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#second only to me actually playing Sniper which is worse
oh-three · 16 days
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TBB S3E7:
TBB S3E7:
There's the Teth trailer shot.
Ahhh, Mr. Assassin's looking a bit worse for wear.
Ayyy, escape route!
Lmaooo, Rex relying on Echo for backup, as if our guy's not booked on getting Gregor. Really does have a full schedule, doesn't he?
Glad to see that Wolffe's still in there. And being his usual self.
Ooh, the assassin's got no comms.
LMAO, the assassin just fucking jumped down there, like, "hey, I'm not letting you finish what I was told to do."
Rex, your flashlight 😭
SMART MOVE, CROSS.
They're gonna get shot down, aren't they.
"Don't worry, she only bites half of the time." 🤣
Yepppppp, and there's that. Saw that one coming. No way it was that easy.
Me trying to decide if it's Rex or the Batch that has a habit of crashing, or whether it's just them being together:
Wolffe really does hate the assassin right about now. Which, fair, he's literally doing things the exact opposite of them. That would be annoying for anybody.
"You're as bad as Hunter." / "Oh, I'm much worse." LMAO. Cross is in full dad mode and fully aware of it, and now he's turned it into a whole thing. I love him. These boys can't not compete about anything.
Howzer reluctantly admitting that this Crosshair is different from the Crosshair that he blames for getting his squad killed. 👏
"The operative's gone rogue." Saw that coming, too. I want to say it's further confirmation toward it being Tech, but that voice was definitely a modulated reg's.
Wolffe, your team sucks.
Nemeccccc 😭
"I'll draw his fire. Get to the rendezvous." Brainwashed sniper vs malfunctioning sniper 😬
WHOA, WHAT THE HELL.
LOOK, I KNEW THIS SEEMED LIKE A BIT OF A SACRIFICE PLAY, BUT I WAS NOT EXPECTING HIM TO THROW THEM INTO THE FUCKING WATERFALL.
Oh, thank god, he survived that. We're still short a couple of Cross trailer shots.
Howzer saving Cross from going over the second waterfall and actually drowning (holy fuck, a drowning attempt in Star Wars) despite his reservations toward him. 😭
"Wolffe?" / "Rex?" Ayyy, mutual shock.
Wolffe just putting his blasters away and going, "I thought you were dead." 😭
WOLFFE, FAIR TRIALS DON'T EXIST FOR CLONES IN THE EMPIRE.
"As your brother, I'm asking you to do the right thing." 😭
TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH, ECHO.
Ayyy, Wolffe telling the men to stand down because he can see the truth in Rex's words, and he can't keep going forward without at least looking into it.
"But, sir, they're traitors." / "Perhaps. But they're clones. We owe them that." The way they all just accept to respect their fellow clones despite the sides of the newfound war they're in 😭
THE ASSASSIN LIVED. HE'S GOT PLOT ARMOR. TECH, IS THAT YOU.
"Rex, you can't win this fight. The Empire is too strong." 😭
Dark-toned Omega theme.
Fuckkk, I want to watch another episode. Is it next week yet.
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humanmorph · 17 days
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that just reminded me.
Still listening to C/W 42: A Splintered Branch, A Ringing Bell Pt. 2 (very slowly). I straight-up forgot how Ibex died. Maybe I even forgot /that/ he died at all? In my memory he just kind of slinked into the background by the end of C/W? Which to be fair does happen, then he just goes to a ball/auction and after that gets fairly violently killed onscreen. By Maryland!!! His last words! Literally no idea how I forgot about that. I also loooove "[...] Aria, you notice Righteousness flees into you". Great phrasing. I love when Divines are afraid... oh and this whole battle starts with / because of Liberty not be able to be Unfree anymore too. I love when Divines are selfish and themselves and act dangerously. Which is why - (SHORT PALISADE INTERMISSION) - the end to the last PAL ep had me so extremely excited. Things are turning out great for me, an Integrity fan, because it is afraid and reacting violently to things it perceives as a threat. I should not have been worried that the avenue for it to get worse was cut off entirely (I was extremely hesitant about it finding an Elect on the Blue Channel, but ended up really happy with the Thisbe scene). It did still spend decades with Dahlia. It did still very violently lose them. (BACK TO COUNTER/WEIGHT.)
I was also thinking about Tower during this first Rigour fight (like, "oh I bet he pilots this one, it's really wide and tall") and then a sentence later he gets shot by Jill. Awesome
AUSTIN (as Tower): It was only ever a delay. AUSTIN: And then the screw hits. And it’s just like, single shot, frozen, red. His face twisting. And you never thought a person who was so sweet could look so cruel. As he dies.
Great line from Austin though. What's really funny is that literally right after Keith goes "Hey guys, my audio cut out for a second?" and everyone including me immediately thinks it is a bit (it was not a bit).
Oh, I also took notice of Jill's mech, which is described as a sniper mech with armor that it's able to drop off to make it more agile... Made me think of Millie + the Stray Dog : > Whether it was a purposeful spin on an old idea or just Sylvia thinking the same things are cool 3(?) years later (she's right), it was just fun for me to go "oh!!!" about it.
Overall I think I probably had more fun with this Free-for-All than on my first listen. I'm just able to imagine it better now, having listened to them describe mech combat better and also, maybe more importantly, having actually watched some stuff with mechs in it.
+ unrelated to this scene (Keith specifies he's not there & instead somewhere safe. Aw) but I forgot how much Lazer Ted actually shows up in the finale. Or at least just more than I thought. Austin just sounds like he really likes doing the voice... And he does play off Mako well... built to play well off Mako & then also anything funny a cast member says in or out of character. I do like him.
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vespertine-legacy · 2 years
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Critty actually had a full roster last night, so I got to watch them prog R4, and let me tell you, R4 is going to absolutely murder my computer since every boss has huge visual tells for the mechanics and huge graphical “you are now getting your shit obliterated” mechanics, but it looks very fun. Though if I ever need to dps it, I am probably going to have to learn to play a ranged spec better than “trash” (I can kind of faceroll some of the ‘slinger/sniper specs, and I’m kinda picking back up facerolling the sorc/sage specs, but I have never even tried to play merc/commando dps).
The person streaming didn’t have the quest for the storyline, so those of us watching didn’t get any of the dialogue/cutscenes for what’s actually going on (which is fine, I’m kind of excited to see that for myself, but still mad I need to run like 20+ more toons through Dxun to get them eligible for the mission, I do at least have it on 3 of them lol).
Tons of opportunities to fall to your death, to get lost, to get stuck in weird things. 10/10 environment.
Thoughts on the fights, from what I saw on stream:
First boss didn’t seem too complicated, but there’s definitely a benefit to having some strong rdps, and I’m worried about what my lag is gonna be like with all of the animations. I’m glad that the symbols to break the shields have different colors and shapes, so it’s at least a little more accessible (although it was funny to watch the stream chat yelling about “it’s not an octagon you idiot, it’s a hexagon). All of the mechanics are pretty clearly telegraphed (and it’s very “I warned you I was gonna do that, if you didn’t move out of it, it’s your fault you’re dead”), it’s immediately apparently which terminals you need to click in order to break the shields. The boss’s cast in the final phase is probably a dps check - beat it or you’re dead.
Second boss looked like it had some elements of the Ancient Guardian Droid from Nathema (not just in the design of the boss itself, but in the mechanics for the tank), but again, I’m worried for what my lag will do. Looked like some opportunities to blow each other up if a pull is going badly. This fight is all about positioning, because you need to keep certain circles and get the fuck out of others. Probably a good idea to stack on pull to keep the field clear of the first missile launch. There’s some fun red light/green light bullshit where if you’re a certain color and you move, you die. Then there’s a point where the tank has to hide behind someone who has the opposite color of the beam the boss is charging at them (it looks to me like hiding behind the Hunter Probe during the Nathema guard dog fight) in order to not take any damage, but at least in SM, it can almost entirely be mitigated by a sorc bubble if no one gets there in time. I couldn’t hear all of the ARIA dialogue during the fight, but it sounded like she was giving pretty good directions.
Hell Hallway is a bit like the hallway in the Seeker Droid final mission where you’re trying to do the batteries for the generator/bomb thingy and the enemies keep coming and it’s easy to get overwhelmed, only it’s Worse and Red, but you can Divide and Conquer for clicking the panels, kill the big glowy thing that is attracting more of them, and ez peazy. (everyone re-spec’d to dot spread for the Hallway, and even with Shatter Burst getting nerfed, they just smashed the bajesus out of everything; sidenote, now that Shatter Burst has been nerfed, I’m wondering if I can keep up with juggs on lethality on trash...).
Third boss looked kind of like if Tyrans took a lot of drugs? I talked with one of them for a really long time about ways the mechanics could better be controlled (based on what I saw on stream that he hadn’t seen from his pov and what seemed reasonable to be able to do because of one of the achievements for the fight). It seemed to me like the group can somewhat control where the rot is appearing/hardening to ensure they have more of the field still available (and to keep the corners clear for the achievement). We also talked about, but they didn’t try, whether or not the Fire Probes can be moved by friendly movement abilities like the PT/Vanguard tank grapple and sorc/sage pull, to reposition them rather than waiting for them to doot along into a good position (I feel like they have to be, because they move so slowly, and you can’t just wait for them).
They ended up not clearing third boss, so I haven’t actually seen last boss.
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callsignbaphomet · 2 years
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So it’s been a few days of playing with the Horizon mod and conclusion is...it’s not one I wanna keep in my load order.
Pros: - Fantastic mod for upping the difficulty of the game especially when you raise the game’s difficulty. You will literally be killed by radroaches in less than 5 bites. The difficulty gets even worse the higher your level to the point where it makes progression hard. I’d say it’s a little less forgiving than even modern From Software games are. I really, really felt frustration trying to clear area of Super Mutants that could kill me in one shot if one of them had a sniper.
- You don’t actually die. There’s a system where once your health hits zero, and believe me it’s gonna happen a lot, your companion will drag your almost corpse back to the last settlement you were in and you “wake up” with just enough health left to be able to stand. You lose some caps and some items but you’re free to heal up and try again. This was an amazing addon as normally when you die the game loads the last save you did which it coulda been as soon as you walked into an area or building or 4 hours ago.
- You don’t just heal. You have healing items that you can use only in combat or only outside of combat and it doesn’t heal you completely, just portions depending on your skills and perks. Food, level ups and drinks don’t heal you anymore. Sleeping still does but I think broken limbs are strictly healed with only one item you find and/or make.
- Perks and skills actually matter here. You really wanna look over the perks and skills which were revamped carefully. Make sure to read everything and see what you need and want and build around it.
- Enemy spawns were reworked so you’d have more and more frequent encounters and the numbers in the group are random. I reeeeeaaaally appreciated this a lot.
- The mod itself is a huge replacer for a ton of mods. And I do mean a loooooot of mods. This also reworks building and modifying clothes and weapons which is both a pro and a con imho. And that leads us to...
Cons: - Most of the heavy work, aside from not dying to enemy fire, was leveling up skills which mostly level up as you do activities tied to said skills. Ballistics would be raised by making bullets, but bullets require items and some items are only obtained if another skill is high enough for it and that depends on yet on another skill’s level. It’s extremely demanding and I am not a fan of raising levels by just doing things. I hated it in Skyrim and I hate it now in 2022. This was why I decided to not stick with this mod. The skills are crazy levels of demanding and even I don’t have the time for that. I spent an hour just leveling up ballistics to make ballistic weave materials to make ballistic weave so I could survive enemy bullets and lasers. I reached a kind of cap and had no idea how to keep leveling it up so I was stuck and couldn’t keep progressing unless I hit F5 every 3 seconds. I want a challenge not a high maintenance grind.
- Modding around this mod is...tedious. It needs so many patches. So. Many. Patches. to work with other mods that I refuse to not have in my LO. I had 10 patches running together with this mod. I honestly thought it was gonna brick the save.
- Maybe I wasn’t looking hard enough but I didn’t really see a potential for builds. Every perk and skill was needed in order to just survive or make something needed to survive. I know base FO4 suffered from this already but was hoping this mod would rectify it.
