#The aftermath was absolutely devastating but so delicous | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oftincturedwords · 1 year

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Title: Delicate Operation Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Star Wars : The Bad Batch / Star Wars : The Clone Wars Rating: T+ Chapter Warnings: ¡Spoilers! Grief/Mourning , Canonical Character Death , Aftermath of Torture , Implied/Referenced Torture , Mention of Needles , Medical , Canon-Typical Violence , Explicit Language , etc. Characters: Crosshair , Hunter , Wrecker , Omega , Echo , Captain Rex , Fireball , & Gregor Additional Tags: Angst , Emotional Hurt , Hurt/Comfort , Family , Team as Family , Hugging , Crying , etc. Timeline: Set post to Star Wars : The Bad Batch s02e16 ( Plan 99 ) Pairings: Gen. None. Word Count: 5650 Summary: Crosshair had got the message through, he was certain of it. Even though he wasn't able to say the Empire was after the kid still, he had sent the transmission of Plan 88. To go underground. To hide. But they hadn't listened. He should have known they wouldn't have listened to him. Now they all had to live with the consequences. A/N: ¡¡ SPOILER WARNING !! for The Bad Batch series finale. . . .

I am BEYOND devastated by the finale , Tech was my favourite batcher & I did not expect that to happen. So here's all my angst feels , based on a tumblr post of mine because I am grieving & I need to vent my feelings as well as fix this absolutely misery that is canon. Forewarning that this fic is written In Media Res , which means that it begins at a crucial part of the story , but it gets better / happier I swear as the events prior to the first chapter are written out in the upcoming chapters. Just have to set the scene because it's not a rewrite of canon , but rather what needs to happen after all we have seen in the episode. I have no beta thus all mistakes are mine. Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to Star War : The Clone Wars & Star Wars : The Bad Batch. Neither am I associated with Lucasfilms , Disney+ , nor any of the actors who portray these characters. I make no money off any of my stories , this is purely for entertainment purposes. Read On : ao3 | under the cut

Waking to rough handling wasn't a sensation Crosshair was newly acquainted with, it was actually one of routine now and only served to stir him towards consciousness rather than the nervous trepidation that it had spurred in the early days. The Doctor nor the Stormtroopers liked it when he was too legarthic to move when asked or when he wasn't aware enough to feel every injection or prick or effects of whatever the droids and scientists had stuck him. Thus he merely swallowed the reflexive urge to groan, his throat was far too dry to elicit any true sound anyway, but he wasn't going to risk showing any further weakness if he could prevent it.

He had barely opened his eyes a bit before his brow was furrowing and he blinked to try to see his surroundings better for their was a pair of hands at both the restraints at his legs and the ones binding his arms and chest to this infernal bed, yet the fingers working at the clasps were hurried and fumbled the release mechanism as if unused to them.

With however long he and many other clones had been here, no guard nor doctor was unfamiliar nor stupid enough to fumble a restraint.

“Wha-?” The butchered word came unbidden from his parched mouth at catching sight of a black helmet that he once knew to be partially painted white instead of teal and orange, yet the similarity was struck directly through Crosshair’s core once his bleary vision had settled more so.

“Easy Cross, we’ll have you outta here in a minute.” Came a deep and rumbling voice that provided secondary confirmation that Crosshair hadn't needed, but nearly had him feeling woozy with the implication of what was happening.

His transmission had gone through. He was certain of it. Before the toxin had spilt too far into the room and choked off any further information he could have sent along the secure channel, he had ensured that it went through. Plan 88. To go underground, you are being hunted. To hide.

“No.” Crosshair tried to say whilst he worked to wiggled his hands free and upwards so he could physically push Hunter away if needed, but his speech was cracked and a mere whisper. His coordination and strength of movement failed him as well, hardly twitching from where they lay against the thin padding along the biobed he was on.

“Sh, almost got it.” Was the words that his pathetic attempt at moving had drawn from Hunter then, soft and consoling even with the modulator distorting it as if they were cadets back on Kamino and had just returned from a particularly rough session with Nala Se’s various tests.

No, no, no! They couldn't be here!

Crosshair grit his teeth together, feeling them grind to the point of creaking despite his otherwise lack of strength and the odd stinging slice across his now closed eyes. How he wished he could buck against the very hands gently yet fervently finishing at removing the belted restraints from his frame, to kick them off and spit venomous words their way. Anything to get them to stop and turn around before they were noticed.

“Kriff.” The low curse came from Hunter then, his voice managing to sound both terse and contrite, “Sorry, I know you're hurt, that this hurts, but we've got to move.”

“No.” Crosshair tried again, realising Hunter was hearing him grind his teeth and assuming it was pain rather than a mounting distress over their continued presence here.

But the sole word he attempted to utter was nearer a croak than anything concrete, and Hunter didn't even seem to catch it this time as he was focussed upon shutting down whatever monitor was reading his vitals amongst other things along the screen panelling of the biobed’s overhang.

This had the sting at his eyes growing a fraction until it was soothed by the shallow pooling of tears at the edges of his eyes when he peered them open again. Blinking dispelled with them only a little and he felt one drip down the corner of his right eye. Hidden only by the fact Hunter was standing by his left side.

“Got it.” Hunter voiced suddenly to the room, likely to the rest of the squad stationed about, once the screen’s beeped softly once then went dark, and it was the that Crosshair noticed a burly form of Wrecker stepping nearer whilst a smaller dark armoured frame quickly stepped away from the base of the bed to replace the sentry guard at the door.

“He's hurting.” Crosshair beard Hunter say in warning to Wrecker, the implied ‘be gentle’ didn't need to be said nor did anyone within hearing range actually think being gentle would be an option if it came down to a firefight.

It was more important to scoop and run then worry about injuries and pain management later, when laser bolts stopped firing and the threat of imprisonment was lessened greatly. Every soldier knew that.

But Wrecker still nodded at Hunter’s words, and when he bent down to slip his arms underneath Crosshair’s knees and shoulders, it was with a ginger finesse that he hadn't ever seen nor felt from his older brother. And Crosshair could do nothing to fight it, too disoriented still and far more weak than he had realised. Although he tried to sneer through his teeth, a sibilant breath forced past his clenched jaws, one that he had made hundreds of times before in their company to showcase his distaste or attitude.

The pain he felt at being moved was secondary to the fear he held for what would happen to his siblings if they were caught, it intermingled with the building temper at them having disregarded his warning.

“Sorry, sorry.” Wrecker spoke in that not-quite whisper that he always had, unable to gauge exactly what constituted a whisper since the blast injury to the head that had caused his signature scars had dampened his hearing on the one side, although he had always had an issue with ‘inside voice’, he gave his best attempt at it when needed, “I gotcha though.”

It's when he’s lifted into Wrecker’s arms, his head lulling against his brother’s cuirass that Crosshair catches a glimpse of white armour amongst the familiar black armoured bodies. The sight sent a lancing of panic through his chest, seeming to flood his veins with ice even as his heart rate kicked up. Yet any further observations he would take were swallowed up by a welling of dizziness, crashing through his frame with a shudder as he clenched his eyes closed to combat against it.

However, he noted once the intense spinning's endymion had quieted a few moments later that it wasn't the plain white of stormtrooper armour, but the aged and well worn design that belonged to clone troopers.

Squinting his tired eyes against the lingering tug of whatever drug was still working to sap at his consciousness, Crosshair managed to catch sight of the details painted along the nearest one's helmet and recognise the blue jaig eyes of Captain Rex’s helmet, even though the rest of his frame was concealed by a dull grey cloak. Meaning the other mostly white armoured forms holding a security line towards the door must be on their side as well.

Despite the darkness edging along the corners of his vision and the persistent blurriness that faded then returned at intermittent intervals, when Wrecker turned to join the rest near the exit, Crosshair managed to locate the shorter stature belonging to the kid. The purple glow of her energy bow stung at his eyes, to which reflexive tears began to prick at the back of them, but from what he could see, she appeared well enough to walk on her own and yield her weapon.

Didn't mean it would remain that way. These idiots shouldn’t have come here. No plan ever survived engagement with the enemy so whatever operation they had outlined and luck they carried he knew wouldn't last.

“The north corridor is clear. I’ve rerouted the guards with false directives towards the south side, we're good for another few minutes.”

That sounded like Echo, Crosshair absently thought.

But then again one reg sounded just like another to most, but in having spent time around that one particular reg, he was certain it was him. Although he couldn't see him just now, his view was limited by his waning ability to focus his sight with much clarity and that he couldn't lift his head from where it lay without a resurgence of dizziness.

It was already difficult to focus his eyes on any one thing, which was something he was striving to not think too much about given his sight was a paramount sense to him, tied to his very identity and thusly his sense of worth.

The involuntary sparks of trepidation that bordered the precarious edges of panic whenever he noticed the degree of blurriness when he looked about at a distance or the way his surroundings seemed to wobble then tilt at random had come more frequently now that he had been awake for longer than a handful of minutes without the additive of physical torture to occupy his thoughts away. He hoped the change in his vision was merely a side effect of the interrogation droid's jabs, or whatever they had been routinely injecting him with. And he hoped that those wishful thoughts weren't in vain.

But such musings were fleeting still. Beyond exhausted though he hadn't moved in days, it was a struggle to even keep his eyes open for longer than a few minutes at a time and each time it was all more of an effort to open them again. No matter how much he wanted to remain aware, present until he could ensure everyone was flying away from this blasted place and safe, Crosshair felt his mind drifting away.

Not quite falling away to unconsciousness, but floating elsewhere towards a space unfeeling of the ever present aches throughout his frame that seemed to concentrate within his head and around every joint along his limbs and spine. Away from the worries over his siblings folly in coming after him, in risking more than just their lives to come rescue him. Removed from thinking of their fates if they failed, if even one of them were unable to see the mission through…

“Contact on the right!”

The reverb of the shouted warning was devoured by the discharge of multiple blasters all at once, fluctuating thereafter yet continuous the din was, sliced through the fragile peace Crosshair had been able to fall into whilst he swayed slightly in Wrecker’s arms as they moved through the corridors of the base.

Muted greys and flashes of light flashed by at a fiercer speed at the increase in noise all around. Yet any distinction Crosshair could usually pick out when in a skirmish; which blasters were firing when, who was shouting what orders, and how to gauge which way an outcome would fall for their side became lost to the ringing that was rapidly growing in his ears. For jostled in Wrecker’s arms he had been when the large clone had sprinted then ducked away from the enemy fire and crashed to his knees behind whatever cover he could.

The swift action had caused pain to flare anew throughout Crosshair’s abused frame and a tidal wave of dizziness to wash over him, one that left him weakly clinging to Wrecker’s cuirass in a vain attempt to keep himself grounded, to get his head to accept that he wasn't spinning nor being tossed about on an unruly sea.

But it was a futile attempt, no matter how desperate he was to remain awake and somewhat alert, awareness fled from him within his next breath.

— & .. ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀᴅ ʙᴀᴛᴄʜ .. & —

When he next came to, there was a cacophony of noise around him. The exchange of blaster fire resounded throughout the corridors, the signature discharge sounds from the weapons as well as the pinging searing when they struck a bulkhead or one of the crates they were using as cover. The thud of plastoid covered bodies hitting the deck plating from the other side came at various intervals. As did the blossoming alarm of dispatched and armed droid poppers.

He was lent against the unyielding carbon-scored surface of someone's armour, sitting between their knelt legs whilst his upper body laid against the armour of their torso. They were crouched in a kneeling position to shield Crosshair with a bent knee and an arm wrapped around his side as their other hand held a decee that they periodically used to fire over the stacked line of crates they were using as cover.

The armour colour wasn't one Crosshair knew yet the finer details of its design showed it to be the standard issue phase II clone trooper armour all regs. had been given during the war instead of the overly glossy and new gear the stormtroopers’ all wore. Except it appeared to be painted a mottled green and brown colour, scuffed to shit but distinctly so. As if attempting to mimic camouflage but only a limited amount of paint had been available.

He must have made some sort of noise, although he couldn't feel much past the foggy wooziness that threatened to go towards outright vertigo if he moved his head too much, because the body underneath him shifted to allow the helmet head to dip below the line of cover and near his face.

A silent moment passed where it seemed he was being surveyed by the other, either checking if he had attempted to say something or if his health was failing further, before a modulated voice cut through the continued blaster fire and clamour of the on-going skirmish, “Take it easy, vod. We’re nearly outta here.”

Crosshair was with a brother, even if it wasn't one of his batch, he knew he could trust him, reg. or not be damned. Echo had shown him that, and Mayday had hammered that lesson in home. Or so he liked to think it was his brothers that had imparted that change rather than the steril coldness and inhumanity shown to him and countless others by the Empire. But Crosshair wasn't one to lie to himself, even if whatever drug still lingering in his veins allowed his mind to indulge in that desire before he was lost to the depths of unconsciousness again.

— & .. ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀᴅ ʙᴀᴛᴄʜ .. & —

“Easy, Cross, we're almost outta here.”

Those assurances came through the turbulent haze of an exhausted dizziness, one that left Crosshair feeling both nauseous and faint. Yet he clung to the vestiges of consciousness he had attained.

Something was happening, something he knew he should be helping with. The urgency he could feel thrumming through the back of his mind in hopes to urge muscles to obey and get him up, however there was little such determination could do against the lingering onslaught of whatever cocktail of serums that scientist had poured into his veins whilst draining him of more blood samples than was ethical, or safe.

Determination alone wasn't enough to get him moving, but it seemed to be of little consequence to whoever was carrying him. The patterned sway that was exasperating his lightheadedness followed the motion of someone running, despite the sturdiness of the arms around him, it didn't wholly stop the sensation of teetering from one side to the other.

But before Crosshair could worry over if the vertigo would send him into a fit of dry heaving since he hadn't eaten anything in the last handful of times he had been conscious, darkness swallowed him once again.

— & .. ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀᴅ ʙᴀᴛᴄʜ .. & —

Being immediately pulled away from the dark nadir of unnatural sleep by a sharp pinch within the crock of his arm wasn't something Crosshair was unused to either. Although it always succeeded in waking him up all the quicker, his mind shrugged off the effects of slumber with battlefield readiness despite the lingering shadows of wooziness and fog the drugs they had given him had caused. The scientists were likely now trying to replace them so he wouldn't wake fully and cause trouble. It seems they could do their little experiments without the need of a conscious host.

Alert in a near instant, Crosshair peered open his eyes. Tired and gritty though they felt, he blinked a few times in quick session to clear them for he didn't see any scientist nor doctor above him, but a set of brothers kneeling at his side.

The pale and stern countenance of Echo was nearest with the half-tattooed face of Hunter was beside him, both were knelt on their knees beside the bunk Crosshair realised he was laid supine on. Each were looking down at his arm and appeared to be setting up an IV. A rippling of disgust coursed through his insides at catching sight of the clear fluid jostling round in the bag with a bright green attaché and the tubing with liquid beginning to flow through it into the line they placed in his arm.

Shuddering at that, Crosshair took a deeper breath to ground himself. It wasn't as if he was a stranger to needles or medical equipment, growing up as he did should have desensitised him to it all, but he couldn't help the roiling of nausea at seeing such things so soon.

“Heya Crosshair, take it easy.”

Echo’s voice drew Crosshair’s attention away from his inward revulsion, causing him to open his eyes to look towards the other once again, realising now that he had the focus of both brothers now.

“It's just some saline and a broad spectrum antibiotic.” Echo quickly began explaining what exactly they were giving him, gesturing to both components with his hand as he said them, “We aren't sure what they gave you there so we're playing it safe with just rehydration and antibiotics. You’ve uh, you've got quite a few marks that aren't looking so good.”

“But we're going to put some bacta on them.” Came a higher accented voice then, the one belonging to the kid, as she stepped over on the other side of Echo and into Crosshair’s current view range, “Here's the patches.”

“Thanks.” Echo nodded whilst taking the proffered patches to hand off some to Hunter before he set about reaching over to place a patch along Crosshair’s neck, narrating as he did, “Just going to put this here, small sting then it should feel better.”

“How're you feeling?” The kid asked, staring down at him from where she stood nearest his head, her features openly earnest yet pinched in apparent concern.

Crosshair hesitated a moment, considering an honest reply to something snippy, but exhaustion won out any attempts at sardonic wit and he settled on, “Sore.”

Omega nodded as if that made perfect sense, and it had Crosshair’s chest giving a twinge at remembering Hemlock’s want of their sister. But he tried to mentally shove that fear away, she was here and thus hadn't been captured. They hadn't listened to him, but Omega hadn't been captured nor had they all been taken in their misguided rescue mission.

“We can't give you anything for any pain yet, not until we can be sure it won't negatively interact with the drugs they injected you with.” Echo relaid contritely, his expression appeared pained over the fact he couldn't do more.

“It's fine.” Crosshair drolled, his own voice rasped more than usual, whilst he turned to angle his head around to survey the rest of the Havoc Marauder's interior. A home he hadn't seen in many, many months.

His gaze caught sight of Rex’s profile with another two unfamiliar forms in clone trooper armour just past the doors of the cockpit whilst Hunter had moved away from the bunk to pick up a ration bar and sip pack before coming back over to his side.

“Think you can eat something?” Hunter asked, holding up the items to show it was a blue ration bar he held.

“I saved you the blue one!” Wrecker’s boasteous voice was muffled by the way he held his stuffed tooka near his face, and Crosshair finally spied the biggest of their group sitting over to the side behind where Omega was still standing. She had stepped back to free Crosshair’s line of sight to Wrecker, she was smiling half heartedly at him.

