point, and people were grouped together. Men, women, and children were separated in different parts of the lobby. With hands up, Luke walked further into the building.

“Agent Alvez, how nice of you to join us.” Theodore greeted him, pointing his own pistol towards the agent. He held eye contact before a whimper tore them away. Looking down, Luke saw his wife; beaten, bruised, bloody, and broken. The man noticed his attention had drifted.

“Oh she’ll be fine. Maybe.” He teased, treating it like a big game. Refocusing, Luke found Leonard next to him.

“The hostages need to go. I came in on your terms, now they need to go on mine.” Alvez reasoned as Leonard patted him down. Once he was cleared, he started going to get the groups to their feet and moving them to the front door. Luke kept his eyes on his wife while he heard footsteps leave the building. Knowing that his team had them taken care of made Luke feel better about focusing his attention on what was happening inside.

“Oh I have waited so long for this.” Theodore growled, hauling Luke’s wife to her feet by her hair. The sound made Luke lurch forward to help her, but Leonard grabbed the agent tightly to prevent him from reaching the other two people.

“Now,” Theodore came closer with the woman in tow, ”what to do with you two?”

“Neither one of you care about Samson or Wulfric?” Luke choked out. The arm around his throat relented just a little bit.

“What did you do to them?” Leonard inquired, but Luke just chuckled.

“They’re half way back into the system by now. We caught them about to sneak out a side door without you, and with the money.” The brothers looked at each other, and looked at the agent inquisitively.

“You’re lying.” Theodore breathed out, yanking to woman closer in retaliation.

“No,” Luke rasped, “my team found out who you all are, how you met. I already knew your M.O. so it was just a matter of figuring out that the other two were using your hatred to do bigger and bigger jobs. And just like we took them in, you’ll be going back in.” He struggled against his captor for a moment before relaxing. They would be getting out of this.

“Not going back to jail. Ain’t gonna happen.” Theodore said, shaking his head. From behind him there was movement that Luke caught, only because he was looking for it.

“See unlike you, I know when to take the low road and drop.” Luke’s eyes were on his wife, but he was not sure if she could see with all of her hair in the way.

“You? Low road?” Theodore laughed, ”you won’t take the low road, mister FBI agent. You’re too much of a goody two shoes for that to happen.”

“Let’s put that theory to the test.” Without warning, Luke dropped to his knees and threw Leonard over his shoulder to slam him into the ground.

“FBI! Let the woman go and show us your hands!” JJ yelled, walking in with Emily and Matt next to her. Leonard was busy being wrangled by Luke who was tossed Emily’s cuffs in the scuffle. Once he was apprehended, Theodore was much more willing to give up as his brother kept begging him not to shoot his way out. The Jameson twins were taken outside by Simmons and JJ, while Emily stayed behind to over see her other agent.

As soon as the danger had passed, Luke ran over to his wife and pulled her into his arms. They were both crying and whimpering as they finally got to hold each other after the whole ordeal. Alvez holding Alvez; he kept pressing kisses into her head, before moving her hair out of her face to assess the damage.

“Mi vida. Oh, you’re here.” He whispered, looking at the bruises on her face.

“Hey sugar. Didn’t mean to spend so long at the bank. Kinda got held up with lines.” She rasped, prompting a watery chuckle from Luke.

“Only you would joke like that at a time like this. We gotta get you to an ambulance, corazón.” Standing, Luke gently helped his wife up, careful not to put pressure on any injuries. Emily had already radioed in for an ambulance, and she went to help. However, he was not ready to let go of his wife quite yet. Luke wrapped her arms around his neck and hoisted her into his arms bridal style, and carried her out to meet the EMTs. Before they could leave, Prentiss pulled agent Alvez to the side real quick.

“What you did was reckless, stupid, and you put in danger one of my agents.” She scolded, noticing how there was no trace of apology on his face.

“You did well Luke. Take care of her.” Dismissing her agent, Luke happily climbed in the back of the ambulance and held his wife’s hand the entire way to the hospital.

“How are you feeling, amor?” Luke asked in a hushed tone while he rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.

“Your memory feels like home to me. So whenever my mind wanders, it always finds its way back to you.” ~ Ranata Suzuki

“Better now that you’re here.” She replied, happily hugging her husband to her until the paramedics made them separate so they could do their jobs.

#rebelliousstories #writing #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #luke alvez x you #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez #luke alvez imagine #spencer reid #penelope garcia #jennifer jereau #matt simmons #emily prentiss #david rossi #tara lewis

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feather-dancer · 7 days ago

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Tales of Arcadia fanfic recommendations part 8

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

If at all interested in my own writing you can find it here! Several of my own are currently getting scrubbed for improvement to make them more readable. Currently goal is for all of Spotlight being completed by the end of the year.

Been a while huh? This has still been sitting in my drafts though even when my brain decided “Nope not reading” for a while. Still got quite a hefty backlog to read through along with authors I’m subscribed to for their most recent works as and when they pop up. Regardless, determined to get back on top of it and unearth things I want to give a shoutout to because it’s cool shit :)

To you, fans past and present and surviors of RotT Tales of Arcadia fandom.

General Tales of Arcadia

But Everything Hurts - You don’t come back from death with a free pass and Douxie’s fall from the castle cost was chronic pain for an immortal’s lifetime. He was told to learn how to live once, now it is learning to manage.

Of Hunger Pains and Old Habits - Food is hard when you’ve spent a very young life without it until life takes a strange turn and it becomes plentiful. Died in habits are hard though, Douxie will hear the unconvinced whispers for the rest of his life.

almost there - When Jim heads off until the Darklands alone Toby and Claire try to hold themselves together not knowing if he’ll ever return. This is set post season 1 and is wonderfully bittersweet.

Our Little Viginette - Moppet faces the end of an era with the fall of Camelot and (Temporary) loss of Merlin after the Battle of Killahead.

A way to cope - Jim pretends to cope with the trauma of being in the Darklands a lot better than he actually is, as long as he keeps the breakdowns out of sight then nobody can worry right?

dandelion eyes - In which Bellroc discovers the concept of nail polish.

Adieu - The final moments of Angor Rot

Saudade - It’s perfect. They beat Gunmar, nobody died and he can finally enjoy being a teenager again, Thinks Jim. Then why if he stops ignoring the feeling for even a few seconds does it all seem so hollow...?

Rise of the Titans

The Last Changeling - Jim escaped the timeline filled with mistakes in hopes of making things right. He didn’t account for those left behind to grieve or the changeling that suddenly found himself as the last.

I Can't Pull the Sword From the Stone - Jim went back and now Toby is the new Trollhunter which should be smooth sailing right? Except history is refusing to repeat it’s self exactly, little elements are already changing and Jim’s experiences have left him tainted with magic he can’t control along with all the memories and traumas. It’s hard to grieve for someone who is technically still alive but everything you had is gone without a soul out there to understand.

More is all you need - Jim has gone back, something stupid by his own admittance, however in sorting through his thoughts he comes to a realisation.

Stricklake

Comes Around - Post Trollhunters season 3, it’s a struggle to figure out what to do when you have a cradlestone full of babies and a changeling that no longer is but you have to just try and muddle through somehow... Perhaps a chance to try figure out what your relationship is meant to be too now things have calmed down a bit.

Media Consumption - Wholesome fluff that also involves Wally and creating an addict to the HtTyD franchise early on.

A Measure of Intellect - The goblins are breaking into the stricklake household and they’ve already stolen the blender. The fun part is figuring out exactly what they’re up to. Related to Media Consumption.

enough - Figuring out a normal in the mundane of after everything has happened is quite a lot for a jaded changeling. Very fluffy.

The Wild Hunt - Letting your troll boyfriend hunt is good enrichment but the prize for capture is even better.

The Armour of Daylight - A little glimpse into a high fantasy world where everyone might just be a little bit cursed.

The School Of Janus - This is an AU while also being Stricklake so it lives here. The Darklands are the most prestigious educational process in the world according to their promo material and Jim is prepping to head there while putting off most of his packing as long as humanly possible. Good thing he does really the banter is delightful.

Ink Stains - An AU making an escape in the name of shipping again. Here Barbara married into court politics with her husband being an heir for Camelot and changelings are a secret guard force protecting those important hiding away in plain sight. Incredibly cool world building going on here.

Keen Swimmers 2023 - A collection from last year mostly in AU territory and very tasty. Read the summaries and off you go!

Special Delivery - Very short and sweet, if you’re interested in the ship just trust me and click it.

Locked Rooms - Barbara lost her memory. She doesn’t know how and she doesn’t really know why either. All she does know is that whatever they are seem to be behind a locked door and that strange imagery is leaking into her dreams.

Alternate Universe

Dig your eight graves - It was only supposed to be a fun trek out for Halloween for the Arcadia kids, test out the set up and give feedback so the owner could improve them for when it would officially open the next year. Nobody could have predicted how it’d go so horribly wrong.

Content warning: This fic is marked Mature for character death, body horror, desecration of corpses and for being of the general slasher genre. Please check the tags before proceeding.

Between Daylight and Darkness - The Sunshine AU is back and it’s time for the team to go Trollhunting.So how many spanners can Jim being the nearest equivilent to a were-troll throw into the works of canon? Well hopefully nothing fatal...

Toby's Appointment - Sometimes you need to read very silly things and this is probably the funniest possibility you could find in the dentist waiting room.

The Grave of the Felled Forest - A boy and his familiar go to check out Merlin’s places of power/various stash spots to make sure all is still well. They are not anticipating visitors or his intent to be poked. Part of The Heart of Janus AU.