More pros than cons but the first con I mentioned was the con that really made me wanna uninstall it. Would I recommend this mod? Yes, but with an asterisk attached to it. I honestly cannot not mention the high maintenance grind it is to level up skills. Had it not been for that the mod woulda been perfect for me but as it stands it’s a 9/10 for me. I’m currently checking other “difficult” game mods and I have one to try it out. Hopefully it’s what I’m looking for though ngl I’m mourning missing out on everything else from Horizon.
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bookshelfpassageway · 4 years
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in TF2 today I ran into a 13-yo playing Medic (bless you you brave soul) and a guy using his mic with infinite hours of gameplay, and the latter was actually... Very supportive and giving tips on playing Medic, and taking the time to point out the stuff they were doing right, and actively warning people to NOT give the kid any flack for being new (~30 hours in the game). People who are knowledgeable about these types of games scare me, but that guy was cool
also u go u lil baby medic. live ur dreams. ur keepin this game alive
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dreamwritesimagines · 3 years
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Burn The Witch 1 - Decoy [Bucky Barnes x Reader]
A.N: Here we go my loves, the first chapter! ❤ I hope you like it, and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤
As always, I don’t own anything.
Word Count: 2200
Warnings: Mentions of blood, violence, death, manipulation, language.
Summary: Trouble has a way of following certain people.
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Sometimes you wondered whether you would run away screaming when you were a child if you knew what kind of a person you would turn into.
It wasn’t exactly your fault though. For years and years, several people had put the blame on several different things. Eventually they would reach the same conclusion though; the psychiatrists, your superiors, the very few people you could call your family, they all agreed on one thing.
It wasn’t you, it was the abandonment.
The abandonment you went through when you were a teenager had somehow started this domino, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop this constant fall, not even you.
But as you would figure out soon, you were lucky. Instead of being consumed by your anger, you could direct it somewhere else. You were recruited and trained from a very young age, and somewhere along the way, you realized that if you wanted to survive you were going to have to sacrifice certain things.
Forgiveness was the first one to disappear. Guilt was another.
Then fear.
Then, love.
Ah well. Worse things happen in the world every day.
If anything it made your job easier.
You cracked your neck and opened the door to your apartment, the key sticking to your fingers because of the blood on your hands for a moment and you made a face as you shut the door, leaning back.
A very long shower and a bottle of wine sounded like a good idea.
You placed your gun on the table, took the dagger strapped to your thigh out of its holster and got the knives out of the heels of your shoes before flinging yourself onto your couch and turning the TV on.
“Also called Sokovia Accords 2.0 by the critics—“
“What the superheroes think about this remains a mystery—“
“The first time caused a huge rift between Captain America and Iron Man but nobody knows the new Captain America Sam Wilson’s comment on it—“
You didn’t get to change the channel again when your phone started vibrating in your pocket, making you sit up straight. You muted the TV, and checked the caller I.D before you answered.
“Hey there.”
“Hi, how’s Paris?” the cheerful voice of your best friend reached you, “Had enough croissants yet?”
A small smile pulled at your lips. After your only parental figure had left you to go God knew where, General had decided to adopt you and raise you like a daughter. His actual daughter Chloe had welcomed you with open arms, and you had been best friends since then.
Her being the top analyst of the division didn’t hurt either.
“Mm hm, because that’s all I’m doing. Eating croissants, visiting museums—”
“Killing and maiming targets...” she mused, finishing your sentence for you and you heaved a sigh.
“Somehow that last one isn’t included in the city guide,” you pointed out. “Chloe, you know this is a line for—“
“Official contact from General, yeah yeah,” she said, “In my defense, you didn’t pick up the phone an hour ago when I called you from my phone.”
“Do you know how hard it is to use touch screen when your hands are covered in blood?”
“What happened to your sniper rifle, did it fall into Seine?”
“It required close combat,” you said, “And the target swallowed the chip before I could get it, so I had to perform a spontaneous autopsy.”
“Just so you know, whenever you talk about your job I have to watch like a hundred cute videos after I hang up.”
“Happens.” you said, “How’s everything?”
“You missed us already?”
You grinned, “Maybe.”
“Good, because dad wants you back. He’ll contact you any day now.”
Your head snapped up and you stood up from the couch, “Really?”
“Duh. Have you seen how negotiations for these new Accords are going? It’s going to be a mess and we need you here.”
“The second one hasn’t passed officially.”
“Well no, but you know how my father thinks.” she said and you tilted your head.
“Are we sure it’s General who wants me there and not you?”
“Okay, that was one prank ages ago and I didn’t hear the end of it!” she protested, “Don’t you trust me at all?”
“Nope.”
“You know, I’m being the perfect friend and calling you to give you some good news but if you’re going to be like this, my news can wait until you get here.”
You pulled your brows together, “What news?”
“What do I get in return?”
“My endless gratitude,” you deadpanned, “Come on. What news?”
“You can’t tell anyone yet but I think you’re getting a promotion.”
Your breath got caught in your throat, “You’re joking.”
“Don’t forget about me when you become a handler, you hear me?” She let out a laugh, I need friends in high places.”
“Your dad runs the division Chloe. It doesn’t get any higher than that.”
“That doesn’t count!”  
You pressed a hand over your chest, “Just— what kind of a promotion are we talking about?”
“I mean I snooped around his files and casually committed treason.” she said, “But even I don’t know yet. They must be still making the adjustments.”
You opened your mouth to reply but then your phone vibrated again and you lowered it to check the message on the screen.
It was simple but again, all his texts were simple and to the point.
From: General
Time to come back. Jet leaves in 2 hours.
Here goes my shower and wine night.
“Chloe?” you said, walking to the sink to wash your hands so that you could start packing, “You want anything from here? I’m coming home.”
                                              ***
The best thing about being on the move all the time was that you could pack in minutes and the division would take care of the things you had left behind.
Apartments, belongings-
Not that you carried any belongings with you, or bought any more than necessary. It would’ve made you form a bond, which was less than ideal for any spy.
You suppressed the yawn splitting your face and made your way to General’s office. This jet-lag was going to make your life pretty difficult in the following 24 hours, and you were painfully aware of it, but it wasn’t like you could just ask for some time to rest.
That could wait. Your job was more important.
“General?” you knocked on the half open door and he raised his head to look at you before motioning you to enter the room.
“Y/N,” he said, “Close the door please. It’s good to have you back.”
“Thank you sir.”
“Take a seat,” he said and you cleared your throat, then perched on the edge of the chair.
“I’ve heard you eliminated the threat and got rid of our target quite fast,” he said, “And we have the chip now.”
You nodded silently, pushing your hair behind your ear.
“Well, that shows me you’re ready for the next step,” he said “No reason to beat around the bush, you’re getting a promotion.”
Pride burst through your system but you tried to control your expression to stop the grin threatening to pull at your lips.
“Thank you sir.”
“Here are the details for your next mission,” he said, handing you a file that was stamped as Top Secret and you flipped the page to find information about your next identity.
Alias: Shrike
“Shrike,” you murmured to yourself, turning the pages, “Like the bird?”
“Mm hm. I assume you’ve heard about the Accords issue?”
You looked up, “Only a little,” you said, “The first one was a disaster and the government had to drop it after The Blip due to the public’s reaction, resurrected people insisted that the superheroes were the ones who saved them, not the government. Then the government said they would go over the details and change it in a way that would benefit both the public and the superheroes, but I haven’t seen the new version.”
“There were some adjustments but to be honest with you, it’s the same deal. We can’t have superheroes running wild with no orders,” he said, “I need you on both fronts, one with terminating specific targets, and one with….well, you’ll see.”
You flipped the page and blinked a couple of times, your stomach dropping.
You were good, but you weren’t that good.
“You- you’re sending me after Captain America, sir?”
“Ah no,” he said, “Don’t worry. Wilson doesn’t have a past we can use against him, and trust me, we checked. The guy is an actual hero but we need a bad guy.”
You turned the page and shut your eyes for a moment.
Bucky Barnes.
Right. You should’ve known.
The government wanted and needed Captain America on their side, but Bucky Barnes could fall for all they cared.
“Sir I appreciate your trust in my abilities but not even an army could take down the Winter Soldier the last time—” you started but General shook his head.
“Y/N, you’re not going to kill him,” he said, “That’s the second front I was talking about. We need you to get close to him, to form a personal bond and gather intel we can use in the future.”
You gawked at him, “I’m sorry?”
“Barnes is the perfect candidate. He can help us with necessary information to prove to the public that superheroes need to answer to someone; us. Besides if it all goes bad, we can just say he was a threat. With that kind of past no one would think he was innocent to begin with.”
Your head was spinning. Scratch that, the whole room was spinning.
You were good at finding and terminating targets, not forming personal bonds or playing this
“When you say get close to him….” You trailed off, your voice way too weak and he smiled slightly.
“You’re an attractive woman, I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that.”
That. That was your promotion.
Not an operations officer, not a handler, but a lover who also happened to kill people.
They were going to use you as a honey trap for him.
“Sir, I don’t think-“ you started, but he held up a hand.
“Before you say no,” he said, “Let me remind you that this will benefit your career greatly, and you will have your own team. Show us you can handle it, and the position you want will be within your reach, you have my word. You want to be a handler, don’t you?”
You dragged your fingernails on the file, deep in thought.
“Barnes is one of the many dangerous people we may need to stop one day, and the only way to do it is to keep him under control and learn everything he knows until we’re ready to take him in.”
“But if these new Accords don’t pass—“ you started but he shook his head.
“Even if they don’t, and that’s a big if,” he said, “He’s still a valuable asset to have. We all have to perform certain missions, Y/N. Even if we don’t particularly like them. You will thank me in the future, when your career flourishes.”
Your blinked a couple of times, a bitterness appearing in your mouth.
“Of course,” you managed to say, “You’re— you’re right sir. It’s a good plan. I accept the position.”
“Great!” he clapped his hands together, “We have a target for you for tomorrow night, there’s this gallery opening. He needs to be eliminated, I think you can handle that? Start planning how it will go with Barnes as well, we can’t lose any time.”
You pursed your lips together and closed the file, “Of course.”
“Congratulations.” he leaned in slightly, “Your dad would be so proud of you if he could see you now.”
You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but it felt like it was getting bigger and bigger.
“I don’t need his approval,” you rasped out and walked to the door, but stopped when you heard him speak.
“Shrike,” he used your alias for the first time and you looked over your shoulder.
“Yes?”
“I don’t have to remind you that this mission is top secret. If he figures out who you are, or what you’re up to…” he clicked his tongue, “Kill him.”
You paused for a moment, then tilted your head and smiled at him.
“As you wish, sir.” you managed to say, then walked out of his office as if someone was chasing you. You made your way straight to the bathroom and slammed the file on the marble counter, then pulled out the small picture sticking out from the corner. It was an old black and white picture of him with Steve Rogers, probably taken in the 40s, both of them smiling. 
When you lowered the picture to attach it back to the paper, your eyes caught the tiny print under his aliases.
Confirmed Kills: Exact number unknown (Credited with 100+ assassinations)
You were in way, way over your head now.
“Oh, fuck.”
                                  Chapter 2
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debtdeath · 3 years
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Got any ADHD and Autistic headcanons for scooty booty?
yes i do 😌 seems like this is a popular interpretation of scout because, well, duh lmao and i absolutely love it.
scout's obvious and well-documented hyperactive motormouth personality aside, here are some more subtle traits that i find fun to write and think about:
- the reason why he can just talk endlessly is because he just makes instant connections in his mind between all the things he talks about in ways that aren't really clear to anyone but him. i always lovingly call him stupid but really i think his brain works very fast and the only reason he isn't "smart" is because he just isn't interested in being smart, because that's for nerds and he's not a nerd. he strikes me as the typical kid whose teachers were like "if only you applied yourself jeremy :(" lol
- drawing in his sketchbook is one of the few things for which he can sit still and hyperfixate on for hours on end i think.
- he's a touchy-feely guy which i joke about by saying "he has no object permanence so he needs to hold on to whoever he's talking to" but i just think he likes running his hands through different textures. feels good.
