#GUESS WHO'S UNDERWEIGHT

[bluebellhairpin]

!!!

[theygender]

As an afab nonbinary butch who's trying to gain muscle without losing weight the sexism in the exercise industry makes me fucking see red. Just found an exercise program that boasts being entirely based in science and has the sources to prove it with well-controlled, recent, and relevant clinical studies backing up all of their stuff and as someone who's pretty well-versed in scientific research and fed up with fad-based pseudoscientific bullshit in the health industry I was fucking ecstatic. They had a little quiz you could take to find out which program would suit your needs the best so I filled it out and when it asked me about my goals I selected "I have a low amount of body fat and want to build more muscle" and it took me to a program called Strong. Great! ...Except as I read into it I kept finding references to "burning stubborn fat" and other similar shit. Scrolled down to the FAQ and found a question where it explained that this program was different from their Build program bc Build is "better suited for those who are skinny and at a relatively low body fat" ...even though that's exactly the option I selected in the quiz. Turns out they have three options for males: one for people who want to lose weight without focusing too much on muscle mass, one for people who want to become leaner by focusing on both weight loss and muscle mass, and one for people who want to gain muscle mass without losing weight (Build). But for females, they've only got two options, and neither one of them are designed to help you gain muscle mass without losing weight. I would ask why tf it's ALWAYS assumed that women have to want to lose weight but I know it's fucking sexism

[normalbrothers]

somewhat obsessed with the oppenheimer promos being simultaneously about the prolonged nude scenes and the fact that cillian murphy significantly starved himself for the part. who's even the target audience here

[kinnards]

.

[fox-on-the-moon]

God i hate health-centered "body positivity" so much. "healthy at any size" this, "acne is normal that" cool buddy you should respect people no matter if theyre healthy or not. Even if being fat gave you every disease known to mankind, you should still respect fat people because theyre people.

[waluigisgaybf]

I’ve always had a really bad time with eating and I have absolutely 0 reason why but when it starts to get really bad if I’m lucky I can manage to think about food long enough I can think of one specific food my body is willing to crave and eat-

and I haven’t eaten all day and FINALLY thought of a food and went to make a tuna sand which BUT OUR MAYO WAS FULL OF FUCKING MOLD

[tinylittlebab]

ill be skinny and dying and ill look beautiful and people will like me it has to happen or id rather die

whats the point of being lonely and in pain all the time and then having to get a job and hate doing that if i have no friends and hate myself. the one thing that keeps me wanting to live wont be good enough once u have to work and in that case id rather just die

:(

[raggedylabcoats]

.

[snowtamale]

idk how to describe the utter contempt i feel for this human vessel i inhabit

[mynameisjag]

Danny Phantom/DC Prompt Idea: Forced Recovery

It seemed no matter where he went, he was never safe.

Breaking through Amity's block, finally getting the attention of older actual heroes, who jumped to help them, the Ecto-Acts proving to be false claims upheld by the now debunk and dismantled G.I.W.

Danny should have been safe now, should have been able to continue with his life a little easier now…

Instead he found himself snatched up and placed with a family that were pure strangers, far from his home and the now shut-downed portal, his parents arrested and waiting a trial, and Jazz barred from seeing or knowing his whereabouts and health.

He was trapped in a mansion with rich fruitloops, an anklet bracelet that monitored his health and would trigger an alarm if he went passed the gates.

House arrest with the excuse of it being for his benefit, the Justice League saying that there was still Agents out there looking for him, families from Amity realizing that most of the damage to their town was his own family’s fault and they couldn’t get to his parents as easy as they could get to him, then they threw in concerns of his health.

With the portal closed, he would have to rely on environmental ecto, so low ecto meant low power usage, he was practical malnourished, overstressed, overworked, underweight, a list that was more like a novel by the time the doctor got through with his examination.

It all came together in one big warm shit pie.

He just needed to wait this out…wait for his parents verdict…wait for his health to get better…wait till Jazz was allowed to get in touch with him…wait…all he can do is wait…

For now, he was going to get breakfast and hide away from the rest of the residents of the Manor.

Gotham was blessed and cursed with an abundance of ecto just floating around, enough to aid his healing and health…not enough to restore the levels he needed to regain his full strength and powers though.

Even with the filter he created to concentrate the ambient ecto into a pick me up drink, he wasn’t gaining health as fast has he liked to.

Speaking of his filter, the contraption sat next to Tim’s near worshiped coffee pot, granted it was built out of refurbished carbonated soda stream, so it didn’t look too out of place in the kitchen. And luckily it seemed the only person up right now was Alfred, the older man smiling gently at him as Danny grabbed his thermos to fill it up for the day.

“It’s good to see you up and about.”

“Just filling up for the day before heading back to my room.”

“Of course, as usual, rest is good for your health but so is social interaction.”

Ah...that was a…hint…wasn’t it…he guessed he has to fill the social quota himself before the others decided to do it themselves.

[vamptarot]

Why I Think Your Insecurity Is Beautiful | PAC

𐀔 pile one 𝜗𝜚 pile two ✮ pile three

how to choose a pile . . . choose whichever you feel drawn to or ask your guides to guide your eyes to the one that is meant for you! ᡣ𐭩

— ⭑.ᐟ accidentally turned out as a pep talk pac </3 well, not completely, but I apologise 🫡 not proof read.

𐀔 pile one : – teddy gems !

𐙚 : knight of swords rev. , eight of swords rev. , knight of cups rev. , king of swords rev.

bottom of the deck : queen of swords rev.

♡ ⢷ why I think your insecurities are beautiful

I can see from the cards that people in this pile have body image issues due to bullying, self harm, e.ds or simply being put down by family members through inappropriate comments.

This especially could be true if you are not average weight for your height, don’t like the way your leg looks or don’t enjoy the way your stretch marks look on your body. It could potentially make you feel like you aren’t attractive, and that the people you are interested in wouldn’t even give you a second look.

Well I am here to say it’s not true, and it also doesn’t matter.

Your life shouldn’t revolve around romantic validation. Of course, you can care about the opinion of your romantic interests, how they view you and what not, but your life is yours. Whether or not there is someone to love you in a romantic manner you are beautiful, valid and possess a wonderful soul.

You are uniquely you, no one can do it like you but you only.

There is so many wonderful things about you, who gives a (what) about the opinion of people who won’t even matter in five years?

Don’t stress yourself out over things that are not worth your time beautiful.

Besides, I do think that your body is very pretty. “Oh but you don’t even know what it looks like! “ Yes I do, I have the gift of clairvoyance baby.

Of course, I do not mean this in a creepy way at all. [for those with uncomfortable or horrifying looks on their face.. ] Rather, what I mean is that your insecurities don’t take away from beauty at all, I would argue they add even more to it.