#Trollhunters #3Below #ToAWizards #ToA Wizards #Wizards #Rise of the Titans #Tales of Arcadia

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bo0neey · 21 days ago

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Gullible's Written On Your Palm

Chapter 1: Bite The Bullet

Pairing: Chuuya x Reader, Dazai x Reader

Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs

Synopsis: You wanted nothing more then to reach out, take that bandaged hand and finally break free from gravity. But yours falls short.

5 years pass. What changed? Nothing. His hand still remains. Bandaged and bruised as always. Haunting you like a ghost. Maybe next time you'll reach out.

-A fic on missed opportunities and guilt centred around yourself and your time in the PM: Do you stay with you loyal friend through a torturous environment hellbent on consuming humanity, or take the heavenly hand presented and ignore the effects of gravity?-

Type: Multi - Chapter (1/3)

Combats not my thing. I don’t dress for it and I don’t expect it. So when Dazai bought me along I hadn’t a clue I’d be fighting for my life in stilettos and a tight dress. I was readying for some political event when Dazai jumped in and requested my help. I was just 2 minutes from finishing my makeup. All done and pristine for 20:00. I’d be lucky if I could even make the event on time let alone in an acceptable state. “You didn’t say I’d be breaking my ankles!” The wind blew at a fast pace, whipping my hair into my eyes. “Minor details. You look beautiful by the way.” He responded from somewhere behind. I couldn’t see him right now. In fact I couldn’t see anything right now. “I certainly wont be when I’m stuck in a cast. Where are you by the wa-“ Something hard came into contact with my abdomen as I turned around. I winced and fell forwards, tripping over my dress and loosing balance. “Dazai!” I scream as reflex as I stumble back and fall. I throw my hands out in front of me to try and grab something but its futile. I don’t feel anything as my fingertips clench around air. I don’t feel anything as my back falls to the ground either. It never hits.

: ̗̀ - ➛

You were oddly cute at 15. A mess as always, matted hair and migrated makeup-but the clash of optimism and nervousness gave you that innocent glow reserved for youth. Hair was lazily slicked up into a messy up-do from the previous nights endeavors, scandalous clothing fit only for a hooker or delusional teen covered your figure and chipped nails gripped a perfectly polished pistol. Your cold fingers twitched around the trigger as you stared down the barrel. Your eyes were madly wide from both adrenaline and a strange excitement - Not at the thought of the weapon but at the freedom and power thrust into your hands by your executives. You felt seen. You felt powerful. Alive even. The gun was pristine. Glistening under the bathroom lights. Not a scratch or smear on the case. You envied its beauty; its effortless elegance. It was nothing like you. Your gaze shifts from the barrel to the head behind. Long flowing locks of a woman 5 years your senior, blonde and clean. You didn’t know who she was, you didn't care to remember the details. Just another box to tick to get the job done. You cock the safety off and watch as the head jolts. She steps back and bumps the weapon, gasping and throwing her arms above her head. Fresh French tips adorned with rings of gold. One caught your attention in particular: Plain and battered, sat on her left hand. Married. She was someone. She had people who cared. She was a real live person. But you needed this. You needed to prove that you were more then just some sad party girl collecting gossip, you could be serious. You could be worthwhile keeping. You just needed to prove it. Prove you could be seen. You suck in and brush the trigger, eyes shutting tight as your ears ring. Your hand snaps back and you eyes jolt open. A mirror. You.

Blood.

You were full of harsh sobs as you scrubbed and peeled at your skin. No matter how hard you tried, the red tint stained your finger tips. It covered your skin and filled any creases. Your nails were worse: framed by a thick, dark red. “C’mon n/n. The boss finally gave you a proper job and you flip out.” Dazai scoffed from his spot behind you. Through your haze a calming hand sits on your shoulder. “Not everyones a psycho like you.” Chuuya retorted. His gloved hand rubs small circles into your shoulder as he speaks. You cant see their faces and frankly you didn’t care. You knew they were glaring daggers at each other. “Dunno. Who else would scrub their hands like that.” Maybe gloves were a good idea. You’d need to ask Chuuya about that later when you could trust your voice. “Maybe she isn’t cut out for missions.” Yeah gloves to hide the discolouration’s a good idea. Plus you wouldn’t need to worry about stains again. “A bit of sympathy wouldn’t kill you right now.” If you find a nice set of gloves then maybe you’ll stop feeling so cold all the time too. They feel like the dead sometimes. “Look at her. She’s not even listening.” you pause. you wish you was able to block out the noise. You want to ignore them. You want to ignore your conscience. You want to ignore everything but you’re just too tired to run. “Just get out.” Those 3 words register in your mind but you’re unsure just who spoke them. While you didn’t think you were capable of speaking right now, you certainly didn't think Chuuya would snap that fast either. “Thats no way to address your superior now is it?” But he leaves. You can hear the receding foot pats. Chuuya’s gloved hand on your shoulder slides down your arm as he tugs you into a more comfortable embrace. You feel your body convulse with more sobs which he gently tries to sooth. “If it helps, I never knew my first. Saw their faces in the paper but…I never knew what was my doing and what was just collateral.” “So they all weigh you down the same.” You’re voice is small and crooked but he hears you still. He nods and gives you an encouraging squeeze. Your words had always just tumbled out. Most of the time you were fortunate that they made a coherent sentence but sometimes you felt like you were just saying words for the sake of it. Trying so desperately to be heard that you made a fool of yourself. In fact sometimes you felt like you’d never even had a unique thought to voice out loud, let alone being worthy of voicing out loud. You felt like you just mindlessly regurgitated what's worked in the past in hopes of passing through the conversations. Everyone just muddled together into one messy day you’d endure. Nothing particularly stuck out and every conversation felt like the same mindless slop. “You’ll learn to live with the ghosts because that's just the type of person you are.” He gently pulls away and holds your hands in his. You drag your eyes from his touch to his face and its filled with pure sincerity. “Thanks Chuu…” But I’m a ghost myself.

For the next 5 years, your missions morphed from info gathering - more specifically from parties - to closing small scale deals. It must’ve been Dazai. He must’ve said something to stop you getting your hands dirty again because while you appreciated the gesture, you were dead weight. Your ability had become obsolete. Your work load had diminished. You were practically just the duos lap dog. If people looked down on you before, they certainly had neck cramps now.

“Y/N.” You turn around with a smile. You just missed his brooding figure as you passed the training room. You hadn’t heard from your friend in a few days now. “Dazai.” You look up at the taller boy. He was only 3 years older than you but it looked more like 5 considering heights. His face was dark. Darker than usual. He looked pained, genuinely hurt. “Oh Dazai. Whats wrong?” He roughly grabbed your shoulder and tugged you into the training room with him, shutting the door swiftly behind. He was facing away but you could see his slow breaths. “Da-“ “Odas dead.” He states grimly. Your face pales.

“Oda?“

“Yeah…” Your mind was blank. You knew he was hurting. You knew this was awful. But you simply didn’t feel a thing. It like you were glad, you were fond of Oda, this wasn’t good news by any means. You simply place a hand on his shoulder and try to offer some comfort. “I know how close you two were and-“ “I’m leaving.” He cut you off before you could say any further. “Sorry?” You were shocked. He couldn’t just leave. No matter how much he was hurt, they’d never let him go. He knew too much. He did too much. They liked him too much. Even for a lowly grunt like yourself, leaving was a death wish at best. He turned around and held your cold hand in his warmer ones. Large brown eyes met your own. “I’m leaving.” He stated firmer as if he was making this up as he went. You could tell his unsaid words. He wanted you to go with him. And you wanted to. You wanted nothing more then to leave. “I’m leaving tonight.” “I see.” No longer being able to hold his gaze, I drop my sights to his shoes out of shame. Too scared to stay and too prideful to ask. His shoes were muddy and speckled with dots of rain. He’d not been back long. He’d probably not even told anyone else. I open my mouth to say something else, something encouraging or comforting, but no words fall out. I gently release my hand from his grip and step back. “I shouldn’t get in your way then.” Over one conversation the friendship you’d accumulated over the last two years had convulsed into something unfamiliar, something cold, something that made your heart ache. “See you again soon then.”

And you were a fool to believe it.

End of Chapter 1

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pinazee · 6 months ago

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Becky Barnes has to be the most underrated hatchetfield character. Like her coolness to fandom appreciation ratio is way too low. This bad bitch didn’t accidentally knick her abusive husbands femoral artery, she aimed for it, and left that bastard to bleed out in the woods.

Then she shot Linda in the middle of her forehead with zero hesitation and without any context into the whole wiggly situation. She decided Linda had to go and handled it.

But also she’s a sweet character. She was in that line, probably after work since shes still wearing scrubs, for the kids at the hospital. Plus, I personally, like to believe she didn’t “miss” hitting hannah with that needle, i think part of her knew what was happening and stopped herself.

Ill admit, i under appreciated her myself, but what a great character.

(P.S that stanley guy is still alive somewhere isnt he?!? Tbh, i don’t want him to come back because i dont want becky to have to deal with him anymore. But if he does, I hope another lady stumbles across him and finishes it for her.)

