#WEEK3

[foxwithadarkside]

Ok, there was Bad Batch Would You Rather: Would Hunter rather...let Omega paint his nails hot pink @callsign-denmark

Summer of Bad Batch Week 3

Alternate Prompt: “Forget I asked.” @summer-of-bad-batch

[paperback-rascal]

Artwork done for @summer-of-bad-batch's week 3 prompt - "It's just a scratch".

===

STAR WARS: The Clone Wars/The Bad Batch © George Lucas/ Dave Filoni/ LucasFilm/ Disney

[pandorademos]

"What are you two doing?"

"Oh. Forget I asked"

Echo has somehow managed to sleep through becoming a mermaid. He thought he was safe to get some sun finally. Evidently, he was not.

4th prompt of @summer-of-bad-batch 😎

[neyswxrld]

one big step

Crosshair x gn!reader

summary: Plagued from horrible nightmares, you make your way over to Crosshair's bedroom, looking for some comfort.

warnings: reader has nightmares in the beginning, in which crosshair dies or gets hurt in various ways, pre-relationship, some hugs and snuggles, sharing a bed

words: ~1380

a/n: hello! it's been some time since i wrote a crosshair x reader fic. even though it's a rough start, it's mainly fluff and soft!crosshair. this is also a fic for @summer-of-bad-batch, with the prompts "forget i asked.", hugs and nightmares. i hope you enjoy!

Crosshair gets shot.

Crosshair jumps off a cliff, trying to land on a smaller one below. He misses.

Crosshair gets stabbed.

Crosshair is crushed by falling containers.

Crosshair stands too close to an explosion. He blows up.

Crosshair is surprised in his gunner's nest. He doesn't make it.

Crosshair's other hand gets cut off.

Crosshair lying on the floor, lifeless.

Crosshair gets tortured, his wailing a sound you'll never forget.

Crosshair, smeared with blood. His own blood.

Crosshair, slumped in a corner, unmoving.

Crosshair, dead.

Dead. He's dead. He's dead and he won't come back again. Not ever.

You'll be alone with all those horrors in your memories. You'll never be happy and careless again without him.

You're the one who is tortured. Who falls off the cliff. Stabbed. On fire. Dead.

Dread fills you, pain everywhere. In every fiber of your body. It hurts- it hurts so much- and you're alone. All alone.

You wake up, screaming.

It's dark, the air too hot. You're sweating and shaking at the same time. Your lungs scream for air, you're breathless.

Where are- Where are you? It's dark. Too dark, you can't see a thing.

Outside there's some noise, it sounds like a broke radio: all you hear is an unsettling kshhh that comes in waves, but it's not as aggressive as you remember it.

It's hot. So hot, that your hair stick to your face and your bed feels disgustingly wet.

Suddenly, there's a scream.

No, not a scream - a bird. A bird that twitters this weird melody. You know that melody from... from... home.

It's your neighbor's bird. At this unholy hour.

You swallow, start to reach around.

Wood, something soft, and then metal. You tap the metal, and it gets brighter in your room.

Your room. With the yellow walls, the wooden furniture and the many photos and paintings on the wall.

You're at home.

At home.

You take another shaking breath.

It was just - just a nightmare.

But you're still unsettled.

Crosshair- he was dead, killed in too many different situations.

You swallow, your throat feels dry, and you reach for your glass of water on the nightstand.

You empty the glass.

It calms you down a bit.

But you're still shaking, so badly.

You know it was just some stupid nightmare, but - but you just couldn't calm down completely.

Is he fine?

Yeah, of course he is. He's just two rooms over, probably sleeping like a baby. Without any nightmares.

But, what if not?

Before you think twice about it, you're up and sneaking through the dark halls and only stop in front of his room.

Quietly, you knock and after getting a sleepy "what", you open the door quietly.

It creaks, and makes you jump.

"Sorry- I- I just- are you okay?" you ask him.

His room isn't as dark as yours - his curtains are open and a silver ray of moonshine lights up the small room.

He looks at you from his bed, buried beneath his blanket.

"Yeah, of course I'm okay. It's in the middle of the night, what did you expect?" he asks, not amused by you waking him up. You know how much he appreciates his sleep and at the same time he's just right - of course he's okay. It's in the middle of the night.

"Oh- I- s-sorry," you stammer and try to walk out backwards again, your eyes on his.

He looks at you contemplating, sitting up after a second.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asks after a few seconds. Your hands were still shaking, and you are still just about to cry.

"Yeah- yeah I just- I had a nightmare, and you died and- I was alone and- Just wanted to make sure you're still here and okay," you stumble over your words, and you see how Crosshairs face softens.

"Yeah I'm fine. I- are you?" he says, and you could hear worry in his tone.

You swallow and try to say yes, but nothing comes out of your mouth. You're still scared shitless, and agitated. Nothing was fine.

Crosshair seems to notice as much.

"Do you want to talk? Come here, you can... Do you want to sleep here?" He then proposes and your breath hitches.

You know you like him a lot. Like a lot a lot. And sometimes you feel like he likes you too. In the same way, you like him. But then again - none of you never took it a step further. You are just friends that could be with each other a lot. It felt like the two of you were too shy to do anything about it. But this time, it feels like he just made such a big step at once. And you are ready to take him by the hand and walk that step with him.

Of course, he still could just mean it in a friendly way - but he didn't need to ask you if you wanted to stay the night.

He could just have asked you to talk to him and then send you off again.

But sleeping in his bed feels... intimate. It is special. And it definitely isn't something you'd do with just a friend. Not in Crosshair's world, at least. And not in yours, either.

You know that. And he knows it, too.

With a head full of thoughts, you almost forget to answer. Only when Crosshair's voice sounds across the room again, you remember that he indeed asked you to talk with him, and to be with him tonight.

But Crosshair's words are not what you expect: "Forget I asked," he says after a few minutes of just silence.

You swallow. "No- I- you'd want that? I- of course I want to," you whisper and take a step closer.

Crosshair just looks at you.

"If your offer still stands..." you add.

Crosshair takes a few moments, in which you fear he already changed his mind and instead of getting a step forward, you just took three steps back, but then he nods a single time.

You come closer and carefully sit next to him.

He lifts his blanket and lets you slip under, close to him.

You feel his warmth, his body. His chest raises with every breath he takes, and suddenly you're just so close.

"You just... died. So many times," you whisper and start to tell him about your disturbing nightmare. You feel how tears well up in your eyes again, but you pull yourself together and stop yourself from crying. He's fine.

Crosshair listens, and nods. When you finish, he's quiet for a few seconds.

"I- don't know what-" he begins to say, hesitating. Then he sighs quietly.

"I'm not the best at comforting others," he admits quietly. "But... Wrecker really appreciates hugs," he then says. You see some insecurity in his eyes, and you soon realize it's because he doesn't want to hurt you or say the wrong things. So instead, he just asks: "Do you want a hug, too?"

A small smile appears on your lips.

"If you're okay with that, I'd love to," you whisper back. You're not sure if you see it right, since it's dark and his face is just lit by the moonlight, but for a second you think his face becomes a little peachy.

"Wouldn't offer if I wasn't," he says and carefully lays an arm around you.

You sigh quietly, embracing him and his warmth, and put an arm across his stomach, too.