Your scars? They are here to tell us that you went through something horrible and came out winning. Or will. You don’t have the energy of someone that would lose themselves completely anyway, my beautiful pile one is a fighter!

Regardless, I just think that you are so cool, you went through all that yet you are still here today, trying your best to survive. Even if you don’t see it that way, I just think you are so strong.

Some people in this pile are also underweight, due to health issues, one unrelated to e.ds. You could be insecure about that, especially if your bones show. [Around your shoulders, is what I see for most of you.] I would like to say, please don’t beat yourself up about things that are out of your control. You are literally so pretty!! I like your eyes, and I am pretty suuure many people like your lips too. People that are romantically interested in you. There is quite a few, you just don’t notice due to being in your head a little too much. You kinda remind me of Bella Swan, but just a bit smarter and more mature. I just so happen to love twilight and find her sooo pretty… I am sure it’s hard to go through the things you do, but your personality, soul and outter appearance is full of beauty because it’s so clear that your heart is so full of love. So what if you are not someone’s type? Fu.. them, who cares lol You gonna be naturally beautiful regardless of their opinion.

You could also hate your stretch marks because they remind you of a time of your life where you didn’t like yourself, or for some of you they remind you of a part of yourself that you aren’t proud of.. Well guess what, I got them too, now we are matching baby girl / baby boy / baby 🙂‍↕️🤞🏻 [in a platonic way, of course <3<3]

No but seriously, you tell me WHY wouldn’t it make you more beautiful? If you don’t like them that’s okay, but beating yourself up and bullying your own self over something like this is not okay!

Your health comes first baby, don’t be the main cause of your misery. I think your stretch marks are beautiful, they wrap around your body like a hug.

Besides, if you don’t like it you can get rid of them.. but I don’t feel the need to, after all they can be a sign of your hard work. And I mean that! I don’t look at those sort of things, but if you pay closer attention to the instagram pics of some body builders I am sure you will be able to find a few with stretch marks. Also some artists! I love looking at concert stages, and I am pretty sure if you do too you will see some people, both women and men, have stretch marks regardless of size.

It’s really not an indicator or shame, it’s the indicator that you have a human body with human needs and reactions. It will never make you ugly no matter how much you want to believe it will. It just won’t, matter of fact a lot of you in this pile are sexy af but don’t even know it because you care too much about what other people think. 😵‍💫

It’s okay tho, I get it. Just don’t be too much in your head.

On that note, if you have a darker skin complexion please try body glitter on your stretch marks. I am specifically seeing yellow and blue. You will look pretty / hot af trust 🙂‍↕️ [ only calling adults hot also 🫡 ]

♡ ⢷ what you can do to be more confident

This will make me sound like a b!tch, and I don’t mean to be.. But a diet could possibly help and make you feel more confident. [Why are you getting mad, I told you it will make me sound like a b!tch!?] Of course, I don’t mean this with any sort of malicious intent.

A lot of people think diets consist of depriving yourself from food. Which is not true at all, diets depend on multiple factors including your health, weight, lifestyle, eating habits and so on. That’s why dieticians exist!

The sort of one I am thinking of is actually just balancing your meals. Now, I am no control freak so I won’t give you a whole schedule or ‘dos and don’ts’.. I just want to tell you that it is okay to eat both healthy and unhealthy food. That way, your immune system will be healthier and you will get more energy to actually do the things you want to enjoy and participate in. Whether that’s working out, going outside on walks or to the mall, drawing, painting, writing… is not my business! You can do whatever you want, I am only here to remind you that you don’t need to starve or deprive yourself in order to be healthy. It’s actually bad for you.

If you want to eat a kinder bueno after your avocado toast, or eat a burger bc you ate a home made meal the other day you should go ahead and do that baby girl / baby boy / baby mhm mhm 🙂‍↕️

Don’t take away good things from yourself just because you feel like you don’t deserve it.

That goes for food and other things you enjoy. If you wanna buy a cute lipgloss, buy the cute lipgloss. Don’t worry about overconsumption. I am being so serious, most people in this pile worrying about it have only a few lip products that are pushing being 5 years old or even older.

Spoil yourself, you deserve it. Even if you don’t in your eyes.. who gaf ? There will always be someone who thinks of you as undeserving of things because of their own misery. So just do what you wanna do, live life for yourself. Maybe it’s your last. Enjoy it!

So what if you don’t know how to use it? lol.. You will learn along the way. No one starts out perfect, and if they do, they are lying! [If you do really struggle tho, @/clownmakeupmua on tiktok did help me a lot!!]

If you wanna buy that artsy stuff.. do it! I promise you aren’t wasting money if most of your stuff can be bought for 5-10$ and then that one thing is like super expensive. You deserve nice things whether you like it or not!!! Your mental health matters and if you need to pamper yourself to feel better that’s okay!!! It’s not a crime to love yourself, neither is it a sin!! 😤 No, seriously, I mean those things.

You are wonderful, the world is already cruel, so you shouldn’t be that to yourself. I know getting out of habits and thinking patterns can be hard, but eventually you will need to have a different perspective of them to heal. It’s okay if it takes long, do it step by step at your own pace. You will eventually get there.

♡ ⢷ five things that are cool about you

one - you remind me so much of the song dancing queen by abba.. or you know, from mama mia if you aren’t familiar with the name. I think you are just like that song. many people think it’s not something they would vibe to.. but then they hear it and can’t stop singing along. with you, people think that you might not enjoy them around since you are introverted, but as soon as they get to know you better they crave your presence, they want you to be around. over and over, they want to spend time with you whenever they can.

two - the body is BODYIIIIING. I do not care what you say, it does, you are beautiful! you look soooo beautiful in red! let that be a shirt or lipstick.. this is especially true for someone reading this pile that’s into vintage fashion! 20s - 40s? whichever decade it is, trust you would KIIIILLL that look. [you know, like, slay..] try it if you wish 👀

three - do you have the sort of relationship with your friends where you are like siblings? the one where you can tease them or mock them, but if anyone else does you will make sure that they will regret it? because that is so cool about you. as I was growing up, I had a very close friend who was like that to me too. they always made me feel safe, and that’s what you remind me of. the feeling of safety. I am sure people around you are very comfortable. and that’s so cool!

four - you have such a good music taste I am hearing, mhm mhm 🙂‍↕️ matter of fact, if you chose this pile pleaseee recommend me songs you like regardless of when you see this. even if it’s months or years after upload!! I feel like your music taste is so fun, it could definitely get people hyped up or in their feels.. the people around you for sure always listen to whatever you recommend! it’s like, they can’t really go wrong with it

five - fashion on poiiiint, like you just ATEEEE.. no I am serious, I do think your accessories are very cool and put the whole picture together. it can be your shoes, nails or jewellery, you always choose well! it suits you and it suits your outfit. this especially goes if you are a guy / man, because it’s hard to dress fashionable by default but you do make it work so well 🙂‍↕️ and the ladies in this pile have such an unique sense of fashion they stand out from any piles 🙂‍↕️ my fashionistas 🙂‍↕️

— ✮⋆˙ : girl groups , lolly by maejor, juicy j & justin bieber , sweet tooth , adele (hell yeaaaaah) , messy hair , box dyes , long nails , ‘my babysitter is a vampire’ , 00s , mango , amigo , the statue of mother Mary crying , fertility issues

that’s all for now my beautiful pile one! your reading made me sooo sad because you are literally such a cute, cool and pretty person and yet you don’t see that.. do you want me to get that talking mirror from snow white so he can tell you himself?! bc imma get it 🤨 jokes aside, idgaf if you are the fairest of them all or not, you for sure are the loveliest! mwa <3 thank you for reading!