Yet his older brother’s words, either of them, went unheeded. For everyone of his old squad was here, except for the familiar white armoured oddity in a group of usually black painted armour oddballs. Even the kid had darker armour on than Tech ever wore, and despite the additions of orange and teal to their armour, there was still the absence of his little brother’s nonconforming armour.

In that instance, Crosshair realised that he can’t recall ever seeing a glimpse of his younger brother amongst the blurred and foggy moments his memories hold of his rescue. Which was strange given Tech was the most medically trained corpsman their squad had, thus it should have been Tech at his side then and now. Not Echo and Hunter.

Just as it should have been Tech working to disconnect the monitors and alarms that attached him to that biobed given he younger clone’s penchant for navigating or circumventing technology with his expert slicing skills. Not Hunter.

Same with the door he had seen Echo using his scomp to open whilst he was held by some unknown clone in green painted armour. It should have been Tech at the door, or filling the role of a corpsman. Not a brother he didn't even know the name of.

A creeping sense of dread began to crawl with long spindly fingers up his spine whilst its tresses managed to coalesce and pool in a sticky withering mass within his stomach. It sent another wave of adrenaline crashing through his frame, spurring him to shuffle his arms up so his elbows were underneath him to allow him to sit up somewhat and shove at Echo’s instinctual attempts to press him back down onto the thin mattress of the bunk.

“Where’s Tech?” Crosshair asked once he was upright and facing Hunter, breath a touch laboured but his voice audible, in an unknown mirroring of Omega’s words under nearly the same circumstances.

The effect of his simple question was immediate. And Crosshair felt the very air snatched from his lungs at the irrefutable answer that lay plainly upon his brothers’ and sister’s faces.

“Tech…” Hunter was the one to break the heavy yet crystalline silence, shattering it by his tone alone in how very dispirited it was, and Crosshair knew for certain. Their little brother hadn't made it home.

“How?” Crosshair stumbled through the sole word, it falling forth from his lips before he could give much thought towards if he even wanted to know the answer.

Knowing his little brother had been lost attempting his rescue was already a difficult enough fact to swallow, but there was a prickling along his conscience at accepting it, he needed to know what his brother’s last moments entailed. He hadn't been there as witness to them, he had been the unintentional orchestrator of them, thus if this was the only way Crosshair could pay some twisted respect to Tech’s passing, he would.

If Tech had been caught by a blaster bolt, which seemed the most likely outcome, enough time spent on a battlefield could tell him countless ways he could have died depending on where the bolt had pierced his body. If it'd been an explosion, Crosshair had seen plenty of corpses laid about by various degrees of detonations and based upon the type of blast he would be able to envision what end his brother had met.

A shaky sigh drew Crosshair’s attention away from his internal preparations, his rapt attention upon Hunter once more. He wanted to know, no matter what further grief or disturbance it caused him, he needed to know the extent of his little brother’s sacrifice for him. He would carry whatever it was with him so that it would never be forgotten.

Hunter cleared his throat, gaze seemingly adhered to the deck plating even though his eyes shifted about without looking up, his voice was rough when he began to speak, “We didn't know where you were being held at first. Echo found out form one of his contacts about a secret meeting being held with Imperial leaders, Hemlock was one of them. So we went there and infiltrated the base on Eriadu in hopes to put a tracking beacon on his ship.”

“But the only way into the base was on a set of railcars that ran over the mountain valleys.” Hunter continued, his breathing remained steady, almost deliberate in its candace of every measured inhale and exhale, “We got in fine and Omega placed the tracker, but our exit strategy was complicated when we encountered Saw Gerrera and his men, they had placed bombs around the base and set them off. Our only exit was to backtrack towards the railcars, but by that time the entire base had been alerted.”

“They shut down the power to the railcar system and sent fighters after us with the intent to shoot the overhead binding clamps that connected the cars to the rails.” It was recited as if it were a mission report, words descriptive without being overwhelming, yet there was a removed tension that underlaid every word, as if Hunter needed to keep it professional least recounting the event would consume him completely and steal his voice entirely away, “Tech left the car to go restore power at one of the pillars whilst we provided covering fire. He did it, but when he tried to come back, one of the ships hit the car Tech was on before he could get inside. He managed to secure his grapple line onto it, but the whole thing was being pulled down by the broken section.”

“Tech,” Hunter’s voice dropped away before he took a deep breath in, his gaze finally flicked upwards to stare at Crosshair, “Tech saw this and shot the connexion point keeping the two cars together. H,He fell with the damaged car, which freed ours and allowed us to escape.”

“I was clear in my transmission! I told you Plan Eighty-Eight” Crosshair snapped in a shout before Hunter could say anything else, an unbridled anger had heightened his volume whilst the underlying denial and blossoming grief that he sought to shove away behind his fury hardened his tone and sharpened it to jagged points, “Not Forty-Nine or Thirty-Three! Plan Eighty-Eight!”

“Now hang on, Crosshair—” Echo’s stern voice was curbed, gentled in a way that had Crosshair’s ire raising rather than soothing it, as he strove to intervene before things became any more heated and began to hedge towards out-of-control.

However, it did nothing to deter Crosshair, who outrightly sneered at the interruption without taking his eyes off of Hunter and flung forth the accusation, “Tech would still be here if you had just listened to me!”

“And trading you out for him is somehow any better?” Hunter spat back suddenly, his own volume and hostility rising to match his younger brother’s, although it was more tempered whilst Crosshair’s remained wild.

“Yes!” Crosshair’s returned shout held enough vehemence to sharpen the ache within his throat to a needlepoint, prolonged mild to moderate dehydration and unavoidable outcrys whilst enduring torture had let it in tatters.

Silence fell between them then, spreading out about the Havoc Marauder within a single breath. Only the muffled workings of the ship's internal systems could be heard and the harsh, near rasped, breaths from Crosshair.

“Crosshair.” Came the near choked way Hunter had just spoken his name, as if emotion had strangled any steadiness from his vocal cords.

“No.” Crosshair snapped, his ire hadn't petered out when Hunter’s had, it had only grown in light of his mounting grief, it sharpened his tongue to the point his words held razors on their ends, “You should have ensured you all were hidden and safe, just as Plan 88 dictates! Away From the Empire to raise the kid and live the life you chose. I had made my choice, remember? I was living with it.”

“You really think Tech would have let me do that?” Hunter asked, voice soft in a way that it was near breathless, all energy seeming to have evaporated from his frame, “I did argue against coming to get you when it seemed impossible, but Tech wouldn't have it. He said you were still our brother and we don't leave our own behind. How could I argue with him on that when I already broke our one rule and seen all that’s happened since then?”

Crosshair ground his teeth together at his eldest brother’s words, the flesh around his eyes pinched and his lips downturned all the more at the deepening of his scowl. In truth, his expression had tightened and twisted to keep the overwhelming desire to crumble completely back. His eyes stung with an imminent threat of tears in tandem with an ache blooming along his the very sinew of his ribs in want to sob.

“He and Echo never stopped researching, making covert comms. to contacts whilst Wrecker and Omega ensured our stores were stocked with whatever we may have needed.” Hunter continued, seeming desperate to ensure Crosshair saw how much his little brother had fought to get him back, “Poured over tactics and maps, and any information Tech brought us. He wanted you back with us, and nothing wasn't going to stop him. Nor Echo, or Wrecker or Omega.”

“But you were out voted.” Crosshair redirected with a terseness he didn't feel, grasping at anything to reignite the embers that had once been a roaring anger.

A defeated sorrow edged along Hunter’s expression, one that bespoke the great weight belonging to mistakes made that weren't easily absolved. Ones that would be carried for longer than they should and be present in the shadows of every quiet moment for years to come.

“I didn't want to risk Omega.” Hunter answered, an earnest protectiveness wrapped itself around his tone and intertwined with his words , although that same haunted sorrow kept its heavy talons within his countenance, “But were a family just as much as a squad, and she was willing to take the risks and so we all were. We knew what it may cost us, all of us if we failed. Tech would have rather given his all to try than leave you at the hands of that Imperial Doctor.”

“Well, he certainly succeeded.” Crosshair was only able to draw a short breath after those calloused words left his tongue, they had shook with the effort to keep them rigid and unaffected which shattered whatever illusion of resentment and ire he was striving to keep up, as his vision blurred beyond sight by a wash of tears.

“Oh Cross.”

He wasn't certain which of his brothers that broken whisper had come from, but he felt a pair of arms come up to touch his shoulders on either side. That was the final weight to break whatever tautly strung tether had kept him upright, for he folded forwards into whoever’s chest was before him. His forehead pressing against the curve of his brother's shoulder, feeling the fabric of the modified blacks he wore in accompaniment to the ticklish brush of long hair against his skin which told Crosshair it was Hunter who he had crumbled into and whose arms hadn’t hesitated any to encircle around his lithe frame.

Hunter’s embrace was warm and familiar, though Crosshair hadn't been held like this since they were all young cadets. Hardly older than four at the time, it had been literal years since then, yet he could remember how it had helped to be cradled in his older brother’s arms with Hunter leaning his head down to rest his cheek against the top of Crosshair’s head. Comforted and safe so long as he was there.

However, there was little comfort to be found this time.

Not when Crosshair felt a two presence press against his side and a apri of arms on either side wrap round his back, the heaviness of one could only belong to Wrecker which meant the other had to have been Echo. And then a small pressure wormed their way to his side and tucked between where Wrecker was attempting to enfold them all into his arms, which could have only been Omega, who seemed to have squeezed between them so she could be touching them all.

Shuddering with a vehemence, Crosshair tightened his grip on the material Hunter’s blacks. A stuttering breath had left his lungs, over and over the hitched and broken gasps so closely mirrored the act of sobbing. Unable to cope with the fissure that had cracked into his chest, a chasm had torn directly through his heart at the very obvious absence in their huddle. One that would never be filled to completion again.

TBC.

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justjolathings · 2 years

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the elemental nature of the gays

nobody asked for this but i'm absolutely feral about this because listen keyla and joann are straight up elemental i'm about to put my entire degree into this analysis

keyla detmer is fire. from the surface, from the way her hair glints in the sun to how it moves when she's guiding the discovery through evasive maneuvers and impossible jumps through space and time. the way her smile crackles when achieving the impossible and she lights up the room. all she touches she brings to life with a heat unmatched, and those around her feel safe, warmed by the light and protection of the flame. but just as gently as she so prods she can destroy with a word or the flick of a finger, raging without sanction and burning everything in her path. those in it are taken in by her beauty and surrender to her flame, the promises of safety, only to discover the extent of their damages after the fire has moved through.

keyla detmer is air. the absence of weight in her voice in the aftermath of a technological victory, her guidance of the discovery through the unknown and beyond. how she may slip through space so easily without being seen, without a sound, lethal with just the slightest of pressures. devastating when cold and harsh, met with desire when warm and gentle. the contexts of her life require only the most delicate handlings, easily changed with the flick of a finger or the minute turn of the wrist. she is ever-changing in direction and strength, capable of relief and bliss and destruction all on her whimsy. necessary for survival but can be deadly in abundance.

joann owosekun is the earth. firm, solid, built from the roots and distinctly proud of where they sprouted from. grounding of those around her and of enough love to encourage them to flower into their best selves. try, she tells them, and challenge the universe to the mischief of your own making. she is the caretaker of multitudes of beings nourished by those in which she lent a hand, whether it be oxygen tanks or an ailing captain suffering from a phaser wound. she is calming, a reminder of home. but when disturbed, her hurt is inevitable. it will swallow you whole, bury you so deep you may never see the light of day in your lifetime, crush you under the weight of your mistakes and ensure you cannot live to tell the tale. it may be the worst mistake you ever make, for when you are swallowed by her hurt, she buries herself in it with you.

joann owosekun is water. of healing hands and cooling ires in the boxing ring when egos run a tad on the inflamed. of gentle eddies and affirmations of confidence, soft touches and nudges towards the best self. the one without fail-safes. she is of calm and of excitement, going with the flow as it occurs on her viewscreen. she is a balm after a battle, a beautiful sight for a woman looking for signs of life. she is of complex connections and composed of infinite beauty. she is of a force consistently underestimated and easily proven as lethal; one minute, she may be at your ankles, the next, she will be depriving you of precious air should she so choose. she is to be awed. but she is to be feared should you slash the lines that bind her together.

together, they form new frontiers, fire and earth and air and water creating where none have gone before.

#star trek #star trek discovery #jola #keyla detmer #joann owosekun #character analysis

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puffpasstea · 2 years

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What's the harshest punishment he's ever given her?

Hmmm, that’s a good question! I guess it depends on what we mean by harsh. You might hate this answer but…

Physically? Probably, like, caning in the blurb I wrote when she safewords. She doesn’t love the type of pain that the cane produces so that can get invariable pretty fast.

But, like, the most difficult thing to endure emotionally for her is when he calls her a “bad girl” especially if she’s in subspace. He doesn’t do it often cuz he knows how delicate she gets in such a headspace and he doesn’t want her to drop afterwards or have a hard time in the aftermath, so he only ever does it when he’s like super upset or if he can’t quite let go of something she did/said that it keeps popping up in his mind over and over. All she ever wants when in subspace is to be the best sub ever and wants to make him happy and feel close to him and hear him praise her so something like that would absolutely devastate her.

#dom!harry #ask

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abyssmalice · 2 years

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Profile - re. mobile / the Speaker ;

Name: "Freyja" (The Lady)

Real Name: Tonia Agapova

Age: ??? (21+ physically ; ∞ in reality)

Species: Human(???) / Irminsul-Human Immortal

Vision: None / Cryo / ???

Weapon: Catalyst / Spear

Constellation: Somniator (The Dreamer)

Affiliation: The Irminsul

Epithets: Memory of the Leylines / Speaker of the Leylines / God of Hearts

FC: Zero (primary); Karina Leopold (primary); Kanoyeel.kkll.Preciel (secondary)

Appearance:

Appears as a young woman in her early twenties with long brown hair, some of which is tied into a pair of braids on each side of her head. Leyline flowers are weaved into the braids, matching the simple white dress she wears. Tends to wear a black cloak decorated with star patterns and fur trims with a heavy hood that easily obscures her features.

If said hood gets knocked off, they’d get a quick peek of a freckled face, a single sky-blue eye - and where there should be a second eye, a leyline flower grows from the socket, large enough to hide the fact that she’s missing an eye there at all.

Personality:

A delicate existence. Her presence is soft and quiet, while her distant smiles nonetheless radiate the faint warmth of sunbeams coating fresh snow. But the moment she is thrust into the need to fight or struggle, her gentleness becomes the mercy of death and her warmth into the spilling of blood. In that way, she is the same no matter what the situation is - the only difference is if she’s smiling or not. For there is nothing to be happy about in the aftermath of a slaughter.

Yes. She will avoid conflict no matter the cost. For what has her greatest struggle against the destinies of the gods brought her except misery and an eternal exile into the land without time? She will give her kindness and her wisdom and her smiles to any who ask - but the moment she must give her heart in any amount or form, that is the end of it.

(And yet. And yet. Her heart is burning. And the leylines remember all that has ever happened. How could she forget it - the devastation, the numbness, the grief? But what can one person do against the gods—)

Biography

Once upon a time, Teyvat was brought into existence.

But before that genesis, there was another world. Another Teyvat. Much the same as the one that stands in existence now, but - Celestia, it seemed, was very much in the mood to be experimental, in those ancient of ancient times.

The constellations were a little dimmer, scattered, different. People followed different paths, created different futures - and of those destinies, unlike the one we know of now, a boy with the name of a hero did not have a misadventure in a world beneath the earth.

No. His fate would be different. The boy destined to be a hero would gain his dark strength at another time, with the heavens already guiding him and his faith. That would be his divine future, and so, the world was shaped to lay down the road he would inevitably follow.

It just so happened, the day before, that boy’s little sister giggled and said to their mother: “Before Ajax comes home, I’ll go pick some berries to make into a pie for him!”

And so she did.

And so, blind to the webbing of the gods, she stepped down the road her brother was destined for - and fell, fell, fell.

But the story, unexpectedly, does not end there. Even though the odds were far more stacked against a defenseless little girl lost in a land of never-ending danger. No, it won’t end there, because she decided, swore, promised on her dying breath to the leylines - it wouldn’t.

(Some things are simply more certain than the fates woven for us by the gods.)

It was just too unfortunate, really - that in her time in the Abyss, the Cryo Archon also declared war on the heavens.

(Some things are simply more certain than the fates woven for us by the gods. But the Tsaritsa was a god herself, and so it went, that there was something more absolute than her attempt to change god-given fate with another god-given fate.)

By the time the poor girl climbed out of hell, the world was falling apart. The land was scorched, the dead piling in millions. Snezhnaya had long since been wiped off any maps that still existed. Soon, Celestia would have to rewrite the slate and build it all anew—if they did not abandon this module altogether for another iteration.

It was too late. It was too late. She was too late so for what did she even try—

“—That’s how it is!” Freyja hums, a small and breathy laugh leaving her. “There was nowhere else to go but back into the Abyss, so that’s what I did. And of course, there was nowhere else to go after that, so I just stayed there. Lonely? Oh, for a little bit. But the leylines actually make great company. They remember everything, after all.”

#mobile;

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a-lil-perspective · 3 years

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Hi!! All ur Dad Batch content makes my heart so soft 🥺💕 ahh I love it!