Together, you slide down and you nestle your head on his shoulder, drawing small circles around his stomach.

Even though the night started in such a horrible way, it's easy to find an upside about it all. You and Crosshair were far away from talking about your feelings for each other, and you sure as hell have a long road in front of you. But you were pretty sure you just took a big step on this road, and you are ready to gear up and take some more.

You fall asleep just moments later.

This time, you don't have any nightmares or other disturbances, and for the first time in a long, long time you feel well rested when you wake up. Still in Crosshair's arms.

[kybercrystals94]

Anything

Read here on Ao3!

Summer of Bad Batch | Week 3 | Prompt: "Forget I asked." | Bonus Prompt: "Can you braid my hair?"

Rated: G | Words: 1190

Crosshair wakes to a snuffling sound, and turns over to find his sister standing next to his bed. “Omega? What’s wrong?” 

“I got sick,” Omega mutters, and her breath trembles. She’s crying, softly, quietly. 

Crosshair reaches over and clicks on the lamp, bathing the room in a warm glow of light. But the warmth does not extend to Omega’s face, her skin pale and eyes red rimmed. She blinks rapidly, and a tear escapes, creating another shiny track down her ashen cheek. She does not look well at all. 

Of all the times for Hunter and Wrecker to be gone on a supply trip for the island. 

Sitting up, Crosshair asks, “Got sick where?” He really hopes he doesn’t have to clean anything up. 

“I made it to the fresher,” Omega tells him, “but I still feel awful.” 

“Alright,” Crosshair says, nodding. “Let’s see what we can do about that.” 

He guides Omega out of his room, a hand on her shoulder. Even through her nightshirt, he can feel that she’s unusually warm. Not a dangerously high fever, he decides, but enough to make her feel miserable. The common room has a couch and a chair, and he gives her a gentle nudge towards the couch. “Lay down. I’ll be back.” 

Crosshair goes to Omega’s room and finds her blankets in a pile on the floor, hastily discarded in her flight to the fresher to throw up, he imagines. He picks up the thickest of the blankets and drapes it over his right arm and then grabs her pillow. He notices the red tip of Lula’s ear peeking out from under the bed, and after a second thought, snatches the tooka stuffy up too. 

When he returns to the common room, Omega is laying on her side on the couch, knees drawn up to her chest and shivering. She looks pitiful, and the twinge of sympathy Crosshair feels reverberates deeply in his chest cavity. “Here, I brought your pillow and blanket.” 

Omega lifts her head and lets Crosshair shove the pillow under her. He then drapes the blanket over her, and props Lula beside her. Omega watches him dully. “Thanks,” she whispers. 

“We have tea. It might help with the nausea,” Crosshair says. “Do you think you could take medicine?”

Omega nods. 

Crosshair retreats to the kitchen to try and find where Hunter keeps the tea. He and his brothers are typically caf drinkers; however, housewarming gifts from the islanders had supplied them with enough tea to last several clone lifetimes. He puts some water in a kettle to boil and then spends the next five minutes digging through every cupboard before he finds where Hunter stashed the stuff. Crosshair isn’t really sure what kind of tea helps nausea, so he just chooses the one that smells the best, dropping the teabag in Omega’s favorite mug. 

After letting the brew steep for several minutes, he takes the steaming beverage back to the common room. Omega smiles wanly and pushes herself up to sit cross legged, arranging the blanket over her lap before taking the mug of tea from Crosshair. “You’re pretty good at this taking care of sick people stuff,” she says, putting her nose to the brim of the mug to inhale the steam with a sigh. 

Crosshair rolls his eyes. “Surprised?” 

“A little,” Omega admits with a grin.

Crosshair huffs and leaves to search for medicine. When he returns, Omega looks like she’s going to be sick again. Quickly, he takes her mug and she stumbles to her feet, briefly getting tangled in the blanket, before stumbling back to the fresher. 

Crosshair follows and arrives in time to find her kneeling over the toilet and emptying whatever is left in her stomach. He hesitates a moment before stepping inside and awkwardly gathering up her hair with his left hand, holding it at the nape of her neck. The long seconds drag into several minutes before Omega finally leans back. Crosshair releases his hold on her hair and hands her a towel to wipe her mouth. 

“Ugh,” Omega growls. “I hate being sick.” 

Crosshair agrees with a hum and helps Omega to her feet. She rinses her mouth out in the sink before shuffling back into the living room and collapsing on the couch. 

“Do you want to try your tea again?” Crosshair asks. 

Omega shakes her head. “Not yet.” 

Crosshair nods and sits down next to her, picking up the puddle of blanket from the floor and tossing it over her lap. Omega reaches up and brushes back her hair. “Could you…” she starts, but cuts herself off, frowning and dropping her hands. 

“What?” Crosshair asks. 

“Nothing,” Omega mumbles, “Forget I asked.”

“No, tell me. What do you need?” Crosshair insists. 

Omega sighs. “I was just gonna ask if you could braid my hair, but…” 

Oh. Crosshair had braided Omega’s hair before, back when he first came to Pabu after their escape from Tantiss. Hunter and Wrecker had gone to find Fennec Shand, and Omega had asked if he knew how. With the tremble in his right hand, the braids had been loose and messy; however, Omega had proudly worn them all day.

He stares down at his singular hand, nondominant and clumsy when it comes to more intricate efforts. Besides, braiding hair took two hands, not one and a stump. And while it isn’t his fault the simple request can’t be fulfilled, Crosshair feels like he’s failed. 

“I’m sorry,” Omega says, “I forget sometimes.” 

Crosshair doesn’t like the guilt in his sister’s voice. “Welcome to the club,” he says, hoping to ease the tension. 

It doesn’t. 

Crosshair stands up. “I’ve got an idea…but I’ll need to borrow something.” 

Omega looks at him quizzically. “What?” 

“I might only have one hand, but between the two of us, we have three. I think I can make due.” 

The girl immediately brightens. She tells Crosshair where to find her hair ties and brush in her room, and soon Crosshair is brushing through a tangle of blond locks and creating a careful part down the middle. Under his direction, Omega offers up her right hand to hold whatever strands of hair Crosshair puts in her fingers, as he sloppily weaves a braid down from her hairline. Crosshair’s snippy instructions are taken in the spirit they are delivered, Omega giggling and outright laughing as she tries to follow blindly along, acting as Crosshair’s literal right hand. Crosshair smiles at the sound. 

After nearly an hour of effort, Omega has two lopsided braids, bumps of unruly hair poking out where the coordination effort fell short. 

“Do they look nice?” Omega asks sweetly. 

Crosshair snorts. “They look like kark, but they'll do the job.” 

Omega laughs. “Thanks, Crosshair.” 

“Don’t mention it,” Crosshair says. 

“I think I’m ready for my tea now,” Omega says, “but it’s probably cold.” 

Crosshair heaves an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. I’ll make you a fresh cup. Anything else, m’lady?” 

Omega considers. “Maybe some crackers?” 

“Of course, anything for you,” Crosshair retorts, but the sarcasm is muted by a soft smile, and the reality that he really would do anything. 

END

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[lifblogs]

We Do This Together

Week 3

Prompt: “It’s just a scratch.”

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 2599

Summary: Tantiss is embroiled in battle. Crosshair has been singled out by CX-2. During the fight, CX-2’s helmet comes free, and Crosshair is met with an all-too familiar face.

WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Violence

READ ON AO3

Crosshair’s breath caught when the operative’s helmet came off in his grip. Everything seemed to still as they froze in their stances, even the world’s very rotation at the whims of what happened on this pitted and half-destroyed platform.

No. No, no.

This was impossible. How?

Crosshair’s panting from the fight renewed, his heart pumping hard, adrenaline still shooting like cold-hot needles through his system. And his stomach clenched, feeling like it might fall right out of him. The ruined durasteel platform seemed to drop out from beneath him from where he crouched; the muggy, smoky, night air was some other man’s air; the flames and explosions nothing but a background that was fading away like a nearly-forgotten dream. Or perhaps the dream was before him.

Crosshair tried to speak.

His breath caught.

When he did speak he realized it was with a guttural sob, the name wrenched out from his twisted insides, injected with countless days and moments of grief, with head-spinning confusion, and the deepest horror born right in the bowels of this cursed mountain: “Tech.”

The operative—Tech—had had his face set in a grimace, a hatred of some sort. At this name—his name—his features softened. No longer was he looking at Crosshair like he was planning best how to defeat him. His eyes were wide, vulnerable.

Then he frowned, brows scrunching together.

“Why… Why would you say that? What does it mean?”

Shaking, wanting to look for his family amidst the screams and blood and fire coming back to him, but knowing he couldn’t take his eyes off of the man in front of him, Crosshair stayed, he held his ground. Perhaps he couldn’t even move as it was, or look elsewhere. What if he blinked and Tech was gone? His eyes burned without the safety of his helmet on.

“That’s…” He licked his dry lips, but to no avail. “That’s your name,” Crosshair got out.

Horror still clenched his gut. Horror from those months they’d thought him dead, from… from everything. They’d failed him.

They’d failed him.

Crosshair couldn’t fail him now.

Tech was missing his left eye, a cybernetic one in place of his real one, scars ripping furrows across the left side of his face.

Crosshair looked him over, knowing these were surely not the only injuries he’d sustained from his fall.

Staring across from him was suffering in its deepest form, twin to his own, perhaps.

I did this.

“I… I don’t have a name.”

Crosshair somehow managed to shuffle closer. What few pieces were left of his heart broke when Tech moved back, moved away from him. His head was down now, and he was clearly thinking hard.

“Yes, you do. You do. Your name is Tech. I’m… I’m your brother. Crosshair.”

“I—”

Crosshair was on his knees, begging, “Please. Please, just… just listen to me. You’re a clone, a defective clone, made on Kamino, part of Clone Force 99, the Bad Batch. Your number is CT-9902, and your name—your name—is Tech. You chose it because you’re smart—smarter than anyone—you’re good with technology, with everything you put your mind to.”

“No. No, no. I’m CX-2.”

“You love your datapad (we could barely get your head out of it some days), you love languages, you record everything even when it annoys the ever-living shab out of us, you love to talk about the weirdest creatures out there, your favorite color is dark blue because it makes you think of the blue in clear night skies, the blue between the stars, pistols are your favorite type of blaster, you love to pull the craziest stunts while flying, you… you have a family: me, Hunter, Wrecker, Echo, Omega. And there’s someone waiting for you. Phee? You told her all about my sparkling personality, you—you told her about me even though I was still with the Empire. Somehow I still mattered to you then. And you matter to me… to us.”

Tech was sounding out each of the names Crosshair had spoken, as if trying to see if anything felt familiar, like trying to put stars back in a sky full of holes.

“Please, you have to believe me.”

Tech stilled, and so did Crosshair.

When Tech looked up there was a grim determination, something burning in his right eye, though tears tracked down his cheeks, running in rivulets through his scars.

The hot air was like mud, leaving Crosshair barely able to move. All he could do was watch as Tech moved into the perfect stance to level his blaster at him: kneeling on one leg, torso perfectly straight, sights lined up. Crosshair had faced down the barrels of many blasters, even of tanks, but nothing frightened him more than this one.

“I have to assume this is either some tactic to stall for time, to try and control me, or… you’ve lost your mind.”

Crosshair ducked and rolled. Tech fired.

Crosshair knew he had to end this fight quickly. Tech would kill him.

With a cry he launched himself at Tech. He ended up on top of him, pushing hard against his rifle so he couldn’t use it.

“You’re my brother,” Crosshair insisted.

Tech fired, blast going sideways, and the recoil did its job, knocking Crosshair off balance.

“I am no one!” he cried, whacking Crosshair in the temple with his rifle.

Crosshair grunted. His world spun, nearly going black. Before he could gather himself, Tech was crashing into him, getting him onto his back. The butt of Tech’s rifle smashed against his chest, and he coughed, the air driven out of him.

“I have no one!” he insisted. “No family, no brothers, nothing but what Dr. Hemlock has given me.”

Every few words were punctuated with a blow.

Crosshair grabbed Tech’s arm, and he tried to get a knee under him, but Tech’s grip was too strong.

“Not… true,” Crosshair forced out.

Tech punched him.

He once again fought to stay conscious.

Then Tech grabbed his armor, lifting him up to snarl in his face, “Then what do I have?”

“You have me.”

Tech dropped him, and actually got up. Crosshair tried to lift himself up, but his head was spinning and pounding, his face throbbing and swelling from multiple blows. Blood was hot and wet on his face.

Tech stood, rifle leveled at him. Crosshair wondered if this would be the last thing he ever saw, and he hoped it wouldn’t. Not because he didn’t want to die (of course he didn’t), but because this would mean he had failed. Tech, who had apparently been a captive of the Empire this entire time, would remain so, their brother perhaps lost to them forever.

Crosshair wanted to rest his head back down in defeat, but the least he owed Tech was to stare his own death, his own failure, right in the eye.

“No, I don’t.”

A gunship laser hit a meter from Tech’s left. Maybe it was targeting Tech, maybe Crosshair, maybe it was nothing but an accident. The reason didn’t matter. It had happened.

Crosshair thought maybe he screamed as he watched Tech get thrown off his feet, tumbling through the air in a painful dance of twisted limbs. A human body was not meant to withstand that; even the force of the blast itself was surely too much to withstand. Fire erupted near him, debris rained down in squealing and crashing metal. The blast was deafening, and Crosshair shoved himself up onto his hands and knees. He’d lost sight of Tech and where he’d landed through all the fire.

Struggling to catch his breath, Crosshair tried to stand. The world dropped out beneath him.

He came to on his stomach, not sure what he was looking at, confused as to why he hurt so much. Sound was filtering back into him.

He lifted up his head, exploring his surroundings. Darkness and flames, durasteel, ruin.

Where am I?

It came back to him, and he burst into action, crawling, and scrambling across the platform.

Tech. Have to find Tech.

Crosshair saw his legs sticking out from under debris. He rushed over, and groaned as he moved the ripped up metal off of him, muscles straining.

Blood. Check for any blood, injuries.

A pipe was pinning Tech’s left leg, perhaps crushing it. Crosshair tried in vain to move it. It only budged a few centimeters, if that.

He examined Tech’s torso, his face, feeling him over.

He couldn’t find anything serious, but he knew something could be wrong internally that he couldn’t see.

Tech coughed, blinking his eyes open. Crosshair held his head in one hand, and was surprised to feel something harder than bone at the back of his head. A metal plate? Some kind of implant?