- while im sure they both feel a wide range of emotions quite intensely, in contrast to sniper who represses his emotions and pretends they dont exist, scout just expresses them so much, and that's his way of processing the way he feels, for better or worse. he's dramatic! he loves to complain!
- he has this uncanny photographic memory and really, really good spatial orientation/awareness. he'll take one look at a map and immediately understand where things are and where he's going, and i think that's an understated but very important part of his job that he actually doesn't really brag about because to him this is a normal ability...
- he can probably recite any random baseball stat from the past 50 years out of a corner of his mind in a second, which he insists isn't a "nerdy" thing to do because it's sports. yeah righto nerd lol
- i don't know if this counts BUT i find it extremely fun: scout is a superstitious person... something he might have carried over from watching/playing baseball (especially since he'd be a red sox fan living in the curse of the bambino era) and there definitely are certain things he just has to do for good luck before running into the battlefield.
that's it for now! thank you for asking 🥰
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I decided to watch the Walker pilot so you don’t have to. #1
I don’t know why I’m doing this, but I’m doing this and the more I put it off the less I’ll want to do this. So. Let’s start.
The fist thing we see is Jared Padalecki, em Walker, driving. He’s vaguely smiling and there’s the sun behind him. He seems happy. He’s driving a truck, for some reason my mind goes to Twilight. I’d rather watch that. At least there are vampires (not dressed like clowns) there. Anyway. Walker is meeting someone. He’s meeting his wife! “Look at you!” she says. The camera makes us look at him. He looks like this
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I am unsure whether we’re supposed to see this as sexy or cool. It looks frankly ridiculous. I don’t know if I’m just not American enough to appreciate the aesthetic of this. But I didn’t go through 15 seasons of Americana-in-British-Columbia for nothing. If a character appeared like this on Supernatural, it wouldn’t be presented seriously. It would be played for a chuckle or in a light-hearted way at least. Not even Dean Winchester would find this hot.
The Padaleckis tell something to each other. Apparently he needs to go home with the kids and his parents because it’s game night. My mind immediately goes to Game Night the episode and I am sad now. But Walker lifts my mood in its own weird way.  He doesn’t know the rules because every time she tells him the rules, he blacks out. I would make a fun quip about this, but the truth is that I relate to him a lot right now because I blacked out during the entire scene. I’m not sure what they said other than the game thing because I wrote it here. I already forgot the rest.
Anyway. What we’re supposed to get from this scene that they’re Very In Love (see that soft warm light?), and that he’s anxious because he’s not great at being a father because he’s shit at games apparently, but his wife is like ~don’t worry so much~ because she’s a kind, understanding wife. He tells her to be safe, because the Texan countryside is dangerous or something. She needs to stay on a route he approved for some reason. Is she traveling with supersoldier serum in her car? Is Hydra going to murder her? [cue the Marvel snipers shooting me to death because they don’t want Marvel to be associated to this]
Later, everyone is having fun playing fake monopoly, but Walker (whose mannerism is just Jared, he’s not even trying) is apparently too stupid to understand a game for kids. Plot twist, this is anti-cop propaganda because it says cops are dumb.
“Et tu Brute” Jared says when the kids point out he broke a rule so they get an extra turn. I thought I was safe from hearing Jared speak Latin! I thought I was safe! I am never safe!
Emily (Gen) suddenly texts him “SOS. Answer” which is OMINOUS! Oh my god! Aren’t you feeling the tension. The rest of the family keeps playing fake monopoly. Someone throws dice. Are we supposed to go “oh! The dice are ~symbolic because someone’s playing dice with her life” or have I been watching too much good tv.
She is running somewhere in the countryside, wearing a white shirt (is this the cowboy lady equivalent of the Wife Nightgown?). She says something is not right. He’s worried. Then he hears gunshot and her scream. He does the Alarmed Jared face, presses lips together and does a Upset Jared face.
Then he goes out, tries to call her again, and again, does a Jared Upset Sniff--
Oh! We actually see her! She’s alive, but she’s been shot in the stomach. Her white shirt is definitely the cowboy lady equivalent of the Wife Nightgown! Ah the blood coming from the stomach! How terrible! Her phone is ringing but she cannot reach it. She is definitely alive right now, though. She’s breathing heavily because of the wound, which is breathing, which is the opposite of being dead.
He decides that she’s dead, and lets out the already infamous manly scream of anguish.
It would be sad if it wasn’t that literally one second ago we saw her wounded but alive. Her turning out alive in the season finale or so will shock everyone. Nobody will have seen it coming. Who wrote this? They should have just shown the ringing phone and her bloody hand/side, making the audience assume she was dead, instead of showing her breathing. Now the audience is gonna assume she didn’t actually die, and wonder “why didn’t he call someone or went looking for her” but apparently Jared’s characters have forgotten that, like, ambulances are a thing. Jared’s manly screams of anguish are more important than common sense.
I’m not going to say anything about the manly scream of anguish. I’m not going to say anything about the manly scream of anguish. I’m n
We’re just 4 minutes in, guys. Why am I doing this?
Eleven months later, says the screen.
It’s night, outside a house. The son is waiting for him. The daughter doesn’t think he’s coming. On the porch there are two men, one is his brother and one is apparently his former partner, now new boss. He’s dressed like you’d expect a normal person to be dressed in a casual Texan night, hat and tie and all. If you are law enforcement in Texas and don’t wear a cowboy hat at any moment, you will be executed. That’s what the death penalty in Texas is for.
Somebody arrives, but to the kids’ disappointment is some dude whose function is to tell us the men’s names. The brother is Liam, the cop dude I forgot.
Walker is being sad on the back of his truck and drinking alcohol, which is the only way television can express a man having trauma. Holy shit - he reminisces of his wife like this is some emotional Lord of the Rings scene in a place where Elves live except this is not the Lord of the Rings and is just ridiculous, look
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She’s seen running towards the gazebo, then she turns
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This is exactly shot like the scene where Arwen has a vision of her son. Flowy hair and all. I cannot take this seriously.
He smiles sadly. Then a cop car arrives.
Mexican Lady Cop(TM), whose function in the story is to be a Mexican Lady Cop(TM) asks for his licence since he’s drinking alcohol in a public place.
“You ask so nicely” drunk Walker says. Ew. “Yeah, they train the girls special” Oh! Can you see? She is the Feminist Icon who Takes No Shit from the Dude! I’m so excited. I am slowly losing the will to live.
She drives him home on the police car. His legs don’t fit. At least this is realistic.
He does exposition in the car, including “I needed to visit a ghost instead”. There-there was no need to say it. What’s the demographic they’re aiming for? Five year olds? Do they have to spell everything out loud?
“It’s been a while since I had an actual conversation” he says, which supposedly explains why he’s making awkward exposition, but it’s just bad writing. At least they acknowledge it’s bad writing.
She figures he’s law enforcement coming back from an undercover mission from some drunken ramble he makes. This is worse than the Sherlock phone cable port thing.
She says she just got promoted from state trooper, ehe she will work with him wink wink nudge nudge. Is she going to be a cop-buddy-character slash love interest except when they’re almost about to realize they’re into each other, his wife comes back and draa~ama? I can already see it.
He goes home, makes some Jared grunts, and falls asleep on the couch.
Next morning, he goes out and jogs to where he left the truck. He puts on a cowboy hat which is supposed to be an artistic shot.
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I’m slowly dying. He makes some Jared Deep Breaths, at least this made me laugh.
Wait, he’s now wearing a black hat. He’s in mourning, see? What.
He drives to his father’s ranch. His father is Super Not Impressed. It’s awkward. They took about horses. Mitch Pileggi is thinking that at least the other show was more exciting and there was Jensen Ackles in it.
He gets into his parents’ house and the dogs run to him, he does the Jared Dog Chuckle. He hugs his mom. He hugs his son - “August, my boy!” he says, like a normal person his age says.
He hugs his brother and they joke-wrestle and he says “I’m still the big brother” and did I mention I’m dying inside. I just can tell this is SUPPOSED to be reminiscent of Dean and Sam’s first meeting at Stanford in the pilot except Jared is the big brother now. Ew.
We learn that the brother is a DA and gay. All pilots suffer from Forced Exposition Syndrome but it’s like this isn’t even trying.
He goes to work and hugs (very manly hug of course) his friend-now-boss, who is called James. James asks him if he’s good and he’s like yeah I’m good, which our I’m Fine Lie Moment #1. Some things never change.
Enter the case of the week - a cop offered roadside assistance but he was assaulted. We’re already starting with a “Oh No Poor Cop :( Someone Doesn’t Like Cops And Gets Violent” plot. Yay.
Ta-da! Mexican Lady Cop appears, cowboy hat and all. James says she’s Walker’s new partner. My heart cries while Walker says “figured you’d be a guy” and she replies “so did my mom”. The feminism is so strong :’) She’s such a strong female character :’) I’m so happy :’)
Then Walker makes such a quintessential Jared thing with his mouth that I need to stop this here and take a break.
It’s been 13 minutes. So much still to go. I’m bored. Why am I doing this.
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Stalker X Stalker, Part 11
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Perma tag: @nathleigh @peachmuses
Stalker x Stalker taglist: @aespades @jayjayspixiepop @blueslushgueen @fan-written @seraphichana @nerd-nowandforever @toodaloo-kangaroo
Plot? What's that? I only know domestic fluff
She really didn’t know what to think when Tim asked to move in for a second time the next morning.
On the one hand, it felt like she was taking advantage of him. He’d seen her get shot and she doubted he’d really thought rationally since.
On the other hand… he essentially lived there already and it would do a lot to alleviate the anxiety the both of them had...
She rubbed her eyes -- ha, as if she hadn’t been awake the whole night to make sure he hadn’t had nightmares -- for an excuse to look away while she thought. What should she do? She would be lying if she said she didn’t want him to move in, she knew that was clouding her judgement, but even if she recognized her bias it wasn’t easy to just put it aside.
She sighed lightly and lowered a hand from her eyes. Tim looked really cute after having just woken up with his hair all messy and his eyes half lidded and one of his cheeks slightly flatter where he’d been resting his head against her and who can really say no to that face?
… well, Marinette supposed that would allow both of them to relax a little...
She let her hands drop to rest on top of his.
“Sure, darling. If you want you can move in… but, if you ever want to move out, I won’t stop you. Just ask.”
He cracked a tiny smile. “The only time I’d ever move out of this place is if you were changing apartments.”
She snickered. “Where I go, you go?”
“You have no idea,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “You bats and your dumb cryptic sentences. Would it kill you guys to ever say a single thing directly?”
“Yes. I’m pretty sure that I would drop dead on the spot.”
Her lips twitched. “Oh yeah? Heart attack or sniper?”
“Can’t tell you. I would drop dead on the spot.”
“Damn. Foiled again by the… mystery cause of death!”
The smile on Tim’s face brightened and he looped his arms around her. “You’d save me.”
“Oh? And miss out on my chance to get that rich boy money you probably gave me in your will?”
He schooled his face back into a serious look. “I see. I’ll have to write you out of my will, then. Make sure you bring me back.”
“Nooooooooo! My scheme! Ruined! Now how will I become a millionaire without trying?!”
They looked at each other for a few seconds, his face purposefully smug and hers pinched into a frown…
And then they broke character, giggles falling from their lips and smiles lighting up their faces. She tipped her head forward until it rested against his chest. He squeezed her tighter.
Then, to her surprise, he flopped back on the couch, pulling her with him. “Alright, sleepy time,” he said cheerfully.
“Darling --.”
“You didn’t sleep last night. Sleep.”
She pressed against his chest until she could sit up just enough to glare at him. “I have super strength. May not be as strong as Connor or anything but I can definitely get away from you if I wanted.”
“Of course.” A smug look made its way across his face. “But you wouldn’t hurt your darling, would you?”
She glared harder despite the slight reddening of her cheeks. His smirk didn’t waver.
Marinette huffed and dropped back down. “You’re the worst.”
“You love me.”
She didn’t respond to that, instead just grumbling ‘pillows don’t talk’ and letting herself finally nod off.
~
Having two perfectionists trying to figure out the layout of a limited living space might not have been their brightest idea. They should have, at least, gotten someone to help.