How would Crossbuir and/or Papa Hunter react in the aftermath of them losing their temper with their kids? I know this is a bit of a sadder one, but no parent is perfect. I feel like this is more likely to happen when the kiddos are younger and yeah I just think they would feel awful seeing the kids’ scared little faces and crying and being scared

This is a great ask. I never want to imagine Papa Hunter or Cross’buir losing it with their kids ever lol so my heart hurts a lil bit. I’m actually gonna talk about all the Dadas here; what constitutes as “losing their temper” for each one and how they cope with it.

—

Hunter: When he loses his temper it’s actually quite catastrophic; his voice is booming and his presence is commanding and the effects are instantaneous - it’s scary, the babies start crying, they’ve only ever seen Papa soft and gentle and the look of fear that twists their sweet little faces is forever ingrained into his memory. He is a very hurt Papa in the aftermath. His first instinct is to remedy the situation immediately; damage control, in his acute distress: “Oh baby Papa’s so sorry, come here, sweetie Papa didn’t mean it, please—” He’s near tears himself. His attempts to comfort is born from desperation, he’s beyond remorseful but his profuse apologies fall on deaf ears; they’re little and they’re rattled and they just need Mama. They scamper off to go cry and find solace. Hunter likely sequesters himself away once realizing they’ve shut down. And he thinks he ruined everything. He is just… devastated. He can’t let it go. He needs lots of reassurance from Cyare that he is still a good Papa.

Wrecker: Out of all the Buire, Wrecker has lost his temper the least amount of times and in the least disastrous ways. In any case; his ill-temper is not necessarily equated to yelling. His demeanor just turns sour and he’s generally irked. Maybe he’s a little short with them instead of enacting his typical antics. It’s usually not enough to be tear-inducing. But he feels absolutely horrible. And Wrecker has very little artifice; he sees and calls everything like it is. And so he is very quick to make amends, and he is so sincere, no bullshit - and that’s what makes it so remedying. He knows how to apologize, with tact. But more than that; Wrecker owns up to his actions. Always. He will sit his girls down and tell them exactly what it is he did wrong, because it builds character - his and theirs. Sometimes if it’s really tricky waters to navigate, he’ll bring in Lula as his trusty advisor. :)

Tech: Tech undoubtedly has a short fuse and I have no doubt he can be prone to pretty severe outbursts, given the right circumstances. But I think when it comes to his exasperation with young ones, I don’t think he would go full throttle, I just think he would be very sarky and cold. And much of Tech’s disposition is already comparatively aloof - but this certain behavior is indefinitely more sharp. And maybe he doesn’t realize it or that he even wronged his child, maybe he sees the frown on their face but it doesn’t quite register with him. He might even need some prompting, someone to tell him that he caused offense. When he comes to the realization, he truly feels very bad. I imagine he would hole up for awhile and absorb himself in some work until he can sort his thoughts out. This is a delicate situation.

Crosshair: Similar to the others, losing his temper doesn’t necessarily constitute as raising his voice, for Crosshair; instead, he becomes very waspish and it’s very pronounced - and hurtful. He only ever inflicted that behavior with Asher once (1). Sweet, tender Asher, who thinks the world of his Buir and always will. One day Crosshair becomes severe with him and the penitence is swift. The flicker of hurt - betrayal - that flashes across Asher’s face, the way he flinches, looks so much like his Mom’s; a look Crosshair knows all too well, a look burned into his core memory, and the implications behind it that he can never erase. And he hates himself for it. Asher rebounds quickly; his forgiveness knows no bounds. But Crosshair is just drowning. He definitively caves in on himself, he can’t even bring himself to apologize or even face his son for several hours. It’s Asher who checks on him first. He just wants to make sure his Buir is OK. :)

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stranger-who-writes-fiction · 3 years

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Ya know what these self-indulgent Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow posts need? Self-indulgent banner art, that’s what.

Spoilers for issue #4!

Let’s start this off right with CREATOR CREDITS. Issue 4 of Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow is titled “Restraint, Endurance, and Passion.” Written by Tom King, Art by Bilquis Evely, Colors by Matheus Lopes, Letters by Clayton Cowles, and Edited by Brittany Holzherr. (w/ Assist. Editor: Bixie Mathieu & Senior Editor Mike Cotton)

THE STORY:

Right, so this? This issue? Best one yet.

Also the bleakest of the bunch thus far; even though we don’t always see the brutality of the space pirates that Kara and Ruthye are following, there’s...the suggestion of it. The aftermath. And how Kara responds to it.

Okay, getting a little ahead of myself. BASIC PLOT SUMMARY: Ruthye and Kara continue their pursuit of Krem, who has taken up with Barbond’s Brigands.

The Brigands basically just. Murder and terrorize people, for profit.

Each planet they visit brings new horrors, as well as people who need Supergirl’s help.

And help she does.

KARA-CTERIZATION:

I yell a lot about the art on this book, and have, in fact, openly admitted that I’m primarily here for Evely and Lopes.

Well, that wily son-of-a-gun King went and wrote some of the best ‘Super’ stuff I’ve ever read and dang it, dang it, now I gotta yell about the words too. XD

Specifically, I wanna yell (in a good way!) about some words that occur towards the very end of the book.

Kara and Ruthye have Seen Some Things; things like genocide and mass grave sites and horrible violence, and upon reaching a planet where peaceful monks were slaughtered, Kara’s had enough, and needs to leave because if she screams, she’ll destroy what little is left of the monks’ monastery.

Here’s the text in full, because my gosh. It’s so good:

“What I write next I write based on my observations in those long-ago days at the side of the greatest warrior in the history of this august reality we all call home. It is important to note that my assertions do not rely on anything Supergirl said. It was not a subject we ever discussed or even approached, but nonetheless I believe it to be as true as the turning of worlds. You see, what is not well understood about the daughter of Krypton is that her power was not one of action but one of restraint, endurance, and passion. She did not choose to fire a beam from her eyes, or have breath of ice, or run faster than a speeding bullet. Or any of her other well-documented miracles. No, she held back her heat vision to look you in the face. She warmed her breath to converse with you. She slowed herself to walk by your side. Ever moment of every day, she suppressed the forces churning inside of her. All of the energy of a dead world that strained against her many barriers, eternally demanded to be released. I believe this effort hurt her. I believe she lived her life in pain. But I reiterate again, for I think it important enough to repeat--These beliefs are based on my time at her side, watching her as she moved through strife and sorrow. If you were to have asked her, I have little doubt she would have claimed that such as assertion was absurd. She would say she felt fine and well and then she’d as you if you needed any help.”

A long chunk of words, I know (this comic is DENSE!) but like. This is it. This is one of the defining attributes of the Supers--all that raw power at their disposal and they choose to help people, to be kind, to suppress that power for the benefit and safety of others.

HNNNNNNNG.

Hope, Help, and Compassion for All.

Whole lotta folks claimed at the outset of this book that King did not understand Kara, that he was a bad fit. And that may be so, I suppose--there’s a whole other discussion about like. The violence and swearing and ‘does that belong in a Supergirl book?’ But the characterization? Getting that Kara and Clark are just good people?

King gets it. He got it in Superman: Up in the Sky and he gets it here, in Woman of Tomorrow.

Other things King gets! Kara is stubborn! Kara is passionate! Kara is going to fix things, even if the effort of doing so hurts her, physically, emotionally, and mentally!

(Fuuuuuuun fact for the crowd saying that Woman of Tomorrow is vastly superior to the CW show: TV Kara is ALSO all of those things! King isn’t pulling this stuff out of thin air. It’s almost like...gosh. I don’t know! Both the show and Tom King are pulling from the character’s comic history, or something!!!! HOW NOVEL.)

Like, seriously. There’s a lot of overlap. Stop pitting Karas against each other!

Anyways!

I promised art, so here is art!

Oh, right, forgot to mention, Kara literally THROWS HERSELF INTO THE SUN to express her grief and anger, so as to not cause that unnecessary destruction. She gives new meaning to the phrase: Set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm.

More art yelling: GOTTDAMN, the way Evely draws Kara just colliding with the surface of the sun and then the way Kara’s hair like...becomes the flames...

I am FEELING FEELINGS. HOW DARE.

Also, props to King and Cowles; King for deciding to have that initial scream, Cowles for the way the letters burst forth from the point of impact on the sun, and then back to King who decided that it would just be...devastating silent screaming from Kara, for the remainder of the scene.

Back to the characterization, I just wanted to highlight something I mentioned...earlier on, I think? In these posts? But haven’t brought up recently, and that is how this book has not once brought up Zor-El, and I think Superman only got a quick mention in issue 2.

Honestly, I think that’s gotta be some kind of record.

It’s so refreshing. Not because I think there should never be mentions of Clark, or anything--I love that boy--but because so much of modern Supergirl comic drama is mined from the same like, angsting over her place compared to Clark, or her crazy sometimes-a-supervillain dad.

There is no Clark and Kara drama here, no manufactured friction, because it’s just. A cool Supergirl story!

Gonna keep going, but let’s do it with some more...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTT!!!!

Once again, Mat Lopes is all over the dang place with his palettes, it’s marvelous.

Each new planet gives Evely the opportunity to go hog wild on the worldbuilding and design, and similarly! Each new locale is an opportunity for Lopes to set the tone with colors. Like, here, towards the beginning of the book, we’ve got a planet bathed in this warm, pale yellow/orange light.

(Quick note: “Sure, yeah, I get it. We all have our duties. And it’s mine as a neighbor to do what I can to help you with yours. Please.” A+ Kara content. We love to see it. And then locating the remains of the alien’s daughter, so that they can go visit the grave site and have some emotional closure???? It’s just. So. Touching.)

Anyways, back to colors.

Like!!!! LOOK AT THAT JUMP. From the soft, almost pastoral feel of the delicate oranges and yellows to HARD GREEN, PINK, AND PURPLE. (Difficult colors to pull off in print, I might add.)

(This is also an interesting scene, character-wise, because I think it helps re-contextualize some earlier stuff with Kara. Like, I’m mostly thinking that incident on the bus, where she was swearing at the passengers as the space dragon was about to destroy them. Here, we see Kara kind of...goad this alien woman into releasing her pent up emotions by yelling at her/getting her to fight, and you can clearly see at the end of it that Kara did not mean the things she said, because check this out:

She goes and gives her a hug once the woman is able to finally cry.

It’s not ‘Kara is being mean, Kara is swearing at her’, it’s, ‘Kara has an unorthodox solution to a problem, and she’s gonna FIX that problem, NO MATTER WHAT.’

Circling back to the bus thing--again, that could be an instance of ‘unorthodox approach to a weird situation that Kara is going to handle because lives are at stake.’)

But also, DIG THAT KIRBY KRACKLE, BAY-BEEEEE!

And a little Strange Adventures easter egg! The Pykkts!

(I think those guys are unique to the Black Label series, rather than deep Adam Strange lore, but don’t quote me on that.)

Moving on to YET ANOTHER PALETTE, one I’ve dubbed, ‘Treasure Planet Purple/Grey’

Love Ruthye’s snoozing against the door, waiting for Kara.

Also, just as striking as the colors of the environment, are the colors used on Kara.

If you compare this page with the previous one, Kara’s eyes are a paler shade of blue, and the red-rimmed look on her eyes here is not as intense as the red-rimmed look we saw back in issue one, when she was confronting Krem.

All of which to say! There’s a pale, haunted quality to both the linework and the colors. Like. We know Kara has Seen Some Things. But she’s shoving all that stuff down to protect Ruthye, to save Krypto, and to stop these monsters, and you get all of that WITH COLORS AND LINES ON A PAGE.

I love it, I love it so much.

OTHER BOOKS WISH THEY HAD THIS LEVEL OF CHARACTER ACTING, I TELL YA! THEY WISH THEY HAD THIS BEAUTIFUL ALCHEMY OF INKER, COLORIST, AND WRITER WORKING IN SUCH TIGHT TANDEM!

Ahem. XD

Alright, last bit of art, lest I just. Post the whole issue in here. (Which I’m honestly always tempted to do but Strong Feelings about Piracy hold me back.)

JUST HECKIN’ LOOK AT THAT BLUE, MAN. JUST LOOK AT IT. S’BEAUTIFUL.

And more stunning character acting from Evely. Like. Bottom middle panel. The expression, the tilt of her head and the shadows on her eyes...

*insert silent flailing here*

Oh, also, KRYPTO LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVESSSS (for now).

I’m never right about these things, so I’m glad the one time I’ve correctly read a thing is when it involves Krypto not, ya know. Being dead. XD

Also absolutely love that Kara’s instinct is to send Ruthye home to protect her--once more leaning into that whole, ‘I’m going to protect you, even at great cost to myself’, though of course we know that she can’t send her home, not here, not now, just halfway through our journey.

ERRRRRRGH, so mad we’re not getting twelve issues of this! CURSE YOU, POOR SUPERGIRL TRADE SALES! CURSE YOOOOOOU!

That said, King’s pacing? Has been phenomenal. I feel like Strange Adventures and even Mr. Miracle kinda...I’m not gonna say dragged, that’s not quite right. But it is more build up, I guess. Takes a while to get to the payoff.

Here, I think King is pushing things steadily along as he doesn’t have the benefit of an additional four issues, so he has to get to the point, so to speak. Keeps everything moving.

SOME FINAL, MISC. STUFF:

I’ve sort of glossed over the darker stuff from this issue, and I just wanna note that like. This is a book that features a bad guy getting stoned (in the death sentence way, not the drug way) on panel. Like. I can’t recommend this to children.

I can’t even really recommend it to some other Supergirl fans, because I know that the King elements will be too off-putting.

It never feels like the book is going too far, though. At least in like an...exploitative way? If that makes sense?

The violence is handled with discretion, I guess is what I’m trying to convey. This could very easily tip over into like, gross shock factor territory, if not handled well, but I think the creative team pulls it off.

...Still wouldn’t hand this book to kids, though. XD

As mentioned, we’re halfway through this series! Can’t wait to see where it goes--every time I think I have this book figured out, it surprises me. So, like. Bring on the Dinosaur planet! With no sunlight! I wanna see how Lopes handles THAT. XD

(But Oh, OooooOOooh, we gotta wait until NOVEMBER.)

(Hhhnnnnng!)

(Then again, maybe that’s good; we’ve got the TV show in the meantime, and then once it ends we can pick right up with new Supergirl content just a few weeks later.)

(...Aw. Made myself a little sad, thinking about the TV show coming to an end.)

So as not to end on that sad note, here once again is tiny, smushed Kara:

Give ‘em the ol razzle dazzle.

#stranger speaks #supergirl: woman of tomorrow #supergirl: woman of tomorrow spoilers #dc comics #comics talk #comics opinions #comics thoughts #long post #are those the right tags? I can never remember #gif

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razieltwelve · 3 years

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Dangerous Jobs of the Future (Final Effect)

The future can be a dangerous place, and this is definitely true when it comes to jobs. Here are some of the most dangerous - but profitable jobs you can have in the distant future.

Salvager The colossal battles fought between Grimm and the various factions from Remnant often leave huge fields of debris that need to be cleared. Simply gathering the debris using a System Processor or similar device is relatively easy, but it is also very wasteful. Preserving important components for reuse (e.g., engines, reactors, sensor arrays, etc.) requires a more delicate touch, which is where salvagers come in.

A salvager’s job is to go through debris fields and remove anything that can potentially be reused or repaired. Although some salvagers are independent, most have standing contracts with the galaxy’s major factions. For example, the fleets of the various factions save countless lien each year by reusing and repairing damaged components salvaged from ships, as opposed to making them from scratch.

What makes salvaging so dangerous is that these debris fields can be incredibly dense. Sudden changes in conditions can easily lead to salvager ships being crushed or otherwise damaged. Worse, not all of the wrecks are stable. A battered reactor make look salvageable, only to go critical and explode. There is even the possibility of surviving Grimm hiding in the debris field and attack unwary salvagers.

As a result, salvaging is an extremely dangerous profession with a high turnover rate. However, a skilled salvager captain can make an absolute killing in the aftermath of a Grimm battle, so there is no shortage of people willing to risk life and limb to earn a hefty chunk of lien in a relatively short amount of time.

Salvagers not only deal with the aftermath of Grimm battles, but they also roam the galaxy in search of older wrecks and debris fields, with many exploring remote planets in search of salvageable material or perhaps even a profitable archaeological find.

Salvagers come from all walks of life, but there are many Dia and Al Bhed amongst them. Furthermore, many of Taren’s descendants, the so-called Wayfarers can also be found plying the salvage trade throughout the galaxy.

Remote Mining Remote mining involves mining in areas far from the industrial heartland of the Remnant Galaxy. In that heartland, mining is conducted on a colossal scale. Asteroid fields can play host to hundreds, even thousands, of ships whilst planets become home to mining machinery that towers into the sky and vanishes deep below the earth.

However, amongst the remote planets and asteroid fields of the outer rim and the less well-explored sections of the galaxy, it is a different story. Here, brave individuals or small groups seek out riches, putting their lives on the line every day in hazardous conditions.

Almost none of these areas are terraformed or suitable for life. Instead, miners must wear protective equipment (e.g., mining suits or modified power armour) at all times, and even their homes are rarely safe. A ‘living dome’ on a planet devoid of an atmosphere and subject to terrifying storms can easily become a tomb if it fails or if the environment overwhelms it.

This far from the more civilised and settled worlds, crime may also be a problem, and attacks by space pirates are a real risk. However, the rewards can be impressive. A skilled - or lucky - miner who hits a good patch can make enough money to last a lifetime in a matter of months. This is particularly true for areas where the rarest and most valuable resources can be found.