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𝜗𝜚 pile two : – sweater !

𐙚 : nine of wands rev. nine of pentacles rev., ten of pentacles, seven of pentacles

bottom of the deck : five of swords

♡ ⢷ why I think your insecurities are beautiful

You know what, I actually started out your reading sweet and kind, thinking it’s about being behind in life and about financial issues. Even gave you a song recommendation. Then tumblr deleted the entire section… 🫡

So, I spent more time looking at your cards.. meditated, connected to your energy. Eventually, I figured this is my troubled pile.

Simply, you are not proud of the person that you are. Lucky for you, I am the ‘I can change him’ sorta gal 🙂‍↕️

Of course, I am just joking. I am not here to change anything about you, I am here to uplift you.

Before I will do that, I will tell you about a celebrity that I used to like as a kid. I do not care if you don’t know much about celebrities, because that’s not really relevant! I am bringing him up because many people in this pile can relate to his story. If you can’t that’s okay, it’s not a message that was meant for you but for someone else.

Either way, have you ever heard of Kim Jisoo?.. No, not the blackpink one, but the actor! He was accused of doing bad things in his childhood, which he admitted to and apologised for because even if he changed as a person, guilt and anxiety always followed him. Even though he did that because he did think it’s the right thing to do, to be fair and honest, people made more accusations against him. Heavy ones. He was then kicked out of the company, and black listed from being an actor in Korea. You know what’s the thing though? Each and every accusation after his apology was false, the person didn’t even know him. Yet, many people still blame him for things he has not done.

My dearest pile two, I can see you not caring.. at least some of you. However, I did tell you this because you remind me of him in a sense. You know you have made mistakes, some worse, some almost insignificant by now. You own up to it, you have made the apologies necessary, you are the sort of person that doesn’t shy away from accountability because you are pretty mature in your own right. Yet, people like to lie about you right? Twist your words. Ruin your reputation as if it was nothing but fun to them. Then they call you crazy when you get angry, potentially even gaslighting you. It’s annoying.

The sort of regrets people have here are different from one another. Some is just things like yelling at a loved one, while others are much more graphic to the point I do not believe it’s appropriate for me to detail them. Though, not as vile as you might believe.

Enough of that though, I should get the the point.~

Your insecurity seems to come from deep within, from your soul. You worry that you are truly a bad person, not able to change.. That there is something inherently rotten inside you.

I am here to tell you that’s not true. I think you are pretty neat. Yeah, sure, everybody has regrets.. so what? They are regrets for a reason, it’s not truly who you are but mistakes you have made when you were in a vulnerable state of mind. That is not a sin.

Making one bad decision doesn’t mean you are immediately a bad person. Neither is making several. Especially if someone else forces or pushes you to! Come on now sweetheart, think from a higher sense of your being. Truly bad people don’t care they are bad even if they know, they just enjoy the pain and discomfort they have caused for other people.

That’s not you, I can see that you have a such a kind soul. I know what you did, and I do not care, because I still see the good in you.

You are kind to kids, the elderly, strangers on the street.. even if they don’t necessarily deserve it. Seriously, you are the sort of person that gives up seats for other people. (Especially if they are vulnerable, such as someone pregnant, elderly or injured.) The kinda person to stop to pet puppies, to feed stray animals and not care if they come back because it just means you can feed them again. You don’t see an issue with it. The sorta person to hold younger people’s ears when there is a fight so they aren’t scared. You just give and give and give.

You are so unconditionally generous, it’s actually shocking. With your time, money, food, resources, abilities.. is there something you don’t give? [I do not mean this in a mean manner 🫶🏻, it’s a praise. I adore generous people.]

Even when you are hurting, even when you are angry.. you hold it back and think of the happiness of other people. It’s like hurting other people is your greatest fear.

Yet you keep on emotionally hurt yourself, like a bully. Please stop with it, I don’t think you deserve it. Why would you judge someone based on the lowest part of their life? I know you wouldn’t, and since you are a person you deserve the same kind of respect you give to others. From within and from outside.

You are not a doormat, you are not an animal, you are just you. It’s okay to treat yourself gently, I just see a hurt kid when I look at your soul. You remind me of a little lamb. So vulnerable, yet so mistreated.

If you need to, please find yourself a safe space, a support net. It’s okay to rely on other people, I think if you allow yourself to heal the beauty in your heart will be seen in every step you make. You remind me of a pretty flower field as well, so sunny and bright.

I am sorry for the amount of comparisons in this pile, you are seriously so beautiful, chic, elegant, talented and lovely. I don’t want you to think, not even for a second, that you are anything less than deserving of love and peace.

You are so beautiful, constantly trying to make up for your past mistakes.. making sure that people don’t end up hurt like you do. There is so much nurture and worry in your heart.

The past is the past, live in the present.

♡ ⢷ what you can do to be more confident

Defend yourself. It’s okay.

Like genuinely, if you feel like someone is being too much it’s okay to defend yourself. You have a right, and just because someone doesn’t like you it won’t make them entitled to lie about you or hurt you way beyond what any human should take.

Speak your truth, but be disciplined. That way, who truly can say anything about you? Even if they won’t like you, people won’t bother you if you keep true to yourself, if you speak from your heart honestly.

You are not deserving of being bullied or hurt. If someone treats you as a pushover or looks down on you show them that whatever little ill fantasy they have created in their head of you is wrong. You are much more than what you let people on, I truly believe that.

You are really cool, ya know? Of course it’s okay to have doubts, but I think one of your beauties is that you have so much mental strength in you. Just don’t surpass it, as it could make things harder to deal with.

Something that you can really benefit from is to not let your feelings and emotions build up over time, especially if you struggle with anger issues. This could lead to you being so pent up with frustration that you end up letting it out on other people 😞

It’s okay to be angry, but you shouldn’t let it consume you. Feel your emotions for 20 minutes, then just let them go, allow yourself to let them go and not cling into them as that’s unhealthy for you. You can learn and grow, but you have to actively choose that for yourself.