Oh, Tech.

Tech coughed, and Crosshair held him close.

Usually comforting words weren’t his style, but they spilled out of his mouth now like what he imagined a prayer might be, “You’re okay, you’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

Tech reached up with a shaking hand and touched Crosshair’s face, following the lines of his tattoo.

“Crosshair?”

Crosshair would have broken out into a grin if not for the dire situation. Had he hit his head, knocking some memory loose?

“Yes, yes, it’s me.”

Kriff, he was crying again. He sniffled, and tried to hold in a sob.

Tech laughed, maybe the first and only laugh Tantiss would ever know. Some of its darkness crept away.

“You’ve gotten so talkative,” Tech observed.

“Well, I had to fill in for you, didn’t I? Now, are you okay? What hurts? Tell me—your leg?”

Tech looked down.

“That one isn’t real anyway. Not anymore.”

“I’m… sorry” was all he could say, no words in any language across the galaxy able to encompass the devastation wrought on their family.

“For what? You… didn’t lock me in here, you didn’t make me into this.” His voice was dark with hatred and shame.

“But I heard what happened. You tried to rescue me. You fell.”

“It was… my choice. My choice.”

“I got out,” Crosshair informed him, words practically punched right out of him. “Omega—s-she got me out. She finished your mission.”

Tech had a wide grin on his face that Crosshair could half-attribute to a possible concussion (something they both currently shared), but the rest was surely at Omega’s success.

“How about I get you out this time?”

Tech’s lips pulled together, chest heaving on a sharp inhale. “Crosshair.”

Fire raged around them, Crosshair and Tech starting to cough from all the smoke.

Crosshair tried to shove the large pipe aside, but to make matters worse, the other end was angled against what remained of the wall in such a way that it was stuck.

Tech sat up, mouth going a bit green around the edges, yet he tried to help.

“It is of no use. I require a blaster,” Tech said.

Crosshair paused.

“Don’t you trust me?”

Crosshair met Tech’s eyes, and he said, “Following your previous line of thinking, I have to work under the assumption that you’re pretending to know me so I can help you survive. Without me you’d die. I’m sorry, but I have to consider every odd.”

“I understand.”

Crosshair grabbed Tech’s rifle since he had lost his own, feeling odd holding it, feeling odd that Tech could even now use a rifle with such proficiency.

He shook that from his mind.

“What do I do?” he asked.

Tech directed him where to shoot—not at the pipe, but his leg. Crosshair hesitated, part of his brain not up to speed with the fact that this was a mechno-leg he was going to be firing at, and not a flesh one.

Crosshair took aim.

His right hand trembled.

Oh, please, no.

“Crosshair? Crosshair, what’s wrong?”

“I… I can’t do it.”

“You have perfect aim. You can—”

“No, I don’t!” he cried, ducking his head to hide his face. “That’s the problem, I don’t. Not anymore.” Crosshair was crying in fitful sobs punctuated by coughs. His shoulders slumped. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this.”

“Fine, I do not really care whether you possess perfect aim or not. We need to get out of here.” Tech’s voice lost its composure. “Please, I… I have to get out.”

“You’re asking the wrong soldier.”

To Crosshair’s surprise Tech let out a frustrated growl. “For once you need to not be so severe and unyielding with yourself. The calculated odds are that you will hit my leg more times than not. This is the right plan. I believe in you.”

“Since when do you have belief?” Crosshair scoffed.

“Clearly, you have not been paying attention. I… I believe in my family,” he said, the words slow like he was surprised to find them true, surprised his mind was his own. “I believe in you.”

Crosshair faced him, and the surety in Tech’s gaze gave his body strength.

He lifted the rifle.

“Don’t put it right against my leg,” Tech instructed. “The force of the blasts could injure me, and I’d rather not have part of my spine remade again.”

Crosshair’s breath caught at the admittance of the pain his brother had suffered through.

Breathe. Just breathe. That was getting more and more difficult by the moment, the roaring of hot flames loud in his ears, heat hitting him like a solid object.

“Ready?”

“Go.”

Crosshair fired. The blast barely hit Tech’s leg. A scream wanted to leave him, but he held it in, gritting his teeth, chest heaving. He was shuddering.

“Again.”

Crosshair inhaled.

Exhale.

Squeeze the trigger.

The blast hit, burning through a third of Tech’s leg, sparks firing. He groaned, but otherwise made no protest.

With three more shots, Tech’s mechno-leg was completely separated above the knee.

Crosshair let out a hurried breath of triumph, and he released the rifle, leaning forward to wrap an arm around Tech to help him up.

Debris shifted and landed where Tech had been stuck. Sparks flew up, Crosshair throwing up an arm to shield their eyes. His stung, and even with his lids closed orange flickered in his vision.

They both struggled to properly stand, and then struggled even more to remain standing once that first feat had been accomplished.

Together they hobbled out of the fires. As they half-sat half-fell to the platform, leaning against each other to stay up, Crosshair noticed the back of Tech’s head was bleeding. He put a hand to it. The blood seemed to be coming from above the plate.

Tech winced. “I’m fine.”

Then he reached for Crosshair’s bloodied face, the injuries he’d given him.

Crosshair smiled.

“It’s just a scratch.”

Crosshair and Tech laughed together, tears running down their soot-blackened faces. Their foreheads pressed together, and that’s when Crosshair knew for sure that Tech was himself again, that his brother was able to come home.

Crosshair searched around for his helmet, which he could not find, and when he explained he needed his comm, Tech started fidgeting with a band on his armor.

Through Tech’s brilliance they were soon hearing their family’s voices, and they were okay, they were alive. Omega was free. Oh, Omega. They could almost, all of them, finally go home. They could go home.

Tech handed over the band. “Here.”

Crosshair couldn’t stop grinning.

“Hunter,” he said, watching the battle die down, gunships flying through the air across a brilliant dawn Tantiss had surely never seen the likes of before, a dawn they could all see, “you’re never going to believe this.”

[twinsunstars]

I'll Be Here For You, Brother

Summary: Crosshair thinks back to everything he endured on Tantiss, and Wrecker witnesses what he suffered.

Week 3 Prompts: "It's just a scratch" / "Forget I asked"

Notes: I thought about the scenes from Captain America: Civil War where the other people who had been given the winter soldier serum had been watching the Winter Soldier fight one of the others, so I took that and thought about the training/reconditioning the clones undergo with the CX operatives. Hence, this fic. Also felt like writing some Crosshair and Wrecker brother time. Thanks to @magicandmundane for brainstorming about one part of this fic with me and some dialogue inspiration! divider by @summer-of-bad-batch

Some content/warnings: Blood, scars, bleeding nose, description of open cut, shaking hand

“Again.”

The operative stood to attention, waiting for his opponent to get up. A clone prisoner groaned as he lay on the floor. He used his arms to push himself up to stand. A small headache sprung out of exhaustion, but no one around him would care. The clone stood and felt a bit dizzy. The operative in front of him stood still and patiently waited for the clone to be ready. However, he could have attacked out of his free will. 