#team starkid #starkid #starkid productions #black friday #black friday starkid #becky barnes #hatchetfield #hatchetverse #i think it might have been because black friday did a lot more telling than showing #there was a lot of exposition to explain the background of the characters #some of it felt organic #like the whole song what do you say was great because it felt like a town gossiping #but other times i think they just overexplained and it took some of the impact out of the words #idk just my personal opinion #nightmare time #nmt #janes a car

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klbwriting · 11 months ago

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Adventures In Atlantean-Sitting

Chapter 2

Fandom: Aquaman

Pairing: Ormxfemale!Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Arthur tells the council he has a plan, Orm meets YN and isn't too pleased

Arthur spent the next few days in Atlantis with the council, laying out exactly who this tracking metahuman was and what they could do. He explained that YN was someone who Batman had found originally. She had lived in Gotham for her whole life, in Arkham mostly, because she seemed to know too much about everyone around her. They thought she was using this power to help supervillains, however, she was not helping them willingly. Batman had gotten her out of Arkham and after she helped him track down a few of his more elusive foes he helped her get reestablished in Coast City under the eye of Green Lantern. She was able to get help controlling her power and now the Justice League called upon her if they needed help and paid for her to live just outside the city. She was trusted completely, very predictable, and she would be able to find Orm and when she did she would report back to Arthur and he would have a squad take in the exiled king. After much debate about whether an Atlantean should be with her while she did this, they council finally agreed to let the king do it his way first. Orlan, surprisingly, was on his side about this. Arthur knew it was because Orlan wanted to see him fail fantastically. He went back to the surface and contacted Orm, telling him to meet him at the edge of the woods north of the city.

Orm arrived at the meeting spot, carrying his bag. He figured Arthur was taking him somewhere new, there was an attack by Atlantean's on the city, he couldn't stay there. They might have found him and then Arthur would have a conflict with the surface world and the council in Atlantis. The man couldn't handle that kind of stress, he could barely handle tying his shoes. Orm sighed, he needed to stop thinking that Arthur was such an idiot. He had defeated Orm, had found Atlan's trident, apparently was able to run the kingdom well enough that the people at least were on his side. Arthur was not the imbecile older brother anymore, he was a good king, and a good brother who was willing to deal with Orm and his shit.

"There's my baby brother," Arthur said, moving to lift Orm by surprise, hugging him from the side and turning him around in the air. Orm struggled. Alright, Arthur was still an imbecile. "Now I need you to be completely honest with me, did you attack Coast City?" Orm was appalled.

"NO!" he said. "That attack was rudimentary, if you're going to attack a city like that, you don't just send in a small ground assault, you use the water that is right there to destroy half the city first, then you come in with a large ground assualt..." Orm stopped when he noticed Arthur holding back a laugh. His eyes narrowed. "You already knew I had nothing to do with it." He nodded.

"I did, but that insight into your brain was fascinating. You are a terrifying little man," his brother said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Come on, I got the council to agree to me finding you, not sending out an Atlantean search team," he explained as they started walking down a side dirt road into the trees.

"Why do they even think it is me?" he asked. Arthur sighed.

"They found a weapon under some rubble, the DNA attached to it was yours," he said. Orm's eyebrows shot up. He could still activate some weapons? He may need that for later. "O don't get any ideas, I already made sure to send teams out to the rest of the caches in the world, you're scrubbed from all of them now." Orm's small fledge of hope deflated. He coup attempt would have to wait. "But anyway..."

"Where are you taking me?" Orm asked now, just noticing they were just going into trees. There wasn't any town or even a bus station to take him somewhere else.

"Let me explain. Because your DNA was found the council wants to find you, they know you're alive now. I promised them I would have a specific person find you. Well, I know where you are, this person I'm taking you to is a friend of the League. She's agreed to keep track of you and to house you until the real culprit of these attacks is discovered." Orm frowned. So Arthur's grand plan to help him was to have someone babysit him? He wasn't a child. He just needed to get far enough away, maybe stay towards the inner states for awhile. The council would soon forget him again and he would be able to find someplace new to settle for awhile.

They finally exited the trees to find a small cottage surrounded by wildflowers. There was an older model car parked by the red door. The place looked a bit magical to Orm. He had just watched a movie where there was a cottage like this, it seemed like a place nothing bad could happen. Arthur walked up to the door and knocked. A woman answered and smiled big at Arthur, hugging him tight before looking to Orm and smiling. Poseidon, that smile was like sunshine. Orm immediately liked her, but hated that she was his keeper. He would be getting out of this place as soon as he could. She walked over, extending her hand to him. Orm shook it politely before pulling back. The woman smiled.

"You must be Orm, Arthur has told me about your predicament. But you have no worries here. This place is completely off the books, so no one will know you're here. Well except me, but you knew that," she said. "I'm YN, come inside." She took his bag before he could argue, and walked back into the house. Orm entered and looked around. It was small, but just enough for one, maybe two people to be comfortable. She stood in the middle of the main room. She pointed out where everything was, living area, dining table, kitchen, bathroom, and one bedroom. He frowned.

"Am I sleeping on the couch?" Orm asked. The couch looked old, and honestly, not very comfortable. Arthur nudged him hard in the side, glaring. Apparently he was being rude.

"No, I am taking the couch. I set up my room for you. I wouldn't let a king sleep in squalor," she said. Orm flushed a little at the term. Was she needling him or trying to be kind? Arthur glowered a little and Orm decided she must be being kind to him. Arthur however, could see the look YN was giving his brother. She was smitten by Orm and Arthur really wished she wasn't the only meta he knew with these powers. She might be a liability. He knew Orm would run and he needed his brother to stay put and he needed someone who could keep him here and right now that was looking less likely. Maybe he would have Lantern come by tomorrow, just to check on things. Right now he needed to leave and get back to Atlantis.

"Well, you two kids have fun, Orm, stay here and YN, please keep an eye on him," he implored. YN saluted him and smiled. Orm just sighed and nodded, pretending defeat. "Thank you." With that Arthur left and Orm and YN were left alone. YN smiled and Orm for a moment thought, maybe I'll stay.

#orm marius #king orm #ormmarius #orm marius x reader #king orm x reader #kingorm #ormmariusxreader #kingormxreader #ormseries5

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sortasirius · 8 months ago

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First Place

Fandom: 911

Pairing: Evan Buckley/Eddie Diaz

Words: 2209

Rating: T

Summary: Buck wakes from the same repeating nightmare to a knock on his door.

Title comes from this song.

Also on AO3 here

Stay with me. He was pushing on the wound in Eddie’s chest, soaking the gauze he had packed on there, soaking his hands, a hole blown in a levy, a tidal wave that Buck couldn’t stem.

A loud rhythmic sound, maybe one of the machines on the rig acting up. Buck didn’t have time to worry about that, he just had to worry about keeping Eddie awake. Keeping him alive.

He was not allowed to leave, he wasn’t allowed to go to a place where Buck couldn’t immediately follow.

Stay with me.

He repeated the words like a mantra, like a prayer, saying them over and over as Eddie’s eyes rolled in and out of focus, his hand scrabbling blindly on the metal floor beside him, then coming up to rest on Buck’s forearm, then back down again.

Stay with me, you have to stay with me.

More of that rhythmic noise, louder this time. He thought he heard his own name.

“Open up!”

He looked around, only now noticing that the rig was empty. He looked up at the driver’s seat.

Empty.

Buck, Eddie whispered, his hand coming up to touch his face now, Buck-

Stay with me.

You have to stay with me.

“Buck!”

He sat straight up from the couch, gasping for air, his heart doing its best to beat out of his chest as whoever was at his door knocked loudly again.

He scrubbed a hand down his face as he moved slowly towards the door, trying to shake the fear that clung to him like a second skin.

Just another nightmare, just like all the others he had had since Eddie had had a hole blown right through him.

He had thought, maybe stupidly, that with Eddie home now, things would go back to normal. He was safe, at home with Chris and probably Ana. He was home. He was with Chris. It was fine.

He would tell himself this over and over, even as he would watch the clock tick nearer and nearer to dawn, and would finally gave up on sleeping all together and just sit in front of the tv, not taking in the flickering images in front of his eyes.

He thought it might be easier if he could stay with Eddie, but he couldn’t ask him that. He had his own life, his own son, his own girlfriend. He didn’t need Buck hanging on like a lost puppy, clinging to him like a life raft in a storm.

That never worked out for Buck, but he had never been able to let go.

He pulled open the door, only to see Eddie himself, dressed in that cream colored henley that Buck had always thought looked great on him and…pajama pants?

“Hey,” Buck blinked, looking around, “I didn’t expect-“

“Can I come in?” Eddie was shifting side to side, like he was nervous, and it was rare that Buck ever saw Eddie nervous.

“Sure,” he said, inwardly thankful that Taylor had already left. She didn’t like to stay the night, she said Buck was too cuddly and it made her too hot, “I figured you’d be with Chris.”

“He’s in bed,” he looked over his shoulder, into Buck’s apartment, “Can I come in?”

“Oh, sure. Of course,” he stood by to let him pass, analyzing his movements as he walked by him.

He was moving well. Buck had been up half the night googling signs and symptoms of infection or blood poisoning or a myriad of other things WebMD told him could come along with an extended hospital stay or a heavy caliber gunshot wound.

He’d lost so much blood, seeping out onto the asphalt, his insides out-

He gave his head a little shake, closing the door and following Eddie to the couch, sinking down onto it next to him, and looking at him curiously.

The silence stretched on, Buck watching Eddie, Eddie watching his hands. They were twisting together, like he was working up to something.

“I dumped Ana,” he finally said, so bluntly that Buck was taken aback.

“Oh did- Did something happen?”

Something like a small smile curled Eddie’s mouth, but he still wouldn’t look at Buck.

“Yeah. Carla.”

Whoa. This was a new development.

“You- You’re dating Carla?”

“What? No,” he laughed, “No it- it was something she said to me.”

Another silence. Buck couldn’t understand where this was going, or why Eddie had come to the loft just to tell him this in the middle of the night when they would see each other on shift the next morning.