If you experienced past violence, bullying or anything of the sort… also let them go. You don’t have to forgive them, it’s your choice to make not mine.

Do you know that saying that goes sort of like, “ there is always a man watching you, even in your mind/fantasies “? If you live your life continuously remembering the people that hurt you, you cannot heal. So please do yourself a favour, just live for yourself.

If that abusive person kept telling you to dress modest, stop hiding yourself. Dress however you want, if it’s revealing, it’s okay! If it’s modest good, that’s what you are comfortable in. If you are nervous to go to xyz place because it reminds you of them.. that’s fine, you go there now because that’s where you wanna go to, to make new memories. If not, just go wherever your heart desires.. or stay home. Living for you is not a sin, and it will never ever be selfish. Your life is yours, it belongs to you.

From now on, if you have the strength to, have yourself in mind when you do things. [It’s of course fine to be considerate and thoughtful of people, that’s not what I am talking about here.] Allow yourself to live.

♡ ⢷ five things that are cool about you

one - bad b energy mhm mhm 🙂‍↕️ there is a sort of air surrounding you that just screams ‘don’t mess with me’, which I think is soooo admirable. you are definitely not unfriendly at all of course, but it’s obvious that people shouldn’t make enemies with you. not because you are a bad person, but because of your sense of justice.

two - adults only message, sorry kiddos 🫡 this isn’t necessary a sexual thing, but I felt the need to put that addition.. like a gut feeling, ya know? I don’t want to be misunderstood 😤 anyway, your guides are saying that you have a really pretty tummy? like your tummy. your belly.. it’s pretty. I don’t know if you work out but it also doesn’t matter because I am seeing this for all sort of people.. those who work out, those who have a soft tummy, the chubbier ppl, the skinnier people.. men, women.. matter of fact if you happen to be pregnant rn you are extremeeeely beautiful! I think your guides wanted to help out with your body image issues is all <3 so cute, you really are pretty.

three - hair? something about your hair is so beautiful, it makes you look like an angel. very pure and loving as well. I am also seeing an encouragement to go ahead and change it if you wish to do so. you look pretty either way, with whatever hair colour!!! <3

four - you are so persistent!! you work so hard ??? like there is nothing that can bring your spirit down baby. unstoppable force kind of energy!! that is so cool, just make sure to watch out to not overwhelm yourself 🫶🏻

five - YOU LIKE TO GIVE ACTS OF SERVICE 🫵🏻 mhm you are the sort of person to peel fruits for your loved ones, put their phones on the charger, prepare their clothes and do these little things to make their life easier on harder days 🙂‍↕️ that’s so admirable, I look up to you in this case!

— ✮⋆˙ : teacher’s pet , my little pony , ‘a whole new world’ / ‘ can you feel the love tonight ‘ , ‘icey, wifey, haters wanna fight me. ‘ , lotto , number one , trampoline , today’s tickets (?)

my beautiful pile two, please stop looking down on yourself or heaven is gonna have a problem 🙂‍↕️ IT WILL BE MISSING AN ANGEL 🫵🏻 no but seriously, no kidding, I do think many of you here think that I am being fake nice to you in order to get people to interact more or read my pile and what not.. but I don’t care about how many people read my pile, I care about my messages being sincere from the heart and as accurate as possible. besides, I mean the things I said! don’t underestimate how forgiving my heart can be.. like I am fr a hater but I don’t hate you, so what does that tell you? 🧐 anyway, give yourself a rest beautiful, you have been enough harsh already. thank you for reading!

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✮ pile three : – book !

𐙚 : page of cups rev. , page of swords rev. , five of pentacles , knight of wands

bottom of the deck : nine of cups rev.

♡ ⢷ why I think your insecurities are beautiful

Hii my sweet, sweet pile three! Your energy is the most private, I thought I would let you know before you begin reading ᡣ𐭩

Out of all piles, yours is the one that had me stunned the most. Not because of any sort of bad reason, but this is such a sensitive and hard breaking topic my beautiful pile three..

Your insecurity is related to your dreams, worrying if you are enough. Enough young, enough talented, enough lucky…

It left me speechless because I can feel the pain in your heart, this can affect you on such a deep level. Most likely ever since your childhood. For some of you guys, you were made to work hard at something that you didn’t even care for, possibly still are, just to please your parents or other people around you.

It’s heavy, right? You are worried that if you actually go for something that you want you will worry the people around you.

I see your struggles, you don’t want to be selfish. Though, I don’t see that in your heart, rather I see something so beautiful. Love! Sounds cliché or whatever, but it’s still in your heart.

For the people around you and for the dream that you have for a long, long time. This is different for everyone, some of you dream of being a mom, some of you a ballerina, for most of you it’s related to music in one way or another.. I don’t think you are too old. At all. You never are.. only death can hold you back from achieving your dreams. Who knows, maybe not even he can.

For some of you, who are unable to live them out, this is a confirmation to reality shift / timeline jump.. That’s for only a very few people reading this though, most of you can and will achieve your dreams in this lifetime even if you give it your all.

I do not care if you are over 30, 40, 50 and so on.. I won’t promise that it will be fast, easy or that you will immediately get whatever you want; but the fire in your heart is burning with so much passion that it’s impossible to ignore.

The love that you have towards this ideal life of yours is so beautiful, I truly love it. Your eyes get so bright and full of life when you talk about the things you love and enjoy, yet you don’t even know it.

I would say it’s tragic, but that’s not true, because a sad ending doesn’t suit you. You are meant to be happy, and I hope that you will remember this.

♡ ⢷ what you can do to be more confident

Just do it. ✓

No, but for real, the cards here are incredibly supportive. So if you feel like you are ready for it and it’s the right call do what your heart calls you to do, that childhood dream of yours that you always dreamed of.

[Of course, I mean this as an encouragement for arts and such, not anything that can harm someone… let that be you or others.]

Do that art form, start to learn that subject, work towards that profession… who cares if people will like what you do or not? You do, you have passion and appreciation towards it in your heart. So the rest doesn’t matter, because you have this in your hands. Your destiny is under your control, whether you like that as a fact or not.. You are waaaay more powerful than what you think.

Your message is simple, so unfortunately I cannot write a lot here.. I think your guides are just intending this to be a wake up call, that you can always start anew. Your past is not you, neither is your present.. you can always change it. You don’t have to be stuck.

Just be you.

♡ ⢷ five things that are cool about you

one - you can get things done so easily.. muuuuch easier than other people, through sheer will and that’s all you need to get things done. it’s so admirable, tbh.

two - your art!! even if you aren’t into art or such stuff, it still has many many forms. you possibly like creating things, something that’s special to you. while it’s different for everyone in this pile, I think it’s so insanely cool you can just create something so perfect with so much attention to detail.

three - your posture! this is especially for people who are into dancing and actively practicing, I do think that you improve a lot day by day even if you don’t necessarily notice it. you could be perfecting the moves through hard work and be hella proud of it because you worked so hard. I am proud of you too!

four - your ability to just tune out, and be calm despite the hardships that you face. not a lot of people are able to stay still when they are hurting, or keep completely calm without losing themselves.. you are very mature and grounded. I adore this about you.

five - you have so much unconditional kindness it’s so remarkable and impactful. you probably don’t know this, but you are genuinely such a safe space for people.. your energy is so comforting.