“Begin,” Commander Scorch instructed. Other clones standing around watched as the operative used their strength to fight the clone placed against them in hard combat. The place they stood in wasn’t called a “training room” for nothing. The clones observed as the operative struck their opponent, swallowing anxiously until their turn to face the operative eventually came. They were all being tested for their strength under the orders of that merciless doctor to recondition each of them to become operatives just like the one they were watching. 

The clone put up a fight against the operative to the best of their ability. Days spent in the cells and the labs for routine testing made him feel slightly weak. He dodged each attempted hit performed by the operative. He was strong, just as he was reconditioned and reborn to be. 

The operative managed to strike the clone’s face, hitting his nose hard. The clone groaned and got up. Blood dripped from his nose. 

The operative pulled out a vibroblade and used it against the clone to further test their strength. The clone tried to avoid each rapid swipe of the blade made towards his body. He began growing tired, and the operative took this to his advantage. The operative found an opening and ran the blade through the clone’s prison uniform on the area of his left arm. The blade dug through the uniform and kissed his flesh, slicing his skin open. The clone grunted and placed a hand on the cut. He glared at the operative, who prepared to strike again. 

“That’s enough,” Scorch ordered. The operative put their vibroblade away and stood straight, obeying orders. The clone hissed as his cut began to sting. Blood began to stain the uniform. 

“Take CT-9904 to the medbay to patch up his wound.” Two troopers followed Scorch’s order. They signaled the clone to move forward. The clone walked alongside them out of the training room to head to the labs where one of the doctors could start treating his injury. 

Many clones were placed in one sector of the training room to fight against the CX operative to have their strength tested, and a few others were laid in machines designed to mess with their brains and work to recondition them to become soldiers loyal to the Empire. Their screams and painful groans could be heard as the clone and the trooper walked past that sector. Chills ran through the clone’s body while the injury stung. 

Crosshair exhaled and exited the refresher. The noon hours of the day had just begun, and Crosshair had slept in until the late morning. He had trouble sleeping while the nightmares of Tantiss replayed in his mind every day. Omega was there in the Marauder when he finally woke up, and with tough debates, she made him go get a proper bath. Shep, with a kind heart, allowed Crosshair to use the refresher in his home. Crosshair had mumbled a “Thanks”, and the kind local just chuckled with approval. Crosshair had to admit, the shower was a bit relaxing. 

He began to put on some clothes and caught sight of himself in the mirror. Many scar lines and bruises were visible around Crosshair’s full upper body. Each of them had been given to him by the operatives he would be put up against during all those reconditioning attempts in the training room. Tantiss had made it harder and harder for Crosshair to keep up with the continuous pain he was being put through. 

Clones would be sent into the training room every morning to begin the attempted reconditioning processes. Laying down in those cylinder-like machines, the electrical shocks used to mess with the clones’ brains to turn them into obedient soldiers burned their heads. Crosshair always developed headaches from those shocks. He could sometimes hear the voices of other soldiers who used to be loyal to the Empire just like he was in the not-so-distant past, telling him to follow in their footsteps. 

Good soldiers follow orders. 

The Empire is worth fighting for. 

Apart from the attempts of brainwashing and control, the clones were tasked with proving their strength and usefulness by combatting the operatives. Each would have a turn fighting against the operative until the operative pinned them down to the ground. The operative would use their strength and their blade to test the clones, no blasters. 

One day, they had finally stopped trying all the tactics on Crosshair, listing him as a clone considered impossible to become an operative. The reconditioning couldn’t work on him, but they still continued testing his blood and sending him to the training room with the other clones. 

The screams. The many injuries that were given to the clones by the operatives. The freezing cells. He felt like crying from all the pain. Everything was unbearable, but the clones who had not yet fallen to the reconditioning survived through it all. 

Crosshair sat on the bed in the room. He was alone in the house with only his thoughts. The operative they had run into on Teth was the same one Crosshair had fought against during all those training sessions with the other clones. All those combat sessions replayed in Crosshair’s nightmares he would have of his time at Tantiss. He couldn’t stop remembering everything he went through, and he didn’t want to remember them at all. His hand trembled every time he thought about the training room, and all those scars and bruises would continue to remind him of everything. Hemlock’s voice continued to taunt him in his mind and whisper in his ear. 

“If you had just followed orders, you wouldn’t be enduring so much suffering, would you?”

“Hey Crosshair, you good?” Wrecker’s voice surprised Crosshair. He stood up and grabbed the shirt Shep gave him just as Wrecker found him in the room. “Omega’s wondering-”

Wrecker stopped, catching a view of Crosshair’s scars and bruises. He couldn’t help but stand and stare in shock at his wounds. Wrecker was looking at his baby brother who was covered in so many injuries, and it hurt him to look at them. The only question that slipped out was, “Crosshair, what happened?”

Crosshair looked away and quickly put his shirt on, hiding his wounds. He sat down on the bed and kept his gaze away from Wrecker. “Nothing!” he snapped at him, sighing. “It’s just a scratch.”

Wrecker noticed Crosshair’s hand trembling again. He understood and instantly regretted asking the question that slipped off his tongue. “Uh, never mind,” Wrecker scratched the back of his head. “Forget I asked.”

Wrecker felt a bit hurt from the way Crosshair snapped at him and by thinking about what Crosshair was going through after enduring only the Force knows what back at Tantiss. He turned around to leave.

“Wrecker.”

Wrecker turned back right after hearing Crosshair’s voice call him. Crosshair still avoided looking at Wrecker, keeping his eyes focused on his hands. “What did Omega want?”

Wrecker thinned his lips. “Omega was wondering if you want to come out for a boat ride later. It’s okay if you don’t want to.” 

Crosshair could hear the worry in Wrecker’s voice. Deep down inside, he felt bad for snapping at him like that. Wrecker didn’t know anything. He was just worried for him. Crosshair hummed, which told Wrecker he would think about it and decide. He fixed his shirt and stood up, remaining silent. He didn’t expect large arms to wrap around him in an instant. 

Wrecker took Crosshair into a gentle hug. Crosshair had almost forgotten what Wrecker’s hugs felt like after being away from him for so long. Wrecker always used to wrap Crosshair into his arms playfully whenever they were together, mostly when Wrecker would tease Crosshair.

Crosshair stood still and didn’t say anything. He wanted to push Wrecker off him like he would always do, but he just felt like staying in this one. He felt like crying into Wrecker’s arms. He just didn’t want his older brother to see him like that. Wrecker seeing his wounds had already struck his heart. 

“Sorry, Crosshair.” Wrecker let go of Crosshair. “You just seemed like you needed it. I’m here for you.”

“Wrecker-”

“I know, I know. I won’t tell anyone about…”

Crosshair placed a hand on Wrecker’s shoulder. He gave him a comforting nod. Wrecker sniffed and gave his little brother a small smile. He really missed him all this time, and Wrecker was happier than ever to have him back. 

“Let’s go find Omega,” said Crosshair. Wrecker blinked and nodded, trying not to cry. The two began to hear Omega’s laughter nearby, followed by small laughs from the young reg boys. Crosshair followed Wrecker outside to find the kids engaged in a ball match. 

Omega was the one who had gotten him out. She saved him. Wrecker wanted to help Crosshair feel safe, as Tantiss is long far away from them for now. His brothers and sister would be there for him. After such a long time, Crosshair let out one sigh of relief.

taglist: @summer-of-bad-batch @orion-tyche @bossboudicca @magicandmundane @kurlyfrii @ahsokashawarma1138 @locitapurplepink

Nini's Writing Masterlist

[summer-of-bad-batch]

Week 3 Prompt Drop!!