Instead they had brought out Marinette’s tape measure and mapped out the entire apartment on a sheet of paper and then made tiny shapes for the furniture. Now, they sat at the table, obsessively moving pieces around.
It could have been worse, of course. Neither of them were the type to hoard things. He wasn’t all that concerned with anything other than his clothes and his laptop. Marinette only cared about her clothes, video games, and baking tools -- all of which could be tucked away in the provided closets and cabinets with ease. If needed they could probably get by with nothing but a dresser and a pull out bed each.
So, yeah, their own personal living styles weren’t the problem…
It was their work. Who knew their workaholic tendencies would be their downfall (besides everyone, of course)? She needed a lot of space for her fabrics and mannequins to make sure nothing got damaged. Tim would need a lot of space for his supercomputer if he didn’t want to make the long trip to Bristol every night.
Speaking of the trip to Bristol! He needed a place to put his motorbike and his suit. Shit. He could find a place to park his bike if he tried, but… he started cutting out a piece for the suit.
Marinette saw him adding more stuff and her head hit the table.
He snickered a little and poked her hair until she, however reluctantly, picked her head back up to send him a halfhearted glare. He smiled, reaching over and plucking the tiny square of paper from where it had stuck itself to her forehead. A blush spread across her cheeks.
Then she happened to glance down and her annoyance was back in full force.
“We didn’t think this through,” she said.
His smile became more strained as he looked down at their map. “Moving sounds so easy on paper.”
“Maybe it’s easier for people who don’t have such complicated lives.”
“Yeah. You’re right. I’m quitting.”
“Aw, but then I’ll lose my patrol buddy! I’ll have to do everything with your siblings instead.”
His nose scrunched up. “God, no. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”
She rolled her eyes. “Please, you love your siblings.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t know they’re the worst.”
She looked like she was going to argue, but then she tipped her head and nodded. “True.”
He snickered.
Their smiles disappeared quickly as they looked back at the layout of the apartment. Could they even fit all their stuff?
… wait, actually, could they?
He started shuffling things in and he realized that, if they wanted to have space to walk, there wasn’t enough room. No wonder they’d had so much trouble finding a layout that would work. It was literally impossible. They needed more space.
She hesitated slightly. “... what if we bought out the apartment next to this one for work? It could even double as a backup in case you ever decide you want to have a place of your own again.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Can we do that?”
“You’re rich, you could probably figure it out.”
He rolled his eyes. “I mean, yes, we can technically kick out the people next door but I’d kind of prefer if we didn’t displace random families.”
“I mean… we could always…” She made a stabbing motion.
He couldn’t laugh at that. Laughing at that would be bad. So he wouldn’t do that.
“Bean -- Mari -- no.”
“I’m just saying! We’d even get the apartment at a discount!”
Okay, he might have laughed a little.
… they didn’t end up stabbing anyone but, hey, if the family next door happened to get some huge scholarship courtesy of The Wayne Foundation that they didn’t remember applying for with the stipulation that they would have to move districts... then they just so happened to have a lucky break. Good for them.
Which meant that they only really needed to buy a desk, a dresser, and a bed.
So they went to Ikea! A boring place where no shenanigans ever happen!
… well, no shenanigans ever happen if you’re not a pair of vigilantes that bounce bad ideas off of each other like they were playing a particularly intense game of Don’t Let The Balloon Touch The Ground and the entire world would blow up if they dared to lose.
Speaking of things that touch the ground, the resident dumbasses should probably have kept their feet firmly planted on it.
Marinette squinted down the escalator. “Oh, they’re definitely going to kick us out.”
“Definitely,” he agreed.
“Maybe arrested.”
“Maybe that, too,” he said brightly, checking the pot over his head to make sure it wouldn’t come off.
“... the PR team is going to hate us,” she warned him.
“Absolutely.” He could feel the gaze on the back of his head, telling him that the employees had noticed them and, quite likely, knew what they were planning. “Ready?”
A grin spread across her face. “Of course.”
He smirked. “Good, because they’re coming.”
She glanced back at the employees making their way over to interfere.
“Threetwoonego!”
He pushed off with his foot, relishing in her indignant yelp, and grinned widely as he started the very bumpy ride that was snowboarding down an escalator. He’d thought he’d be more or less okay because he had been a skateboarder but it turns out that boarding down moving stairs is very different from boarding down flat planes. He let loose a string of curses as he struggled to hold the plank of wood to his feet and not die a very painful, very stupid death.
Marinette came whizzing past him, eyes wide and the tray she’d been using as a board somehow missing.
She met his eyes briefly and flashed a grin.
And then they crashed.
It was about as painful as one would expect. Tim was glad that he’d thought to give himself a pot-helmet-thing because it had cracked down the middle and he didn’t even want to think about what would have happened if he hadn’t done that.
And he was the lucky one. He got out with a few bruises and a better appreciation for his own life. Marinette was nursing an arm that looked like it was trying to imitate the escalator they had just slid down, lips pressed together tightly as tears threatened to escape.
He carefully crawled over to check for any other injuries that might have been less noticeable.
She grinned up at him, either because he was currently checking to see if her teeth were all in place or to be smug. What she could currently be smug about, though, he had no clue…
“You’re so stupid,” he told her, just in case she wasn’t already aware.
Her smug grin remained even after he had removed the finger from her mouth. “You’re just mad that I won.”
“... sorry?” He hadn’t even been thinking about their impromptu race, too concentrated on the whole ‘making sure they hadn’t just died’ thing, and it took a moment for his brain to catch up. Then he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, won a pretty new cast, maybe.”
She snickered. “You had to cheat and you still didn’t even win. How does it feel to suck?”
“Probably still better than it feels to have a broken arm.”
She sat up. “It’s fine, I’ll live.”
He snorted. “You bet you will. I’m going to bubble wrap the whole apartment.”
“You can’t babyproof the place! We don’t even have kids yet!”
Before he could question her use of the word ‘yet’, the employees managed to get their attention. They were trying to get down the currently very broken escalator and the one that was currently going the wrong way for them. Despite this, the two of them had only a minute max before they reached them.
Marinette and Tim locked eyes.
“Run?” She suggested.
He was already getting to his feet. He dropped a business card for the employees and turned to her.
He grabbed her good hand and they sprinted out of the store, smiles lighting up their faces and laughter spilling from their lips. The poor employees hadn’t stood a chance of catching the two vigilantes, even injured as they were. They knew the city like the back of their hands and were able to weave in and out of side streets and alleyways without much thought.
Once they were sure that no one was following them -- leaving a store unattended in Gotham was a terrible idea and Tim had left a card for them to call -- she tugged him to hide between two buildings.
They squeezed into the tiny space and leaned into each other for support while they struggled to catch their breath. Her good hand came up to grip his shirt. He rested his forehead against the wall above her.
She lifted her gaze to his and he wished she hadn’t because he’d already been out of breath enough before she’d done that but now here was staring into her blue eyes, the corners crinkled in a way that had become so familiar to him over the past few months, and god… all he could think about was all the stories that described how time stopped when you fell in love… and how those stories couldn’t be more wrong. He would have hated for that to happen because if time stopped then he would have to see that perfect smile of hers in anything but real time and he doubted that it would have looked nearly as beautiful without the way her shoulders shook with barely restrained laughter or the slight fluttering of her lashes or the steady pinkening of her cheeks.
She finally gave a little puff of laughter. “What?”
He blinked once, trying to bring himself back to what was going on. “Oh, I was just thinking…”
“Oh? Don’t strain yourself.”
He smiled. “I was just going to say something nice but instead I’ll insult you on your stealth. You’d be a terrible criminal, laughing during your getaway.”
She rolled her eyes. “You laughed, too.”
“Yeah, but when I did it it was super cool and professional.”
“Ah, I see. How could I not have noticed it before?”
He snickered. “Well, if today has proved anything, it’s that you are not, in fact, the world’s greatest detective.”
She grinned. “You were the one that put the pot on my head originally.”
“You came up with the idea to go down the escalators like that.”
“You agreed.”
“You -- I -- shut up,” he complained, sending her a glare.
She smiled at him until he pretty much had no choice but to smile back, letting his head fall the last few inches to press his forehead against hers.
Her hand gripped his shirt a little tighter.
He moved his hands from the wall to her waist.
They stood there, letting time pass them by, searching each other's eyes for some sort of answer to the question neither of them could bring themselves to ask aloud. He bit his lip, trying to swallow down his anxiety.
Her eyes flicked to his lips, her own parted as if to say something, before she seemed to think better of it.
She closed the gap. His heart skipped a beat at the feather-soft feeling of her lips against his and he let his eyes flutter shut. She teased his lip out from between his teeth with her own.
And then she pulled back just slightly.
He opened his eyes just enough to see her shy smile and the blush lighting up her face.
“You… you really have to stop doing that. They’ll get chapped --.”
He pressed forward again, capturing her lips in a kiss that was far more desperate than the last. She gasped quietly and he took the chance to slip his tongue into her mouth. The hand fisted in his shirt slid up to wrap around the back of his neck, dragging him even closer. He pressed her back against the wall, a hand trailing up to tangle itself in her hair, trying to reach more --.
She brought her bad arm up to cradle his face and then yelped in pain.
He jumped back. Right. Broken arm. Looks like a staircase. Not good.
He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Uh… let’s get you treated.”
~
Marinette ended up with a pink cast and an order to stay home for at least a week.
She pouted, resting her head back against the couch as she watched him shuffle around in search of his second shoe (it was tucked behind her back, but he didn’t need to know that). “I’m not a child, you guys can’t just ground me,” she complained for what felt like the millionth time.
Tim rolled his eyes. “We all have to do it when we break bones unless it’s an all hands on deck situation. Been like that since even before I was Robin.”
“But B goes out with broken bones all the time!”
“That’s different.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“It is. If there is a situation where B can be a hypocrite he will do it”
Marinette scoffed. “And you’re allowed out because…?”
He started counting off on his fingers. “None of my bones are broken, my job requires me to leave, I don’t get in trouble 9/10 times I leave the house… should I go on?”
“Last one is a lie,” she mumbled.
“No, I only get in trouble, like, 8/10 times I leave.”
It was hard to maintain her glare. She settled for sticking her tongue out at him like the mature adult she was. He returned it, despite the fact that he was also an adult according to the law.
He grinned and came to sit next to her on the couch. She shifted around until she was leaning against him instead of the couch, legs tangling with his.
He didn’t say anything about the blatant attempt at trapping him there with her. Instead, he leaned closer to her face and said: “Speaking of leaving, do you happen to know where my other shoe is?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Why do I get the feeling that you already know where it is?”
He snickered. “I know you, Bean. So, can I have it back?”
“Hm… I don’t know…” she said, twirling his tie around her hand.
He let her pull him down for a kiss. She giggled against his lips as his hands ghosted over her in search of the missing shoe. She kept her good hand at his collar as a kind of silent promise that she wouldn’t -- couldn’t -- move the shoe, even throwing her bad arm around his neck just in case.
He pulled away a few moments later, squinting at her suspiciously. “I’m beginning to suspect I’ve been tricked.”
Her eyes widened in mock innocence. “Me? Trick you? I could never.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, where is it?”
She glanced at the time and smirked. “I guess you’ve earned it…” She pulled her foot out from between the couch cushions to show him the shoe she had hastily slipped on when he’d gotten close.
He scoffed lightly and slipped it off. “Y’know, if I had literally one of the most common fetishes in the world that wouldn’t have worked.”
“But you don’t, so it did,” she chirped with a cheeky grin.
“Guess that’s true…” He pecked her lips one last time before pulling his shoe on and she grinned as she watched him head to the door.
Only to stop a little short because of a knock.
He raised his eyebrows and glanced back. “Are one of my siblings coming over?”
She pressed her lips together thinly to keep herself from laughing. “It’s not any of their normal times. I just figured that, if I had to be home alone all day and couldn’t really do any work because my stupid cast, I should at least keep busy while you were gone.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. He stepped forward and opened the door to reveal a delivery guy with three giant boxes. The furniture they had ordered from Ikea had arrived.
He signed for them and then turned to glare at her. “You planned all this so I couldn’t go.”
“I mean… you could always leave me here to do them myself.” She batted her eyelashes at him innocently. “Of course, my broken arm will make it a little difficult but I’m sure I’ll manage.”