— ✮⋆˙ : 50s diner , elvis & priscilla presley , pepper , paperbackpress , ‘one in a billion’ , sneezy from snow white, ballet shoes , paintings , true crime stories , jack the ripper , green apples , kiwi without it’s skin

my beautiful pile three.. I am so sorry that I couldn’t say more, your energy is a bit closed off and shy due to the things that you are going through and I didn’t wanna be forceful. though, I do hope that you can start healing soon and see the beauty in your passions… It’s important what your loved ones want, but you yourself should be a loved one as well. so don’t ignore your needs sweetheart 🫶🏻 thank you for reading!

paid readings

[jacky-rubou]

the book of bill spoilers below the cut

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I'm probably the only one who cares, and this part of the book is incredibly tragic in regards to Ford's abusive experience with Bill but...

Ford having a gut like Stan does, albeit not as prominent, is just so???? awesome to me???

Like, as someone who could be considered pretty chubby, I really like how they did their own thing with Ford's body type during this time of his life instead of following the fandom to a t in this regard.

the fandom portrays him as buff or as a skinny bean pole with no room for other body types, with some exceptions like how @.gin-juice-tonic draws his Ford and idk... it's just really... refreshing? not like there's anything wrong with making him buff or bean-pole like, I think he's underweight after leaving the portal personally, but it's nice to have variety sometimes y'know?

I guess I just really like headcanoning him being bigger at some points in his life and felt starved in this fandom for that until this literal official book shows him with a belly. He's got the same genes that Stan does, of course his chances of having some kind of gut are there despite any efforts to have an exercise regimen that's clearly just running for his life every day and night through the portal, haha.

anyway, going back to the insanity that is Ford's trauma with Bill starting now, this was just a fluke!

[lieslab]

Are you with me?

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Chan X gn reader

Summary: After struggling with being underweight, you binge out of desperation to gain weight and that's when your boyfriend finds you.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 1.6K

Trigger warning: Insecurities, implied underweight reader, mentions of weight, weight loss, binging, calorie counting, and a mention of nausea.

A/N: I believe that this is the final request I had. I'm so sorry for making you wait forever, life has been hard and this topic is a bit too real and relatable. Please know that your weight doesn't define you. Whether you are thirty pounds, three hundred, or three-thousand, you still deserve love and respect. You are allowed to love yourself no matter what you look like.

Society can be really fucking shitty and harsh. Don't let it tear you down. This is your life and maybe we do only get one. Eat the slice of cake on your birthday. Indulge in your favorite coffee. Weight can fluctuate and be lost or gained, but good memories last a life time. Don't let yourself miss out on experiencing them because you think your weight and the way you look is holding you back. It's easier said than done, but it's entirely possible <3

_ _ _

The brain is a chamber and each thought is a bullet. A complex system full of neural pathways that define who you are. The brain controls your entire being. Your personality, your motor skills, the cognitive ability to retain information, and pull it out later. 

Beneath the skin, we’re all just bones. Chipped and withered skeletons that will one day disintegrate into nothingness. They say life is a blessing. We should cherish it to the best of our ability. We only get one life, supposedly. If that’s true, then why is it so hard? 

Bodies. Bodies. Bodies. Bodies. Thick and thin. Taut skin stretched over hollowed cheekbones. Round cheeks full of facial fat. Sharpened and softened jawlines. No matter what yours looks like, you only get one. 

A random genetic lottery thanks to your parents. You might hate yourself or you might love yourself. No matter which one wins, there always seems to be hiccups. Those times of turmoil where you just can’t seem to go on another day because you are trapped inside your body. The machine that causes you to breathe, it feels like a burden to some. 

You cannot control how the outside world perceives you. You cannot make everyone like yourself. Chasing idolization and devotion is a great bomb of self-destruction. Feelings can be fatal and if you’re not careful, they will be. Drowning in insecurities and letting them weigh you down while the days pass you by isn’t a good way to live. 

Yet…you just couldn’t help it. The way you looked was just overwhelming. You were a mess. Physically, nobody could see it. Mentally, you were overwhelmed and falling apart. Unraveling at the seams and spiraling out of control. 

The whispers of your insecurities had turned into a sympathy of screams. Scorching hot tears streamed down your cheeks in the kitchen. Your weight has always been an issue. People don’t second guess the things they say at times. 

“Gosh, you’re so skinny, you need to put some meat on your bones.” 

“Is that really all you’re going to eat?” 

“One blow from the wind and you’re going to fall over at this rate.” 

Some people are blessed with rapid metabolisms and some are cursed. No matter how much you consume, your body works it off. Over and over and over and over and over. Just when you think you’ve gained a pound, the scale says you’re down another half of a pound. 

What does your boyfriend think about it? He always says you look wonderful, but does he really mean it? What if he’s lying? Members of your family have stated that you look like you’re on your deathbed. 

What if you’re not good enough? What if this body isn’t great? What if nothing changes? What if you’re cursed to be this weight forever? What if? What if? What if? 

It was a spur of the moment decision. Ever since you lost another two pounds within the last week, something inside of you seemed to snap. That’s when you found yourself tearing through kitchen cabinets. 

Thoughts were swirling as you ripped open the package of oreo cookies you bought. It was one and then it was two and you blinked and half the row was gone. Crumbs caked your lips and all you could do was wipe them along your sweater sleeve. 

As much as you were spiraling, you were desperate to gain control. Surely, if you ate enough, you could put on a pound or two, right? Right? You had to. 

Crinkling filled the air as you opened a bag of brand new chips. The kind that were too salty and you knew they weren’t healthy, but you did it anyway. Life felt better with the occasional unhealthy snack. People weren’t perfect and neither were you. 

Staring at the back of the calorie contents, you lost track of how many chips you placed in your mouth. People didn’t seem to binge on the fruits and vegetables. 

It was the sugary sweetened foods that stuck to your sides. The salty chips and pretzels. The kind of food that was full of empty calories, but you didn’t care. You were desperate to gain a pound. 

People don’t understand what it’s like until they’re there. You will never understand what it’s like to be skin and bones until it’s all that you are. You will never understand what it’s like to carry around a pudgy stomach that bounces with every step until you are there. 

Weight fluctuates and bodies are different. We only get one, but it’s so easy to abuse it. To never eat enough. To over consume and eat too much. You didn’t think you were doing anything wrong with your body. 