Main Prompt: “It’s just a scratch.”

Alternate Prompt: “Forget I asked.”

You know what to do!!

Remember, if you haven’t finished Week 1 or Week 2’s prompts, it’s not too late! You can complete every week’s fills any week this summer 🥰

Weekly Tags:

#summerofbadbatch2024 #week3 #it’s just a scratch #forget I asked

[happydragon]

In Over His Head

Summary: Crosshair didn't know what he was thinking when agreed to look after the teacher's daughter, but now he has to figure out how to keep a four-year-old entertained. He fought in countless battles, he can handle a toddler right?

Ao3

Rating: Gen

Word Count: 1,703

Crosshair was on his way to the docks when he spotted Jana on her way to school. That wasn’t a strange sight, seeing as she was the teacher, but what was the odd sight was that Jana’s daughter, Anaya, was also with her. Jana’s olive-toned skin contrasted nicely with her khaki-colored pants and cream blouse, her violet hair in a simple braid over her shoulder. Anaya, dressed in a simple pink dress, was the spitting image of her mother, with her violet hair in two little pigtails on top of her head. The only difference between the mother and daughter was their eyes. While Jana’s eyes were a dark emerald, Anaya’s eyes were golden brown.

Usually, her retired neighbor, Mrs. Thule, would look after the little girl while her mother worked. Maybe Jana was dropping Anaya off somewhere else today, not that that was Crosshair’s business. Regardless of how he felt about the Mirialan woman, her business was hers alone and he wouldn’t interfere. 

He was going to just give a simple nod as they walked by, but then Anaya spotted him and her face lit up with joy. Her pigtails bounced with every excited step as she ran to greet him. Jana’s eyes also lit up upon spotting him, but didn’t run to greet him like her daughter.

“Crosshair!” Anaya greeted as she wrapped her arms around his leg and stared up at him with the biggest smile.

“Hello,” he greeted in return, unable to keep the small smile forming on his lips at bay. 

“Good morning Crosshair,” Jana greeted once she reached the pair, “On your way to the docks?”

Crosshair nodded. He hated just sitting around in his family’s home. It made him think too much about things he didn’t want to think about.  

“I’m going to school with Mama!” Anaya excitedly announced. 

“Yes,” Jana lightly laughed, “Unfortunately my neighbor got sick so she can’t watch Anaya. Hopefully, she’ll do alright and not distract my students too much.”

He hummed and before Crosshair could even think, the words already left his mouth. 

“I could watch her.”

“Oh! I couldn’t ask you-”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

Was Crosshair in over his head? Probably but he knew some of the kids would not be able to focus with Anaya in there and Crosshair was pretty sure kids needed to pay attention to those sorts of things.

“What do you think, Aya?” Jana looked down at her daughter who tilted her head as far back as she could without letting go of Crosshair’s leg.

“Would you like to spend the day with Crosshair or Mama?”

Anaya's lips turned into a pout and her brows furrowed as she thought over the idea. After a minute or so she nodded to herself and announced, “Crosshair.”

“Looks like she’s going with you,” Jana said as she looked back up to Crosshair, “I truly appreciate your help. You can drop her off at school later, no need to worry about taking her home.”

Crosshair simply nodded as Jana knelt, commanded Ayana to be good and listen to Crosshair, then hugged her and nuzzled their noses together before standing back up to continue the rest of the way to school. 

Crosshair watched her walk until she was well out of sight before looking down at Anaya, who while no longer wrapped herself around his leg, she instead tightly clutched his pant leg. She still stared in the direction her mother went but made no sound. Eventually, he tapped her head, which caused her to look up, her eyes wide with curiosity. He indicated with his head that it was time to go, to which she responded by raising her arms toward him and her hands made a grabbing motion. It took him longer than he would admit to realize she wanted to be picked up. He had never done this sort of thing before. He really was way in over his head. 

Crosshair thought back to how he saw Wrecker pick up and hold Cut and Su’s kids and attempted to do the same. She didn’t complain as wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight. With both his arms supporting her, he continued his trek toward the docks. 

As they walked, it was mostly silent until Anaya began to take in the world around her and talked about the various things she spotted or imagined. He didn’t say much aside from the occasional hum or short phrase. Not that she seemed to mind.

When they arrived at the docks, he set her down to lay down some ground rules. He had seen plenty of grown adults hurt themselves here and he was not going to let Anaya be one of them.

“Listen,” he commanded and she stared at him with wide eyes, “I am going to be busy and moving a lot of dangerous things. When I tell you something, you do it. If you need me, just call my name. Understood?”

She nodded and he returned the gesture. Now to keep her entertained. Anaya was still small, so she couldn’t be much help. Maybe he can have her just follow him around. Best way to keep an eye on her. 

For the next couple of hours or so, Crosshair worked the docs as usual, with Anaya as his shadow. The other dock workers found her adorable and a handful teased Crosshair about looking after her. One glare from him shut them right up. 

When lunchtime rolled around, Crosshair decided to grab something from the local food stand. Thankfully, Anaya wasn’t too picky and happily ate her lunch. He knew they still had an hour or so before school ended, so he decided to walk with her around town some more, letting her take the lead in where she wanted to go. As they walked, older ladies would coo at the sight of Ayana and Crosshair, the former of the two ate it up. 

Along their walk, Anaya spotted some Moon-Yos and excitedly ran to them. The Moon-Yos of course scattered off, startled by her running. She tried to chase after them but suddenly tripped over her own feet. At the sound of her cry, Crosshair was immediately at her side. Tears had already begun to stream down her cheeks when he picked her up.

“Are you alright?” he asked, worry coating his voice. 

Instead of saying anything, she showed him her hands which had gotten scratched up by the stone. Thankfully, there was no blood. Crosshair sighed just slightly. 

“Just a scratch, see?” he said as he gently traced his fingers over her hand. The frown still remained on her lips. Then she brought her hands to his face and quietly asked, “Kiss please.”

He raised a brow and waited for her to explain, but she just stared up at him expectantly. So he slowly pressed a kiss to one palm, then checked to make sure he was doing it right. When he saw she was still waiting, he kissed the other palm and then the brightest smile lit her face.

“Thank you!”

He simply hummed. He would have to ask Jana about that later. 

Soon it was time for them to head over and Anaya once again wanted to be carried all the way there. This walk was a bit quieter than the one that morning, with Anaya laying her head on Crosshair’s shoulder. He wouldn’t admit it any time soon, but it brought him a strange sort of comfort for her to be so at ease with him. He didn’t know why, but it did. A very small part of him hoped that this would happen more often. He cared for Jana and Anaya, but not the same way he cared for his family. This was different. A good different. 

When they arrived at the school, Crosshair found Jana seated at her desk, where she worked on some papers. He knocked on the door frame to announce his and Anaya’s arrival which caused both mother and daughter to lift their heads at the sound. He was pretty sure his heart stopped at the smile on Jana’s face when she saw them. Anaya waved excitedly from her perch but made no movement to get down. 

“Well hello there!” Jana greeted as she got up from her desk and approached them, “Did you two have a nice day?”

Anaya and Crosshair nodded, the former just slightly more enthusiastic. 