“What’d she say?”

“That- That I had to make sure I was following my own heart, not just Christopher’s. And I was thinking about it and I realized she was right, I was just with Ana because she was nice and because Chris liked her.”

“Oof. Rough. Hope you didn’t say that to her.”

“But I realized,” Eddie continued, plowing over Buck’s words, “That there was someone we had in common. Someone Chris loves that I- I think I do too.”

There was a sick kind of sinking in his gut, something that he didn’t really understand, but something that was common anytime Eddie mentioned a date or someone he was seeing.

“Oh yeah?” he tried to keep up a bright smile, “Who’s that?”

Eddie didn’t answer him, but just…looked at him instead.

“What?”

“You know,” he seemed to be choosing his words more carefully now, “When I got shot, you were the first thing I saw.”

Buck shifted; he didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to remember that horrible moment, something that he was sure was going to keep him awake for years, screaming nightmares punctuating his sleep.

Eddie on the ground, his warm blood splattered across Buck’s face…

“It didn’t even hurt, really,” Eddie was saying, “The shock of it, you know. I don’t even remember falling, but I remember I couldn’t see you.”

Buck rubbed at his chest, where was he going with this? It’s not like he didn’t remember, it was just a couple of weeks ago and felt like he was still living in the nightmare. He saw him bleeding out, Buck powerless to do anything but watch every time he closed his eyes.

“And then I looked under the rig and I saw you, and I could hear yelling and shots from the sniper and screaming and a fire nearby, but I-”

He broke off, shaking his head, but the idea of him not finishing what he was going to say was suddenly too heartbreaking to bear.

“What? You can tell me.”

He took a deep, steadying breath.

“I was reaching for you. I was reaching for you because- Because I didn’t want to die without touching you, even just for a second. Just one last second.”

Buck felt like all the air had been punched out of his chest.

“You-”

“And then the way you talked after. How it should have been you, how it would have been better if it was you,” Eddie shook his head, looking almost angry, “I can’t- Chris needs you. I- I need you. I need you, Buck.”

“You- You need me?” he said slowly, trying to force his brain to work faster.

“Yeah,” he whispered, shifting closer to him on the couch, so their knees were touching, “I need you more than Chris does, and he’s already complaining that he hasn’t seen you in two days.”

“I just wanted to give you your space,” he mumbled, head low.

“You don’t have to give us- Give me any space. I want you around, always.”

“For now,” Buck let the words slip without even thinking, his internal monologue slipping out uninvited. Instantly, he wished he could take them back, because Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed down in concern and he reached for him, gripping his knee in his hand, warmth leeching through the fabric of Buck’s sweatpants.

“What do you mean, ‘for now’?”

“Nothing,” he said it too quickly, but wouldn’t pull away from Eddie, nothing in the universe could make him pull away from Eddie ever again, “It’s stupid.”

“No,” he was using that same tone he had used in the hospital, when he had told him that he wasn’t replaceable. Forceful. Assured. Like nothing had ever been more true. “Tell me what you meant.”

“It’s just-” he had never said this to anyone, never let it see the light of day. Because if he said it, he would lose them that much faster, “Everyone leaves eventually, when they see me.”

“See you?” he couldn’t escape the look on Eddie’s face, “What do you mean, see you?”

“Just when- When I’m too much. Because I’m always too much. It’s what everyone says.”

“Who says that? I wouldn’t say that.”

“I just- The way I act. I’m too much. I’m…I’m exhausting.”

Eddie’s whole face changed.

“Oh Buck-”

“No it’s fine. It’s fine. I shouldn’t have said anything-”

“I was just mad at you-” Eddie sounded frantic, “I didn’t mean.”

“It’s not you, it’s everyone. My parents, my sister, the rest of the crew, any girl…ever. Even Taylor tells me she can’t stay because I cuddle too much, even when I’m asleep I cling too hard. I know I’m too much and I just- I can’t get my hopes up that anything would be different here.”

He swallowed, blinking back tears that stung his eyes.

“Hey,” Eddie’s voice was so gentle, “Will you look at me?”

He didn’t want to. He didn’t want Eddie to see him going to pieces over something as silly as this. It was just the truth, something that he had known from the time he was a child, even years before he knew that he was only born for spare parts; he loved too hard, and he crushed the people that he loved in the process of loving them.

So it was easier for everyone to leave him, or else risk being suffocated.

A gentle hand came up to lift his chin, and he was looking at Eddie, his gaze something dangerously close to tender.

“You aren’t too much,” Buck snorted wetly, making to shrug him off, but Eddie held fast, “No, listen to me. Really listen to me. You aren’t too much, and fuck everyone for ever making you feel like you were. Fuck me, for all that. I was just angry at you- I didn’t realize what I was saying would leave- Leave such a mark. But it’s not true, Buck. You’ve never been too much, not for Chris. Not for me.”

“I don’t know,” he wanted to try for humor, otherwise he’d be bursting into tears right here in front of Eddie, “You get pretty annoyed at me.”

“Yeah, that’s because you’re pretty annoying,” a ghost of a smile flitted across his face, “But that doesn’t mean you’ve ever been too much.”

Buck closed his eyes, hot tears leaking from them against his will. He felt the pad of Eddie’s thumb wiping them away, and he leaned into the contact.

“Don’t- Please don’t just be saying this. Don’t say it if- If you don’t mean it.”

“I do mean it,” Eddie’s voice was so earnest that Buck opened his eyes, “I mean every word.”

They stayed like that, just looking at each other, and Buck felt almost like it was a standoff, seeing who would break first.

“I don’t- I don’t know how to feel,” he finally said, pulling back from Eddie just slightly, so that he dropped his hands, “I still- I think I need to sleep, I can’t put anything together.”

“Are you sleeping down here?” Eddie looked critically at the blanket and throw pillow Buck had been using as a makeshift bed, “What’s wrong with the loft?”

“I can’t sleep up there,” he looked away from him, “Not that I can sleep much better down here either.”

“Just can’t sleep?” Eddie arched an eyebrow at him, “Or is it-”

“It’s you,” Buck said, nearly bitterly, “I keep dreaming about it. The shooting. Everything. I keep having to stop myself from calling you at three in the morning just to make sure you’re okay.”

There was a pause, one where Buck could practically see the wheels in Eddie’s brain turning, before he said,

“Then come home with me.”

“What?” Buck said loudly, sure he had misheard him.

“Come home with me,” he repeated, steadily, “You won’t have to check on me if we’re in the same bed.”

That strange feeling in his chest had vanished, replaced by something warm and blooming.

“You mean that?”

“Oh yeah, I definitely mean it,” he got to his feet, groaning slightly, and extended his hand to Buck, “What do you say? It’ll give Chris the thrill of his life when he wakes up to find you in the house.”

“Just Chris?” Buck fished tentatively, and Eddie laughed, leaning into his space, so that they were only an inch or so apart.

“Not just Chris,” he whispered, pressing his lips gently to Buck’s. He leaned into the kiss, pulling Eddie in closer, careful with his left side, ever aware of the bullet hole that had torn him apart and brought them together.

#buddie #my writing #911 #911 abc #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fox #probably first of many lol #buddie fanfic

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cuddlepilefics · 11 months ago

Text

Sleepy sickie + post-adrenaline puke

Fandom: P1Harmony

Sickie: Intak

Caregivers: hyung-line

@monthofsick

TW: emeto, fainting, real person fiction

No one’s POV.:

Comebacks were always rough but now that P1Harmony actually won on a show, the members were motivated to work even harder to get more wins under their belt. It didn’t matter how tired they were, the feeling of being cheered on by their fans made the exhaustion absolutely worth it. “What’s on your mind?”, Keeho asked softly, catching Intak’s attention. Furrowing his brows at the leader, Intak muttered: “You talking to me, hyung?” – “Who else would I be talking to? We’re the only two here”, Keeho retorted and the younger frantically looked around the room. He hadn’t noticed their friends leaving. Had he really been that spaced out? “So?”, the leader repeated, “What’s on your mind? You seem really deep in thought, especially if you didn’t even notice the others heading out.”

There was a moment of silence before Intak asked: “Can I be honest with you? There’s nothing on my mind. No thoughts, head empty. ‘m just so tired.” – “So you’ve been more or less asleep with your eyes open, huh?”, Keeho chuckled, passing the younger a bottle of water, “I get that. None of us has gotten nearly enough sleep lately. Try to stay hydrated and we’ll see if we can fit in a nap at any point of the day.” Obediently sipping half of the water, Intak closed his eyes and massaged his temples. He hadn’t been able to kick this headache for the past two days and it only seemed to be getting worse. Noticing his dongsaeng’s discomfort, Keeho hummed: “Headache?” The younger nodded and closed his eyes, resting his head in his hands. “Don’t worry, the others will bring back lunch when they return and I’m sure Taeyang will have some painkillers for you once you got something in your stomach”, the leader smiled, massaging Intak’s neck.

Grimacing, the boy slipped one hand under his shirt and weakly palmed at his middle. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to have something in his stomach. It had been a little unsettled for a while now but he knew how stress could lead to digestive problems, so he wasn’t too concerned. “Are you feeling okay?”, Taeyang asked as he placed the takeout bag onto the table. “Huh?”, Intak sleepily blinked up at the eldest, “Wha’?” – “I asked if you’re feeling okay”, Taeyang repeated, “You look pretty pale.” Sitting up, the rapper sighed: “Need sleep.” His words still came out a little slurred and he sluggishly scrubbed at his swollen eyes. “We all do”, Keeho muttered under his breath as he glanced at their maknaes tiredly piling onto a seat together.