She had been stared down by Batman in full kevlar, she could handle the glare Tim gave her in his slightly messy work suit.
Then, he sighed. “Do you have a backup plan?”
“Obviously. Don’t think you’ll like that one as much.”
He scowled. “You’re really this determined to not be home alone?”
“Oh, no, this is about getting B to allow me out. Trapping you and your siblings here is just a means to that end.”
“You’re going to be trapping my siblings here, too?”
She grinned. “Yep. They show up all the time, might as well use that.”
His shoulders slumped a little.
She giggled. “If I have to stay inside all the time then so do you guys. It’s the rules.”
And, so, she reached for him until he pressed a short kiss to her lips.
Then, they got to work. Or, rather, he did. She had been relegated to just sitting nearby and helping him figure out how to build it.
She took a few pictures for their public accounts as necessary: a picture of him with three screws poking out of his mouth while he tried to figure out the weird L-shaped tool he’d been given, a picture of the two of them staring at the instruction sheet with confused frowns on their faces (taken by Tikki), Vanelope enjoying the boxes the stuff had come in, what was definitely not a thirst pic of Tim, and then the finished furniture in the apartment.
It was there, right before she was about to post it, that she realized that she hadn’t actually publicly followed any of the Waynes. She squinted at her bio, which proclaimed that she would only follow people she genuinely liked, and then at the ten people she had followed. The internet would notice if she suddenly followed eight more people.
“Darling?”
He peeked an eye open from where he was relaxing on the couch and then raised an arm for her. She took his hand and smiled a little when he pulled her into his lap so he could hug her like a pillow.
Then she pulled a more serious look to her face. “Do you want to go public or not?”
He buried his face in her neck. “Sure.”
“... not even gonna think about it?”
He shrugged. “They’re going to suspect it no matter what. Especially since we were goofing around in an Ikea of all places and you’re uploading pictures of me helping you with furniture.”
She nodded slightly. “I know, but I don’t have to upload them.”
There was a long silence as they considered their options.
Eventually he just sighed and tightened his grip on her. “I’ll go with anything you want to do, Bean.”
She relaxed slowly and, hesitantly, she sent him the photos. “Here, you can upload them, too. Might as well make it public on both of our accounts.”
He picked his head up slightly to check out the pictures. She felt his lips curl into a smile against her shoulder at the picture of Vanelope. “This one is nice.”
She snickered. “All cats are cute, obviously it would make a nice picture.”
He hummed his agreement. “No offense to you, you’re cute and all, but the cat definitely wins the cutest here.”
“I’m not offended at all. We could never beat that.”
Then, she got an idea.
“Except… maybe… want a picture of us kissing for the reveal?”
“I’ll take any excuse,” he said with a wink.
She rolled her eyes even as she felt her face warm. “You don’t need an excuse to kiss me, dumbass.”
Now it was his turn to blush. Yay, revenge.
… also, it would be cute for the picture if they were both a little red for it.
She twisted in his lap to press a kiss to his lips. His hands came up to cradle her face. She threw her bad arm around his neck, fingers threaded in his hair.
Her camera clicked. They ignored it.
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jessiebanethedragon · 3 years
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Commander?
Summary: Reader ('Mech') Is a member of CT-9904's unit and is sent to Ryloth instead of fighting with the insurgents. If only either of them could figure out why he made that call...
basically empire Crosshair is falling in love with the reader and is fighting with the chip's influence, the reader is falling as well. This is what happens when she see's the aftermath of the engine injuries.
Warnings: the reader gets choked, but not like in that way, reader is mean to crosshair, crosshair is mean to reader (ie neither of them know how feelings work)
Ryloth is grossly humid, you hate the way it feels with your plastoid armor on. The dark colour of it and your blacks underneath certainly don’t help either. And the fact that you’re still seething over your delegation has your teeth so clenched it hurts. Senator Taa is driving you insane as well, the fact that you’re playing the part that any trooper could be is driving you insane.
You didn’t get the nickname Mech for nothing. The modified electrostaff that hangs on your hip is evidence of that. The pop of your knuckles out of boredom has Syndulla and his clone looking at you.
“Something to say? Admiral Rampart asks with a glare. The kind that makes you stand straighter and fall in formation. When an answer doesn’t come from behind your helmet he sighs before adding. “You’re dismissed.”
Back in your sorry excuse for barracks, your armor is thrown against the wall. Starting with the stuffy helmet, the sound it makes when it hits the stone isn’t enough to satisfy your anger. So as you strip off each piece of the remaining plastoid it too, meets the interior of the Ryloth cave.
Screw him. Screw your commander. Screw the nerf herding Clone that sent you here. You hate him, you hate the way he speaks to you. Like he’s always looking for a weakness. You hate being here playing guard dog while they chase down the insurgents. And what you hate the most is the insecurity that lingers in your mind.
Why didn’t he think I was good enough?
You were the only one left behind, the only one sent to Ryloth ahead of time. Perhaps for one too many snarky comments. Perhaps because he doubted your abilities.
You’re so angry you go as far as striping out of the empire regulated blacks and into your civilian clothes. Which largely consists of your old baggy tactical pants that are so worn down the hues of your favorite colour are faded. But you still stuff the pants into your combat boots anyways. The top is less top-like and more like a piece of fabric that is long enough to turn into some kind of thing resembling clothing. It’s not exactly high Naboo fashion, but it’s a hell of a lot less warm than your kriffing armor.
You take to fixing the scope of his sniper rifle. You’re tempted to leave it broken, Maker knows how it happened in the first place. But you’re desperate for a distraction, a challenge, anything to take away the sting of being left behind. It gets fixed all too quickly, and you have to resort to tinkering with the calibrations in order to pass the time.
The door opens with a whoosh and the Commander and the rest of your team find you lounging with your feet up, scope in hand looking positively annoyed. Everyone tenses when you lazily get up, and walk over to them without saluting.
“That doesn't look like your uniform to me.” He says, the anger crackling through the helmet. And while everyone else has taken their helmets off, you can see them hesitate.
“Well considering the planet's demilitarizing, it didn’t look like it needed a commando to me.” You snap, the week of annoyance coming to fruition all at once.
“What did you just say to me?” He asks, stepping closer and bunching his fists. Your hand goes to your electrostaff, and his to his blaster. Weighing your options, you decide not to sign your death warrant today. Instead you reach into your pocket and grab the newly fixed scope. Not passing up the change to shove it into his chest.
The second your hand collides with the pastoid he moves like lightning. The scope clatters to the ground adding to the noises of surprise that your comrades make. Some of them move to help you, but think better of it. By the time your brain catches up your back has already hit the wall, a durasteel hand around your neck.
“Apologise.” He grits out. The green visor burning out your retina, and your hands scratching at his vambrace. You splutter around the hand, and he lets up a little. Just a little. The logical part of your brain is screaming at you to say the two simple words.
“I take it you failed to catch them then?” You say instead. And the hand tightens again, making you slap his forearms, he doesn't let up and somewhere your brain registers someone gasping:
“He’s going to kill Mech!” And with that, you collide with the floor. One hand bracing yourself and keeping you off the actual ground, and the other cradling the tender skin.
“You three. Out.” He snaps, and the sounds of footsteps rush out the door. Looking up at the Commander, you see the helmet watch your comrades hustle out, before he moves further into the barracks. Collecting a jug of water and a singular cup. Clutching both in one hand, he uses his other to haul you up. Still gasping you try to struggle.
“Calm down.” He says plainly. “I’m not going to hurt you”
“I think you understand why I'm not inclined to believe that.” You wheeze out, as he leads you to one of the beds and makes you sit on it. Before pouring water into the cup, and hesitantly handing it to you.
“Drink.” he barely gets the word out before you’re snatching the substance from him and gulping it down. You cover yourself in it but you don't really care. Pausing to catch your breath again, the fog begins to clear.
“No toothpick?” You mean to tease, but when you ask he walks away from you. That's when you catch it. There’s a piece of his armor that's discoloured from the rest. Not so much that it needed replacing, but enough for you to notice. “Commander?” You ask, and watch him shake his head ever so slightly. Only turning back when he hears you get up and stagger towards him.
“Sit back down. You’re injured.” He winces slightly at the sentence. Almost like there's a part of him that hates himself for hurting you. Funnily enough it's the same part that convinced him not to let you on that mission.
“I think you are too.” You admit softly. “Let me see.” You push. And he grumbles and mumbles before taking his helmet off.
His hair has been shaved off - even shorter than it was before. But that's not what catches your eye. What you stare at is the gaping injury on the back left side of his head. And the way he scrunches his nose and turns away shows you something you’ve never seen from him before.
Fragility, fear, embarrassment and maybe a multitude of other emotions fly across his face. When he opens his mouth to say something your brain kicks into gear.
“Sit down. Let me tend to it.” You demand. He tries to protest.
“That's not-” “Just let me see it.”
“I’m fine-” “You need bacta.” You’re still trying to lead him into sitting down, and he tries to argue more before finally giving in.
“I was cleared from the medbay you know.” He grumbles, and part of your soul does cartwheels when he listens to you and does actually sit down. And you almost like to think you’re the only person who he does listen to.
There aren't nearly enough bacta strips to double wrap the area like you wanted, but it’ll do until you can restock at a proper Imperial medbay.
This isn’t the first time you’ve been this close to each other, and it isn’t even the first time you’ve touched the commander's face. The first and only other time was in the depths of space. Everyone else was passed out in exhaustion after mission after mission. But you two, neither of you could sleep. And you could see the scrunch in his brow of anxiety and pent up adrenalin. And somehow, some miracle happened and after much convincing, you sat on the floor of some hallway, and he let you rub calming circles into his temple. You can still feel the way his hands held onto your forearms gently, like he was afraid you’d hurt him, or maybe he was afraid you wouldn't hurt him. Or maybe, just maybe, he had wanted to hold you.
“I should’ve been there.” You whisper while dressing the wound. It probably looks worse than it is but guilt is still eating you alive.
“You were where you needed to be.” He states. Taking his gloves off while you move from behind, to beside him as you finish with the bacta. Still analysing the wound and the rest of his face. He almost wants to smile, they didn’t call you Mech for nothing.
“Why did you send me away?” You ask. Closing your eyes when you feel a hand come up and caress your face. It's so gentle it’s almost like it's not there at all. Your heart feels like it's exploding with each beat. Why did this always happen between the two of you, why were you like magnets for each other.
And why did he always have to push you away after?
“I’m sorry,” He tells you when he grazes over your neck. “For that,” another swipe of a gentle hand. “But not for sending you here. Evidently I made the right call.” Fingers rest under your chin, tilting it up. When your eyes open, his are finding the part of you that you worked so hard to bury.
“You should be. It kriffing hurts.” You try to joke, to hide your feelings. But it comes out dry and cracked, a reminder of his anger moments ago.
“You learned your lesson then.” He snaps. And yet, the hand that goes to your hair is still gentle.
“Don’t leave me behind again commander. Or it’ll be the last time you see me.” It’s not a threat, but his eyes darken as if it is one.
“Good soldiers follow orders.” He hisses.
“Good thing we’re commandos then.” You shoot back. He closes his eyes and sighs, his hand leaving your face. It takes something with it, and you feel at a loss. One of your hands travels the regulated blanket that you’re sitting on, like it’s subconsciously searching for him.
Instead, he stands up and walks away.
“You should be resting.” You grumble at him, also standing up, if only to cross your arms in annoyance.
“I was cleared from the medbay.” He repeats himself, reaching for his helmet, ready to block you out again.
“Those droids clear out anything with a pulse. You need time to heal.” Hesitantly, you pad over to him, your hand stopping his when he goes to put the helmet on again. As if on instinct his other hand goes to your throat. But he stops himself when he sees the marks from before.
“This isn’t allowed.” He whispers, bucket hitting the floor. His hand moves onto your waist like a different person is in control of his motions. “I’m sorry.” He says again, fixated on the markings on your neck.
