#scars and stars fic

[ambeauty]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Titans (TV 2018) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dick Grayson/Koriand'r Characters: Kory Anders, Koriand'r (DCU), Dick Grayson Additional Tags: Snowed In, Close Quarters Important Conversations, Naughty Or Nice Day 1, post 406, I needed to resolve this argument or I was gonna be angry writing the whole challenge, stealing blip from the mcu idc, It gets spicy at the end Series: Part 1 of Naughty or Nice 2022 Summary:

“I got wet from all the snow you let in.” She giggled softly at him. She was still annoyed, but she could still laugh at his aloofness. “Now let’s get you out of this suit and warmed up.” She pushed him up the stairs and into the bedroom she just occupied. “Bathroom there” she pointed. “In. Now.” She pushed him inside and closed the door swiftly behind him. She found a pair of mens work pants and a thermal long sleeve and set them on the bed for him to find once he finished showering. Nothing too fancy, but it was big enough for him and would work until they were able to leave. Once she hears Dick in the shower she goes back down to the kitchen to try and find something to eat. Unfortunately there wasn’t much. A pack of crackers, a bottle of wine, and some firewood. Fuck, they had to find a way out soon or she was going to die of starvation. She popped the bottle of merlot and took a long swig from it to calm her down. She could survive a few hours trapped in a cabin with Dick after their biggest disagreement ever. Right?

Dick and Kory get snowed in after their conversation from 406....  tagging the besties: @graysonfamfan2021 @escapism-through-imagination​ @selinascatnip​ @not-so-mundane-after-all​ @meetmeunderthestarrynight​ @koryvndr​ @lyanaalvarado​ @koryanderscurls​ @grayparkerfilms​ @meerakory​ @jonskory​ @wonderbatwayne​ 

[redbean-nom]

thinking about 17's grievous incident again

(he also sent the pic to Grievous)

shebse interactions once again inspired by @thefoundationproject, because I feel like Priority would have Much To Say about it

and the version without the priority additions

[princemonarchempress]

Doodle page 2

alright, time I actually post my human loop design... most of these been on the discord already but I like... guess I gotta put them on tumblr so I can actually link things on my fic lmao

So here's the Traveler and some little spoilers for my own fic Sunder

[kybercrystals94]

Letting Go

Read here on Ao3

Summer of Bad Batch 2024 | Week 6 | Battle Scars

Rated: G | Words: 903 | Summary: Story takes place just before Omega leaves to join the Rebellion.

Crosshair sits down next to Hunter on the sand. “Omega told me what happened.”

“I’m sure she did,” Hunter says. It comes out harsher than he means it to, but he does not try to take it back. It seems that age has worn down the barriers of his emotions, bitterness and hurt leaking through.

“She said you were being unreasonable, overbearing, and overprotective,” Crosshair continues. “Not to mention your listening skills need some work, because you only care about your side of the argument.”

Hunter’s frown deepens. “Good to know.”

“And I said,” Crosshair goes on, as though Hunter hadn’t spoken, “the same thing I said way back when she was only about this big.” He holds out a hand to demonstrate.

Hunter rolls his eyes, because they never knew Omega when she was that small, but he gets the point.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I said?”

Hunter sighs. He’s too tired to play this game. “What did you say?”

“Don’t hold it against him. He’s only worried about you.”

Hunter turns to look at Crosshair, surprised. “When did you tell her that?”

“When we were going to Barton IV,” Crosshair replies, digging a toothpick out of his pocket. He puts it between his teeth. “That kid’s always trying to prove herself, isn’t she? That she’s one of us.”

“She is one of us,” Hunter argues.

Crosshair huffs. “Of course she is, but she’s not a soldier, Hunter. She’s our kid, not our brother in arms. I don’t think she’s ever figured out the difference.”

“So she wants to join the Rebellion because she wants to prove herself as a soldier?”

“Not entirely, although I think that is part of it,” Crosshair says.

“And the other part?” Hunter asks.

Crosshair meets his eye. “She might not be a soldier, but she is a fighter. We raised her that way, didn’t we? To stand up for the defenseless, to do what’s right?”

“That’s not…” Hunter stops because his voice gives out, barbed anguish ensnared deep in his throat. He tries to swallow it away, but it is unyielding, so his voice cracks and breaks around it. “That’s not what I want for her. I want her to be safe. I want her to be here.”