You ate your food and that was that. It wasn’t a ton of food, but it wasn’t like you were starving yourself either. Yet, at the exact same time, your body seemed to stay thin. 

The more you spiraled, the more you lost track. You didn’t remember what you put in your mouth. Everything tasted like defeat, even the oreos. 

It kept going and going. Your stomach began to ache with the amount of food you consumed, but you couldn’t stop. It was overwhelming and all too much. Everything hurt and you just wanted to break down and sob. 

When you caught the reflection of yourself in the microwave, that’s exactly what you did. The lump in your throat pulsed and the tears welled up again. The box of crackers in your hand dropped to the floor and you grabbed the counter top for support. 

Your body caved and slumped over the cold marble top. With a forehead pressed into the marble, you cried. You cried because it wasn’t fair. You cried because you hated what you were doing to your body. You cried because you were worried about how you were perceived. You cried because everything was overwhelming and too much. You hated yourself and it hurt like hell. 

Piercing sobs racked the empty kitchen and bounced off the walls. They reverberated back to you and you were left alone with the heart-shattering reality of what you were doing. You ate so much, you were nauseous. 

Your stomach twisted and churned. A fresh layer of saliva coated your tongue. The queasy feeling caused you to squeeze your eyes shut. All you could do was just cry harder. 

Your sobs were the first thing that Chan heard when he unlocked and pushed the door open. Fear struck his heart and he ripped off his bag. Not caring that his laptop was in it, it dropped to the ground with a heavy thud. 

He rushed into the kitchen and found you slung over the counter. “Baby? Baby?” His hand went to your back and he tugged you into his arms. 

The warmth of his chest made you cry harder. You hated that this was who you were. Why couldn’t you have another body? Why did it have to be this way? Why couldn’t it just be different? 

“What’s wrong?” His eyes scanned your face. “Why are you crying? What’s going on? Are you hurt?” His hands gently cupped your cheeks. He positioned your face up towards him. “Please talk to me.” 

“I-I hate myself,” you uttered hoarsely with a hiccup. “I’m not good enough. I can’t gain weight and I’m a walking skeleton and I-” 

His eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “Sweetheart, what are you talking about?”  A reassuring thumb ran over your cheek. 

“My body isn’t good enough. Not for you. Not for me. Not for anyone.” 

Knowing that you thought so negatively of yourself, it stung. It shoved an arrow through his heart and he shook his head. “Listen to me, you’re perfect the way you are. Just because y-” 

“You don’t get it!” You snapped angrily. Your hands shoved at his shoulders and he stumbled back in shock. “You don’t get it because you’re perfect! You can gain weight and you can lose weight. You can do whatever you want and I-” Your voice cracked and cut off. 

He didn’t utter a word. He knew you were struggling, so he just opened his arms. With a quivering bottom lip, you let yourself fall forward. Sturdy arms grabbed you and he pressed your head against his chest. 

The steady lull of his heart made you burst into tears. A weak and hoarse apology fell from your lips. All he could do was quietly shush you as he rubbed your back. 

“I know that it’s hard. I know what it’s like to struggle with your self image. Maybe I don’t know exactly what it is, but I’m right here and I love you. Please don’t push me away just because you’re struggling. I might not understand, but we can figure it out together. I’m not going anywhere and you know that.” 

That last reassurance was the final straw. Your knees buckled and your fingers dug into his cotton shirt. Down the both of you went and you landed on his lap. 

He pressed you against him as tight as he dared. With your eyes shut and your forehead pressed into the nape of his neck. He soothed you softly while rubbing your back. 

Even if he didn’t understand exactly, he’d wait here for as long as he had to. He’d be here until the kitchen was pulled into darkness and the sun went down outside. He didn’t care if he had to be here all night. 

He’d do whatever it took to remind you that no matter how you saw yourself, you weren’t entirely alone.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lina-linny @straykidsstanforeverandever @seungnishi @stellasays45

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

[deluxewhump]

I Know You Remember Me

John recognizes a wealthy client’s stolen pet immediately, even filthy, with two black eyes. He moves quickly to buy him back from the box truck driver in possession of him, and then must think what to do about this. Meanwhile, he looks after the abused pet in a motel room.

CW: lay it on thick hurt/comfort, pet whump universe (not bbu), caretaker has some ulterior motives but is largely sympathetic, offscreen noncon with multiple whumpers, sti mention, underweight whumpee mention, whumpee offering sex, bruises, burns & cigarette burns, nonsexual nudity and bathing, platonic bed-sharing, medically inaccurate care I’m sure, one shot probably

-

“I know you remember me. I’m sure I remember you.”

The unfortunate creature— for he looked more a creature than a boy in the low light, in the filthy west Texas motel room John had rented for the night with cash— dared to steal a glance up at him.

His eyes were dark, and bright with fear. Bruises ringed both of them like an unlucky fighter, purple as the Easter cloth draped on all the crosses they’d driven past. John knew from the taut look of the eyelids they’d been swollen shut a day or so earlier. The boy pet had dried blood caked in his nostrils and on one side of his downturned mouth. His hair was a matted and filthy mop that fell over his forehead and ears in greasy, wavy sections crusted together with more old blood.

The boy looked at him cautiously. There was too much fear in his posture, in his eyes. It was impossible to tell if he recognized John, too.

John squatted down to be eye level. As he thought it might, this made the frightened pet drop his eyes and flatten his spine as best he could against the nicotine stained paint of the motel wall.

“Hey, now,” John murmured, as if to one of his racehorses. They were spirited, flighty things, nothing like the quarter horses he’d grown up with. He talked to them all the same, though, from the spring colts to the swaybacked veterans.

“I’m not gonna hurt you. I know you’ve seen a lot of people lately, huh? You probably don’t remember me. That’s okay. I remember you. You were at Jack Kinsington’s place before all this.”

The boy did not look back up at him, and his dirty hair gave away his trembling, but he was listening.

“I came by with a couple of horses. Bays, both of them. Soaked in sweat and prancing all around, you remember them? They’re high strung, they don’t like to ride in the trailer. Anyway, I told Jack he ought to let you stretch your legs. He did, but you were so numb you couldn’t stand for a while. You looked right at me.”

The boy turned his head an inch, so he could glance up at John’s face again.

“You remember that day. Sure you do. I thought you were in rough shape then, but I have to say, you look worse now.”

That lost him the eye contact. That was okay. The boy remembered. If not his face, then the incident.

“I thought it was awfully cruel to keep you in a space that small,” he went on. “I don’t know how some people do to a person what they wouldn’t do to an animal. They justify it, I guess. They project things onto these pets they buy and then they punish them for it. Gives them their kicks. Even Jack Kinsington, who I have to admit I respected up until that day.”

He stopped that train of thought.

“Why don’t we get you up off the floor there and let me take care of you, huh? No offense, you look kind of like roadkill.”