“It’s okay.” You tell him, moving closer. Sighing into his hold and the cool armor on hot skin. Looking up at your commander with blinking eyes. If someone was to walk in now, you’d most likely be executed, or exiled at the very least. But it doesn't stop his bare hands from moving, one on your hip where skin meets skin outside of imperial rules, regulation and armour. The other goes to your face again. Why does he like it so much? What is it about your face that is addictive? He tries to imagine a different face, a different person having this effect on him.
He can’t.
“No.” He says against your lips when they almost touch. And you tremble in rejection, a blank face covers the part of you that's crying. You’re so close to him, to something real, something other than war efforts or the Galactic Empire. You ignore him, and try to lean forward again, but the hand in your hair moves to place two fingers of your lips and push you back. And you know he feels your lips stutter and breath hitch as you contain a cry. His hands leave you completely as he steps away and puts his helmet back on.
“Shame.” You say bitterly, and you’re not proud of what happens next. Maybe you’re too smart, maybe you shouldn’t have read his file when you hacked into the database to find those chain codes. Maybe you shouldn’t have let him hurt you first.
“I liked seeing your tattoo.” You add, watching the helmet glare at you. “It’s a Crosshair, right?”
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IOTA Reviews: Guiltrip
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So, my week has been hell. In addition to working night and day on final essays for my classes, I've been really busy at work lately, and the second COVID vaccine shot really took a lot out of me this week. And that's not even getting into the bureaucratic nonsense that comes with applying for the MTEL which is slowly making me wonder if I actually want to teach in the first place.
But, despite all that, there was a single light of hope this week that almost made it all worth it.
STAR WARS: THE BAD BATCH, BABY!
OH MY GOD, THIS SHOW IS AMAZING! I ALWAYS LOVED THE CLONE-CENTRIC EPISODES OF THE CLONE WARS, AND NOW WE GET AN ENTIRE SHOW ABOUT AN ELITE TEAM OF THEM? KICKASS! AND IT TAKES PLACE AFTER ORDER 66 WITH GRAND MOFF TARKIN AS THE MAIN VILLAIN? SWEET MOTHER OF GEORGE LUCAS, I CAN'T WAIT! I DON'T EVEN CARE THAT THEY TRADED IN THE COOL SNIPER CLONE FOR SOME LITTLE GIRL CLONE, I ALREADY WANT TO SEE MORE THAN THE TWO EPISODES WE GOT SO FAR! GOD, I LOVE THIS SHOW!
Oh yeah, there was also a new episode of Miraculous Ladybug that aired on the same day too, I guess. It was pretty good. Hell of a lot better than the past three episodes I've sat through.
Let's get into the fifth (chronologically the eleventh) episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season: Guiltrip
We start off in the middle of class where we see Marinette looking at Adrien lovingly.
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Because the writers are still trying to push the Love Square on us as if they were trying to sell us some death sticks. And yes, expect a few Star Wars jokes in this review. This episode did premiere on May 4th after all.
Rose suddenly gets a headache, and asks to go to the nurse, saying that “Miss Dora” is back. While walking there with Marinette, she explains that it's a code name she gives when her head hurts and can tell Miss Bustier without letting everyone know. She probably felt a name like “Maya Grain” would just give it away.
At lunch, Juleka gets a text that really upsets her, so Marinette tries to cheer her up. Keyword being “tries”.
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Okay, yes, this is referencing the previous scene, where Rose refers to a certain snack at the nurse's office she eats to recover her health whenever “Miss Dora” visits called “Mr. Coffee”, but it's just bad timing. I get Marinette has a habit of not reading the room, but why did she have to use the term “Miss Dora” when she knows what it's being used for? Sure, she doesn't know that Juleka knows, but did she really have to say “Miss Dora”? She couldn't have used any other name instead? It's like making a chemotherapy joke when you just found out someone close to you has cancer. Even putting the context aside, what is this joke's punchline supposed to be? That “Miss Dora” will visit Juleka if she eats her lunch? Even by the humor standards of this show, the joke fails spectacularly.
Marinette bumps into Adrien, and although she stutters a little with a little exaggerated body movement, she does manage to take things seriously so she can have an actual conversation with Adrien about Juleka, who wants to be alone. She explains that the text she got was from Rose, who was sent to the hospital because of her sickness, and the entire class finds out because Marinette texted everyone to come to check on Juleka.
Goddamn it, Marinette. I usually defend you for getting screwed over by the writing, but you really aren't on your A game today.
Juleka explains that Rose got this sickness when she was little, which naturally worried everyone else. To make things worse, Juleka also says Rose made her swear to not tell anyone about her to worry her. Everyone else swears to not let Rose know that they know, and the act of support is actually enough to drive away an Akuma targeted at Juleka.
Unfortunately, nobody ever said anything about being overly affectionate to Rose, so everyone in the class tries to do things for Rose like carry her bags, giving her a pillow to sit on in school, helping her take notes, letting her cut in line at lunch, and giving her apples.
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All of this makes Juleka remorsefully tell Rose that she told everyone else, which worries her because she hates all the special treatment, so she goes to tell them all about her illness. While they seem to accept her, the next time she sneezes, they overreact like, uh... how can I make this joke in a tasteful way?
Rose says she's had enough with all the treatment, which makes Juleka feel guilty. In the bathroom, she gets akumatized into Reflekta (yet again) with a Sentimonster named Guiltrip. And then Reflekta immediately gets sucked into the Sentimonster, which will cause it to go out of control. Nice job, Shadowmoth.
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While it might not look like much, this is easily my favorite Sentimonster by far. Granted, that's not saying much, given all we've gotten so far for Sentimonsters is bootleg Mothra, sentient candy, a robotic doll, a frog with a body count, yet another evil doppelganger, and an eye, but my point still stands. Rather than actually confront the heroes, it's basically a portal to another world where it can trap people in bubbles that represent their regrets and despair, and turn them into copies of Reflekta.
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It's a really strong metaphor which reminds me of the villains from Kamen Rider Wizard, who tried to drive their victims to despair in order to turn them into monsters. Ironically, that show's main villain is also some asshole in white who was risking countless lives just to save someone close to him. In general, the area inside of Guiltrip is visually stunning, and easily the highlight of the episode. It's just so surreal, and it really sets the tone the episode's going for.
Ladybug and Cat Noir arrive on the scene, and also get sucked into the portal, seeing some of the victims before they also start to fall into despair. And I can't believe I'm saying this, but this is one of the few times where Angstdrien Depreste is thematically appropriate. Cat Noir points out that if they had simply defeated Shadowmoth by now, none of this would be happening, which is a good point. He even attempts to kill himself using his Cataclysm, but unlike RWBY, they don't try to glorify it.
This also leads to Rose managing to fight off Guiltrip's powers with her optimistic personality (so I guess you could say she's A New Hope for the heroes), inspiring Ladybug to compliment Cat Noir. While I'd normally be pissed that this is yet another way to boost his ego, it does fit in with the episode's theme of positive thinking. Well, with the exception of one line where she points out what her time as Ladybug would be like without Cat Noir...
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BEING A SUPERHERO IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE FUN. Yes, there are certain benefits to being a superhero, but it is not a fun game you play when lives are on the line. Why are the writers so dedicated to validate Cat Noir's beliefs that being a hero is just a fun extracurricular activity? Has there ever been a superhero who shares a similar mentality and isn't treated like a complete jackass?
So Ladybug and Cat Noir break free of the bubbles, and after summoning her Lucky Charm, a pickaxe, Ladybug realizes she needs more positivity to break free from Guiltrip. As such, she pulls out the Pig Miraculous and gives it to Rose, who transforms into Pigella. Funny how she forgot her little headache condition when she bangs her head like a death metal singer while transforming.
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The design is... wait, she's not wearing a skin-tight jumpsuit? She's actually wearing something different?
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Yeah, I really like the Pigella design. There's a good mix of pink and white, and the skirt really brings the whole thing together. It really reflects Rose's optimistic and bubbly personality.
So the three heroes find Reflekta, who has been consumed by tons of bubbles. Pigella uses her superpower, Gift, to show Reflekta what her heart wants the most right now. So it's basically a more specific version of the Fox Miraculous? In fact, what do pigs have to do with optimism?
Whatever reason, it works, which helps Reflekta to break free of Guiltrip's influence, letting Ladybug de-evilize her. But because we need to have a fight scene in this episode, the Reflekta clones start to attack the heroes, but Ladybug uses the pickaxe to climb out of Guiltrip and purify the Amok.
So Rose hands the Pig Miraculous back to Ladybug, and the episode ends with everyone treating Rose normally in class, realizing she isn't as delicate as she thinks she is.
So yeah, I really like this episode. Aside from a few stupid things Marinette said this episode, I honestly don't have a lot of problems with the episode here.
I also really like the lesson this episode is going for. It doesn't shame Rose for rejecting the help, and it doesn't shame the class for being to overprotective of Rose either. It tries to find a middle ground, which is an important lesson to learn, not just for dealing with a loved one who has an illness, but for disabled people and other kinds of situations where someone has a disadvantage. Even as much as I ragged on Marinette for the text, it's clear that she isn't the only one to blame. In fact, nobody really gets blamed for anything this episode. It's more of a misunderstanding, and both sides find a balance on how to treat Rose.
It's overall a really good episode, and the second best one so far this season. And you know what? This episode taught me the importance of staying positive, so with that in mind, maybe I shouldn't be dreading “Queen Banana” when it comes out this week.
Wait, what? It got pushed back two weeks? Oh, THANK GOD! Now I feel like dancing. And I know exactly what song to dance to...
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home is people, not a place 2/?
Part 1
Summary: Clay gets attacked on base. DEVGRU finds an issue in that.
TW: Blood mention, physical assault, canon typical violence
Tag: @rebelwrites @chibsytelford @bravo-four-seal-team @velvetcardiganbucky @supervalcsi @abby-splace @itsonautopilot @thegirlwhoisalwayswriting @pinkrockstar19 @softi92 @mrsmarvelous1995 @jayhalsteadfan-2417
Lisa is pissed. She has every right to be. Clay had been attacked in the Bravo cages.
She’d watched the kid go from a strap who couldn’t stay in his own lane to an operator who could lead Bravo – and Tier One, for that matter – into the future. And then he’d been attacked in his team’s cages, in his own cage. Blackburn was still at the hospital – he’d found the kid in a pool of his own blood; Lisa wouldn’t blame him if it took an apocalypse to separate him from the kid – making sure that the kid got appropriate care.
She pushed open the door to Bravo’s briefing room, not that it actually had any members of Bravo in it. Alpha, Charlie and Delta were all there, waiting on her brief on the situation. Echo would have been there, if not for them being halfway through their first deployment as a team. There had been hesitation about deploying Echo – the loss of the last Echo line-up still sat heavily in the Tier’s mind.
The three team’s Master Chiefs and 2ICs had sat in Bravo’s usual chairs. Full Metal and Derek sat in Jason and Ray’s chairs, respectively. Beau and his second in command had taken Sonny and Trent’s, while TJ was sat in Brock’s. Delta Two had distinctively chosen not to sit in Clay’s seat, instead sitting in a chair usually used for either Cerberus or a support staff member, depending on the op.
(It was very funny to watch Brock and Clay push a wheely chair with Cerberus on it between the two of them, and they’d pretty much mastered the art of doing it in the last few months. Cerb had found that if he allowed it to happen, he’d get belly rubs and treats, so he was unbothered about it)
The other seats had a random assignment, seemingly first-come-first-serve. The ones unlucky enough to have not found seats stood tensely, arms crossed and grumbling under their breath to each other.
Nobody sat in Clay’s seat.
All 18 operators looked up when she walked in, attention snapping to the person with the most information. As she walked in, her gaze caught on the table space in front of Clay’s chair. Clay had left his book on the table. It’s about as thick as a brick, and Sonny would probably take a glance at it and tell Clay it was as dry as one. The embossed cover didn’t read English, and Lisa had a feeling that there would be very few, if any, people in the room able to read any part of the book.
She stood at the front and pushed her emotions down. These operators were here for information, not emotion.
“At 0145 this morning, 4 Green Team members entered Bravo’s Cage room. At 0157, they left, and returned to the Green Team barracks. 0204, Lieutenant Commander Blackburn entered the Bravo cages. He dialled 911 and was assisted by Alpha Four-”
She cuts herself off for a few seconds, as various operators slapped Jordan on the back, mumbled thanks spreading through the room as they reassured themselves that one of their own had helped their kid.