In this remote and desolate locations, the luxuries that many people take for granted are all but impossible to obtain. Miners - and their families - rely heavily on the occasional visit by travelling merchants, and perhaps the occasional patrol by the fleets of one of the major factions.

Terraformer Although terraforming can often be completed using a largely automated process, there are times when a more personal touch is required. The task of a terraformer is a ruthless an unforgiving one, where even a small mistake can cause a catastrophic change in conditions or where a seemingly minor malfunction in the titanic equipment required to transform a planet can lead to devastating accidents.

This is particularly true for areas that are not being terraformed by the major factions. Although the cost of terraforming is truly enormous, it is not unheard of for certain groups (e.g., large communities) to pool their resources and try to terraform a planet on the cheap, so they can settle there.

By treaty, the terraforming of worlds that are already inhabited is strictly policed and controlled because nobody wants to wipe out the native inhabitants or damage a world that has already found its own equilibrium. In those cases, most terraforming is extremely subtle and conducted by only the most skilled experts using the finest equipment.

However, the law is laxer when it comes to terraforming planets that are barren and devoid of life. In these cases, private groups can ask for authorisation to attempt terraforming, and if they fund it, this permission will often be granted. Yet terraforming a world is a treacherous task. In many cases, planets not only suffer from a lack of life but also issues with the atmosphere, soil composition, and so on. All of these must be addressed, and the equipment needed to do so is expensive and dangerous to use.

There are multiple instances of terraforms essentially blowing themselves up in the processing of terraforming a world for settlement. Naturally, the rewards, should they succeed, are incredible, which is why so many people are willing to participate.

#final effect #final codex #fanfiction

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justasparkwritings · 3 years

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Codename Cupid: Chapter 14

Previous: Justifying Jimin

Pairing: Kim Taehyung X OFC

Genre: Angst, Secret AgentAU, AgentAU, Government Agent AU

Rating: PG17

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Non-Consensual Sex, Mentions of Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recover, Rape Culture

Summary: Codename V and Codename Cupid begin their courtship, which ends rather quickly when Cupid crosses a line.

TRIGGER WARNING: There is conversation regarding rape in this chapter. It does not glamorize, but does give modest details.

PLEASE SKIP IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO READ

Codename: Love Reimagined

Fall, One Year Post Grad

Lee Euna met Kim Taehyung on a Wednesday. Both were attending a gallery opening, Taehyung as a friend of the artist, Euna as an investor. He knew the minute she walked into the gallery, the way her pearls glistened in the carefully planned lighting, her midnight locks curled to delicate tendrils cascading down her back. There were many adjectives to describe Lee Euna, and as a woman nearing the top of the largest company in the world, the one that was most often negated was beautiful. Lee Euna, a stunner, a total package, brilliant, kind, gorgeous. Taehyung could understand the draw to her, her demeanor was congenial, but her eyes were daring. They spoke when her lips didn’t, they saw what others tried to hide, they observed and recorded so that she could strike. To an untrained eye, in combination with the way tabloids depicted her, Euna wasn’t a threat.

But Taehyung knew different.

Armed with the knowledge of her last two relationships, Taehyung approached confidently.

“The use of yellow is a fascinating commentary, don’t you think?” Taehyung asked.

“Mm, I’m more intrigued by the abject use of black as negative space, particularly as it moves throughout the series, blurring ever so slightly with each piece,” Euna told him, eyes trained on the image in front of them.

“Until you get to the end, completely white,” Taehyung finished.

“You know the artist?” She asked him.

“I do, and you?” He smiled brightly at her.

“Let’s just say I have a piece in mind,” She smirked gently.

“I’m Taehyung,”

“Euna,”

“It’s nice to meet you. May I walk with you to the next piece?” Taehyung asked, a gently smile dancing across his lips, the anticipation of understanding Cupid further, of getting to see the sides of her Codename Suga and Mr. Handsome, got to see. It was always exciting, he thought, getting to know a new mark, exploring the dynamics, flirting with the soon to be blurred lines. Ever the extrovert, he thrived when he was taken off surveillance and placed in the field, even when he ran missions on the ground, following marks, urging them in certain directions or to locations, the threat of being caught was high, and he loved it. Standing next to Cupid, waiting patiently for her response, he felt that first inkling of danger, of mystique, of upholding the narrative Namjoon had constructed for him.