A younger Crosshair might have looked away, trying to comfort from arm’s length. But just as time has made carefully constructed emotional walls brittle, time has softened the sharp edges of his brother. The former sniper moves closer, knocking their shoulders together. “I’m scared to lose her too.”

“We fought so hard to get away from war,” Hunter says brokenly, “to get Omega away from war. And she wants to throw herself into another.”

“I don’t want her to go,” Crosshair says. “But I think she’s already made up her mind. I don’t know where she gets her stubbornness from. Certainly not from me.”

Hunter chokes on the laugh that bubbles up through the mire of sorrow. “Hate to break it to you, Cross, but you’ve got a stubborn streak a hundred klicks wide.”

“Do I?” Crosshair muses, and Hunter glances at him in time to see a grin twitch his lips in the moonlight. “Because she reminds me an awful lot of you.”

“I see a little bit of all of us in her,” Hunter admits, “and yet she is still something all her own.”

Crosshair hums in agreement.

“What if she loses that?” Hunter asks. “What if joining the Rebellion steals that spark she’s always had? We changed so much from the time we were cadets and then soldiers. We didn’t have a choice. But Omega does. She doesn’t have to face the horrors we did, experience the pain and suffering. She’s safe here. Why can’t that be enough for her?”

“Omega already has battle scars, Hunter,” Crosshair says. “You think she went unscathed living the life she did before Pabu? The kid’s tougher than she looks.”

“I never said I didn’t think she could handle it,” Hunter argues, “She just shouldn’t have to.”

“She doesn’t have to,” Crosshair says. “She wants to. Whether we like it or not, she’s a grown woman. She needs to make her own decisions. She needs to have her own cause, her own life. She won’t have us forever!”

That last sentence is like a blaster bolt to the heart, a burning, white hot sensation that drives the breath from Hunter’s lungs. But he takes the pain and shoves it deep, turning his grieved anger on Crosshair instead. “So you want her to go. You’re encouraging her.”

“You know that’s not true,” Crosshair bites out, and Hunter can hear the effort his brother puts into controlling his own, retaliating anger. “But it’s not up to us. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. We have to let go.”

Bruised silence solidifies between them, and Hunter can’t find it in himself to disturb it. He should apologize, should appreciate Crosshair’s attempt at playing the mediator in spite of his own feelings on the matter. Why does Hunter feel at odds with every sibling, no matter where they stand on the issue?

“You’re stronger than I am,” Hunter mutters at last. “Omega can just talk to you about it…but with me, it’s a fight. Why?”

Crosshair sighs. “Because she doesn’t want my blessing, Hunter. She wants yours.”

And the last of Hunter’s brittle, emotional barrier crumbles completely.

END

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[bolshoiromanova]

These hot toys pics make feel indescribable feelings . . .

[sillyfairygarden]

finally can reveal my part of a secret exchange, gifted to my dear friend @definitelynotshouting for their fic lost in the dark (he’s got a heavy heart). this was a wonderful tribute to an amazing fic 🫶

[neyswxrld]

stormy weather

Echo, no pairing

summary: Echo has a low and is in a lot of pain after his physical therapy. Wrecker is there to help. Set after TCW S7 E1-4.

warnings: derpessed feelings, hopelessness, phantom pain

words: ~1400

a/n: hello everyone! here's another fic for @summer-of-bad-batch! this time i could even bring in three different prompts: "you're a bad liar.", battle scars and the bonus prompt light in the darkness. it's been a long time since i wrote something for echo, i hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST

Physical therapy was horrible.

He hated it with all his guts.

His legs hurt, they burned, and he felt like they were going to fall off. But the worst thing was: he couldn't make it feel better.

Hell, he didn't have those legs anymore and still they made his life so much more painful.

Pump, the physical therapist, tried to help him a lot and even though his tips and advice sometimes did wonders, he still hurt.

Then there was his stomach - he had problems adjusting to the amount of food he needed. When he was on Skako Minor, he was mostly fed with fluids. Now he needed to chew his food again, taste the grossness of it, and just swallow down the weird consistency.

Also - his muscles hurt. Pump always said he needed to build them up, so he can be fast and strong again. And he knew he had to. He really wanted to. But on some days, he just felt like he couldn't.

Today was a day like that.