After making sure their two youngest were eating, Jiung joined his hyungs in fussing over Intak. “Eat something”, Jiung hummed, placing a takeout box in front of the younger, “You’ll need the energy for the performance.” Though his appetite was almost non-existent but feeling pressured by his hyungs, he forced himself to eat, partly hoping he’d feel more alive once he had something in his system. Intak missed the hushed conversation between the two eldest but quietly thanked Taeyang when the older handed him a painkiller. Once the headache improved, he should be more functional.

That plan backfired badly and Intak found himself with a bad stomachache barely half an hour after his meal. He had already gotten his hair and makeup done, so he curled up on the couch and closed his eyes for a while. There was no way, he’d be able to take a nap though, the pain so intense he could barely breathe. His stomach groaned lowly, catching Jiung’s attention. “You good?”, the older whispered, heart breaking when the other shook his head. Releasing a slow breath, Intak mumbled: “The food isn’t settling at all.” – “No? What’s going on?”, Jiung worried, scooting over to feel his dongsaeng’s forehead, “You don’t have a fever, do you feel sick at all?” The younger slipped his hand under his shirt and rubbed his churning stomach, breathing: “It hurts like hell and I feel like I’m gonna puke.” – “Should we go to the bathroom?”, Jiung cooed, offering Intak a hand, “Come on, maybe you’ll feel better if you get it out.”

Intak panted as he bent over the toilet bowl, spitting into the undisturbed waters and watching the ripples. Standing behind his dongsaeng, Jiung rubbed the other’s back and winced when he felt his spine ripple. Intak’s eyes watered as he pitched forward with a harsh retch. Breaking into a strained coughing fit, the rapper hugged his middle tight as the pain increased tenfold. Intak sank into a crouch and heaved forcefully but couldn't bring anything up. Kneading the back of the rapper’s neck, Jiung offered: “Do you want me to get you some water? Might soothe your stomach or help you throw up.” – “Stay, please?”, Intak whimpered and shook his head, a fresh tear spilling down his pale cheek.

Jiung did stay, patiently rubbing Intak’s back as the younger heaved painfully. The rapper didn’t bring anything up though, only shredding his throat with unproductive retches as his stomach kept turning. Realizing that nothing would come from his attempts, Intak straightened back up and winced when his ears rang. With his vision darkening, he grabbed Jiung’s arms to steady himself, grateful when the older grabbed him to keep him from toppling over.

“You should have a couple of minutes to lay down and rest before we need to get on stage”, Jiung mused, walking Intak back to the couch, where the rapper promptly curled up, “Here, have some water first.” – “Hyung, I’m not sure that’s a good idea”, Intak moaned, palming his still upset stomach. He doubted it’d stay down. Turning to the younger, Keeho gasped in shock: “Woah, shit! What happened to your voice?!” Since the rapper looked so uncomfortable talking about it, Jiung replied softly: “Lunch wasn’t sitting so well and he’s feeling really sick to his stomach. He didn’t throw up yet but the dry heaves strained his throat badly.” – “You’re sick?”, Keeho frowned, feeling Intak’s forehead but he couldn’t detect a fever either. The younger didn’t reply, already knocked out.

“Poor kid”, Jiung whispered as he glanced at his sleeping dongsaeng, “He’s so exhausted, I think his body is lacking the energy to digest his meal. That might be why it's hurting him so much.” – “I’ll make sure he’ll be cleared from schedules for the remainder of the day”, Keeho promised, “Not sure I’ll be able to her him out of this performance though, since he didn’t throw up nor does he have a fever.” Jiung nodded grateful and went to find Taeyang to see if the older also had nausea medication, still praying his dongsaeng would have to perform. He couldn’t help beating himself up for saying that Intak hadn’t gotten sick yet. Though the rapper had tried so hard to be quiet, Jiung was sure at least some of the staff had heard him, so they could’ve easily lied but it was too late for that now.

Intak had a hard time waking up when Taeyang shook him just in time to quickly get his makeup retouched before having to go on stage. “You should drink a little more than that”, the eldest commented when Intak swallow the pill with only one tiny sip if water, “We wouldn’t want you passing out on stage.” – “No’ gonna pass ou’”, the rapper slurred, pushing the bottle away. Watching the interaction, Keeho wondered how the boy was going to rap his lines if he was too sleepy to pronounce such a simple sentence. Fighting down a sickly burp, Intak muttered under his breath: “More worried ‘bout pukin’ in front of everyone.” – “That’s not very reassuring”, Jiung chuckled sadly, also encouraging the other to have a few more sips.

They only had a few minutes left and Intak weakly slumped into Jiung’s side. “I cleared your schedule for the rest of the day, so you can catch up on some sleep soon. Your voice sounds wrecked, that’s why we’ll have you lipsync, just focus on dacing”, Keeho informed him quietly, “We’ll need you to stay awake a little longer though. Just get this performance over with and then you can rest.” The words barely made sense in Intak’s muddled brain but hearing their fans’ cheers already, the adrenaline woke him up just in time. Though he still felt incredibly shaky, he managed to put on a smile for their fans and forced his sore body to dance his heart out, temporarily forgetting the nausea licking at the back of his throat.

The members were stunned as they watched Intak dance. They wouldn’t have noticed him being unwell at all if they didn’t know. That was also why they startled when their friend crumpled, barely striking the ending pose before losing consciousness. With the camera focusing on their two maknaes as ending fairies, Keeho and Jiung quickly hoisted Intak off the floor and carried him backstage. Placing the rapper on the couch with a stack of cushions to elevate his legs, Jiung anxiously patted his dongsaeng’s pale cheeks, while a staff member fanned the boy with a stack of papers.

Intak was so unbelievably dizzy when he came to, his eyes still out of focus. With the adrenaline wearing off, the nausea returned with a vengeance, making him roll onto his side. Keeho managed to snatch a towel and hold it under Intak’s chin just in time for the rapper to gag up his nausea medicine. “You’re okay”, Jiung cooed and replaced the towel with a trash can, patting his dongsaeng’s back as he choked. Hurriedly removing the cushions, Keeho sat Intak up to help him breathe while the younger kept coughing. The leader placed the trash can between the rapper’s legs and winced when he threw up again. Intak barely managed to get a breath in before another large wave spilled from his lips. Rubbing slow, comforting circles on the rapper’s back, Jiung whispered: “Get it all out, your stomach will feel better afterwards.” – “You did so well”, Keeho praised, getting another towel that he wet with some cold water, draping ut across the back of his dongsaeng’s neck to ease his headache a little.

The rest of the members, joined them not much later, hearts aching when they found Intak sleepily curled up against Jiung’s side. It had taken a bit for the heaves to die down, his throat now burning from the strain. He couldn’t bring himself to drink anything, merely rinsing his mouth a couple of times to get rid of the vile taste. Now that the adrenaline was gone, Intak was zapped of all energy, finally breaking into tears after fighting so hard to keep it together. Seeing that he was probably done throwing up, Jiung opened his arms and inviting the rapper to cuddle into him. “It’s okay, you’re truly exhausted, huh?”, the older smiled sadly, scratching Intak’s scalp to soothe him. “Come on, put on your sweater”, Taeyang coaxed, “Sitting around in your sweaty stage outfit isn’t going to do you any good.”

It did need some convincing for Intak to move, unable to hold back a hoarse whimper at the pounding pain in his head. Taeyang stood in front of his dongsaeng, smoothing the shirt down his back while the younger sleepily rested his head against the other’s tummy. Cradling Intak’s head against his middle, the eldest promised: “We’ll get you to bed soon. There’s nothing for you to worry about. Hyungs will handle everything.” The rapper trembled, silent tears soaking into Taeyang’s shirt. It had been a while since he had last felt this miserable. The room seemed to be spinning at irregular speeds but his hyung’s arms kept him grounded. “Hyung, we grabbed you some tea”, Jongseob hummed, carrying a paper cup. Seeing that Intak wasn’t yet able to stomach anything and his hands were too shake, the maknae gave it to Taeyang to hold onto for the time being.

Intak was slowly drifting off against Taeyang, while the others got ready to leave. Before he could fall asleep though, the eldest had him sip some of the tea and they were relieved that it soothed both, his throat and his stomach. Shota came to remove Intak’s smeared makeup, while Taeyang freshened up too and the they were off. The rapper fell asleep against Jiung as they drove him back to the dorm, so he could rest. “Fee’ sick ‘gain”, Intak slurred when they pulled up to the building, only half awake. Cursing under his breath, Keeho got out and opened the door for the younger who didn’t even get to unbuckle his seatbelt before leaning out of the car, retching onto the pavement. Since Intak didn’t have much left in him, the spell was over once he heaved up a few mouthful of acid and Jiung unbuckled his seatbelt for him.

With how dizzy he was, it was hard to get Intak out of the car without him falling over but they eventually had him stumbling along between Keeho and Jiung, who prayed their dongsaeng would make it up to his room without anymore incidents because he already looked about to faint again. Taeyang rushed to removed the boy’s shoes but by the time they sat him down on his bed, he was ghostly pale anyway. Resting his hands on his dongsaeng’s shoulders, Keeho eased the boy down and shushed: “Breathe through the dizziness. We’re here now, you won’t have to move anytime soon.” – “Hyung, ‘m so tired”, Intak whimpered, draping his arm over his face as he waited for the dark spots to fade. “We know”, the leader sighed, running his hand through the rapper’s hair, “You did so well though. I’m really proud of you.”