“That would be lovely,” Cupid smiled before turning to walk towards the next piece.

~~~~~

Taehyung courted Cupid for the next few weeks, before she took him to dinner and into her bed. From there, it was a blur of museum openings, concerts, gala’s and drinks with friends. From the jump, Cupid was 100% in. She was immediately falling for Taehyung, making plans for their future, and bulldozing boundaries like traffic cones in drivers ed. Tired of being hurt, jaded from heartbreak, Cupid was already swimming in the deep end while he tiptoed in. Getting him to her side, though, proved difficult and frustrating. Taehyung tried to resist, to persistently put up new and more transparent boundaries, but they always seemed like a suggestion to Cupid. He allowed it to go on for a few months, until it became alarmingly clear that this was not acceptable, and she was going to move forward without asking him if it was okay.

Taehyung scheduled a meeting with Namjoon, in the privacy of his fully walled office, and sulked in. The nerves at an all-time high, the panic he felt, the sickness in his stomach, the low taste of bile in his throat, loomed large over him.

“Something’s not right,” Taehyung said to Namjoon. He sat opposite his brother on the couch Namjoon kept in his office for late night missions, or nights when he didn’t want to drive home.

“Meaning?” Namjoon asked, confusion laced in his bespectacled eyes.

“I think it’s getting out of hand,” Taehyung sat with his hands in his lap, eyes downcast as the tears began to fall. He’d shown minimal distress throughout their team meetings but was spending less and less free time in the office. A sign, that both Yoongi and Seokjin took to mean he was with Cupid, though transcripts weren’t showing up.

Gently placing a hand on his forearm, Namjoon asked, “Tae, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this, with Cupid,” He whispered.

“What’s happened?” Namjoon asked, unsure where this was going.

“She, she’s trying to get pregnant, Yoongi was right, she’s obsessed with it,” Taehyung inhaled slowly, rickety breaths leaving his quivering lips.

“By you?” Namjoon was confused, it hadn’t been long enough for her to start making these claims, they’d only been seeing each other for a handful of months. Was she deviating from the pattern?

“Yes,” Taehyung let out the sob he’d been trying and failing to hold. Namjoon had seen the man cry, in their years together, he’d seen everyone cry. They’d lost a mark, years ago, and Taehyung had just been a trainee. The man, in touch with his emotions and often lost in thought, took his job seriously, and worked diligently to do his best at all times. This, whatever was happening between Cupid and him, was abnormal.

“Taehyung, what is she doing?” Namjoon’s voice was measured, gentle in tone and volume, deep resonance embracing Taehyung in support, in love, in familiarity, in understanding.

“She’s scraping out condoms, not letting me pull out, and I’ve torn condoms before because there’s holes in them. Holes, Joon, I’ve found them in the wrapper!” Taehyung was shaking, tears still streaming from his emotive eyes.

“Does she think you don’t know?”

“I don’t know. She doesn’t care or she thinks I don’t care, or -

“Is this nonconsensual?” Namjoon asked.

A simple question, a measurement of balance of power, of two adults mutually agreeing on a set activity, of a designated maneuver, of an act, together, one not moving forward without the other, in tandem. Do you consent to this, or do you not?

“Absolutely not. She has never asked, nor have I given any form of consent. I have actively tried to stop her, I have actively tried to not engage with her, I have said no and stop. She doesn’t.” The sobs return, shaking his entire body.

Namjoon wrapped an arm around Taehyung and pulled him into his side. Taehyung didn’t need to look at Namjoon to know how incensed he was, how furious he was, how heartbroken and disgusted and devastated, he was. He felt it in the bear like hold he had over him, he heard it in his voice as he spoke again.

“Your mission with Cupid is terminated immediately, get your phone, you will end your relationship right here and now.”

“Will that ruin the plan?” Taehyung whispered.

“What’s the number one rule?” Namjoon countered.

“Our safety, and our emotional and physical health are more important than a mark or mission,” Taehyung didn’t need to think, it was written on his heart, he’d just hoped he’d never have to evoke it.

“Exactly. Do you want to use your time off? I suggest you do, take a few days. Do you need to go back to your therapist, Dr. Aarons?” Namjoon rattled off the necessary measures Taehyung could take, knowing he would force him to rest and ease back into work.

Nodding solemnly, Taehyung’s voice was a whisper. “Yeah, that might be a good place to start. I’m sorry,”

“Sorry for what?” Namjoon shook his head, confusion in his tone.

“For, I don’t know, disappointing the team.” Taehyung glanced up at Joon for the first time.

“Taehyung, when have you ever disappointed the team?” Namjoon’s question was rhetorical. “You are risking yourself for a mission and it’s not worth it. She’s engaging in dangerous, illegal, immoral behavior. You have to look out for your personhood. I am so sorry that she has done this, and that you feel like you need to apologize to me at all. You are not at fault. I am only disappointed that when I noticed you pulling away, I didn’t seek you out to ensure you were okay. I am sorry for not doing my part as your leader.”

Taehyung held Namjoon as they let the words float between them, Taehyung breathing them in as Namjoon’s softened gaze continued to hold him.

“Thank you,” Taehyung whispered.

“Do you want me to accompany you and Golden Maknae when you break up with her?” Namjoon stood up, stretching before sitting down at his desk.

“Can’t I just ghost her?” Taehyung was surprised by the suggestion of doing this in person.

Namjoon looked at him, realizing the suggestion he’d made. “Aren’t you past that point in your relationship?”

“I don’t know, it’s only been four months?” Taehyung stood.

“Four months and she already wants to procreate?” Namjoon was stunned again, nothing about Cupid predicted this. It wasn’t a pattern of behavior, but a hint at one, nothing had come to fruition and he wasn’t going to put another man on Cupid detail ever again.

“You’ve seen my jaw,” Taehyung smirks.

“Text her, don’t call, we know how that went for Yoongi,”

“Can I do it in here?” He asks.

“Conference room? I need to brief the team,”

“Okay,”

“You don’t have to stay. Once you break up with her, you can go home, Tae. You don’t need to stay for this at all, you aren’t required to,” Namjoon stood from his desk and guided Taehyung out of his office to the conference room.

“I’ll stay,” Tae nodded, using the sleeve of his cardigan to blot his tears.

“You do not to explain to them what happened,” Namjoon informed him.

“I know,” Tae nodded again.

“What’s up?” Hoseok asked sitting down at the conference table. He’d yet to finish his project, recreating a few false documents for Jimin.

“Yeah, we’re having a full meeting at 3PM? Isn’t it almost quitting time?” Yoongi wondered as he twirled in his chair.

“One step closer to Friday,” Seokjin reminded him.

“We have an update on Codename, Hoseok, what did you name V’s mission?” Namjoon said, stuffing his hands in his suit pants.

“Love Reimagined,” Answered Hoseok.

“One of your shorter titles,” Yoongi quipped.

“What was Yoongi’s?” Jimin asked.

“Codename: Another Shot at Love,” Hoseok was proud of himself, beyond proud. He took great care to name each mission or task, ensuring it was fitting and catchy. He was waiting for their final mission on this case, a chance to reference one of his favorite Netflix Originals.

“And Jimin’s?” Yoongi added.

“The ongoing, Codename: The Mochi of it All,” Hoseok beamed.

"What was mine?" Seokjin wondered.

"Codename: The First Heartbreak," Hoseok couldn't stop smiling.

“Why must you take the time to give such long names?” Seokjin laughed.

“It’s part of my flair,” Hoseok giggled.

“Alright, Codename: Love Reimagined is hereby closed, finished, completed.” Namjoon said redirecting the men. They all turned to face him, confusion and shock on their faces. This wasn’t the plan.

“Really?” Hoseok asked.

“Why?” Yoongi followed.

“How come?” Seokjin rounded out the men.

“It’s cancelled,” Namjoon’s voice was firm, a means to end the conversation.

“Taehyung, are you okay?” Jimin asked. The two men shared an apartment, and Jimin had noticed on more than one occasion Taehyung retreating into himself. He felt it too, the absence of his best friend, his partner in work and in friendship, no longer wanting to spend time together like they always did. He hadn’t checked in as much as he wanted, his own mission filling his time as the relationship progressed consistently. Jimin spent time twirling his engagement ring on his finger, embarrassed by how much he liked the medal on his skin, the small encrusted diamonds twinkling in the light.

“No, I’m not okay,” Taehyung could always meet Jimin’s gaze, his hurt brown irises inked with tears told Jimin it was far worse than he realized.

“You don’t have to tell us,” Yoongi said. “But if you do, I guarantee we’ll fuck them up.” “Codename Cupid took advantage of me, more than once, in a sexual manner,” Taehyung pushed the words out of his mouth, the burden leaving his shoulders as he leaned into the comfort of his friends.

“Are you fucking serious?” Yoongi yelled.

“No, no,” Jimin shook his head, the tears already forming.

“Tae,” Jin whispered.

“You, are you, oh my god,” Hoseok couldn’t comprehend the words coming out of Taehyung’s mouth.

“I’m done, cancel my mission,” Jimin declared.

“We can’t cancel your mission,” Namjoon said.

“Why not?” Jimin demanded, eyes on fire.

“What good does that serve us?” Countered Namjoon.

“I, you expect me to date this guy, be engaged to him, when his sister raped one of us? Are you fucking with me?” Jimin yelled again, standing to slam his hands against the table. Taehyung winced, not only at the volume, but because he hadn’t used the word yet, hadn’t thought it applied to what had happened to him… but maybe, it did.

“I expect you to complete your mission as directed unless Codename Arrow is endangering your life,” Namjoon repeated.

“I won’t,” Jimin said.

“You will, you have what, three weeks left?” Namjoon asked.

“The engagement party is December 21,” Jimin said.

“Alright, it’s almost Thanksgiving. You just gotta make it until then,” Yoongi offered, a shrug of his shoulders. In Jimin’s place, he would absolutely end things with Arrow, but they needed the last set of Christmas bonus checks and the final 2020 financial reports, both of which wouldn’t populate on Arrow or Cupid’s computers until mid-December.

“She abused him,” Jimin whispered, the tears falling down his cheeks.

“Jiminie has a point,” Hoseok muttered.

“We cannot let this slide,” Seokjin said. “I never thought, I never thought she’d do this.”

“We will have justice when we bring them down,” Namjoon reminded them, his words hollow in the moment of their pain.

“Do we have evidence of the, of the, fuck, I can’t say it,” Yoongi shook his head, the words stuck on his tongue.

“You don’t have to say it,” Taehyung’s voice was raw, emotions bare. “I’ve documented what I can, bagged things, written a detailed report… I used one of Hobi’s forged Police Reports to document what I knew they’d ask and took pictures to accompany it. The evidence is sealed in my office.”

Lifting his head to look at him, Yoongi asked, “Taehyung, how long have you been sitting on this?”

“Not too long, a couple of weeks,” Taehyung shrugged. It had only happened three times, which is three times too many, and three times it shouldn’t have. He had been shocked the first time, unsure what had truly happened to him. The second time, she used a different tactic, and he knew what it was. The third time caught him off guard, unawares. He was embarrassed that he let it happened, mortified that he put himself in this situation, and angry that he was so mad at himself instead of being outraged, furious, loathing, towards her.

“Tae,” Jimin said again.

“We need to write an official report so we can put this into our official filing,” Namjoon’s voice had simmered, its resolute calm returning.

“Not tonight,” Seokjin said, a reminder that Taehyung was still reeling from the trauma.

“Have you broken up with her?” Yoongi asked Taehyung.

“I texted when we sat down,” Taehyung fished his phone out of his pocket. “She responded.”

“Do you want to read it out loud?” Namjoon questioned.

“Hobi’s just going to send us a memo of it anyway,” Yoongi shrugged, his heart weighing down his entire body. “After this, can we call it a day?”

“Absolutely,” Namjoon agreed. “Taehyung, you want to read it?”

“It says,” He scanned the message, eyebrows shooting towards his hairline, jaw slacking as he reread the message. “She says, she says she’s pregnant.”

Next: How Cricket Got Her Name

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eldritch-araneae · 4 years

Text

Stagnation

“Moonjumper has returned and took Hat Kid under his control, using her against Snatcher. The Ghost of Subcon emerged victorious, but aftermath showed how little he knew about himself as Hat Kid is desperately trying to save him!”

Thank you Nox ( i forgot to ask you username, I’ll add it later!) for beta reading and editing! <3

Warning: This story contains illness depiction, display of severe pain and suffering.

-----

You are worried.

You step into dark woods, looking for your best friend. As you walked, images of the serious fight with him that happened two days ago are still lingering in your mind.

It wasn’t even your fault. You don't know exactly how it happened, but before you could react, you felt strings wrapping around you, taking you under control. That part of the memory is hard to recall, like a hazy dream—like you were watching the fight through tissue paper. Then suddenly something woke you up, and you found yourself fighting Snatcher. Your body moved against your will, throwing attacks you never knew you could use!

You were able to stand on thin air—you were able to teleport! You were summoning bright arrow projectiles that moved incredibly fast and homed in on your shadowy friend. He managed to dodge most of them, but some left nasty cuts all over his body. One arrow even went right through his abdomen! Snatcher was covered in yellow wounds as his inner energy seeped through them.

You wince at the memory, but it wasn't even the worst part.

The worst part was when you unleashed a truly devastating attack that unleashed a massive explosion in the space near him. Snatcher saw it coming, but he was too slow to get out of explosion range in time and got hit. Screams of intense pain shook the air; his right arm and side were cracked badly.

You come to a slow halt in the woods, sniffing as your eyes start filling with tears.

It was a miracle both of you emerged alive and victorious. A combination of Snatcher’s determination and you warning him about the upcoming attacks managed to keep him from dying (again). Eventually, Snatcher managed to sever all the red strings that controlled your body, ending the terrible fight. The attacker, someone who Snatcher referred to later as “Moonjumper,” suffered a rebound from the power he expended and was forced to retreat.

The aftermath was, to put it delicately, unpleasant. The entire area where you were fighting was destroyed; the trees were broken, and great furrows were gouged in the soil. Thankfully, it was just a small section of the forest; still, the damage was likely irreversible.

Snatcher was in awful shape—in fact, he looked absolutely terrible. You were afraid to touch him for fear of adding more pain to what he was experiencing already. Somehow, he still managed to smile, relieved that you were no longer under his enemy’s control.

You helped Snatcher to get to his tree, and after flopping into his chair, he assured you that he’d be okay. You’ve seen him healing while he sleeps, but something told you that he would need more than that this time.

Despite your initial relief at the fight being over and Snatcher not being dead (again?), the guilt that later consumed you was terrible. Even though it wasn’t you fighting him, even though you were being controlled against your will by that “Moonjumper” person, you couldn’t help but feel that this was all your fault.

You had tried to sleep earlier, but sleep was impossible. You were so caught up in feelings of guilt and worry that you ended up getting out of bed after a few hours to go check on your friend. But on your way to his tree, you passed the area where you had fought and...everything came rushing back.

So now you’re just standing in the middle of the clearing, biting your lip and trying to pretend that there aren’t tears streaming down your face.

“Kid! Please help!” A Subconite’s voice shocks you out of your thoughts. Their voice sounds desperate. You get a terrible sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach—you can already tell what’s wrong. The minion crashes into the clearing, landing on their face. They pop up instantly, looking panicked.

“Boss is not getting better!”

You knew it!

You give them a curt nod to show you heard them and activate the sprint hat, heading off in the direction of Snatcher’s tree, running as fast as you can.

Soon you reach his tree and bolt inside. You see Snatcher, still in his chair. He seems to be asleep, with his eyes closed tightly, but his pained expression suggests otherwise. You take a careful step towards him and peer at the dark wounds scattered across his spectral form.

Wait...dark?

Upon closer inspection, many of the shallower cuts healed, including the big stab wound in his abdomen. But the cracks from the big explosion… they don’t have his yellow glow anymore. Instead, they’re a necrotic black and oozing along the ghost’s damaged arm and side.

For some reason, you reach out and lightly brush a hand over one of the cracks, which you instantly regret. Snatcher jolts, letting out a pained whine.

“I’m so sorry!” you apologize instantly. Why did you think that was a good idea? He looks like he’s in even more pain than he was two days ago!

He cracks open his tired eyes to look at you.

“Hey, kiddo...” he breathes weakly. “Looks like it’s taking more time than usual.”

“Snatcher, this is really bad!” you exclaim, motioning to his wounds. Something about it is familiar. You could swear you’ve seen this black rot somewhere before.

“Ugh, tell me about it…” he winces, letting out a shuddering sigh. ”I can’t feel my right side, or move my arm. The pain got so much worse...”

You stare at him for a few moments, then you reach out and take his good hand.

“We are going to my ship.” You gently pull his hand.

Snatcher opens his mouth to protest, but quickly closes it. You can tell that he knows it’s not just a regular injury. It’s hurting him a lot more than he’s letting on. It’s clear that he has no idea what are you going to do, but a silent understanding passes between the two of you: it’s better than nothing.

So Snatcher slowly rises from his chair, wincing and gasping from the pain, and giving you a nod.

You nod back and activate the magic that connects you to your ship, and, in a few seconds, you are standing in the main room. You carefully lead him to your bedroom. Upon entering, you drop his hand and look around, trying to deduce where he can rest until you notice him on the floor. He’s laying on his back, completely still.

The floor is covered in soft carpet, but it’s not the best place for a sick person to rest. You might at least try to move him onto the pillow mound.

“That’s better.” he croaks, relaxing for a bit before you could say anything. It seems like being in this position hurts him a great deal less. You walk over the mound, grabbing a few pillows and carefully placing him under his head.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, closing his eyes. “Do you know what's happening to me?”

“Not exactly, but I have an idea!” you jump into the pillow mound and squirm into your secret fort. Your gaze falls onto the small bookcase stuffed with your favorite books. Quickly scanning though titles, you find what you’re looking for, grabbing the book and emerging back to your room.

Snatcher stares at the book. “What’s that you’ve got there?”

“‘How to Treat Injuries and Sickness of Energoids,’” you reply, opening the book as you settle near him.

“Energoid?” Snatcher tilts his head.

“That’s what you are!” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the universe. Well, it is obvious for you; for him, though…

“Kid, I’m a gh—”

“Yes, and ghosts are energoids, scientifically speaking. You are made of energy! And what’s more, you are an energoid with an inner core!” you interrupt him, pointing at the middle of his chest, where you can feel his warm core pulsing when he hugs you. Snatcher stares at you in surprise, while idly drawing circles on his chest with his good hand. He sighs, not arguing with you about it.

“I think I saw something is this book before that looks like the black rot that you’ve got.” You flip through the pages, scanning for symptoms matching Snatcher’s. In few minutes you finally stumble upon something that looks similar.

As you read carefully, your heart drops.

“Kid, don't leave me in the dark, yeah?” Snatcher's voice startles you. You look at him worriedly. Right, he must have at least some idea of what's going on.

“A-alright...it’s called Stagnation.” You pause, looking at him again. He frowns, and yes, this sounds like nothing good. You take a deep breath and proceed to read the information presented in the book.

“Stagnation is a condition that prevents inner energy from circulating inside an energoid’s body. It’s usually caused by massive damage that destroys the connection between injured areas and the core.

“When this happens, the energy exchange between the affected area and the core ceases, forcing the remaining inner energy near wound become stagnated. In this scenario affected wounds cannot be healed. The stagnated energy begins oozing thought the wound, “rotting” outer energy layers (that still responds to the core) in the process and causing intense pain.”

You stare at the book, than look at Snatcher. Now you can see that cracks are indeed bigger than before...and they’re spreading, albeit slowly. Now properly horrified, you continue to read.

“If Stagnation is left untreated, the best-case scenario is that the energoid’s core will shed stagnated body parts. It’ll stop illness from spreading, but the patient won’t regenerate those lost parts. In the worst-case scenario, the Stagnation will spread, taking over the entire body. The core will decay, resulting in...in death.”

Your eyes are wide with shock and horror. You turn to Snatcher; his expression matches yours for a moment before he winces in pain, shutting his eyes. You grab his left hand, holding it tight.

This is awful! If you won’t do something, Snatcher either will lose his arm and side permanently, or die!

“I’m so sorry, Snatcher, it’s all my fault!” you are crying, feeling like the worst person alive for hurting your best friend so badly.

“Stop!” he hisses. “It wasn’t your fault! You were under HIS control!”

Snatcher lifts his arm you are holding and pulls you to his chest, then places it onto your back, rubbing comforting circles. You feel his core racing under you—he’s as scared as you are.

You sigh heavily. You know you were under someone’s control, but you still feel guilty. You had no idea you were capable of such destruction! If only you had known...

“Is there a treatment?” Snatcher sounds almost calm despite the pain and the urgent situation. You sniff, wiping your tears with your sleeve, and look into the book once more.

Thankfully, the treatment is written right there!

“Treat—” a sob interrupted you. You muffle it into the back of your hand and keep it there until you’ve composed yourself. ”Treatment for Stagnation includes using Beacon Needles and rest. It’s advised for the patient to not move too much as the needles repair their inner energy network.”

“Beacon Needles...” you repeat, this sounds so familiar.

A memory surfaces in your mind.