Pump made him do some exercises with an odd looking thing. He never did those exercises before. Not even in ARC training. And even though he tried so hard, at some point he just couldn't do it anymore.

He felt like a failure. Like he wasn't good enough. How would he ever be able to keep up with everyone? Especially with the Batch? He could learn all their crazy plans, but how could he contribute anything, when he just wasn't strong, fast and persistent enough?

Pump had tried to cheer up him up, but Echo almost fled out of the training room.

He needed to get away. At the same time, he already felt the embarrassment creep up his neck. He felt like a shiny, on his first day on a Venator-class Star Destroyer, where everything was just overwhelming even though they already learned how it would be like on the inside. In theory, at least.

He was stumbling along the walls, trying to find his way to the Batch's barracks.

He just wanted to be alone and sulk in his hammock, until he felt better about his sorry self. He was so disappointed in himself and his lack of ability.

When he reached their barracks, he slipped inside. Relieved, he realized that he was alone. The others seemed to have training, or were up to something else.

He sighed once, before making his way over to his sleeping place, not bothering to turn the lights on.

From outside, he could hear thunder. The rain rattled against the large windows, and not for the first time he could laugh about the irony of Kamino. He felt like the weather was mirroring his conflicted and sad feelings. The storm outside was just as unpredictable and unhinged as the one inside him.

He curled up into a small ball, trying to disappear in himself.

When his hands... His hand touched his metal knees, and his scomp made a small 'clink' noise, he sighed a second time.

Never did he expect to turn out... like this, when he finally passed his final test, such a long time ago. With Fives, Hevy, Cutup and Droidbait.

He knew it was practically hopeless, but he still always imagined how all of them made it out of the war alive. Together. He liked to daydream about what would happen after all of it. After all the pain, and fear, and grief. He was sure Droidbaid would start a bakery one day. Cutup and Hevy would open a gym, just to train like maniacs themselves. And Fives probably would have traveled a lot. He always wanted to try and see new things. Just about his own future, Echo wasn't sure. But he soon realized, it wouldn't matter anyway.

After Rishi, after Hevy's, Droidbait's and Cutup's death, he realized that all their dreams and hopes were indeed meaningless.

He always thought he would during the war.

He was so sure he would, when that shuttle exploded on Lola Sayu.

He never knew what life would have brought for him, but he never would have guessed to turn out as a cyborg.

He almost didn't hear how the door opened behind him. Just when Wrecker's face appeared in his sight, he realized that he had company.

"Hey, Echo. Back again already?" the brawler asked and grinned down at him.

Echo looked back with big eyes. "Yeah," he nodded.

"So soon, too? Thought it would take another half an hour at least. How was it?" Wrecker started to talk to him, patting the side of his hammock.

Echo blinked a few times.

"Yeah... I-... Pump decided we should take a break. It was... great," he murmured and looked around, just not to meet Wrecker's eyes.

Wrecker stared at him for a few seconds, not moving an inch.

"Are you feeling okay?" he then decided to ask.

"I? Y-Yeah. I'm fine," he tried to assure his new brother, and forced a light smile on his face. It didn't reach his eyes. He knew that.

Wrecker knew, too: "You’re a bad liar."

He sighed again. "I know," he whispered.

Wrecker carefully stepped over and took a seat next to Echo, making the hammock swing back and forwards a few times.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked and put a hand on Echo's metallic calf. He couldn't feel the warmth of Wrecker's fingers, couldn't really feel the pressure. It was almost as if they weren't there at all.

Echo looked at Wrecker. At his younger, bigger brother, who seemed so happy and joyful all the time. He was so strong and gentle at the same time. And when Echo looked into Wrecker's face, at the scar and his milky eye, he just knew he could talk to him. When someone could understand what he was going through, even just in a slight way, it was Wrecker.

"It's just hard... Adjusting and stuff," he almost whispered.

He saw how Wrecker's thumb was moving up and down, swallowed, and took another breath.

"Physical therapy feels like torture. I can't- I just can't really do anything like I could before. I'm weak, and exhausted so fast. And I know it takes time, but it just takes... so long," he started to play around with his scomp, "and everything hurts."

Wrecker nodded, with an understanding look in his eyes.