Sadly, they could only get Intak cleared of his schedule, so there was no one who could stay with him. That’s why Jiung set him up with a bucket next to his bed, while Shota and Jongseob went through their snack cabinet and picked out some saltine crackers and pretzels. Taeyang brought a bottle of water and a sports drink, placing them on Intak’s nightstand next to the snacks their maknaes brought. “We’ll have to leave soon but you should try to get some fluids and electrolytes in as soon as your stomach settles down. There’s some stuff on your nightstand, anything particular you want us to get you before we leave?”, the eldest hummed, receiving a shake of the head, “You got your phone, so if you need anything, give us a call. Try to catch up on some sleep, okay? See you tonight.”

Finally having permission to rest, Intak was out before the door had even closed behind his friends.

#fanfic #fluff #comfort #fanfiction #sickfic #sick #emeto #tw emeto #tw rpf #p1harmony #novemetober

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marimayscarlett · 1 year ago

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I wonder what kind of costume change we'll be gifted with next summer now that the chicken coat is no more.

Would be fun to see a complete style overhaul for all of them for the new era, but since it's a continuation of the tour, I doubt we will.

Hi!!

I think this is a topic which actually is on a lot of minds throughout the fandom - especially since the chicken coat supposedly found his place for retirement in the Rammstein museum. As it should, it really did a good job and looks like it needs time to rest 👀

I agree with you that new outfits and styles for the whole band would be nice, but I think that either some parts of their wardrobe will be overhauled or maybe some outfits make a come back, which weren't used much or were worn a longer time ago (that's just wishful thinking on my part I guess). I'm especially thinking about the following (plus incudling some thoughts what would fit some of them concerning new outfits, at least imho):

Schneider's really comfortable looking, kind of yoga-suit from this year. He looks so good and relaxed in it, would be nice to see it again 🤍 Anything more lose-fitting or maybe some kind of cape would be really cool to see on him.

picture credit: @iinchicore

Paul's red snake suit (worn in 2019 I think), I really liked the color shade of it and the matching boots! In general would just wish for a little bit more color on him next year - maybe red or something completely different, just something else than the grey suit would be neat.

Regarding Olli, I just really wish for anything which makes him more visible on stage - please no more all black outfits and makeup 🙏 The stage make up from 2022 was absolutely amazing and so unique (thanks to @wizzardclown who reminded me of this!):

picture credit: @derwahnsinn

or Olli in red, which made him visible and made him look pretty arcane in a mystical way:

picture credit: Suzanne Mannifield

With Flake, I really want to see something other than a sparkly suit on him. I know it's his signature look currently and for the last few years, but this guy deserves a different look I think. Maybe something like the various medical scrubs he wore, I really dig this look:

But make it more refined and whimsical. (Funnily enough, even Willy Wonka popped into my head when I thought about potential Flake outfits, please don't ask me what's happening in my brain again)

I'm not the biggest fan of Till's outfits in general, but I liked the style and cut of the snake suit very much! But please, another material would be nice.

My favourite outift of Till will always be the one from Völkerball, it's really unmatched and fits him quite well.

Now, for Richard I have three very defined wishes.

1. The most realistic wish probably: I DEMAND that the vampire coat HAS to stay. This outfit keeps me alive, is the air that I breath and how he lives rent free in my head:

picture credits: @sechsherzen

2. If the vampire coat has to go (god forbid) or a new coat is entering the scene, something studded like this one I'd love:

(My second favourite after the vampire coat)

3. Bring back the Michael Jackson-esque leg belt thing, this was such a look. Would look exceptionally good in combination with his coat:

A kind of chaotic list and these are just my thoughts and opinions 🤍 Now I'm even more excited to see what kind of gems the future tour will bring us style-wise ✨

#Rammstein #rambling over fashion yet again eventhough i know nothing about it #really tried to stay at least a bit realistic #will definitely make a post about with outfit wishes which will have zero chance to come true #just because i can #ask #thank you for this ask!#stage outfits #stage fashion #rammstein tour 2024 #richard kruspe #paul landers #till lindemann #christoph schneider #flake lorenz #oliver riedel #concert stuff

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emerdoodls · 7 months ago

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hi tuc fandom literally months ago i was trying to create a like?? no underland au of tuc (the underland doesn't exist, the regalians are just lowkey a doomsday cult that sandwich started)

anyways i gave up immediately bc i couldn't decide what to do with gregor. this au exists purely bc i wanna draw nerissa in fun normal outfits and howard in silly scrubs, btw but basically luxa and gregor are college age (around 18 or 19), so lizzie and hazard are like middle/early high school age and boots is late/mid elementary school, and nerissa and howard are both towards the end of their degrees, early-mid 20s?? idk specific ages but those age gaps feel mostly correct bc for some reason i think theres four years between gregor and lizzie?? basically everything's the same except gregor and boots don't fall down that shaft in the laundry room bc it doesn't exist, but their dad still disappeared, im debating on why?? like the most logical situation i can come up with for him to be similarly traumatized would be if a serial killer got him and just kept him alive to help him make stuff (a la the gnawers in book 1) but idk.

the important part of all this is that idk what to do with gregor, so here are the three thoughts i had:

he's in college on either an academic or athletic scholarship and working a job to help his family

he's working two jobs to raise money for college in a year or two, and to help his family out financially

he's working one job and taking community college classes so that he can skip all his gen eds when he transfers to a non community college

i just feel like he's the type of person to want to help his mom out financially esp in a world where he's not extra traumatized yk?? so opinions? other ideas??

#the underland chronicles #gregor tuc #tuc au #gregor cambell #is this just stupid?? you can tell me that too #rambles #gregor the overlander #this idea has lived in my head for years but since i can't figure out logistics i haven't done much with it #gregor just has too much eldest daughter syndrome not to feel obligated to help out financially i feel #so yeah just lmk pls #darn it suzanne #edited to be more clear bc i was being confusing sorry

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akaanade · 4 months ago

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PAIRING: Crosshair x Fem! Reader

SUMMARY: Crosshair must reach into a dark place to rescue from a group of pirates who captured you during a mission. But you show him there's always a way out of it.

LYRIC: "Tell me it's alright/Give me the green light." - 5 Seconds of Summer

WORDS: 4.7K

WARNINGS: Blood, Violence, and Swearing

This story is dedicated to @intricatechaosofyou as part of the Clone x Reader Song Fic Exchange.

I am profoundly sorry about how late this is. I had a stressful month due to a cardiac issue, which has been resolved now, and I didn't realize how long it would take to tell the story I wanted to tell. As a result, I wrote this as fast as I could. It's not my best work, and I'm still getting used to writing for the Clone fandom, but the ending is fluffy.

It was an honor writing for you, and I beg your forgiveness for the delay.

@callsign-denmark @jedi-princess-kestis @cloneficgiftexchange

Idanus’s dual moons shined high in the Outer Rim’s azure night sky amongst an endless sea of twinkling stars. The verdant branches of the planet’s montane forests danced in a temperate breeze, causing water beads from a recent rainstorm to slide from the glistening leaves and drip into the muddy underbrush below amidst an aroma of petrichor. Despite being nighttime, a chorus of nocturnal creatures performed a soft melody of buzzing and croaking throughout the scrub as they socialized and foraged for food.

An abandoned Republic intelligence base stood in a sprawling meadow against the idyllic scenery of herbage and mountain ranges. Nature had long since begun to reclaim her rightful lands from the behemoth, spreading greenery across the rusted grey walls with an eerie beauty. A lone red scroll from Clone Wars, bearing the torn visage of a black Galactic roundel, hung adjacent to one of the base’s entrances, the final thread of a tragic past. Yet, the square turquoise lights decorating the installation’s facade continued to flicker, meaning someone reactivated the power after years of activity.”

Several pirates dressed in discordant, makeshift armor stood guard in the staging grounds with DC-15 rifles resting against their shoulders, probably burgled from the armory. They conversed under the watchful eye of a rival sniper lying prone on the roof. He scanned the jungle horizon from a provisional nest constructed from plywood, searching for any hungry predators who caught a taste for unwashed humans. Little did they know, a much more dangerous and unprecedented hunter watched them like prey above an overlook.

A scowl appeared on the sniper’s scarred face as he noticed brush moving on the cliffside through his night scope. “What the kriff was that?” he grumbled as he switched to thermal imaging and returned his eye to the lens. He hoped to pick up the heat signature of a small harmless rodent who emerged from its underground burrow and scampered around the precipice. Instead, the scope detected the tall, lithe frame of a fellow marksperson flat upon the ground with their crosshairs fixated on the base. The pirate scrambled to his feet and activated his communicator, yelling, “Hey, we have a problem out here! There’s another sniper across the cany-”

“Nest, could you restate that?” buzzed the person on the other side of the radio. But his crewmate could only manage an anguished groan as he released his rifle and fell forward deceased. A miniature burn hole sizzled with tibanna residue in the back of his skull, the characteristic entry wound of the 773 Firepuncher. Startled by the response, the crewmate bellowed, “Nest, do you you copy?! Nest!”

Crosshair chuckled as he rose to his knees and tapped the side of his helmet to access their communication frequency. “What’s the matter? Did someone lose their sniper?”

“What? Who are you? How the kriff did you access our comms?” the perplexed pirate said.

“It doesn’t matter because none of you will be alive to tell the tale.”

“Are you threatening us?”

“I don’t make threats. I make promises, especially when a bunch of bandits steal someone precious to me.”

“Screw you and your girl!”