Between your visits to Earth, you went to other planets to collect scattered Timepieces. One planet was inhabited by advanced water based energoid species. They were very nice, giving you Timepieces without fight or bargain. One of them was curious about you, asking about your adventures and places you’ve been as they were intergalactic adventurer themself.

At some point you told them about Subcon and Snatcher.

“Wow, this guy seem reckless if you ask me.” they hummed.” I hope he has Beacon Needles in case of bad situations.”

“Beacon Needles?” you tilted your head, curious what they're talking about.

“Yes! Like these!” they pulled out the case their inventory and open it. Inside was a set of needles: one is big, resting in the middle, surrounded by ten smaller ones. Each one had a small panel on top with white crystal inserted into it. The middle one had few small buttons. You assumed this is how you turn on the device.

“No, I never seen anything like it when I visited him.”

“I see.” they said, closing the case and suddenly handling it to you.

“What?” you look surprised as you took it.

“Your friend must have a set of those, or he’ll die very easily.” they sounded dead serious. You stare at the case for a moment. Well, it won’t hurt. But...

“What about you?”

“Oh don’t worry, child. Those needles are common, it’s not a problem for me to get another set.” They winked at you. “Now, let me explain to you how they work!”

“Thank you!” you smiled.

You reach into your pocket dimension and pull out the case. You open it and see the same set of needles. You can’t believe you forgot about them! You were going to give the case to Snatcher as soon as you arrived, but then you got caught in this accident and well…

You shake your head, no time for moping!

You take the biggest one into your hand and push the button. You hear a sound and the crystal top lights up, signaling that device is turned on.

Hopeful smile appear on your face - Snatcher has a chance!

“Whoa, kiddo, slow down! Do you know how to use them? What they even do?! ” Snatcher rumbled nervously about unknown device in your hand.

“Of course! The person who gave me this explained everything.” you moved closer to Snatcher, showing him the needle. “Those needles beacons the inner energy from the core to areas where your core cannot access anymore.”

Snatcher looks closely at the device, his face is partly suspicious, party curious.

“So, what are you going to do?” he asks, concern filling his voice.

“This one is main needle, it receives the energy from the core and redirected it to smaller ones. It need to insert it close to your core as possible.”

“And by “inserting” you mean piecing it through my body?” Snatcher points out, wincing again.

“Oh…!” you didn't realise it, even though those things are literally big needles! You have you poke them through his outer energy layers. It’s gonna hurt! Unless…

You grab the book and flip through the pages to find anything about energoid’s anesthesia. Peck, you probably should have looked this up first to elevate his pain!

Soon you stumble across it.

“Anesthesia can be performed with various methods: using electromagnetic pulse, using any sense based magic spells or the patient themself can reach out for their core and temporarily shut down their senses.” you read it out loud.

You frown, you don’t have anything to produce EMP or know any magic spells...

“Snatcher, can you do it? I don't have anything else!”

“I have no idea!” he hissed again, both at pain and frustration.” I didn’t know I could do something like it,... but I guess I could try.”

He closed his eyes and concentrated. You sit in silence for a few minutes that seems like an eternity. Then Snatcher sighed heavily, shaking his head.

“You know what, do it now!” he suddenly said with resolve in his voice.

“What?!” you yelled, surprised by the volume of your voice.”But it’s gonna hurt! You are in pain already! Can you try aga—”

“We have no time, kid!” he interrupted you.” By the time I’ll figure this out, I’ll probably lose my arm or worse!”

You sniff as new tears are gathering in your eyes. You don’t wanna bring him any more pain, but you have no choice.

Snatcher moves his left hand, then places index finger on his chest, right below his mane. “Here.”

You’re holding the needle with both hands, gently placing it’s sharp tip on the spot and getting ready to push it inside. You look at Snatcher one more time. He slowly nods, bracing himself.

You took a deep breath and push...The needle didn’t go inside. You try a couple more times, but for unknown reason you don’t have enough strength to break thought surface tension. You growl in frustration as you keep trying. Snatcher moved his arm, hovering it close to the needle.

“Let me hel—AUGH!” he yelps.

“AGH!” you squeak.

The needle suddenly went inside, startling both of you. Only the crystal part remains outside. In second later it picked up onto Snatcher’s core energy, now the crystal is burning with blue flame.

“Snatcher, how are you?” we placed your hand on his forehead in an attempt to comfort him.

“I..well, I expected it to hurt a lot more to be honest.” Snatcher said with relief. The blue flame dancing on his chest, it looks so pretty! Curious, you carefully reached toward the flame, it’s so warm and it doesn't burn?!

“Yeah, the soul flame doesn't burn anything on it’s own. I need to will it into destruction.” he explained, noticing your puzzled expression.

You smile again, no wonder Snatcher’s hugs are so warm and nice.

Sadly, you are not done. You reach for the case, taking smaller needle into your hands.

“Now I need to insert small ones into your wounded parts…” you winced, looks at his oozing injuries.”It’s gonna hurt... a lot! ”

Your expression somber as you move to his right arm. Like before, you gently place it’s tip in top on wounded surface, but this time Snatcher gasped in pain. Again, you look at him in silent question if he’s ready.

“Do it kid.” he grimaces, bracing himself for the worst.

“I’m sorry, I will be quick!” you said and pushed the needle into his palm. It went inside much easier...But scream of pain shook the air in the bedroom. You turn around to see Snatcher squirming in pain, gasping for air. His tail hitting the floor with such force you feel it might break you if you’ll be in its way.

You quickly get up and rush to the left side, then you sat and hugged his head. He’s trembling like leaf in the wind, breathing heavily as you try your best to comfort him. In a minute he calmed down a bit, but his expression was filled with pain.

Peck, peck, peck! It was only one, but you have nine to go! This is gonna be absolue torture. You nuzzle his face, repeating “sorry” over and over.

“Ke...p goin…” he breathes, his voice shaking.

You stand up and take the entire case, walking to the right side again. You set case on the floor, taking the next one. You set it above where his wrist would be. Then push. You try your best to not listening to Snatcher's agonized wails and his tails smacking the floor. You wait for him to calm down before inserting another one. You kept repeating the same process, until you reached his shoulder. The next needle does in. Suddenly, you noticed how silent room was.

You eyes widened in fear, panic is filling your mind.

Did he died?!

No, if he died his body would disintegrate, leaving the empty core behind. You place your hand onto his chest to check the pulse. His core still beating, so he must have passed out from all this pain.

Poor Snatcher...but at least he won’t feel anything now.

With that you proceed to his right side, inserting remaining needles. When you finished, you stood up to take look at the whole thing. You can see the main needle burning bright. Small ones started to picking up the signal from it as well

Looks like it’s working! Now you have to wait, but for how long?

You walked to the book and open it again. Maybe there’s something you can do to speed the healing up.

The book says you can make it easier if you put the patient near their element or provide the right temperature.

Snatcher is fire based energoid. While you can’t put him in fire, you can surround him with warmth!

In few minutes, Snatcher was covered in multiple layers of warm blankets, only the top of his head and closed eyes are poking out of them.

That’s all you can do right now. Hoping for the best, you collapse into your bed, completely exhausted.

In the next two days, you kept checking on his arm. Healing is slow, but you can see that most of stagnated energy were renewed, filling cracked surface with yellow glow again. The cracks closest to the main needle are almost healed.

“Kid?” muffled voice got your attention. Snatcher was looking at you with sleepy eyes.

“Hey,” you said softly, moving closer to him.” How are you?”

“Better, it’s not hurting so much anymore.” he lets out a content sigh.

Yes, he is getting better, you can't help but smile widely

“That’s great!” you barely can hold your excitement, but do it anyway. You don’t want to overwhelm your friend.”You probably should go back to sleep.”

He sinks into blankets, then look at you again.

“I‘m hungry…” he mumbled, sounding embarrassed.

Oh...oh right, Snatcher needs energy from outside sources, especially now as he recovers from heavy damage. Yes, energy beings have to eat too. He eats souls right? But how you will get one? You don't want to go around and kill people to be honest, but what can you do?!

A sudden realization hits you...Snatcher used to be an organic lifeform before he become what he is now! You rush towards the table and spot another book, “Classification of Energoids”. Soon you’ve found an info that confirms your thoughts.

There is a specific type of energy beings, that used to be different lifeforms until they went into conversion. This process can be triggered by various reasons, mostly in order to survive.

Now to think about it, Snatcher, scientifically speaking , didn’t die in the cellar, but “evolved” or something like this. Same goes to other ghosts in Subcon: dwellers, who are energoids with outer cores; Snatcher’s minions - energoids wearing material shells; Vaneesa is like Snatcher as it seems.

All of them used to be different lifeforms!

One of the distinctive traits that those guys have is the fact they can keep relying on previous energy source after the conversion, despite being made of energy themselves.

That makes things much, much easier!

You close the book and run to the kitchen. You look for a pie that Cooking Cat made you for today in the morning. Quickly you take it and return to the bedroom. You offer it to Snatcher. Confused, his gaze darts between the pie and you.

“You can consume food!” you exclaimed happily!

“What? No way!” he looks at pie in disbelief, it smells delicious.” Is your smart alien books says so?”

“Yep. Try it!” you’re insist.

With a groan, he wiggles from the blankets and takes the pie from you. He hesitates for a bit before taking a bite. His eyes widen in surprise.

“Fhat’s delifious!” he spoke with mouthful of pie. You giggle at his reaction, looks like can feel it’s taste as well. Then he swallowed it and froze in place.

“Okay, that was weird!” he said, staring at the pie like it about to reveal all the secrets of the Universe.”It felt like it just turned into energy immediately...”

“Yeah, it’s because energy and matter are the same thing and convert into one another.” you explained.”So it’s totally normal!”

Snatcher shrugged and continued eating the pie.

“Isn’t this amazing, you don’t have to eat souls anymore!” you can’t resist but comment on this. That made Snatcher choke, even thought you have no idea how, but it happened!

“Is this what you planning, huh?! To turn me in your friendly neighborhood ghost?” he sounded irritated, but you can hear mirth in his voice. You start giggling, he’s such “soon-deh-ray”!

“First you infect me with morals, making me soft, now this!” he keeps complaining as he devours the rest of the pie while you’re laughing on the floor. You missed those interactions so much, you are glad he’s getting better.

After finishing the pie he falls back to sleep.

You keep repeating the same cycle for a week now. Once in two days Snatcher wakes up and eat the food you bring him, then falls asleep. He finally had bacon in centuries, that actually made him cry for a bit. Then he ate some of your food, surprisingly liking the tentacle burger. You brought him some food from the Metro as well.

Needless to say, when he discovered he can consume normal food, he became excited to taste something new! You can tell how much he missed eating normal food.

Even though now Snatcher don't know what to do with intruders. The food is more satisfying, he says he doesn't want to eat souls anymore. But still he doesn want intruders to walk around Subcon like they own a place!

“Oh, I know! You can make you contractors to bring you new food~!” you grinned at him, this plan sounds perfect to you!

“Of course, what if they’ll try to poison me?” he huffed in annoyance.

“Psssh, come on, Snatcher, anything converts inside you, even poison. It won’t affect you at all.” you’re giggling again. You can’t help, but his ignorance on this subject is so amusing sometimes.” Peck, you can even drink acid and you’ll be totally fine!””

“Language, young lady!” he said in stern fatherly tone. He is acting more like guardian rather than friend lately. That makes you happy, you don't have anyone to take care of you after all.

After a short pause he spoke again.“You know that’s actually good...even though I’m not sure if I ever be willing to find out what acid tastes like.”

You both burst into laughter.

You also didn't forget to drop in Subcon; making sure that this Moonjumper person isn’t tyrin to take over the forest, telling Snatcher’s minions that their boss is recovering and will be back soon. They were so happy to hear good news!

You woke up and stretch.

It’s been two more days after this fun acid conversation. Still in pajamas, you want to check on Snatcher. You have a feeling he’s gonna be fully healed soon.

You get up and see something that instantly wakes you up.

Snatcher is sitting on the floor, stretching his right arm! You don’t see any cracks anymore as he moves it freely. You noticed Beacon Needles being placed back into case- Snatcher must pulled them out himself.

Noticing your footsteps, he turned around to see you. His grinning at you.

“Hey, kiddo, check this out!” with those words he ignites his hand, brilliant blue soul fire is burning bright. He can use magic with this hand as well!

Snatcher is officially recovered from Stagnation!

You jump into his arms, he catches you and cradling you close to his chest. You both are hugging each other tight, relieved that this nightmare was finally over!

“Thank you so much!” he whispers into your ear as he affectionately caressed the back of your head.”I don’t know what I would do without you!”

“I’m so happy you’re okay!” you’re almost crying, nuzzling his neck.

You both sat like this for a while, then Snatcher pulled away bit. Then he pickled up “How to Treat Injuries and Sickness of Energoinds” from the floor.

“Can I borrow this book?” he asks, waving the book in his hand. “Looks like there is a lot of things I need to learn about myself.”

“Of course! And I can give you “Classification of Energoids” as well!” you beamed at him. Good thing you taught him your language.“Alright, let’s get some breakfast!”

“Yep.” he responded and placed the book on the table. Then he floated, still holding you in his hands, towards the kitchen.

Finally, both of you can relax.

#a hat in time #au of convergence #au of au yes #lol #my fanfics #snatcher #hat kid

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is0gild · 4 years

Text

Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Chapter 6

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 4,673

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

“Oh jeez, seriously?” Rayne snerked, a tiny plastic taste spoon hanging out of one corner of her mouth. “C’mon Elsa, they were just man boobs!”

Feeling a faint warmth creep up into my face, I huffed and turned my head to one side. “You don’t know, you weren’t there!”

“Psssh,” her eyes rolled, “I doubt they’re as mind blowing as you’re making them out to be.”

I twitched, gaze darting to the left. “I never exactly said the words mind blowing...”

Never said they weren't either.

...shush, brain.

She removed the tiny pink spoon from between her teeth to twirl it in the air as she singsonged, “The way you’re overreacting, you may as well have.”

Blushing intensifies.

“I’m not overreacting, I… I’m REacting! In… in just the exact right, perfect amount!” I stammered out, lightly stamping my foot down. “I mean, one second he’s just standing there, and the next? He takes his shirt off! Right in front of me! Who does that?!”

“Sure a lotta guys would love to,” she muttered, but I hardly heard her in my current state of mid-rant.

“I mean, the Pizza Planet back room was just a ten second walk away, he couldn’t wait that long? He had to do it right there, right that second? That’s it! That’s the only reason that I’m being all… this! It has nothing to do with the alleged mind blowing...ness of his, uh…his...” I floundered, gesturing wildly to my bosom, “... décolletage or the accompanying, er…” my hand now did a frantic circle around my abdomen, “...accoutrements! I mean, fine, okay, I’m sure as far as man boobs and such go, his are very, ah… very nice. Adequate. Stately, even.” Dear god, somebody stop me. “...pleasantly symmetrical? Quite… satisfactory and well structured… s-some might even say-”

“You done?” she cut in, an eyebrow quirking.

I hid my face in my hands, mumbling, “Yes please.”

“Alright. Now girl, let me tell you, you haven’t seen mind blowing pectorals until you’ve seen Riku’s. I-” she stopped, snapping her fingers. Then she was digging her phone out of her back pocket, her thumb now rapidly swiping across the screen several times. “Hang on, I got pictures, I can show you. Ah-ha!” She grinned brightly, turning the phone screen towards me and thrusting it in my face.

“Gah!” I quickly looked away, raising a hand to block the image. “Why?! Just… why?!”

“What? I’m proud of my hubby’s man boobs and like showing them off!”

Thankfully, Kristoff chose that moment to join us, usual bored look in place as he stretched his arm across the counter, offering a dollop of ice cream on another small spoon to Rayne. “Here’s the taste of Daisy Sorbet you asked for, Ma’am,” he droned out.

Eyes lighting up, she tossed the first spoon, snatching the new one up and sticking it in her mouth. “Mmmmm, fantastic! Now, garçon, I’d like to sample the Honeybunny please!”

He huffed out a soft growl. “Ma’am, that’ll be the twentieth flavor you’ve tasted. Would you like to try, oh, say, I dunno… actually buying something?”

“Excuse me,” she sniffed, raising her nose up and placing a hand on her chest, fingers splayed, “but I am with child, sir. Picking the exact right flavor of ice cream that won’t upset my sweet lil jellybean is a delicate, delicate process.”

Kristoff groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Then he fixed me with a dull stare. “Elsa, make your friend go shoo.”

I gave him a sympathetic smile, but just shook my head, “Sorry, not happening.”

“Ha!” Rayne cried triumphantly. “Now be a good boy, run along and get me that Honeybunny! Chop chop! We don’t need you hanging around listening in on us discussing our important business!”

His eyelids droop. “I believe I overheard the phrase ‘man boobs’ several times, how important can it really be?”

Rayne thrust out her lower lip, tapping an index finger to it. “Oh dear, there’s been such a long interruption now to my taste testing… I hope I don’t forget all the flavors I’ve already tried and have to start all over from the beginning again…”

“...one sample of the Honeybunny coming right up, Ma’am,” he said through grit teeth before turning and walking away.

I muffled a snort into my hand as I watched him go.

Sorry, Kristoff!

It was now the next day and I was back at work. I’d done my best the night before to clean up the devastating aftermath in the wake of Hurricane Ice Cream, but hadn’t quite been able to get it all - in particular, the splatters across the ceiling were just simply out of my reach. So I’d shown up early this morning to meet the opening crew on their way in and explain what had happened, offering what further assistance I could. Luckily, I hadn’t gotten in trouble. According to Kristoff, pushing the Anger Button was practically a right of passage for all new employees at this point. Pretty much everyone that’d ever worked here had done it at some time or another. I was just warned not to let it happen again.

Which, trust me, I wasn’t. I was going to be very mindful to not invade the Anger Button's personal space from now on.

I’d been exhausted when I’d got back home so late last night, so had gone straight to bed. Then this morning I’d rushed out practically at the crack of dawn, so I hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to Rayne. But she was making up for lost time by coming down now in the middle of the day to visit me at work and had just finished dragging my latest little misadventure out of me. She claimed she had a sixth sense about these things, that she’d known something was up and that I'd needed someone to talk to.

And I'm sure all the free samples she was scoring right now had absolutely squat to do with it.

As soon as Kristoff was out of earshot once more, she hunched over the counter towards me and lowered her voice, “Alright but no, seriously, why was seeing Lea in all his shirtless glory such a big deal now, hm? You act like you've never seen a dude topless before.”

I flinched. “Well…”

Her brow furrowed. “…you have seen a dude topless, right? I mean, you were engaged for crying out loud!”

“Oh no, I have,” I nodded before pursing my lips to one side, averting my gaze. “But…”

“But?” she prompted. If she had a seat, she would quite literally be on the edge of it.

My hand reached up to toy with my braid. Nope, still a ponytail. Sighing, I said, “It was only ever in public settings, like big group outings on Father’s yacht. Last night was just… different.” I paused to bite down on my bottom lip before whispering, “I’ve never been alone with a half naked guy before.”

Something clicked behind Rayne’s eyes as they widened. “Wait… Elsa… did you and your ex ever, you know… do the do?”

I hesitated, fidgeting with my fingers. “We-”

“Alright, here’s the Honeybunny, as requested.”

Whew! Saved by the Kristoff!

He offered the new spoonful of ice cream to her, but her hand snapped up to block it. Her gaze remained narrowed on me as she told him, “I’m gonna need a sample of every single flavor. Stat.”

“Oh, come on!” Kristoff whined. “Even the ones you’ve already tried?!”

“Especially the ones I’ve already tried.”

Grumbling under his breath, he spat out, “Fine, but then that’s it, I’m cutting you off. Crazy preggo lady or not, you’re either going to have to buy something or beat it.”

He turned to go, but was halted as Rayne said, “Kristoff.” He looked back over her shoulder to see her eyes dead serious. “Leave the Honeybunny.”

His lips flapped as he puffed out a heavy breath, then handed her the taste spoon and stomped off.

“That should keep him busy and buy us a few minutes of privacy,” she beamed, shoving the ice cream into her mouth and once more leaving the spoon dangling from her lips. Then she planted her elbows on the counter, propped her chin in her palms and bat her lashes at me. “So… you were saying?”

I could feel that soft heat cozying up inside my cheeks again. “Could we maybe talk about this later? This isn’t particularly a discussion I want to have at a mall nor in my place of work, and we’re two for two right now.”

“Well tough noogies, sweetpea, cuz it’s happening. Now out with it.”

Exhaling through my nose, I relented. “No, we never… I’ve never… done that. I... told him that I wanted to wait until marriage.”

She released a low whistle - an impressive feat given the spoon still between her lips. “So you’re still rocking your V-card? Who woulda thought you were so traditional? I mean, knowing you, I guess maybe I shoulda figured...”