"I know it's hard. And it's never going to be like before again. But we can try. We can try to make it easier. To make it better. And to make everything feel okay again," Wrecker said. "Healing isn't easy. It's hard and it's exhausting. And it's not just a straight line up. It's like a road full of holes and bumps and stones. But you have to try to jump over them, Echo."

Echo looked up at him with teary eyes. Wrecker's expression was so honest and genuine, that he didn't doubt a word he said.

"I know it's hard, but you have to keep going. I know you can. And if you need help, we're always here for you," Wrecker ended.

Echo nodded. He knew, but everything just seemed so hopeless sometimes.

"What helped you the most?" the former ARC-Trooper wanted to know.

A small smile appeared on his brother's lips.

"My brothers. The Batch," he said, and his smile grew even bigger.

"Every time I felt like I was at the bottom and couldn't do it anymore, they were there. And they pulled me up again. I couldn't have done it without them," he confessed, and Echo's heart warmed a bit by that.

He smiled at Wrecker, and he realized that everything just felt a little lighter.

The storm in him seemed to calm down a little. The clouds made space for a small ray of sunlight.

He still had aches everywhere, and he still was way too exhausted. But at least he felt a little spark of hope in him, like a light in the darkness. Warm and cozy, and ready to get even brighter.

Wrecker's words felt good, and he knew he could seek out the others whenever he needed them. Even Crosshair.

He knew everything would be going to be okay again. He knew he could do it. He knew he would be up and kicking again, even if it would take some time.

Sometimes he just needed a little heads up.

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST

@isthereanechoinhere96 @trixie2023 @freesia-writes

[littleladymab]

“And then what happened?”  Ezra holds out a hand, stretching it up towards the moons and the stars, remembering the feeling of being back on the bridge and the way he stretched to fill the space of every inch of the mile long monstrosity. “Then I dragged the star destroyer out of the fucking sky.” He clenches his hand into a fist tight enough that his nails dig crescents into his palm. 

with sparks of what i used to know | the scars that we're made of (series)

I can't believe I never showed off this art I commissioned from @smallpolar-bear (find their comm post here on twitter) actually, i got two pieces, but you gotta read the fic to find the other 😌

Please also check out the podfic that someone made of this fic!!

[astrocassette]

just finished rereading @jacqcrisis's 70's beach town hades au fic, and felt compelled to draw how i picture charon + hermes :]

gotta love 70's cable knit sweaters, dagger collars, and tiny jogging shorts

[silk-scarlet-ribbons]

Marco, from my fic Children of the Stars.

(He needs a vacation.)

[rabb1ttrash]

Fox has had a very long week...

[princemonarchempress]

Right here.

[corvidscreams]

Ok but. Lil’ Boba would not be impressed by a Jedi promising ‘safety’.

[pretentiouswreckingball]

saturday snippet! 🌙

ty for the tag @fruityindividual can’t wait to see those two yearning for each other again <3

“First impressions, Mr Lupin?”

Remus takes a moment to think about it, “I still don’t know how to use the tube,” He admits, and then, he scrunches his nose, “And everything smells funny,”

The old man laughs, big and rich.

“Oh, Mr Lupin, please never change, I find you so refreshing,” The skin around his eyes crinkle when he smiles at Remus, “I apologise for not being specific, what I meant is, what are your first impressions about the school?”

“Oh,” Remus’ cheeks feel very warm all of the sudden. “It’s, eh, big, long wide halls, very useful and seems quite old, actually I think I saw mol—” His eyes widen when he looks at the Professor who seems to be having a grand time waiting to see where Remus’ rambling is going to take him, “—but it’s very nice, so many details, can’t wait to work here!”

Yeah, nice save Remus, he will totally keep you now that you insulted his school.

no pressure tags: @static-radio-ao3 @frank-lilac @velanavis @ecstarry @residentrookie @inevitablestars @whorerific dunno if you’re working on anything rn but if you want to share :•>

[uhohbestie]

I've been reading and enjoying the heck out of Of Gods And Redstone by @swamp-chicken.

Wanted to draw some fanart of an early scene, with Etho recovering while Bdubs' works on his field.

They're so calm and domestic. Surely nothing will go wrong :')

[kybercrystals94]

Scars and Toothpicks

By KyberCrystals94

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2023 | Day 27 | Prompt 27: Scars

Rating: G

Words: 755

Summary: Omega worries about losing her brothers again.