“Let this be your first and final warning. Run while you can because when I come down there, I will hunt you like the cowardly little rats you are…” Crosshair stated as he returned his eye to his scope, watching the frantic pirates as they fled back into their hovel. They pointed their carbines in all directions as they backed towards the door, desperate to find and incapacitate Crosshair. After some time, the group reached the base’s gargantuan metal doors and scrambled inside, closing them with a thud. “...and eliminate every one of you.”

A Klaxon blared in the background as the line went dead. “Let the games begin!” Crosshair announced, standing and looking across the ravine.

His gaze followed the seemingly endless cragged escarpment as it fell several hundred feet until it met a thin cerulean creek. Straining, he could almost see the whitewater from the violent rapids splashing against the boulder jutting out from the water. Crosshair returned his attention to the base and shook his head, attempting to eliminate his vertigo. He couldn’t risk jumping several hundred feet without the team here, but neither could the pirates or the Republic analysts who once called this place home.

There had to be some way across the chasm.

Suddenly, the soft chord of an engine’s roar appeared in the background of the verdure’s orchestra. Crosshair lifted his reticle again and espied a pair of massive in-groud doors opening to receive the inbound vessel. It was less than a klick away and approaching fast based on its dynamics, meaning Crosshair would only have one shot at accessing the base as he loaded an adhesive grapple and aimed it at the starry sky.

His knuckles tightened around the gun’s handle, holding his breath as he waited for the cruiser to zoom past. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest, almost as if it was urging the ship to hurry the fuck up. As the minutes ticked away, a torrent of thoughts ravaged his mind over what would happen if he couldn’t get there swiftly. Crosshair attempted to assuage the pain spreading through his bones that you were a talented mercenary who could get out of almost anything. However, the past year taught him that skill sometimes does not displace luck. Images of finding your corpse in the middle of the base, executed for being dead weight, taunted his psyche. He didn’t know what he would do or say if he returned to Pabu with your body for burial.

The ship’s engine crescendoed until a Z-95 appeared against the firmament. Crosshair pressed the trigger, launching the adhesive toward an opening section of the ship’s dirty red and white chassis. It stuck and lifted Crosshair into the air as he retracted and tightened the line. As planned, the Z-95 carried him across the gorge’s breadth toward the gaping metal maw. Crosshair lifted his head as the ship stalled its engines, preparing to land. Sirens across the hangar illuminated the room red and blared at each other like a pack of ice vultures fighting over carrion. However, aside from the pilot, there appeared to be no one else in the vicinity, giving Crosshair ample opportunity to begin his rampage.

The pilot landed on the pad in the center of the room and quickly unbuckled his belt before grabbing his gun. Crosshair shifted his weight, moving closer to the ship’s edge to see better the impromptu chauffeur racing down the exit ramp. Like the others, he wore mismatched armor, most likely pieces stolen from his victims. However, aside from a knife attached to the outside of his thigh, he didn’t seem to have any other weaponry. The man ran to a console on the other side of the room, speaking into his intercom to get an update from the crew.

Crosshair loaded several armor-piercing bolts and fired at the tarnished metal plate protecting the corsair’s torso. A smile crept across his face as his target crumbled to the ground, unmoving. He stowed his rifle and crawled out from underneath the cockpit, resembling a spider who caught a fly in its web. On and off, and on and off, went the hangar’s red siren lights as Crosshair stalked towards his paralyzed prey.

The frightened pirate whimpered, watching his mysterious hunter with wide eyes. “Please don’t hurt me. I don’t know what you want. But I will give you anything, anything you could want. Please, just let me go,” he sputtered.

“Oh, no! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! Please don’t tell me that kriffing nerf-herder is in the base!” pleaded a horrified crewmate over the mounted console’s comms.

Crosshair circled the incapacitated desperado lying on the floor, not shifting his gaze as he wandered over the terminal and pushed its green PTT button. “Tick, tock, tick, tock!” he hissed. “Also, don’t worry about your friend. We’re going to play a little game, which will be a blast.”

As he finished his sentence, a shot whipped past Crosshair’s head, leaving a burn spot on the enormous automatic doors sealing both him and the pilot in the hangar. But Crosshair didn’t flinch and instead coldly glanced over his shoulder to the pirate, who held a blaster in his trembling hand. The man moved the gun back and forth, in a final attempt to escape the encounter alive but could not find an efficient target on the angel of death before him. Crosshair crooked his head, standing frozen and watching, taunting the sobbing bandit. He permitted several more minutes of sniveling and pathetic invocations before pouncing on the man’s hand and twisting his wrist.

“Drop it. Drop it now before you wind up with a broken hand and a bullet through the skull,” Crosshair growled, applying more pressure to the man’s wrist. After some time, the bandit’s finger unfurled from the handle and trigger, allowing the blaster to fall with a clatter. A satisfied Crosshair pushed the firearm to the other side of the room before kneeling on the man’s arm to prevent him from doing anything foolish.

He watched as the bandit struggled to free his arm, like a rat caught in a trap, before continuing, “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it? Here’s what will happen. I meant what I said when I would hunt all of you down. But you, you little cretin, are helpful for now. Thanks to your friends, this whole base is in lockdown. The good news is that all Republic bases have a door code allowing the officers to travel freely between the halls. I know you know it because I heard you asking for it from your friend. Tell me it and your death will be clean.”

However, the man only responded with a gulp and some snuffles, staring at Crosshair with tear-filled eyes. “What’s the matter? Does a Loth-cat have your tongue? Well, maybe a little paint will loosen it,” Crosshair said as he grabbed the man’s knife and drove it into drive into his bicep. A torment cry fell from the bandit’s lips as he attempted to pry his arm away more vigorously, but the activity only caused more of his blood to seep out from his armor. “You’re bleeding pretty heavily. This is your last chance. Tell me the code before I bleed you dry.”

“It’s 192225! 192225!” the guy shouted in desperation.

“Are you lying?”

“No, I ain’t lying. It’s 192225 after 19 BBY, the year the Empire decommissioned this base.”

Crosshair rose to his feet, leaving the knife in the man’s arm, and said with a click of his tongue, “How touching and do not move the knife. I need you alive for a few more moments.” He typed the code into the console, causing the hangar doors to part. “Well, it appears some of you bandits are truthful after all. I appreciate your honesty. Pleasant dreams.”

Crosshair fired a blast into the man’s head, causing it to fall back onto the floor with a burning hole. His eyes shifted to the knife, still embedded in his arm, reflecting the forming blood pool on the mirror of the blade. “I will also take your knife. Aberrantium is hard to come by now that the Empire has depleted almost all of the mines,” he stated, removing the dagger and painting his chest plate with blood.

Leaving the corpse to exsanguinate in the landing dock, he stepped out into the hallway and turned his attention to the resounding sirens. He had no reason to be silent as he detached and stowed his silencer. The last thing these assholes will hear is their screams echoing through the base would be the roar of the Firepuncher, and screams of horror as the syndicate falls.

And that is precisely what Crosshair did.

He walked the ghostly halls, only giving the bandits a brief look at his deadly mien before striking the darkness. Blaster fire erupted as the pirates did their best to stay alive, but it was too late as Crosshair dodged their bolts with balletic precision and transformed the base into a killing ground. One by one, bodies fell upon the ground as anything and everything in their maelstrom’s path became a weapon, from an unassuming shard of glass to one of the stolen DC-15s. A metallic fetor soon permeated the air as Crosshair continued his rampage, staining the walls red.

A xenohistorian, several millenniums in the future, would eventually stumble upon the

base and wonder what monster caused the carnage. Little did they know that the brute was a passionate man trying to get back one of the few people in the Universe who loved him past his flaws.

“There you are, you bastard!” the pirate said as Crosshair opened the doors to the inner warm room. He tightened the grip his forearm had around your neck and dug the barrel of his blaster into your temple, dragging you further into the room.

“You’re going the wrong way,” Crosshair derided, stepping into the room.

“It doesn’t matter because I’ll take you down myself.”

Crosshair held up his knife perpendicular to his helmet, a testament to his strength and skill. “Do you see this? This is all that remains of your crew. What makes you think that you’re any different?”

The captain stood there in silence, watching the vitality of his people drip from the tip with a steady rhythm. He tried to retain his stoic facade as he shifted his body and grip on you. But he couldn’t hide the minute tremors in his shooting hand or beads of sweat forming on his forehead. With each passing moment, it became more apparent that there was no way out for him without releasing you. He shifted his gaze between Crosshair, who had now lowered his dagger, and you. “Fine. If that’s how you want to play!”

“Hey, asshole! Do you want to play a game?” you blurted out before he could pull the trigger.

“A game?”

“Yeah, a game. Have you ever played Red Light, Green Light?”

“What that kriff is that?”

“Come on, just humor me as a last request,” you teased, moving your head to rest your chin on his forearm and creating space between him and your larynx.

“Alright, fine. How do you play?”

“It’s easy. All you have to do is reply ‘green light’ after you say ‘red light.’ Ready?”

The captain furrowed his brow but affirmed with a not.

“Red light!”

“Uh, green light?”

Before he could finish his sentence, Crosshair launched the knife by its tip. It flew across the room and wedged into the captain’s skull between his eyebrows. He let out a gurgle as a rivulet ran down his nose from the wound before loosening his grip around you and falling backward.

You and Crosshair watched the body briefly before he looked at you. “What were you thinking? How could you be so stupid as to run off without telling anyone?” he finally said. “It’s good that I planted a tracker on your suit.”

You blinked several times, and your mouth fell agape at his words because of his tone and the revelation that you had a tracker somewhere on your person. You spun in a circle, searching every crevice of your suit until your elegant fingers ran over an inconspicuous bump in your underarmor’s sleeve. At first, you thought it was just a normal tear from being kept by a pirate crew for the past few hours. However, upon further inspection, something rigid and circular embedded into the suit fabric formed the bump.