“That’s just it though, I’m not sure if I am,” I hung my head with a frown. “It’s just… me and him, we made sense as a couple on the surface, at least in my head we did. And sure, we would go out on dates and we would kiss, but… I was just never really interested in going beyond that… with him…”

“But you’re thinking with the right guy, you might?” She bent in further, waggling her eyebrows. “...be interested?”

My nose wrinkled and I lifted one shoulder. “I’m honestly not sure… maybe?”

Rayne leaned back once more, holding her hands up, “That’s okay, that’s a big topic to tackle and not one you necessarily have to sort out right this second, so let’s take a step back from that. Start with something smaller. Something like learning to get out of your comfort zone every once in a while.”

I tipped my head to one side, “My comfort zone?”

“Sweetie, I love you, you know I do, but you’re one awkward penguin, plain and simple. Last night is a prime example, and just one of many at that. Now that you’ve left the life of the rich and pampered behind you and are out in this brave new world, you should start putting yourself out there more. You know, try new things, anything really would be good, no matter how small and insignificant it might seem, just to get you out of that protective bubble you tend to keep yourself in.”

“But I like the bubble,” I pouted, my voice small. “It’s all round and comfy and safe.”

She grinned gently, “I know it is, but I think this could really do you some good.”

Grimacing, I managed to snag a thin tendril of my ponytail to twist around my finger. “Okay, so then… what kind of things were you thinking?”

“That brings us to Lesson Two of The Real World for Dummies,” she held up a pair of fingers with a tiny smirk. “Making friends!”

I blinked and then gave a tiny scoff, “I’ve made friends.”

“Name one since you’ve started this whole independence thing.”

“Easy,” I crossed my arms, “Riku.”

She shook her head. “Riku and I are a package deal. He was basically a freebie and doesn’t count.”

Frowning in thought, I tried, “Frozone and Kristoff?”

Rayne gave a derisive snort. “Work friends? You’re gonna have to do better than that.”

My eyebrows knit together before I brightened. “Sora! He’s my friend, he said so himself!”

“Please, that boy would make friends with a toaster given half the chance,” she deadpanned. “In fact, he did once. It involved a sharpie smiley face. Nuff said. No, name one new friendship that you had to put some sort of effort into forming and didn’t simply fall into your lap. Go on. I’m listening.”

...darn it, she was right.

It seemed my hermit was showing.

Her grin turned smug. “That’s what I thought. So here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna go out there and you’re gonna make yourself a new lil friend. That’s part one of getting you out of your comfort zone.”

Oh no.

“There’s a part two?”

“Yup!” She slammed her phone down on the counter before me and ordered, “Call them.”

I gave a nervous chuckle and tossed my hands up in a loose shrug, asking innocently, “Call who?”

“Don’t get cute with me, missy! You think I forgot our lil chat a few days ago, but think again! Enough is enough, you’ve had plenty of time, now stop making excuses and just do it already. I know it’s scary, but this is just something you gotta do! You-”

“I thought I might find you here.”

Back stiffening at the third voice chiming into the conversation, Rayne slowly turned around to see Riku standing there, arms folded under his chest, one foot tapping as he went on, “Isn’t somebody supposed to be staying home and getting lots of bed rest?”

“Tch,” her lip curled slightly, “c’mon, I’m barely showing, just let me live my life!”

Biting back a grin, he took a step towards, “Come on, you, let’s get you back-”

“Jailbreak!” She booked it, darting off into the plastic jungle that was the food court.

His shoulders slumped and he scratched the back of his head as he called after her, “Seriously? You’re gonna make me chase your sorry butt?”

“Yup!” she cackled, strategically positioning herself so that several tables were between her and her husband.

“Fine,” he smirked slyly, “but you asked for it. Here I come!” He bolted after her.

“Great,” I heard a grumble beside me, turning to see Kristoff standing there with a sour look and roughly forty of those teeny, ice cream laden spoons wedged between all his fingers on both hands. “Now what am I supposed to do with these?”

“Eat them?” I grinned as I plucked one free and closed my mouth around it. Mmmmmm, chocolate! “Otherwise it would be wasteful, which is bad for the environment.”

He gave me a flat look. “Okay, I know you’re being facetious and I don’t care.” One corner of his lips turning up, he lifted one spoon-adorned fist into the air. “I must do my part… for the environment!” Then he crammed five of them into his mouth.

“The planet applauds you for your service and your sacrifice, sir,” I snorted as he ambled off once more.

It was only then that I looked down and realized Rayne’s phone still rested atop the counter before me. Taunting me. Maybe she’d simply forgot it, but honestly? Pretty sure that girl knew exactly what she was doing. With a sigh, I picked it up, my reflection staring back at me in the blackened screen.

...okay, maybe I had been putting it off long enough, to the point of ridiculousness even. Delaying the inevitable was probably only making it worse at this point. I should give them something at least. Some sort of proof of life so that they didn’t think, I don’t know… like I’d run off to join the circus only to get murdered by Bozo the Clown or something.

Still I hesitated, my fingers frozen around the phone.

“Ma’am, is this man bothering you?”

Welcoming the distraction (perhaps a bit too eagerly), I looked up to spot two familiar figures in matching uniforms. The security guards from last night were standing out in the food court, addressing Rayne now as she used a chair as makeshift cover to hide from Riku.

“Every second I’ve been married to his ass,” she replied dryly.

“Gotcha!” Riku pounced, eliciting a squeal of delight from her as he scooped her up. I snerked as the mall cops just shook their heads and meandered off.

And these two dorks were going to be parents.

My eyes drifted past them to the Lucky Cat Café and I blinked. The stocky brunet was back and manning the register this time, but more importantly, so was that blonde guy. The one I’d seen working at the Pizza Planet just yesterday. How odd. So then, I guess he was currently working both jobs? Barista by day, pizza boy by night? Did he need the munny that bad? Yeesh, how expensive must his rent be?

Having just handed a customer their drink order with a smile and a wave, he then said something to his coworker before I watched him disappear into the back door. Just as it had clicked shut behind him-

“Ta da!” he sprung up on the other side of the counter directly in front of me, arms raised high over his head, startling a yelp from me and nearly making me drop the phone.

Heart hammering in my chest, my wide eyes darted from where he stood now not three feet away from me, to the door I’d just seen him walk through all the way on the other side of the food court. Then to him. Then to that door. Then back and forth a few more times.

He’d somehow traversed that large gap in the space of mere nano-seconds.

And had managed to swap his coffee shop uniform for Pizza Planet duds no less!

How did he do that?!

“Now I know what you’re thinking,” he beamed at me, striking up a finger. “How did he do that?”

...woah, he was a mind reader too?

“And there’s only one plausible explanation!” he continued with a cocky wink. “Teleportation!”

“Or maybe you just have a twin, you knucklehead,” another voice said as a hand cuffed the blonde on the back of his head.

… oh. A twin. Right.

That made way more sense than the next stage of human evolution being upon us and super powered mutants now walking amongst the rest of us mere muggles.

What a silly notion. Who would have thought that? Certainly not me.

Nope.

“Man, why you gotta always ruin my fun?” the blonde grumbled as he rubbed the fresh sore spot and scowled at the owner of the palm that had just delivered swift justice to his noggin.

“What can I say, Rox? Your suffering gives me life,” Lea shrugged before turning his gaze on me with a grin and waggling his fingers. “Hi again.”

This was the first appearance he’d made all day. It was a bit of a comfort to see him in his work clothes - a likely sign that he hadn’t gotten fired. I would have felt horrible if last night’s antics had cost him his job. In any case, he’d probably arrived just a few minutes ago and would be starting his shift shortly.

Becoming aware of the fact that my fingers were still absently fiddling with the phone, I quickly pocketed it and cleared my throat. “H-hello… wha-”

“Hiya!” a black haired girl shoved Lea out of the way to lean over the counter and get in my face, blasting me with a huge smile and causing me to stagger back a step. She too was decked out in the Pizza Planet attire. I recognized her from my first day of work. “So happy we finally got to come over here! I’ve been dying to meet you!”

My eyebrows rose. “You have…?”

“You kidding? It’s not just any chick that can make Lea here drop pizza dough on his head! Besides, it’s truly an honor to be in the presence of the record holder. I’m in awe.”

Further up and up those brows went. “The record?”

“Yeah! I mean, that has to be the fastest anyone’s ever planted one on Lea’s li-”

“Xion!” he hissed, clamping a hand over her mouth. “Zip it!”

The blonde - Rox, was it? - smirked evilly beside them, “Lea’s just glad that Ice Palace finally hired a cute girl and- ow!”

I couldn’t see it, but was pretty sure Lea had just kicked him.

“That’s enough out of you two twerps,” Lea grumbled, stabbing a finger out in the direction of the food court. “Table. Now.”

“Fiiiiiine,” Rox huffed out while Xion just shot me another grin and a wave before the pair of them wandered off to find seats.

“Oi, those two, I swear,” he groaned, rubbing the nape of his neck as he turned back towards me, chuckling softly. “Don’t mind the kiddos. Their teasing’s all aimed at me, not you. They mean well, they can just be a lot sometimes.”

I cocked my head. “The… kiddos?”

“Heh, yup!” Then his spine snapped straight and he winced, rapidly shaking his head and waving his hands back and forth in front of him. “Not that they’re my- No, I’m not a- I’m nowhere near old enough to be their- That is to say, uh… they’re my friends. That’s it, no… familial connection whatsoever.”

“Ah… I see,” I said, feeling a tiny tug at one corner of my lips.

It was nice for once that I wasn’t the one that was spazzing out.

Also nice that the two of us could finally manage to hold a conversation.

Sorta.

...it was still a work in progress.

I looked down, gathering my thoughts to find something to say. I immediately regretted it as my eyes inadvertently landed on his chest, prompting my mind to gleefully run a slideshow of his topless exploits from the night before. Face heating, I snapped my gaze back up to meet his, blurting out, “So they didn’t manage to ab y-” I paled. “Nab, I meant nab! They didn’t manage to nab you last night?”

Scratch that. I’d really love to go back to the whole not talking thing.

“Those couple o’ brick-for-brains? Please,” he brushed off, “they couldn’t catch a sedated sloth dragging a one ton slab of concrete behind it. I coulda outrun them blindfolded and with one leg tied behind my back.” Now there was an image. “Gave them the slip no problem, then had my boss sort it all out with them this morning. We’re in the clear!”

“That’s good to hear,” I gave a small sigh of relief.

Then I just stared at him.

He stared back.

Yup.

Whoooooole lotta staring.

All of it awkward.

I glanced sideways. “So…”

“Oh! Right. Three bars of the Sea Salt Ice Cream please,” he held up a matching number of fingers while his other hand scratched a spot behind his ear.

“A-absolutely! Coming right up!” Yes! Ice cream! Ice cream I could do! I darted over to the bottom freezers, opening them up and crouching down to look for the stack of light turquoise frozen bars. The cold air felt good on my face and I took this chance to recuperate and collect myself.

Steady, keep it together, girl. You got this. Just another minute more and you’ll be through this social interaction and on the other side. And it should only get easier from here on out, right? ...right? And hey, look on the bright side. This wasn’t going all that bad. So far you’ve gotten through this with little to no mishaps. Sure, there was that one teeny “ab” slip up, but he didn’t even notice… I think. You can do this. You’re doing fine. You haven’t even thought of the Kissident once the entire time he’s been here!

...aaaaaaaaand now you’re thinking about it.

Great. Thanks a lot, brain.

Grabbing the three plastic-wrapped Sea Salts, I slammed the door shut and made my way back towards the register with determination and resolve.

Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it.

No more slip ups. Don’t you do it. Don’t you say it. Don’t you dare.

I rang him up before looking back up at Lea as I offered him the bars. “Will that be all? Could I interest you in anything else-”

Don’t say “kiss,” don’t say “kiss,” don’t say “kiss.”

“-like a cone of the Milky Way? Rockin’ Crunch? Vanilla Lips- Glitz!” My eyes screwed shut. “Vanilla… Vanilla Glitz? Or any of our other fine flavors?”

Well… at least I hadn’t said “kiss” anyway.

He smiled. Oh gosh, he had dimples. “Nope! Just those, thanks.” He paid for his purchase and took the ice cream. With a nod, he turned to go but then hesitated, glancing back down at me. “Listen, that pair of clowns I call friends just went on lunch and I’m not on the clock for another thirty minutes. We’ll be at that table over there,” he crooked his head towards where Xion and Rox now sat chatting over their trays of food. “If you can take a break, you should come hang out with us.”

I blinked once. Then twice. Then pointed a finger at myself. “...me?”

He was asking me? To join them?

Lea snorted. “Yeah, you. And if you’re worried, don’t be. The kiddos have had all their rabies shots. Just think about it, kay?” He lightly rapped a knuckle against the countertop before walking off with a wave. “Hope to be seeing ya!”

I watched him approach the other two, giving the back of Rox’s seat a swift kick before easily dodging the swipe Rox threw back at him. Then he mussed up Xion’s hair as he tossed the ice cream bars into the center of the table and spun an empty chair around so he could sit in it backwards. I watched his mouth move as he told them something before they all burst into laughter.

They seemed nice. And they’d invited me to sit with them.

...wow, that’d sounded so high school.

Which, by the way, was something I’d never been good at, surprise surprise. And I wasn’t talking about the academic part of it, no, that’d been fine. But when it came to all those cliques and that whole popularity contest and just in general trying to fit it? Yeah, no. That hadn’t been for me. At lunch times, I’d only ever sat with my ex and his friends, and even then only because it was what was expected of me. His buddies had only ever ignored me anyway. If it’d been up to me, I never would have sat with anyone at all. Risk someone actually trying to start a conversation with me? Nu uh. Too scary. Left to my own devices, I probably would have just secured a table all to myself and built a fort out of trays to hide in and shut out the rest of the world.

Needless to say, the thought of joining Lea and his friends? Frigging terrified me.

Which is why it wasn’t going to happen.

Thanks, but no thanks!

I’ll just keep chilling over here inside Ice Palace, aka my beloved Fortress of Solitude. Or rather… Fortress of Almost Solitude, since Kristoff was still around. But you’d hardly even know he was there. He was just off in a corner, still contentedly making his way through those taste spoons.

But as I looked back to that happy trio out there, I frowned. Something was nagging me. Needling at the back of my mind.

Took me a second to realize that it was Rayne’s words from earlier.

That I needed to get out of my comfort zone. That I had to put myself out there and try new things. That I should put effort into making some friends.

The effort in this case being something so simple as sitting at a table.

One tiny act that seemed so insignificant and yet so intimidating at the same time.

I watched them for a few minutes more. Then I looked to the clock hanging on the wall. I was due for my own lunch break.

...oh god, was I really going to do this?

Another heartbeat of indecision. Then I lifted my chin, squared my shoulders, marched into the back room to grab my paper bag lunch before exiting into the food court, heading straight for their table.

Apparently yes. I was really doing this.

Operation Make Friends was a go.

Courage don’t fail me now.

...pretty please?

Author's note: Will Elsa ever call this mysterious "them"? How will Elsa's next thrilling adventure in human interaction go? Will Operation Make Friends be an amazing, glorious success or end in epic, tragic failure? Will Kristoff get a terrible tummy ache from eating all those lil ice cream samples? Stay tuned for the answers to all those questions and more! (Except for that last question... some things were just meant to always remain a mystery...)

Thanks for reading, I super duper appreciate it! And an extra BIG thank you to my new followers, as well as to those of you who hit that like button on the last chapter, seeing that always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

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animus-inspire-archive · 4 years

Text

Starter for @shinrasfirst (Biggs of Avalanche)

The last few weeks have whipped by in a maelstrom of desperation, fear and despair. Some seconds, some minutes, some hours, some days even, Reeve has struggled to find his breath - let alone his voice - amidst the chaos of the planet post-Meteorfall. Yet he has ripped those hoarse sounds from his vocal cords, inhaled and exhaled at every last molecule of available air, and dragged his limbs into some semblance of functioning order as he continues to work - to travel around the ruins of Midgar, the town of Kalm, the City of Junon, beyond and back again.

Seeking solutions, but moreover, seeking connections. He knows he cannot do anything alone.

It is into this frantic, massive storm of obstacles and sentiment that Reeve is having to pitch an extremely delicate structure. To build upon foundations that are as far from set as the shifting seas. The old world order, for all that was wrong with it, has gone leaving a void of power that is brimming over with a black ooze of mistrust. Shinra, Avalanche. The displaced populace are clinging onto what is safe and known to them. For some, it is their hatred of the planetary destroying mega-corporation Reeve used to work for; for others, it is the the propaganda-inflamed hatred of the actions of violent eco-terrorists that Reeve has shared a life-changing journey with.

And for the people belonging to either side? Well Reeve has betrayed and spied on them both. To say things have been tough is a terrible understatement.

Of course there were those who came together to help, and the lives of thousands upon thousands have been saved because of their actions, the ability to put their grievances aside - at least for a time where it was absolutely necessary and crucial. It still does not change those resident feelings however, and in the aftermath, Reeve can sense the ripples of resentments buffeting against his sides as if they were actually the size of tsunami waves. A naturally cautious and guarded man, with secrets of his own aplenty (many of which have recently been exposed) he is trying to strike that fine pivot point of clarity and openness against the risks of such honesty.

He anticipated, yet could not expect anything of the meetings with the individuals he had travelled with behind the mask of a feline. Vincent and Yuffie had heeded his pleas to join in with the evacuation, and they, like he, always seemed to be the misfits of the rag-tag bunch that has just saved the world. In being set apart in their own ways, they were in fact the only two to have seen the ‘real Reeve’ and the former Director feels he can count on them in the future. Cid had been every bit as much beholden to Shinra as he was, until Rufus had swooped into rocket town to destroy any semblance of company investment. Both engineers too, they held some accord, but he knew Cid did not trust him fully. And who could really blame the man, Reeve had agreed that the space programme should be revoked back following the tank 028 disaster and he had been just a stuffy Shinra suit. Cloud, Reeve cannot and will not burden him further. Nanaki too, in a different capacity.

And so it comes to the members of the original Avalanche cell that triggered the outward motions of events after their alleged triggering of the Mako Reactor 1 bombing. Reeve had been somewhat surprised to see some different faces in addition to that of Tifa and Barret themselves. The fight within both the man with a gun arm and the monk brawler burned no less fiercely, and was branded in a clear bond to those who stood at their sides. An injured man who wore a red headband caught the ex-Executives eye, as there was a thoughtfulness in the other’s broodingly handsome features. Reeve tries to place the name, he had never been one to be wilfully ignorant of Avalanche members or cells. Veld, Shalua and Sector 6 had cemented that into the urban developer many years ago.

Biggs. Was that his name?

The presence of others however made his job a whole lot more tricky to negotiate. At the end of fifteen minutes ‘discussion’ Reeve was left frustrated in his attempts. The near-continual doubts in Tifa’s carmine eyes was anticipated, though stung in a way that Reeve had not imagined he would feel. The fierceness in Barret was also anticipated. Despite the fact that Cait Sith has only recently saved them both from death, it was always going to be a tall order for both Barret and Reeve to see eye to eye, and such a relationship could not be pushed too soon.

Reeve perhaps wishes he has the ability to rise into conflict, instead of waiting and assessing for a better time to fight. He might have been able to save more from Sector 7 if he had been more willing to risk things sooner and been less of a coward. However, that just was not in his nature, and this was a very fragile spun-glass connection he was not about to smash carelessly into pieces. He is as polite as ever in saying his goodbyes to the group, leaving them with the reminder that if they needed anything from him, regardless of returning any favours, that Yuffie and Vincent both has his contact. And with one last-ditch attempt at levity regarding Vincent’s reluctance towards technology he leaves, feeling uncomfortably hot and decidedly dispirited.

He was not yet done with Avalanche, however. As Reeve walks away through the devastations, his mind is already figuring out his next move. Though Mayor Domino had been lost during his assistance in evacuating Midgar, the former men of the city had both been prescient enough to share their knowledge and he now has contacts in Avalanche’s main cell. Another risk, yes, but a calculated one. Reeve was done being a coward.

#Biggs || There’s not a word yet for old friends who’ve just met #yo #this is long but it's a scene setter #sorry ;D #no need to match length #and let me know if you want me to change ought #gonna get FC icons until I put him in his DoC overcoat xD

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thyandrawrites · 6 years

Note

Dabi fic suggestions?

oh boy… *cracks knuckles* I have so many

Note: a couple of those are dabi/hawks because I unapologetically ship them, but even if you don’t like the pairing you should definitely check them out because they’re totally worth your time.

Let’s start with my personal fave:

l'amor che move il sole e l'altre stelle series by aradian-nights