“Assisted by Alpha Four at 0207. Ambulance arrived at 0215. The Green Team members were apprehended by Alpha and Delta at 0248.”
She pauses again as a ripple of thanks goes through to room, Alpha and Delta thanking their Master Chiefs and each other and Charlie thanking both teams.
“Petty Officer Spenser was admitted to hospital at 0224, and was assessed as having a concussion, a broken nose and 5 bruised ribs.”
Alpha, Charlie and Delta’s medics all take note of this. They’re probably going to be on Clay’s ass for the next few months about this, right behind Trent.
“Bravo arrived at the Hospital at 0243. They are all with him. Hayes has asked that he is included in any appropriate punishments.”
Full Metal snorts. “Bet he didn’t word it like that”
A series of chuckles and grins echoes around the room. He did not word it like that. There was much more swearing, and much, much less formal language. He’d implied murder no less than 5 times.
Lisa allowed a smile to pass through the stony calm façade she had up.
“Command has delegated these appropriate punishments to be carried out within DEVGRU and have stressed the importance of leaving an impression on future graduates. This cannot be a recuring event.”
TJ pipes up first, almost before she’d finished talking. “I say we let Metal work his magic, make sure nobody finds them.”
This gets mixed responses, but Lisa isn’t surprised when none are wholly negative. They all had a younger brother in the form of Clay, and they had all trained for years in the art of killing their enemies as swiftly and efficiently as possible, and these candidates fell wholly and completely under the title of ‘Enemy’.
Metal gives a faux hopeful look to Lisa, and Lisa can tell that he’s not entirely dismissed the possibility, even as he does a terrible job at pretending to still consider it an option that Lisa could authorize. Lisa plays into the joke – god knows that Tier One needs some light in this disastrous day – and gives him the look mostly used for when Bravo (usually Sonny) suggests a stupid idea that shouldn’t had even crossed their minds. Blackburn jokingly referred to it as her “bad dog” look, and it worked for its purpose, making the operators put their tails between their legs. A few faces form smiles, and a few look to be wavering on the edge of smiling.
“No murder, and no death.”
This gets her grumbles, and not all of them are joking. Clay had gotten all of them out of sticky situations. Every operator in Tier One had a handful story where Clay had needed to be briefed on their op, and all of them had at least one where he’d taking calls at 2am to translate over a connection that he could barely hear English through. He’d never berated them for waking him up, and had often taken time to teach various operators key phrases, if he knew they were deploying somewhere where he knew the language.
Beau goes next, possibly the most level-headed of the Master Chiefs – both in the room and not. “Advanced SERE?”
Now this, Lisa can work with. Something about her posture must change, a twitch in her face, because the room suddenly erupts in sound. Charlie Two, Delta Five and Alpha Three all are in close enough range to clap Beau on the back, and they do so in quick succession.
“Gentlemen.” She raises her voice to be heard by the room. There’s nothing gentle about the looks on their faces.
“I’ll leave you to figure something out. Report to me with a plan of action.” And with that, she gives them a single nod and begins to leave. Her turned back does not block out the whispers of violence, but it does hide the vicious smile that’s stretched itself out along her face.
Nobody would even think about hurting their kid. Ever again.
+
As Clay blearily opened his eyes, he realised that he’d succumbed to pain-med-induced sleep. A few hours had probably passed since then, based on the fact that sunlight was now filling the room. Sonny was sat on his right side, gaze focused on the room’s TV screen, which was showing a play-by-play of a football game. The volume was cranked down, and even as Clay becomes more aware; he can only hear every other word.
“Son?” The word passes his lips without him meaning it to. Sonny’s head snaps over to Clay, so fast that Clay fears he may have given himself whiplash.
“Hey Bam Bam, how ya doin?” The toothpick moves hypnotically. Stop looking at the toothpick. Stop it. Stop it. Sonny’s casual expression is betrayed by the slight waver in his voice, a sliver of raw emotion that Sonny couldn’t fully supress. Clay gives him a strained smile in lieu of answering and reaches his hand out. Sonny catches the hand before it moves very far, holding it in a tight grip.
Sonny’s thumb absently runs across Clay’s unblemished because he hadn’t even been able to fight back knuckles, and his spare hand turns off the TV, leaving them in silence.
“Kid.” Clay’s eyes widen slightly, and he almost pulls his hand out of Sonny’s grip at the softly spoken word. He tries to get in the apology, the explanation, before Sonny can tell him that Jason is punishing him for being unaware.
“I should have being paying attention. I know I should have been paying attention, I was just so tired.” I’m sorry I’m so sorry don’t kick me out please
Sonny freezes. What?
“Clay. Stop. Stop-” he has to cut himself off before he says something that includes those really touchy-feely-emotions he’s feeling. Thankfully, Clay doesn’t take the pause as an opportunity to continue. “Stop trying to defend yourself. None of us blame you, Blondie. You were on base. You should have been protected. We won’t fail you again.” Sonny gives him facts, because he knows that if he tries to do anything else he’ll make it worse.
“Son?” Clay recalls a voice calling through the dark, through the black water he was floating in, a voice he’d recognised; “Did Blackburn find me? He- he had blood on his hands”
For a moment, Sonny curses Clay’s blessings as a sniper. He’d always been able to notice the little things, the things none of them would notice. “Yeah, he was checking that none of us were sleeping in the cages.”
Clay nods, and then his brows furrow. He breaks eye contact with Sonny and frowns in the genal direction of his feet. His face makes what Sonny calls his ‘Brainiac’ Face, and Sonny can only assume that he’s thinking about what happened with Blackburn, not rationalizing with himself that the beating was somehow his fault.
“Son, can I talk to him?” Sonny doesn’t want to think about whatever that conversation is going to be, so he nods and begins to gather his stuff. His cap is hanging precariously from one on the bed’s corners, his phone on the bedside table. He stands and ruffles Clay’s head, laughing despite the stink-eye he gets for it. Clay doesn’t mind it, and he has the feeling the next few weeks, if not months, are going to be filled with various forms of physical contact to reassure his teammates that he was still with them.
And now he’d asked Sonny to get Blackburn. God what do you even say to the guy who had found you beaten? ‘Hey Boss, I’m sure that what you saw was horrifying, but I’m alright now?’ God help him. Sonny hadn’t given him a weird look, so he’d probably been expecting Clay to ask at some point.
Clay’s train of thought is interrupted when a soft knock sounds on the door. There’s a second of pause before the door opens. Clay can’t think of a time when Blackburn’s looked worse. There are dark circles under his eyes, and a vaguely haunted look in his eyes. His eyes have a red tinge, and Clay can’t tell if that’s from sleep deprivation, or something else. His hands are rubbed red and raw, and Clay can tell that Blackburn had taken extra care to get every fleck of blood off his hands. He’s in a jacket that looks too big for him, and Clay suspects that Trent had a hand in that. Since the injured person – Clay – wasn’t someone he could immediately care for, Trent had gone for the next best thing, a shaken Blackburn. Under the jacket, he’s still in his fatigues, and by the time he’s finished the assessment of Blackburn’s top half, he’d moved close and sat down, hiding everything below his waist from Clay’s view.
Blackburn reaches out, putting a palm on Clay’s forearm, Clay’s hand mirrors it on Blackburn’s arm, and tension bleeds from Blackburn’s figure. His shoulders slump slightly, and he leans forward.
“How are you feeling?”
Clay considers lying, considers saying that he’s not in any pain, considers easing Blackburn’s mind. He decides against it. Blackburn had found him in a pool of blood, it’s the least he can do to tell him the truth. “My ribs hurt. But I’m, I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you were there.”
Clay is the sometimes literally bleeding heart of Bravo, levelling out Sonny’s emotional constipation, and the admission is the balm of some of the burns on Eric’s soul. Eric leaned forwards, shuffling closer to the bed, trying to hide the blood on his knees. He hadn’t been home to change, a call to his wife at 8am had told her that he wasn’t going to be home for a while. She, like the amazing wife she was, had been understanding, and then grumbled at him to let her sleep. They’d both laughed and exchanged ‘I love you’s before his wife ended the call. Clay didn’t need the stress of knowing that Eric had knelt in his blood. Nobody needs that.
“Gave me quite a scare, gave all of us quite a scare.” Eric doesn’t tell him that he’d spent the last half hour scrubbing his hands raw, that Jason had needed to strong-arm him into the waiting room, that Trent had given him one look and offered up his jacket, that he’d had his head in his hands until Sonny had come into the room and told him that Clay wanted to talk to him. Doesn’t tell him that he’d stood outside for nearly a minute before he’d knocked, that he’d needed to barrel in before he lost the nerve to speak to his operator. He usually prides himself on staying calm, on being collected, but Clay had been attacked in one of the few places on earth that he could honestly and without reservation call home. That scared Eric. If he couldn’t keep his operators safe on base, where would they be safe?
“Davis is talking to command about adding locks to the cage room doors, make sure this doesn’t happen again.” If she wasn’t already talking to command about it, she would be soon.
Clay nods. He shifts and grimaces in pain.
“Do you want me to get a nurse?” It’s a safe question, one that doesn’t involve the emotions in the room.
Clay ignores the lifeline. “I’m alright as I am. Did you get the guys?”
Eric nods. Breaking the news to Bravo had been the highlight of his morning. “Command is letting DEVGRU work out how to punish them.”
Clay grins. “I bet Metal is having fun with that.”
It’s Eric’s turn to smile, and a soft chuckle makes its way out. “Davis is under strict orders to not accept a plan that involves murder. I’m sure Alpha’s disagreeing with that.”
Alpha was most likely to deploy with Bravo, and all were in line with their Master Chief’s ‘Bury-first-questions-second’ policy when it came to Clay. Eric had a feeling it wouldn’t take much convincing to get Delta and Echo behind the plan, and that Charlie would only argue on principle.
Tier One was a brotherhood that didn’t take kindly to injury, as the world would learn.
+
Echo One – Zack Greer – a newly promoted Delta Two, wasn’t a very outgoing man. One and Twos were meant to both complement and contrast each other, a precarious balancing act honed over years of living out of each other’s pockets. TJ had needed a level head, so his Two was calm in the face of crisis.
Echo Two, on the other hand. A Floridian man, Elliot Howe, promoted from Charlie Three, who was under strict orders to never drink unsupervised with Sonny Quinn, lest they empty a bar and then burn said bar to the ground. He’d chaffed under Beau’s tight ship, so when the opportunity to move to form Echo had arisen, he was hard pushed to say no.
Together with Echo Three (Alpha Three), Echo Four (Delta Six) and two Green Team graduates as their Five and Six, they’d created a tight brotherhood.
Echo Five, Dan Wilder, a multilingual K9 handler, had initially been lost at DEVGRU, not quite fitting in. He’d reached out to the youngest operator – Bravo Six – in order to get some advice. What he didn’t know at the time is that their languages had overlap. Together with Clay and Ares – his K9 – he’d been able to find someone to practice with.
Echo had long since lost count of how many times Clay had come into their cage room, with a well-loved book, offering it to Dan with a brief explanation of how it would interest him. The book was never in English, and neither was the explanation. For all they knew, Clay could have spent the last few months giving Dan anything from Harry Potter to The Anarchist’s Cookbook (he’d actually only given Dan one of those, and Dan was under strict instructions not to tell them which, and Dan had been recommending others back).
Sonny, on the days when they were hanging out after work, sometimes tagged along to these exchanges. He’d joked about a book club, and Echo Two had picked up on the joke immediately, and since then the pair had resigned themselves to the nickname.
Between Clay’s frequent interactions with Dan and the fact that all of DEVGRU was deadly protective of Clay, it was no surprise that when Echo had heard the news, they hadn’t been happy. Command had fought a battle with Echo to keep them deployed, and Echo had nearly won. Dan had been on many rants, talking to empty space in Pashto – Four only caught a few words, and those were all along the lines of murder and death. Ares was giving out a low, constant growl. Both of the DEVGRU K9s were as protective as their owners, it seemed.