The boy made no sound, no indication that he’d even heard except for the way his chest expanded a little faster with his quickening breath. The poor thing's heart must be pounding. John had a knack for fixing things up, be it a business his brother had fucked up or a lame horse, a broken water heater or a vehicle. He spent less time fixing things now and more time delegating what other people needed to fix, but this boy was downright hurting his innermost, rarely expressed tenderness of heart, and he wanted to fix something for him.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said again. His knees were getting tired in this deep squat, and his boots had no give in the toes for it. “I’m gonna clean you up and look after you. You don’t have to do anything, just don’t fight me too much. Can you do that?”

He reached out and laid a hand over the boy’s. The abused pet flinched but didn’t jerk away. John encircled the boy’s wrist in his hand and pulled it slowly away from his body, towards him. “Can you stand?” he asked, pushing himself to standing and bringing the boy with him.

He made it to his feet, and was nearly as tall as John, but stumbled when he tried to take a step.

“Please,” he whispered reflexively as John moved closer, flinching to protect his battered face.

“Please what, baby?” John muttered, lifting the boy’s arm over the back of his shoulders and wrapping his arm around his slim waist to help him walk. “You’re okay, you’re right here. I’ve got you. Let’s get you in the tub.”

Slowly, they staggered to the motel bathroom a d John flicked on the staggeringly white lights that buzzed and hummed to life. He sat the boy on the lip of the low bathtub as gently as he could.

“I’m going to give you a bath,” he said matter-of-factly, turning the taps so warm water began to fill the tub. “Where did all this blood come from?”

The boy was watching him warily, dark eyes following his every move.

“You hear me? Where’s all this dried blood coming from, huh?”

“I don’t know.”

John nodded, pleased the boy had spoken. Some didn’t, or wouldn’t, he knew, not once they looked like this one did.

“Did they beat you? Is that what all this is from?”

He gave a small nod, blinking in discomfort at John’s bluntness.

“Did they hurt you in any other ways?”

He nodded again.

John felt a tug of adrenaline in the pit of his stomach. “How?”

Jack’s pet looked evasively at the rising bath water.

“If you tell me how you’re hurt, I can help you better.”

Nothing.

“What’s your name?”

“Paulo.”

He put the emphasis on the au, and there was a way he said his L that positioned the tongue differently than he did when saying other words.

“Paulo,” John said, putting the emphasis on the vowels of the first syllable too, but with no attempt at altering his very American L. I’m John. I bought you from that man, the one with the box truck. I take it Jack Kinsington sold you? Or were you stolen?”

Tears shimmered in the boy’s dark eyes, swollen and purple still like a raccoon mask. He bit the inside of his cheek to steel himself and keep from letting them fall.

John gentled his voice. “Paulo. I only ask because it’s important. If you legally belong to Jack, I gotta bring you back to him.”

Paulo’s head snapped up. He lost control of the tears, which spilled down his bruised cheeks. He grabbed hold of John’s sleeves, pulling himself closer as if his whole body was not bruised and sore. “No,” he begged urgently. “Please. I’ll do anything. Please. I-I’ll do anything you want, I can’t… please don’t….”

An idea dawned on him and he let go of his latest captor’s sleeve in order to lift his trembling fingers to his own tattered shirt. He pulled it over his head with a barely-suppressed whimper of pain. His torso was bruised like his face and arms, dark black and purple impact points on his warm toned skin like fists or boots, some that looked like electric burns left from a cattle prod and others more reminiscent of the yellow, oozing wounds cigarettes tended to leave. He was ribby, in a dehydrated, sudden sort of way that looked like he hadn’t eaten much of anything in the last few days.

He started on the button of his pants and John reached out to stop him. “Hey. No. What’s this?”

“Do- do you prefer girls? I can be just as good for you.” His glittering eyes were simultaneously like a starving animal and horribly blank. “They all say so.”

Ah. There was an answer to one of his questions. He pulled Paulo’s wrists away from the opening of his pants, held them in his own on the cool edge of the tub between them. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not interested.”

“I could take a bath,” he whispered hopefully.

“You will take a bath. But I’m still not interested. I need to know— were you given to someone by Jack Kinsington rightfully, or were you stolen?”

The fear was back. John didn’t know which was worse on this one, the dead eyes or the fear. “Don’t take me back to him.”

“He hurt you a lot, then? Jack?”

John already figured as much. Despite his admiration for the man’s business sense, he was a cruel and sadistic pet owner. Once he’d seen a boy shoved into a cage fit for a fox, he’d reconciled that much in his mind. It was like that often, when it came to human pets, and never quite who you’d expect.

The boy begged miserably. “Please, Sir. I’ll do anything.”

“You mentioned that. He didn’t sell you, did he?”

Paulo glanced down.

So he’d bought a stolen pet. That’s what he more or less suspected when he’d seen the boy at the rest stop, weeks after he’d seen him in the cage at Jack’s and much worse for wear.

Jack Kinsington would probably be even more open to buying more of John’s racehorses in the near future if he returned his favorite boy-pet to him. Don’t worry what it cost to get him back, Jack. Less than the yearling I’ve got for you to look at this spring, I can tell you that. Call it even.

John turned off the taps and tested the water with his fingers. He’d wondered if the boy would be willing to take those filthy clothes off in front of him, but seeing as he’d just offered himself, he thought it more likely now.

“Take those off,” he said of the boy’s remaining clothing. “You can borrow some of mine when you’re cleaned up.”

Despite his offer less than five minutes ago, Paulo was modest to the point of shyness once he was naked.

“It’s okay. I’m not even looking at you,” John assured him a little gruffly as he helped him into the water. “I just want to get you clean.”

Paulo flinched as he submerged, undoubtedly feeling every burn, cut, and bruise as he did. He was so dirty that tear tracks were now visible on his face from his crying. John wet a rough motel washcloth in the warm water and brought it to his face. He dabbed and nudged the dried blood from Paulo’s mouth and nose. The boy tried very hard not to flinch and shy away, and in return he tried to be very gentle. “Good,” he said quietly, wetting the cloth and returning it to the blood and swollen tissue. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

Paulo made brief eye contact with him at that, probably because it had become a foreign concept that someone would make an effort against hurting him. Just as quickly he slid his gaze away, back to an indeterminate point on the bathroom tile.

“You wanna do this next part?”

Paulo didn’t answer.

John moved as gently and quickly as was prudent over the rest of his body, knowing he was hurting him when he passed over the yellowed cigarette burns on his legs and hips.

“I know. You’re gonna be okay. Almost done. You’re doing really well.”

Paulo let John wash his hair, using some of the hotel shampoo that would likely sting some cuts but was desperately needed. He closed his eyes as John worked his fingers through the blood and dirt, the snarls coming apart slowly with gentle patience. As he rinsed the boy’s dark hair clean, John noticed he had stopped shaking.