These are the fics I was mentioning in that other reply. Honestly, I was familiar with this author from another fandom and I knew them to pay a lot of attention to details, to character growth, and to accuracy in depicting delicate issues, but truly here they outdid themselves. Both of the AUs included in this series give a huge focus on Dabi and his dynamics with his family. Op does a wonderful job of depicting just how complex a character Dabi is, and of outlining at the same time both his flaws and his strong points. The first AU also focuses a lot on the process of dealing with trauma, the aftermath of abuse, and a healthy amount of todosiblings bonding. Bonuses include Eri and Todo healing together, the teachers being good mentors for once, and… Well, a lot of heartache to be honest. Be prepared to cry a lot. The second AU is mostly a character study of Dabi told through Hawks’ pov, and this one is equally devastating and equally wonderful. Probably my fav hot wings fic ever posted.

Bonds series by wellthengetouttathesoupaisle

This one is a slight canon divergence featuring the aftermath of Dabi killing Endeavor on live tv after the noumu attack. It expands on the conflict between Dabi and Shouto, and how affection got tangled with resentment, envy, and other not so pretty things. I like this AU because it’s one of the few takes that addresses Dabi’s feelings towards his siblings past the usual “I love them and I’m doing this for their sake in my own twisted way”. Like, the latter is still there, but their relationship is also a lot more complicated than that.

If that’s not your cup of tea, please consider reading at least Charcoal

This fic perfectly embodies how I picture Dabi and Rei’s reunion to play out. Fair warning: prepare a lot of tissues.

You’re not the wind beneath my wings (but you are the fire that keeps me warm) by juurensha

Another little masterpiece. Future fic set in a universe where Endeavor got in jail for his crimes and Hawks broke Dabi out of prison and now has a not-so-traditional relationship with him. This one is also part of a series, but also works as a standalone (I still have to read the other fics as well, but they’re shiniida centered). I absolutely adore this AU because it perfectly portrays an headcanon of mine, that of Dabi as a vigilante. Dabi gives up villainy in order to “set things right” when the heroes can’t, because their hands are tied by the law. This is the only redemption arc that the todoroki family needs, and tbh there’s a great and very emotional chapter focused entirely on the todofamily reunion that hit me like a fucking train. Gods. Please read this fic.

Darling, thank god it’s this universe we’re in (and you can annoy me as much as you please) by juurensha

Same author, a lot of the same characters and OCs, but a different verse. This one is a slow burn dabihawks fic that takes place after Rei divorces Enji, takes custody of all her kids, and moves next to Hawks’ apartment. It’s (mostly) fluff, and it investigates the life and growth of both Touya and Dabi if they never had to face half of the tragedies of their canon plotlines. It’s very pure and wholesome, 10/10 recommend, always makes my heart squeeze in the best possible ways. Also, oblivious!Touya and obviously-pining!Hawks are adorable.

Between frost and flame by linkzeldi

This one is not just focused on Dabi, but it revolves around him and his family’s conflict (he appears on chapter 2), so I’m gonna include it anyway. I’m not recommending this just because my friend wrote it, but because this fic is an excellent character study on Dabi. Link did a great job addressing his suicidal tendencies for what they are, always pointing out the flaws in Dabi’s reasoning, and always addressing the good old ‘violence only breeds more violence’ discourse. Dabi’s growth is what really sold me for this fic, though to be honest there are a lot of other brilliant things that made reading this story worth it, amongst which: Denki’s “dashing rogue” persona (gosh, link writes the best Kaminari I had the pleasure of reading), the mono-shin-denki iconic trio as terrible thieves, Hawks being the meme that he is, Bakugou and Todoroki’s bickering friendship, a great focus on female characters, and so much more. Please please read this story, it would make me so happy to see it get the recognition it deserves.

Home for Christmas by ShatteredGlassCeilings

Another dabihawks, still ongoing. Dabi is going back home for christmas after two years spent away at college, and he asks online for a fake-boyfriend to piss off his dad. Honestly, what sold me for this fic was mostly the fake dating trope, since it’s one my all-time fave tropes, but I’ve got to say that op did a great job of making me incredibly curious to know both Dabi’s and Hawks’ backstory. There seems to be a lot going on beyond the surface, so I’m really looking forward to it. Besides, the fic is pretty well written so far and the character voices are very IC, especially Hawks, which is always a plus since a lot of people seem to mischaracterize him fairly easily.

Insincerely yours by SammyD

This one is not just about Dabi but the title is taken from a letter he writes and tbh you’re really missing out a great deal if you don’t give this fic a chance. Basically, 8 students from class A get chosen for a a pen pal program to rehab 8 jailed villains. They cannot tell who they are. Dabi gets paired with Shouto. The fic is still ongoing but… gosh I’m hooked. The concept is just amazing, some of the pair ups will surprise you, some will not, but overall there’s a lot going on and this fic has a lot of potential for character growth on a lot of sides. Definitely recommended.

The one where Todoroki Rei gets out of Dodge with children in tow by cyan96

I read this one a while ago so I don’t remember all the details, but I remember liking it a lot. Basically, another AU in which Rei manages to escape Endeavor and bring her children with her, and a healthy dose of todosiblings bonding. I remember liking this author’s take on Dabi because he still kept a lot of his mannerisms and personality traits of his adult counterpart, but here they’re smoothed out by his young age and by the different context. Also, I’m always up for well written todofamily content, so there’s that.

Maybe that makes me a fool by newamsterdam

the first dabihawks fic I read and to be honest, also one of my favourite pieces of poetic prose to this day. I got shivers reading this. The writing is excellent, and it will keep you on the edge of your seat and make you wish there was more to read.

aaannnd I’m gonna keep it at that for now. You definitely have enough to read for a couple of days :’D

#dabi #bnha dabi #dabi is a todoroki #dabihawks #hot wings #bnha hot wings #fic recommendations #fanfic masterlist #feel free to add more if you have any recommendations yourself #ali replies #bnha #kaycekc

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onewhoturns · 5 years

Note

B H I K U Y Z for that fanfic ask thing :)

B: Any of your stories inspired by personalexperience?:: I’m positive this is not what you were asking for, but yeah. I’ve definitely used fic to process personal trauma before, in one way or another. One older fic included basically shot-for-shot a thing that happened to me when I was 22. There are certain elements of Iron & Gold that are hurt/comfort coping for me personally. (hi there TMI) On a more upbeat note, I’ve had some good flirty moments in my life as well, and some of that may have made it into some writing, I think?

H: How would you describe your style?:: All About That Tension

I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (readingor writing)?:: again: All About That Tension.

K: What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come upwith?:: I have a horrible memory… Oh, I remember writing a fic for HP that involved basically everyone in Ginny’s family dying in a brutal attack and her witnessing the aftermath and being completely and utterly destroyed and devastated by it. That was pretty angsty for a #teen year old.

U: Share three of your favorite fic writers andwhy you like them so much.:: Hm. That’s tough. I’m sure there are amazing fics that I read ages ago that I just don’t remember =/ What comes to mind first is @hirvitank of course, cause Waste got me onboard the emsider ship and into the Dishonored fandom. @poethrotsvitha singlehandedly convinced me to try my hand at reader fic, which I’d never had an interest in before. And I should probably try to find something saved on my ffnet but its 4:30 am and the first thing coming to mind is actually a pride and prejudice fic series I was reading recently by @cynicinafishbowl. Hirvi I love for the slowest of torturous slow burns. Poet for exquisitely well-researched setting (and sharing the fun facts of that research in footnotes) (and dirty dirty smut balanced well with conflict). Cynic for being absolutely hilarious and quick as a whip, with well-paced dialogue and witty narration. Fuck, I’d also want to include @hermiowngranger‘s oxenfree stuff, too. Excellent and heartbreaking.

Y: A character you want to protect.:: No one is safe.

Z: Major character death–do you ever write/readit? Is there a character whose death you can’t tolerate?:: I don’t often read or write it, but I don’t go out of my way to avoid it either. As long as it works within the story, and isn’t just a ‘fuck this guy, let’s kill ‘em’ I’m pretty open to it. When it’s an obvious ‘fuck you’ to a specific character I’m a bit less interested. And yeah, sometimes I’m too delicate for the sads. Doesn’t mean I won’t one day want to see the angst, though.

Thanks for asking!

from this fandom ask meme

#asked #answered #fandom #personal #my writing #spidergirl7

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justanotherbuckydevotee · 6 years

Text

lostmyhead - part 3

Word Count: 2,580 words. Prompt : Lovecraftian – Horrible and indescribable platonic love. Or in which you don’t know how to deal with your emotions. Warning(s): Angst. Reader being selfish (im sorry) A/N: SO LIKE IDK . My Final next submission for @hellomissmabel‘s 2k Birthday Celebration. Happy reading! Any feedback/criticism would be welcomed (like seriously this got out of control pls tell me what you think i don’t mind if its gonna hurt me). ps this isnt proofread. its 1.27 am and i have class in the morning im sorry for any mistakes!

masterlist || series page The Prologue || Part 1 || part 2 || Part 3 || part 4

** gif not mine **

It’s late at night (or was it really early morning?) when Bruce comes out of one of the operating room, bringing good news about the other super-soldier of the Avengers team.

“It’s a strong sedative. Any normal human being could’ve been killed with the amount he was given, but he’ll be okay” Bruce explains, making Steve release a sigh that’s been constricting his chest, tightening his shoulders when he waited.

“He’ll wake up soon” Bruce adds, “I suggest only a couple of you at a time. He’ll be a little…” he continues, a hand gesturing to his head as he waves it around in circles. “Confused” he finishes his sentence.

A moment of silence follows, a heavy stillness that nobody dared to move, one other question lingering in their heads but are too scared to ask.

“And (y/n)?”

Bruce takes off the glasses that was perched on the bridge of his nose, fidgeting with it. There was no delicate way to deliver the news about you. “She’s… They’re still in the operating room”

Everyone held their breathe.

“The wound on her leg is easy. But the one on her hip is complicated. We don’t know if it’ll affect her ability to walk, whether it’s temporary or permanent. The injury she sustained on her head is” Bruce pauses, still not looking up at his team mates.

“It’s difficult to assess” he words.

Again, silence. Nobody knew what to say, trying to process everything that’s been said.

“Thank you” Steve breaks the heavy air with his words, before taking long strides to Bucky’s room. Bruce could only nod, eyes following the trail of Steve until the door to Bucky’s room is gently closed. It’s only after that did he look to the eyes of each of his team mates.

Wanda is biting her fingernails, a distant look in her eyes with an arm crossed against her chest. Sam is leaning against the wall deep in thought, his engineered backpack on the ground of his feet. Clint is right next to Natasha, both looking solemn.

“You guys should rest for a bit. It’s been a long day”. With that, he leaves.

Clint is mumbling words to Natasha, encouraging her to change and rest as he waits for more news of you. She’s shaking her head in protest. Sam looks utterly exhausted as he brings his hand over to his forehead.

“You guys should go. I’ll wait here” Wanda announces, taking a step from where she was only to look over the others. “I’ll come get you if anything happens” she continues, speaking to them but her eyes fully locked with Nat’s.

It’s all she can offer, and with what the day had entailed. Wanda was relieved to see them one by one caving into the need of their bodies. Natasha was the last to go, whispering tiredly to Wanda “please get me first, okay?”.

The smell of alcohol and medicine made Wanda feel all the more anxious, as she sits on the edge of her seat, waiting for more news. Her eyes kept going to the double-doors whenever a staff came in or out, scrubs slightly stained before disappearing down the end of the hallway before re-appearing again with a medical cart. She clasped her hands tightly, almost as if in prayer when Steve comes out of Bucky’s room. He looked drained but he can’t make it show that’s he’s actually scared right now, not when the youngest Avenger is sitting across the operating theatre alone.

“Hey” Steve greets, taking the seat next to her. “Why aren’t you in your bed? It’s late” “I promised them I’ll wait”

He could only nod.

“How’s Bucky?” “He’s okay. He’s finally asleep”

The double-doors swing, a team of doctors and nurses filing out, a gatch bed with machines and wires tangled with each other and on it is you. They’re pulling you to a room next to Bucky, passing by Steve and Wanda. Their eyes fall on you; head wrapped with a bandage, a breathing ventilator tube down your throat, eyes closed shut.

Dr. Cho stops in front of them both, still in her scrubs and begins explaining what Bruce couldn’t manage to tell them.

“It’s the only thing I could do. I’m sorry” Dr. Cho mumbles, eyes shining with guilt. Steve is quick to react calmly, saying “You’ve done everything you could”. She looks at Steve for a moment, as if wanting to disagree. She felt she could do more, but the brain is the most complex organ of the whole human anatomy. She blinks, looks down, then moves her feet to her office.

Wanda stayed with you long after Steve has left, suggesting he should rest up too. Dragging a chair closer to you, she places her hand gently on yours, breathing in deeply as she closes her eyes.

There’s somebody behind her, a translucent shape.

“Why aren’t you coming back?” Wanda asked without turning around. She knows who it is.

“I had someone to find first” the figure said, taking slow steps to stand before Wanda. Her palm reaches Wanda’s shoulder, but it can’t really reach her, can’t physically place her touch in this world. A mere ghost of a being.

“But Bucky is back” Wanda announces, head finally turning to see you. The one in front of Wanda now looked better than the one laying on the bed. “So why can’t you return?”

You give her a weak smile. “I’m not too sure I want to come back this time, Wan” you confess.

You take her stunned silence as your cue to continue, to explain. “When I didn’t see him, when I thought he was gone, I couldn’t see anything worth fighting for. I would’ve gladly let that agent do whatever he wanted to me”

“It’s when I realized how much I cared for him. Deeply. More than just friends who look out for one another. More than just friends who understand each other. I don’t ever want to know how it feels like to lose him after this. But he can’t” you stop yourself, eyes closed shut to try and calm yourself from the on-coming wave of emotions that would undoubtedly have an effect on your physical body.

“If I come back, what good would having this feeling do to me? He has someone now; he has Yvy, Wan, and I’m so happy that he’s finally happy” you continue, sadness marring your facial features. “But it also pains me because I won’t ever have that with him. I’ll just be his friend, sure someone he cares about, but not the one he loves”

“But he does love you, (y/n). Can you not see that?” Wanda retaliates. “He doesn’t… he doesn’t love me like I want him to”

Wanda is trying to understand what you’re saying, trying to process the idea of you not coming back to this world, to this team, back home. She feels a painful twist in her chest, pricking her heart.

“So you’re just going to leave?” she asked. She had to. It felt like losing Pietro again, but the difference here is that Pietro didn’t have a choice. You did. You could come home, deal with whatever it is you’re feeling instead of running away. The pricking in her heart suddenly changes to simmering anger; you had the option to live and yet here you were deciding to be a coward and run. She hated you for wanting this, for having an option.

“You’re going to be a coward, and leave us?” she pushes when you’ve yet to answer. The air is thick now once realization dawns on you at how selfish you were being. Wanda abruptly stands up, the chair pushed forcefully behind her.

“It’s your choice. Say hi to Pietro for me”

This goes on for days; you remain in your astral form, looking down at your body as it rests and heal. You spend most your time confined here, not wanting to leave far with the fear that someone –or something sinister, decides to take your unprotected physical form as its host.

The last time you interacted was when Wanda closed the door to your room, leaving you to wallow in her last painful words.

“Say hi to Pietro for me”

So you stay. You stay and watch the aftermath of what would be if you decide to leave. Wanda is the only one who knows of your ability.

You smile faintly at how she discovered, or rather how you decided to reveal your secret to her. She was devastated at the loss of her twin, the speedster you always hear about from Clint, during the weeks you first met her.

“Did you hear that?” Bucky asked just as his hand grasped the knob of your door. You quirk an eyebrow at him before shaking your head, slightly confused. He moves his head closer to your door and for a moment he stays like that. You stand up as quietly as you could, fearing something bad was going on outside when Bucky has yet to say anything.

“Bu-“ his name barely comes out of your mouth when he raises a hand to your direction, his lips mouthing ‘sshhh’. A moment of total silence follows before the worry in his eyes disappear, his features softening before he looks at you.

He hesitates for a moment, but then decides to say “I think someone’s crying”

Immediately you walk over to him, peeling your door and motioning for him to stay there. Even though you absolutely hated being the mother hen –believing the title is rightfully Steve’s, you did have a tendency to act like one. So you tiptoed your way up the hallway, straining your ears to pick up the muffled sobs from one of the doors.

You stop dead in your tracks when you find the source.

It’s Wanda.

Bucky, who ignores your request to stay put, looks at you anxiously. You lick your lips, unsure whether you should go in or knock on her door. Clint has told you about this, had told you to look out for her during the times he wasn’t there. He’d given you a list of things that help her mind off of it, and one of the things he suggests doing was to just be by her side.

So that’s what you did. You found her curled at the corner of her room, in her arms an article of clothing. Your hand reaches her shoulder cautiously, and when she doesn’t jolt away from your touch, you pull her slowly into your arms. Thankfully Wanda doesn’t hesitate, crashing her body to yours.

Bucky takes it as his cue to leave, closing the door to Wanda’s room.

You hold her as she mourns the death of her brother, her twin, the only family she ever knew for the longest time. The black and white track jacket was wedged in-between you both. The room is filled with her pain, and you do your best to hold her, comfort her.

“I miss him. So much” she whimpers as you stroke her hair.

It’s a heart-breaking thing to listen to her say it, the absolute heart-ache she feels clearly present bringing you to tears.

It happened naturally; one moment the room is dark and depressing, and the next there’s a dim glow to everything in sight. Next to her you see a young man with silver hair, his blue eyes swimming with unshed tears as he looks down at his sister.

“Then talk to him” you whisper when the person next to you realizes you can see him.

That was the night that got you closer to Wanda, and the night she finally said her goodbye to Pietro. The small smile you wore is now completely torn off of your lips. How could you have been so selfish? Here you were having the ability to continue living while others do not. Here you were wasting a life when others had theirs taken from them. You look at your body again, knowing how easy it is to just come back.

But then you see Bucky.

Bucky is both a reassuring and aggravating presence. You’re thankful that he remains by your side when he can, giving your heart an empty promise at the sight of him next to you for hours on end. But that, of course, is shattered when he leaves, where the others take his place. It exhausts you, drains you out of energy that it leaves your astral form lying on the floor to rest.

On the fourth day he remains longer than usual, saying nothing and letting the only noise in the room be from the heart monitor and respiratory machine. He stays glued on the chair next to you, this time without a book in hand.

And, this time, a little more agitated.

He’s wringing his hands together –a noticeable habit shared among people with anxiety, that it pained you even more. You push yourself closer to him, wanting so badly to comfort him, to say you’re sorry for being like this.

“I’m sorry” he croaks, guilt drenched in the words that stumble out of him next.

Four days.

It took you four days to realize the severity of your action. None of this was his fault yet here he was, sitting on that chair feeling the weight of guilt crushing his soul. None of this was his fault because he’d done everything he could. None of this was his fault because the decision was in your hands.

It took you four days to recognize the torture Bucky went through at seeing you like this. He’s looking at your weak form, lying unconscious on a hospital bed, delicate tubes and wires running around your body. The agony he must’ve endured throughout these four days finally dawned on you when he’s looking at in this moment.

You see him leaning forwards slowly, calculatedly. Then pauses for a brief moment.

“I-“ but he doesn’t continue, leaving you confused. I what? You thought. Then the door is pulled open, where Natasha and Wanda comes in before he leaves.

You follow him out, forgetting about the consequences of such action, the vulnerability you’ve put your body to just to follow him to his room.

And just like the days he left, you can feel your heart being torn apart piece by piece.

You see Bucky slide easily into his bed, hands wrapped around the waist of a beautiful women. He kisses Yvy’s back. When he closes his eyes, you can see the difference her presence has on him; the worried line and frown that marred his face is gone, his feature softening.

He looked so at peace, so calm next to the girl he loves that it makes you completely forget why you should stay. It hurts you now more than ever. He’s finally happy, so why can’t you be happy for him? Isn’t it your duty, as a friend, to support him no matter what?

Rationality isn’t of utter importance to you right then and there as you force yourself to tear your gaze away, to will yourself back to the room where you laid, wanting nothing more than to just go forget.

To forget. It’s what you wanted –to forget a time where your feelings towards Bucky was anything but platonic, to not remember a time where you craved to have him as yours.

And you know exactly who to turn to.

read final part >> part 4

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