“How did you get it in there?” you questioned with a scowl.

“One of the Pabu seamstresses helped sew in it.”

Your gaze softened, and you turned your head to your sleeve. You had no reason to be mad at Crosshair. When Fennec Shand contacted you about a lead on a job, you disappeared into the night without telling Crosshair or the rest of Clone Force 99 where you went. It was stupid, yes. But at the time, you thought you were protecting them because you were always wary of mercenaries. Pabu had been through enough over the past year, and the last thing you wanted was to bring them more trouble due to a job gone awry.

You returned your attention to Crosshair, who characteristically loured at you with his arms crossed. He remained surly and reticent even after he departed from the Empire and sometimes still stewed in his emotions when angry. However, underneath his withdrawn shell, there was a kind and selfless man if you dug long and hard enough. The blood spots on his armor attested to that. He just needed someone patient enough to wait for him until he was safe to express his emotions.

“Thank you,” you said with a smile after a few moments.

Crosshair furrowed his brow in confusion and straightened his back, clearly not expecting your gratitude. He assumed you would get mad at him for planting an unknown tracker in your suit, telling him that you didn’t need his help to stay safe. You had always been headstrong that way. But perhaps that was what endeared you to him, enough to make him travel across the stars to some backwater mercenary haven in the Outer Rim.

Back on the island, he would have to sneak into a nearby alleyway to prevent anyone from seeing him smile. The Force knows that Hunter and Wrecker would not let him live it down if they caught him joyful over something. However, he would always be nearby, watching you from the shadows. He studied your smile and memorized the intonation of your laugh as you played with the Pabu children along the shoreline.

The two of you shared a similar story: Imperial agents who left the Empire for a better life. Of course, your story didn’t have nearly as many trials and tribulations as his. You were an Imperial tactician sent to oversee the stormtroopers accompanying CX-2 in his mission to recover Omega. However, after the unwarranted destruction of Kamino, the decimation of Pabu flipped the switch on light flickering in your heart for a long time. The Empire never cared about its citizens and never would. As a result, you set your ship to self-destruct and jump off on the island’s sandy shores.

Given your past, it took some time for Pabu’s citizens to accept you. But as you helped the settlement rebuild, you started ingratiating yourself into society until everyone trusted you except Crosshair. He’d frown at you, never speaking, almost as if he used you as a catharsis for the pain he suffered at the hands of both of your former employers.

But your tactical training taught you therein lay the answer. Whatever happened to Crosshair still pained him.

While the rest of Clone Force 99 began to move on from their harrowing journey, Crosshair remained imprisoned in his cell. He continued to be irritable and withdrawn despite being reunited with his brothers and having autonomy over his life. Omega’s meditation techniques had created cracks in his proverbial prison. However, it would take someone who truly knew the brutality of the Empire, someone like you, to free him from his mind.

After weeks of trying, he initially relented because you were the only one who recognized that his pain didn’t end when Hemlock’s body fell off the bridge. However, minuscule changes began to appear whenever he was around you: a smile here and a gentle touch there. Now, he transversed half of the Outer Rim to rescue you from a backwater mercenary haven and murdered an entire base of people, a morbid but admirable goal.

Crosshair closed the gap between you and took your hands in his. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispered.

“Me too!” you replied, smiling and studying his angular features. “Now, let’s get back to Pabu. Omega will be expecting us for the summer festival.”

“Do we have to?” an annoyed Crosshair grumbled as you pulled his hand, leading him past his victims back to the hangar.

“You made a promise that you would be there.”

“I just fought an entire pirate crew. Can I not have a few moments of rest?” “We still have to make it off of Idanus. You can rest when we get back to the island.”

Pabu’s sun shimmered high in the azure sky, reflecting against the calm waves lapping against the sand. Avian creatures soared on the warm winds filling the tropical air, signing their gentle melody. Meanwhile, a pack of mischievous moonyos stole several pieces of fruit from bowls laid out by the residents before climbing back to their trees in Upper Pabu.

Due to the island’s small size and contiguous buildings, there wasn’t much room for expansive farms. But survivors adapt, after all. The residents scoured the Archium’s tomes, holding the secrets of the island’s ancient residents, searching for anything to assist their horticulture. To their joy, they found diagrams of farmers from a bygone era using hatcheries, vertical farming, and aquaculture to produce crops and marine resources to sustain themselves. They set about recreating the techniques described in the diagrams, constructing large poles for climbing vines and vast nests to capture fish and other wildlife.

The crop never yielded much, only enough to sate the island residents. Whatever surplus they received, if any harvest, got shipped off-world to help make little money for the supplies the island could not provide. As a result, whenever a good summer crop, the island residents tried to give back to the earth by hosting a summer festival to bring the community together. They used a portion of their production to cook enough dishes to make even a glutton like Wrecker sick and hung green lights around the settlement to signify growth and inspire the elements to bring them a good harvest in the fall.

The people sang and danced in the square, enjoying each other’s company. That is, all except for one. Crosshair was never one for soirees and gaiety. But in the interest of trying to put his past behind him, the two of you always kept proximity to the activities Today, however, he was gone, like a sylph. You searched Upper and Lower Pabu, from the beaches to the home the two of you shared with the rest of the Bad Batch, and found no sign of him.

Where could he have gone?

You sighed and placed your elbows on a half wall, looking out into the endless ocean as you restrategized and thought of any new places to search. Below, you could see Omega laughing and kicking a ball with a few children from below. A smile appeared on your face as you watched her finally receive the chance to be a kid. Though you had only known each other for a few months, you learned from the stories told by Hunter and the rest that she had a difficult life from the moment she left Kamino. Yet, no one would ever think twice about trying to leave her with the Lawquanes again. Her story, while arduous, made her and the Bad Batch who they are today. Nevertheless, it was nice to see her being a child for once instead of dealing with adult issues.

That’s when it hit you: the cove.

Since returning from Weyland, the cove underneath Lower Pabu had become a makeshift sanctuary for the group. The way nature carved the grotto permitted one to contemplate one's life under the comfort of shade and amongst the calming breezes and splashes of the sea. You grabbed a faint purple fruit shaped like a small melon, beloved by a particular sniper for its sweetness, from a nearby table before following the grand stairs down to the shore.

Cautiously, you jumped from rock to rock until you reached the archway to the oasis. You looked around at the beautiful decorations, surprised that a group of men who spent most of their time in frigid, austere military bases would have such an idea for detail. They scattered vibrant flowers throughout the area, complementing the pile of pillows and blankets in the middle. Against a wall, Tech's carved effigy stood as part of a small memorial decorated with little trinkets. The Bad Bad had a precious habit of collecting small items they thought Tech would like during their travels and placing him at his shrine to keep his memory alive. You smiled as you picture Tech’s spirit wandering around and talking to himself about the history and minutiae of the objects.

Near the sea cliff, a familiar person sat in meditation. He replaced his dark grey armor with a simple short-sleeved white tunic and tan pants, but he kept his Firepuncher by his side out of nervous habit. His remaining hand rested on his knee, just as Omega taught him, as he relaxed amongst the waves' soothing sounds and the sea salt aroma. You sat next to him and placed the fruit in his open palm, causing him to grimace at the sudden sensation of the fruit’s leathery skin. He played with it in his hand for a moment before opening his chocolate eyes to look at the vegetation.

“You’re missing the party,” you commented, gathering his attention.

“I don’t like people,” Crosshair retorted, placing the fruit in his lap.

“I know, but you’re usually not this secluded. I can typically find you somewhere in the settlement, not out here, which means you have something on your mind. Do you want to talk about it?”

A frown appeared on Crosshair’s face as he watched the green rays swimming around the estuaries. As if like clockwork, his hand left hand began to flex, mimicking the right one before he lost it during the Seige of Tanttis. It was a nervous tick he had whenever he was thinking about his time with the Empire, one that you knew all too well. You took his hand in yours, running a gentle thumb over the back while you waited for him to find the words he searched for.

After a few minutes, Crosshair lifted his head and sighed. “I keep thinking back to Idanus about how I promised never to use that training again. It reminds me of how close I came to becoming a monster and how things could be so different. I know that’s false, but I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“You’re right. It’s not true because you’re not a monster,” you responded. “You’re Crosshair. Sure, you can be gloomy and a bit dark at times. But that’s part of your charm. There is a man worth loving under all that gibe, and I think allowing people inside has worked out for you so far.”

Crosshair turned his head to meet your warm smile and gaze. There was a glimmer of something unknown in his eyes. It wasn't anger or disdain but warm and inviting, as if the words you had told him so many times before had finally begun to affect him. Before you could even respond, he planted a peck on your cheek so fast that you almost missed it. You raised your hand to the spot where he kissed you and focused on a stalactite reaching down from the top, trying to stop your heart from racing. There was no mistaking. Crosshair, who seldom shared his feelings with anyone, had kissed you.

“If you tell anyone I did that, I will kill you,” he stated as he broke apart the fruit and handed a piece to you.

“That assumes you can touch me,” you responded, accepting the fruit and planting a more significant kiss on recoiling Crosshair’s cheek.

“You’re good, but you’re not good.”

“Excuse me, I have taken down several soldiers in my time.”

“From the safety of an Imperial strategy room, maybe. But I have taken down far more than that in hand-to-hand combat.”

You gave Crosshair a playful jab in the ribs as you sat in the cove, having your tête-à-tête while the others danced above you.

Peace, albeit temporary, had returned to the Bad Batch once more.

#star wars #the bad batch #crosshair

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