“She, uh, did fall earlier,” Crosshair mentioned nervously, “Scuffed up her hands but she was fine otherwise.”

“Crosshair kissed it!” Anaya excitedly added. 

“Did he now? Well, then I say it’s definitely all better now.”

Jana then offered for Anaya to come to her, to which she happily went. Crosshair felt his heart swell at the sight of them. Maker help him. 

“Thank you again for looking after her,” Jana said as she turned back to Crosshair. He simply nodded. He didn’t mind. He would do it again if she asked. 

Jana then set Anaya down before she began to gather her things to head out. They all exited together and were about to go their separate ways when Jana suddenly turned to him. 

“Would you like to come to dinner tonight?” she asked and Crosshair stopped breathing, “As a thank you I mean.”

“I uh-” he began but she interrupted again.

“Wait. That was stupid of me. You probably already have dinner plans with your family. My apologies, forget I asked.” 

She began to turn away again when he called out, “I don’t! Have dinner plans, I mean.”

“Oh.”

Neither of them said anything for several moments. He didn’t know what to say. He wanted to have dinner with her but she just said to forget it. Was he still invited or not? 

“Well, if you're still interested, you can stop by before sundown,” she broke the silence, her eyes glued to the floor, “I usually feed Anaya around then before getting her to bed.”

“Okay.”

When she looked back up, her smile blinded him as she waved goodbye and that she would see him later.

If Crosshair wasn’t in over his head before he definitely was now. Strangely enough though, he didn’t mind.

Hope you all enjoyed it!!

@summer-of-bad-batch

[changeyourperspective]

Day 21 of 75 done! I can’t believe it’s been 3 weeks since running the challenge! I missed a day due to a super bad migraine Friday night but I’m back on my regular schedule of 75 Hard and it’s become so much easier than in the beginning. It now feels like a normal part of my routine to fit in two workouts, read 10 pages, meal prep healthy meals, and whatnot. As I’m entering my 4th week, there are a few things I’d like to tweak around a bit since I had an off day today (ate cake today for my nieces 5th birthday) and although I’m not super strict in the eating department due to just being careful to to my past E.D, I do want to make sure I’m not overindulging in sugar and using the “I don’t need to be super strict” mentality as an excuse to continue eating sugary foods. Not eating sugary foods right now is not going to kill me, I can survive without it lol and I can still eat balanced meals throughout this program. I’m so excited to enter week 4 and can’t wait for this coming Sundays weigh in! Fingers crossed still be 170 🤞🏽

[lovecraftianlatino]

Original Content - Week 3, Post 1

• Share your strategy for tackling a longer project with less stress

I try and make a list of everything that needs to get done. It’s easier to space out the work if I know all the moving parts at the start. Then just try and tackle it little by little.

I’m finding that difficult to do though. I work long shifts at the hospital, 12 hour days. So days I work (like today) can be difficult to squeeze time into. Same goes for days off. Working two days of 12 hours makes the third day I’m off a slog focus wise.

So, just trying to fit in reading and course work as I can.

I’m working on trying to keep my head clear. I found it makes setting aside time to focus easier and helps prevent anxiety. (Something that loves to loiter despite my best efforts to have it get lost.)

[gawrk]

Week 3

I know that I mostly write here stuff for myself. But I cant help but ask whether it makes sense to pin the picture of my planner here. It mostly looks the same. Nothing new. If something happens, I usually just tell it in the post. Unfortunately I don't have any photos to pin here today as I didn't have much time to pay attention to the beauty of the sky.

This week I did not visit gym. I got sick and nobody knows what the diseiase is. And if there is a disease. One day my stomach hurt for the whole day. Ring-ring for the ambulance to come. After some time it arrived and all I got is a painkiller syringe (I was really happy to get it) and lots of questions. Right now I'm fine. I take some medication and follow not-so-strict diet and visit different doctors, undergo lots of procedures to find out what it was that made me hurt that bad.

This week I missed a couple of days of planned study. But I managed to catch up once I felt better. Tomorrow is the last day of my sick leave and I will return to university. Not gonna lie, I'm kinda lazy. And I have some homework to do, including analysis of an extract of a text we read on analytical reading. I hate writing that stuff. I love essays and all, but its not an essay. It is a boring, annoying work of analazyng what author ment by this, by that, what stylistic devices he uses and blah blah blah. Its boring, and texts are not THAT interesting to really enjoy analyzing it. And whenever I passed any of the analysis it was NEVER good enough, something is aaalway wrong. I know, we learn from our mistakes, but its so upsetting that even when you put your heart into it, its not good enough. At least I'm happy we don't get graded, it is ether "done/not done"

Other than that I have to translate an article in encyclopedia from English to Russian. But I'll make it. I should have done that a couple of weeks ago but I cant help but wait till the last moment.

Ugh, well, that was a large yapping session. Idk if anyone would read it until this point haha. Thank you for reading, if you are still here

[true--north]

• THE WOLF MOON • prompt: myth • pairing: Elsa x Hans • albino!Elsa, Northuldra, animal magic, medieval AU, suggestive, ambiguous ending •

Elsa was going to spend all night in a vigil. As a noaidi, she vowed to do her best to help others. But something wasn't working. No matter how much she asked the Spirits to heal old Yelana, she still was sick. The Spirits refused her offerings. So Elsa was going to try again and again while there was still hope.

She went deep into the dark forest, built a fire, and placed a wooden bowl of reindeer blood, and fish she intended to present to the Spirits, on the snow. Alone in the night, Elsa let down her hair, took off her girdle, sat down, and sang an invocation.

She closed her eyes and let her spirit merge with the Nature around her. But not the patrons of the tribe, something else, something alien, has come to meet her calling.

A ghostly white wolf circled around the fire, howling with her song, its weightless paws leaving no footprints in the snow. Elsa sprang to her feet, threatening the beast with an enchanted dagger made of whale bone.

It was a foreign spirit, not of their forest, but, surprisingly, she sensed no hostility. Only longing. Only sorrow. The wolf stopped, looking at her pleadingly, then disappeared into the forest.

Elsa set off after it. The wolf looked back at her, leading her somewhere.

Towards the glacier at the edge of the forest. At the last aspen, the wolf took one last look at her, and merged with the purple shadows. Elsa stepped forwards cautiously, and fixed her eyes on the glacier. There, inside the frozen river was a young man, frozen into the thickness of blue ice.

He looked like the people from the Fjord Lands, from the stone houses. Those whom the people of the Forest, her people, have always feared. He was handsome, this stranger. He had a mane of long red hair and freckles on his high cheekbones. He wore a fur cloak and a tunic of fine grey wool, and had a beautiful silver torc around his neck, and an iron sword.

So that's why the wolf spirit had called her to save its master, Elsa realised. So the man was a sorcerer, since he had a spirit helper? She didn't really feel like doing that, but could she leave a man helpless, even if he was an enemy? She couldn't. The Spirits wouldn't approve of that. So she went to pick her things she left behind, and made a new fire by the glacier.

She sat and watched the prisoner of the ice, and waited. When his body went limp, she laid him closer to the fire, and rubbed his strong chest and broad shoulders with a cloth and warming herbal ointment to draw fire to his heart, and then she drew a healing rune on his heart, dipping her forefinger in reindeer blood.