[Author’s Note: Let’s just pretend for a minute that Tech survived the fall (which I am 100% on board that train, don’t get me wrong), and that Crosshair, Omega, and Tech have all been rescued…this story takes place after that. Okay? Great! Read on…]

Omega has a tiny scar on the outer edge of her left wrist. It is thin, slightly raised, and a touch lighter than the warm color of her skin. She doesn’t remember how she got it, or even when; but for as long as she can remember, she’s found herself rubbing it when she’s anxious, running her right index finger over it, back and forth.

She does it now, the imperfection soothing under her fingertip. “Do you think they’re alright?” she asks.

Crosshair sighs. “Why did you stay with me if you’re not going to be quiet?”

“I asked quietly,” Omega argues, pressing harder on the scar, making it feel more pronounced.

“They’re fine. Shush.”

Omega glares at her brother’s profile, sharp edged features that perfectly match his personality. She lets out a breath, louder than necessary, just to annoy him. By the glance he casts her, it works. She grins at her boots, but the gnawing anxiety in her stomach doesn’t go away, even with Crosshair’s reluctant reassurance.

She and Crosshair are on lookout while the rest of the batch works on the inside, searching for intel. It is a low-risk mission, Rex said; however, it's only been a few months since she, Crosshair and Tech were rescued from Hemlock. The internal and external wounds of their captivity still feel raw and exposed.

She can’t lose her brothers again.

She bites the inside of her cheek and keeps rubbing her scar.

Crosshair looks at her. “What?” he asks, a hiss.

“I didn’t say anything,” Omega protests indignantly.

“You keep messing with your wrist. What? Are you injured?” The question gives the impression of concern, even if the tone is discolored with ire.

Omega drops her hands. She hadn’t really realized she was doing it. “No,” she says, a grumble. “Just a nervous habit.”

Crosshair regards her for a moment more before turning back to the landscape. “I noticed.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“In case you wanted to talk about it.”

“You said to be quiet.”

“Changed my mind.”

Even after spending weeks together in confinement, Omega still isn’t used to Crosshair’s bladed way of showing concern for his siblings, serrated but deep. It is so different from the rest of her brothers but comforting in its own way.

Omega shrugs, leaning back. “Just paranoid, I guess. I know nothing’s going to happen, but...something might.”

Crosshair reaches into his pocket and pulls out two toothpicks, flicking one at her. Omega catches it, barely, but she can’t help the triumphant grin. Crosshair smirks at her. “Don’t be so proud of yourself,” he mutters, putting his between his teeth.

Omega follows his example, grinding the toothpick between her teeth experimentally. “It tastes gross.”

“Is there a flavor of wood you prefer?” Crosshair snarks, and Omega wrinkles her nose at him. He chuckles and settles back beside her, eyes returning to their watch. “You know, something bad can happen anywhere...even that precious little bed of yours back on Pabu. You could fall out of it and break your neck. Are you going to be paranoid about that too?”

Omega rolls her eyes. “That’s different.”

“Is it?”

“Yes!”

“Hmm. I disagree.”

“You would,” Omega mutters.

“Ah, you know me so well,” Crosshair retorts. He elbows her. Not gently, but not hard enough to hurt. “My point is, kid, stop worrying about what could happen. It’s annoying, and it’s unhelpful. I should know.”

“Really?” Omega asks, looking up at him.

Crosshair pokes the scar on her wrist. “That’s your nervous habit, and this,” he takes out his toothpick, holding it out, “is mine.”

“Wrecker said you chew on toothpicks because you think it looks cool,” Omega says with a grin.

“Wrecker says a lot of ridiculous things.” Crosshair puts the toothpick back in his mouth.

“Are you nervous right now?” Omega asks.

“No,” Crosshair deadpans.

“But you just said...”

“I just said that worrying about what could happen is annoying and unhelpful,” Crosshair interrupts. “So, what are we going to do instead?”

Omega can’t decide if it is a trick question or rhetorical.

Crosshair rolls his eyes and says in a painfully slow voice, “We focus on the job we were given.”

“That’s it?” Omega asks.

“That’s it. Now, be quiet, or next time I’m going to make you go with Hunter, so you don’t bother me.”

Omega leans into him, resting her head against his shoulder. “You love me,” she singsongs.

“Don’t push it, kid,” Crosshair growls, but she feels his head rest on hers and smiles.

END

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