He drained the now red-brown water and wrapped Paulo in a white hotel towel. He looked better clean, though there was nothing to do for the bruises but wait. He sat on the side of the motel bed as John went through his black duffel bag, pulling out sweatpants, a gray cotton T-shirt, and ibuprofen for him.

Paulo dressed in the bathroom and accepted two of the pills. He came out and sat on the end of the bed afterwards, staring at the pattern on the comforter.

“Does Jack know who had you?” John asked as he set up his phone charger. “The guy with the box truck out there?”

Paulo shook his head. “That man wasn’t the first.”

So he’d been bought and sold multiple times since being stolen—kidnapped— from Jack's property. It was possible Jack knew the original perpetrators, but had no idea where his pet was now. John sighed. His mind was working analytically, trying to understand every facet of the situation before he acted— trying to understand how he could manipulate it most in his favor. But that all felt shallow and cruel when he truly saw the boy in front of him, his damp hair and his bruised face, his narrow chest and the way he was nervously picking at a scab on the inside of his wrist.

“Don’t do that,” John said softly. “I don’t want you getting any infections.”

Paulo stopped immediately but looked intrigued by the care in that statement. Likely no one had said anything like it to him in a long while now.

“Are you hungry?”

Paulo shrugged. John raised his eyebrows and he went with a more committed shake of the head. “No, Sir.”

“…Are you scared?”

The boy swallowed, touched the scab on his wrist without picking it.

He’d said it before, but he knew he’d have to say it a hundred more times, and show it a thousand, before it sunk in. He likely would not end up doing that, but he’d say it as long as the pet was in his possession. “I promise I'm not gonna hurt you.”

“What, then?” Paulo asked, shrugging one shoulder to his ear in what felt like embarrassment at his own question.

“If I’m not going to hurt you? What then?”

He nodded.

“Nothing. I'm gonna take you back to Tennessee.”

“To Jack?”

“For the time being, to my place in Lewisburg. I have a farm.”

“What kind of farm?”

“Horses. You wanna come?”

He said he did. Not that he had much of a choice. John suspected they both knew that killing him on the side of a dirt road in west Texas would be better than what might happen if he took him back to Tennessee and failed to promptly return him to Jack. Jack would take it out on his lost little pet as much as he did John.

“I can’t believe you’re still even sitting up and talking. Come here.” John stood up and pulled the corner of the bedsheets down. “Lie down.”

Paulo did as he asked.

Before John would cover him up he asked, “Can you tell me if anyone kicked you in the back or abdomen, or if you feel any pain when you move or breathe?”

He thought about that. “I don’t know. I’m sore.”

“Any sharp pains, anything feel broken?”

“No?”

“Can I touch your stomach right here? It won’t be for long.”

A little apprehensive, Paulo agreed. John placed his hands on his abdomen and prodded his way along, trying to feel anything amiss or to get a sharp yell from Paulo. None came.

“Does this hurt anywhere more than soreness?”

“No,” his patient said in a small voice.

“Okay,” he said, and covered the boy to his chest with the blankets. “I’m done. Thank you. I was worried you might have internal bleeding, or broken ribs.”

“I don’t think so.”

“We’ll need to get you checked for other things too, soon. Make sure you didn’t contract anything.”

It took a moment for this to register, but when it did, Paulo blushed scarlet.

“It’s okay,” John assured him. His next gesture surprised him. Tenderly, he brushed the back of his knuckles to an unbruised spot on Paulo’s cheek. He was quickly becoming endeared to this unfortunate little pet. “You’re probably alright. And even in the event you did, it’s not your fault.”

“Is that why you didn’t want to?” Paulo asked, leaning his cheek almost imperceptibly into John’s knuckles.

John retracted his hand. “No. I didn’t want to because I am not interested in hurting you.”

“I said you could.”

“You and I both know it would still be hurting.”

Paulo laid his head back on the pillow. “I don’t understand what you want.”

“For starters, I want you to tell me what you want to eat.”

He didn’t eat much, but he did make an effort. John got the impression he was suspicious of every simple kindness, every time there were footsteps outside their door in the breezeway.

When he turned out the light and put a partition of pillows between them to sleep, he felt Paulo start awake every time a car pulled into the parking lot, or the AC beneath the window kicked on with a rattle.

“You’re okay,” he said drowsily from across the pillow divide, which made it feel more like bunking together and less like sharing a bed. “Nobody knows you’re here. Nobody knows where you are at all. That door is deadbolted. And I’m here between the rest of the world and you. You can sleep tonight. Nothing can hurt you.”

He doubted words would actually help, since the boy's nerves were probably completely shot, and who knows when was the last time he’d had a good nights sleep, and felt safe enough to do so? Still, he thought it should be nice to hear. It was the least he could do. He didn’t make any undue promises. Just tonight.

Paulo was quiet for a minute, and then John heard a wet sniff that was the unmistakable sound of crying. He didn’t think he should say ‘don’t cry’ to someone in his position, so he didn’t. He just listened from across the pillows until the little pet fell asleep.

[fattenmeupag]

A scenario:

A feeder who decides that you are terribly ill, frail and underweight, and starts taking care of you with all the fuss and worry and care that goes with that. Lamenting about how terribly thin and small you've let yourself become, obviously someone else has to make sure that you're eating enough since you clearly can't be trusted to take care of yourself. You poor thing. You'll need to put on at least 100 pounds of essential fat ASAP just to be well!

And also you need to be more careful with over-exerting yourself. Any kind of exercise might be dangerous when your health is so fragile. If you're getting out of breath, you're pushing yourself too hard and need to stop and rest. Enough food and rest will surely make you better. Getting winded from walking is clearly a sign that you shouldn't be doing that, you're still far too weak from being ill. You should sit down and rest, and have a good hearty meal to get your strength back. Actually it doesn't seem like sitting up so much is good for you, you need to be put to bed rest.

Being getly fussed to bed and offered some hearty, buttery food so you can get your strength back. Looking down at the way your doughy belly keeps getting bigger and heavier, knowing that your unused, atrophied muscles keep getting weaker the longer you lay there. Knowing that next time you're allowed to get out of bed, you might not have the strength to do it.

HATE | No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | F*CK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |

this sounds like it would be fucking amazing! and it seems like a crime that this isn’t already happening to me now.

[sadiecoocoo]

It's Growing On Me - The Bad Batch fic

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

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

Relationships - Crosshair & Echo

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

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

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

Word Count - 10,647

Read on A03

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sweet or salty, big guy?”

“Both!” he replied excitedly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Answer the damn question.” Crosshair ordered threateningly.

“Cross-” Echo tried.

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

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

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

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

He followed Crosshair with a similar scowl on his face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay?! Are you serious-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Hunter asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened?” He asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I never said you were.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kark you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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