The ice man opened his eyes, and Elsa thought they looked like the youthful leaves of April aspens. "Where are they? Who are you?"

"You are in the Northuldra lands. We are alone here."

He sat up and stared dazedly at Elsa. At her white fur coat and beads, whale knife, drum, and loose hair. "Who are you?"

"I am Spirit Talker. Who are you? I saved you, you owe me the truth."

The man's eyes flashed mysteriously. He squared his shoulders.

"I am Hans, the thirteenth son of the konung Magnus. My brothers wanted to get rid of me. And it seems they have almost succeeded." And he told her about his family. Of the cruel father who kept many women in slavery, and of the children from them, all sons, each of whom tried to surpass the others in strength and ferocity so as not to end up at the bottom of the pyramid. In the place of the youngest. His.

"Why are they doing this to you?" Elsa couldn't imagine how a brother could hate his brother enough to bewitch him to die a cruel way like this, imprisoned in a block of ice.

"Because I'm not like them. I'm different." Hans replied in a low voice, glaring at her with a heart wrenching yearning. "I see I can share that with you, O Spirit Talker." He meant her white hair, and colourless skin, and almost invisible eyelashes, and eyes the colour of ice, everything that made her so different from her family; from all people, in fact.

"My people never hurt me because I was different," she shook her head, "But they thought I was born...this way for a reason, that I was marked by the Spirits and should belong to them, not to people." An honourable duty, but so lonesome. Elsa knew the forest and the mysteries of Nature's magic much better than human warmth and love.

Hans smiled strangely, the firelight dancing a wild dance in his eyes. "Then we are not so different, after all. Once people see your true face, they reject you and run in fear."

"True face?" Elsa raised an eyebrow.

A huge white wolf ploughed her down into the snow. His eyes were as green as a spring forest and its bloodthirsty mouth was bright red. Black claws dug painfully into her shoulders. He snarled.

"So this is why your brothers hate you..." she exhaled, fearless. "Will you be the monster they think you are, Hans, son of Magnus?"

The wolf blinked, and after a moment returned to his true appearance. Or was it the other way round, and the human form was a disguise for the wolf son...? Hans lay on top of her, his lips an inch from hers, his quickened breathing sweet and warm, his hands pleasantly heavy on her waist and hips. A strange longing echoed in Elsa's chest. She imagined them alone in her lonely lavvu, naked, buried in lush reindeer and fox furs, and his caresses on her body a hot, liquid fire.

"Is Spirit Talker your true name?"

But she had no time to utter it. Hans pressed a kiss on her lips, and after a few agonisingly sweet moments he was a wolf again, leapt off her and raced off into the darkness of the forest.

She sat up and listened to the echo of his howling. The winter moon was full that night, round and yellow as amber, and its call was one that no living soul could resist.

"It's Elsa." she said.

@helsaweenfun

[silentsoul06]

Original Content Writing (3/3)

research question - what did you learn about writing a research question that can be answered through social media data + content strategy ideas? How will this help you in this module?

I learned that the question and the hypothesis have to relate to the data you are going to collect. I have already collected my data and I am having a hard time rewriting my question and hypothesis to be able to be answered by the data. My original requires too much data collection, time, and highlights the wrong things to analyze, so I have to rewrite it to fit with the data I have already collected. It was difficult for me to come up with a research question to begin with, so I am going to try to rewrite the one from the first project. I would love any and all tips (and examples of research questions)!

[sillygoose-stuff]

Strategies for reducing stress when working on larger projects

College has made me 10 times better at managing my time when working on long projects. I've gotten a lot better at working on things before hand, and not leaving everything until last minute like I did in high school.

One thing that has helped is making a list of everything I have to do during the week, or everything that I want to get done on a specific day. This list holds me accountable and ensures that everything that needs to get done, gets done.

Breaking things down into smaller parts also helps. Big projects don't usually get done in one day, so breaking things into smaller parts makes the entire thing a little more manageable.

[kybercrystals94]

A Dangerous Dance

Read here on Ao3!

Summer of Bad Batch 2024 | Week 3 | Prompt: "It's just a scratch."

Rated: G | Words: 540 Minor CW: Someone accidentally cuts their hand, but the minor injury is not described in detail.

The Mandalorian trainer pulls a knife from the sheath strapped around his vambrace, and twirls the short blade deftly between his fingers. The man isn’t even looking at the weapon, his eyes following the movements of his sparring clone cadets. If he notices the shaggy headed cadet unabashedly watching him in the far corner, he doesn’t give any indication. 

Awestruck, Hunter doesn’t notice an enemy attack approaching until Crosshair charges into him, tackling him to the ground and pinning him. “Pay attention, idiot,” Crosshair growls. “It’s no fun getting the advantage if you aren’t even trying.” 

Hunter squirms in Crosshair’s hold. “Fine. Get off.” 

Crosshair rolls to his feet and puts out a hand to help Hunter up. Hunter grudgingly accepts the offer, his brother yanking him up roughly. The two get back into ready position, and while Hunter does put his all into the exercise, he can’t quite stop himself from occasionally glancing at the Mandalorian, the blade catching the light as it flits in a dangerous dance between his fingers. 

Hunter grins to himself. He can do that. 

***

“That is not a training knife,” Tech observes critically when Hunter pulls the very real weapon from his bag. “Where did you get that?” 

“I found it,” Hunter says. 

Crosshair rolls his eyes. “More like stole it.” 

“You stole it?” Wrecker gasps. 

Hunter frowns. “I borrowed it. I’ll put it back when I’m done.” 

“Done with what?” Tech asks. 

“I wanted to try something,” Hunter says. He’d been practicing with his rubber training knife for weeks, and he’s gotten pretty good in his opinion.

“Please tell me you are not going to try spinning that sharp knife around your fingers,” Tech says.

Hunter flashes Tech a grin. “I’m not gonna try.”

“Yeah,” Crosshair says, sitting down at the table, folding his arms and resting his chin on them. “He’s gonna cut his fingers off on purpose.”

“Could he really cut off his fingers?” Wrecker cries, alarmed. 

“If not his fingers, then his entire hand,” Crosshair says. 

“I’m not going to cut anything off,” Hunter assures Wrecker, “I’ve been practicing, and I know what I’m doing.” 

***

Hunter holds his bleeding hand over the fresher sink. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just a little scratch.” 

“A little scratch does not bleed profusely,” Tech deadpans, examining the wound before pouring bacta over it. Hunter hisses, jerking away, but Tech’s tight grip on his wrist prevents a full retreat. “Please hold still.” 

Wrecker and Crosshair crowd in the doorway, watching. 

“It did look really cool,” Wrecker appeases, “Well, until you sliced your hand open.” 

“I didn’t slice my hand,” Hunter growls. “It’s just a scratch.” 

“If you keep telling yourself that, maybe it’ll come true,” Crosshair snarks. 

Hunter glares. “Maybe if you shut up, I won’t sock you in the jaw.” 

Crosshair grins back triumphantly. “I’d like to see you try with that gimp hand of yours.”

“I advise you let the cut heal before you get into a physical altercation with anyone,” Tech says, wrapping a bandage around Hunter’s palm. 

Hunter huffs, glancing at the knife balanced on the edge of the sink. He just needs to practice with his rubber blade for a few more weeks before he tries again. 

END

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