The door to their dorms slammed open and Zack marched in. Echo looks up in sync, and if it weren’t so serious, Zack would be amused by how much his men look like Meerkats. “Got word from Virginia.” This sets his men on edge, Howe half-steps forward, and his shoulders visibly tense up. “They found the green team rookies. We’ve been asked to approve the plan of their punishment before it gets sent to be approved by command.” Malicious smiles break out among the barracks.
They may be 7000 miles away, but they wouldn’t let anybody off the hook because of it.
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Into My Body, You Just Fold
Floyd Talbert x Reader
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Warnings: FLUFF, optional!smut (poorly written dirty talk, lite name calling/degradation), OOC Tabbykins, mutual pining, drunken love confessions, Reader has an unfaithful husband (but OMC isn’t the worst), period-typical restrictions of women’s rights, not vv good writing tbh, and no-no words (per usual)
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As terrible a person it made you to admit as much- you didn’t think you could imagine life without Floyd Talbert.
 You’d promised yourself at a young age that you’d never be one of those women who needed a man to complete them, far too disenchanted by the sight of your friends losing their fire and spark upon marrying their husbands. Your father had raised you with the same permissive encouragement as he had your brothers, something that horrified your mother so much that she eventually stopped inviting you to her happy home with her new husband altogether.
Now that you were older you realized that marrying Frederick had been your desperate attempt to win back your mother’s love and approval, much more than your marriage had been for any sort of actual love towards your husband. 
 You’d tried, though. 
Frederick was funny and charming and could get along with anyone. He was driven and supportive, and he always made sure that you knew how much you meant to him. You should’ve been able to love him easily and completely.
But you didn’t- You couldn’t when, more often than not, he came home smelling of liquor and another woman. 
Sometimes several other women.
It became abundantly clear to you that, as much as you meant to him, you clearly weren’t enough to keep him from straying.
 Which is why you found your love for someone like Floyd so….unexpected.
 Upon first meeting him you’d hated him, obviously. He was just like Fred, no- he was worse than Fred because at least Frederick made some effort to hide his infidelities from the world. 
If anything, Tab flaunted his conquests like a badge of honor. It made your skin crawl.
Not that your dislike for him did anything to deter him, of course. 
 On the contrary, he seemed to take it as a challenge.
 It also didn’t seem to matter much that you were married. The ring you wore on the same chain as your dog tags seemed to deter any other potential suitors- and if for some reason that didn’t dissuade any overly-confident troopers, your marksmanship and reputation nipped any nonsense in the bud. 
Not Floyd Talbert, though. 
It didn’t matter where you two were- Tab made it his personal mission to win you over. He flirted with you on the boat ride to England, in the plane as it soared towards Normandy, in the middle of a gunfight on the way to Eindhoven. Hell, he’d even tried to charm you while recovering from a stab to his gut.
 The boy was shameless.
 If you had to narrow it down on a timeline, things had become more sincere and less childish in Eindhoven- when you’d gotten mobbed by a group of drunk and curious men who’d wanted to see more of the lone woman sniper of the 506th.
Floyd had appeared from nowhere and helped you wrestle your gun away from one of the idiots who’d attempted to divest you of it. He’d wasted no time in taking his own helmet from his head and placing it onto your own upon realizing that yours had been taken, wrapping a strong arm around your waist and guiding you from the throngs of people while you shook from leftover adrenaline.
 He’d kissed you that day after he had been unable to get you to refocus on him and stop you from hyperventilating. 
You’d stood stock still for a few seconds, mind scrambling to process the gentle feeling of his lips on yours as well as the fact that you were no longer tossing in the sea of people you’d been lost in moments ago.
When he’d pulled back, you could only gape at him like an idiot.
 “W-why did you—?”
Floyd’s rough hands had come up to hold your face, taking a deep breath of his own before replying.
“I, uh…” he had stammered for a moment before shaking his head quickly and clearing his throat. “I was trying to get you to snap out of...just trying to get you back.”
 After that, things had progressed pretty quickly.
 He’d stopped seeking out any female company other than yours- not that you’d noticed at the time- spending the few nights of freedom he was afforded with you while you would ritually take apart and clean your rifle, talking with you about anything and everything. He had a knack for making you laugh harder than anyone ever had before.
Sometimes you’d talk about serious things, like your families or past loves or the foolish hopes you both had had before the war.
 Every so often, he’d ask you about Frederick.
 Thinking about Fred made you uncomfortable. Unhappy. 
 But because Floyd had been so honest with you, you tried to be honest with him as well.
No matter how innocently the questions began, they always ended with Floyd furrowing his brows and saying your name softly enough that you couldn’t help but hesitantly meet his imploring gaze. He’d always ask some variation of the same question:
“Why did you marry him?”
 Most nights you didn’t answer. Some nights you were able to deflect the question well enough that eventually you both fell into a different conversation altogether. One night you’d been in a bad mood and snappily asked him an uncomfortable question of your own.
“Why do you have such a hard time keeping it in your pants whenever a pretty girl is around?” 
That always shut him up. And, despite the fact that you could feel the upset rolling from Tab in waves, he never left. 
 That night, you had taken his fist between your hands and uncurled his fingers. You had felt his eyes on you as you purposefully dug your thumbs into his palm to ease the tension you found, eventually turning his hand over so you could carefully trace your fingertips over his war-calloused knuckles.
“That was unkind,” you had whispered, guilt churning your stomach when at the hurt you knew you had caused. His grey-blue eyes were curious as you hesitantly looked up at him, and once you had met his gaze you’d almost lost your train of thought.  “I’m sorry, Tab.”
 You hadn’t been expecting him to kiss you again, but even as he had you didn’t immediately stop him. 
It was only when he had started to pull you closer that you quickly pulled away. Your breathing had become heavy, and while you didn’t let go of his hand you still said his name admonishingly under your breath. 
“You shouldn’t do that,” you’d whispered, unable to look at him and electing to look at your feet as you brought your hand up to press your fingertips against your still-tingling lips. “You- you know I’m….you know why I can’t—”
“I know,” Floyd’s voice was low, and despite the fact that you weren’t looking at him you’d been able to see the grimace on his face. “I just….I know. I’m sorry, Y/N”
You’d cleared your throat, pulling your hand away from his and giving him a tight smile. 
“No need to apologize. Let’s just forget about it, yeah?”
Without waiting for his response, you’d gone back to the table where you had been working on your gun, desperate for a distraction.
“So, uh, what was it that you were saying about your brother? He’s graduating high school soon?”
 Despite Floyd’s willingness to play along, you had been unable to stop thinking about the feeling of his lips on yours. You wondered if this was what happened to Frederick- if this rush of adrenaline after doing something you shouldn’t was what he was chasing each time he went home with someone else.
You’d never known guilt could be so heady. In that moment, you’d started to realize just how dangerous this friendship with Tab could be.
But even then, you’d also had a sinking feeling that you weren’t going to be able to give him up, That you were no better than Frederick.
Taking your oiled rag back into your hands, you’d scrubbed the metal o-ring of your piston and tried not to think too hard about what this revelation said about you.
~
It had been during a 48-hour pass that he’d asked the question about Fred for the very last time, after you’d each finished a bottle of sweet French wine while sitting on the floor between two beds of the hotel room.
That night, you’d given him a sad smile and gestured half-heartedly with your canteen as you brought it to your lips.
 “Because I thought it was what I was supposed to do. Because…. I didn't think I was allowed to say no.”
He’d stared at you sadly, clenching his jaw a few times before clearing his throat and letting his head loll back to rest against the side of the bed. 
 “Ask me again.”
 You’d frowned at him, confused as to what he was asking you to say. Your silence must’ve given away your lack of understanding, because he laughed humorlessly before closing his eyes.
Ask me why I can’t keep it in my pants….'round pretty girls….”
“Oh-kay…?” you’d said slowly, leaning back and stretching your legs out in front of you. “Why can’t you keep it in your pants?”
 With a bit more effort than it probably should’ve taken, Tab twisted his body so the back of his head was resting in your lap, the strands of his hair ticking the skin of your thighs where your sleep shorts had bunched up.
 “Same fuckin’ reasons.”
 In the dim light of the hotel room, you’d been the one to kiss him, your lips trembling with heartbreak on his behalf and complex (if not unbidden) emotion. Floyd sat up so you weren’t having to hunch your body over to reach him, carefully wrapping an arm around your waist as he shifted your bodies so neither of you had to strain to reach the other. Despite Floyd being Floyd- he didn’t kiss you greedily, the plush of his mouth soft as it followed your gentle rhythm without any sign of wanting more than you were willing to give. 
 Once he’d realized that you had begun to cry, Tab broke the kiss carefully, and he had reached a gentle hand up to brush your tears away, a sad smile crossing his face.
“Now, isn’t that a sight?” he’d whispered. “Never had a girl cry for me before. Don’t think I like it much…’specially when that girl’s you.”
 He’d allowed you to cry for him, allowed you to cry for yourself and all of the hurt and pain you’d been holding inside of your chest for what felt like decades. You didn’t remember falling asleep, but when you had woken up the next morning you felt his fingers combing through your clean hair as you both lay sprawled out together on the floor. At some point, one or both of you had pulled the bedding from the bed’s mattresses and tangled yourselves in the soft fabric.
 “Is it bad that I wish I’d met you first?” Floyd had asked, his voice a warm rumble as you rested your head on his chest.
“Yeah,” you’d admitted, scratching your nails lightly across his shirt-covered stomach. “But I’m much worse for agreeing with you.”
 As he turned his body so he was leaning over you, his hand came up to rest on your collarbone while his eyes danced across your face.
 “You’re beautiful….too beautiful to be ruined by someone like me, I think.”
You’d frowned, bringing one of your hands up to trace his mouth with your fingertips.
“Oh, Floyd- you can’t ruin what was already spoiled.”
 Tab then lowered himself so his nose brushed against yours, his lips brushing yours as he spoke.
“Can’t I?”
~
Even thinking about it now broke your heart.
Now, nearly two years after the war had ended.
Now, living in the house you’d once shared with Frederick.
Now, as you lay in bed and watched Floyd brush his teeth in the bathroom of the home you shared.
 Fred had last written to you five months ago, telling you that he was probably going to be in Japan for at least another six months before he could even apply to come back to the states. 
Despite the fact that he claimed his senior ranking in the Navy and his responsibilities to oversee prisoner exchanges were the ‘sole reason for his prolonged absence, you knew that it was probably more a case of him not wanting to return to a life of expected monogamy that kept him away.
Not that you minded one bit.
Not when you had Floyd.
 You hadn’t expected him to want to stay with you, in the literal sense or in the more metaphorical sense of commitment, yet he’d barely let you finish your offer before he agreed emphatically.
If you were truly being honest with yourself, you hadn’t imagined that he’d even want to stay after you’d slept with him the first time, shortly after returning to the states. 
 But he had. He had stayed.
 You’re ripped from your thoughts when you realize that the sound of Floyd brushing his teeth has stopped, and when you shook yourself from your trance you realized that he had caught you staring at him. Judging by the smug look on his face, he’d finished getting ready for bed a while ago, and when you begin to blush he crosses his arms across his chest and leans against the doorframe.
 “You know, ma’am,” he smirks as you clear your throat and pick at your nails embarrassedly. “It’s not wise to stare at a man like that unless you’re willing to face the consequences….”
You snort a laugh despite yourself, furrowing your brows and looking back to him with a dumb grin on your face. “Oh yeah? And what consequences would those be, Sir?” 
His eyes darken with a flash, having made it very clear long ago how much he liked it when you called him that. You cannot help but smirk at his clear shift in arousal.
 He pinches his bottom lip as he considers you- something that you couldn’t deny made your heart race with dark promise. Wetting your own lips, you lean back onto your elbows and watch him watch you.
Quirking his brow, he tilts his head and pushes himself from the doorframe to stalk to the foot of the bed and brace his arms against the mattress so he’s nearly leering at you.
 “Oh Lovely, I think I’m gonna have to show rather than tell.”
~Smut interlude, doodiLEEdedoo~
You shook your head in amusement, a smile breaking across your lips as he crawled his way up your body- his softening hands smoothing your silky nightgown up your thighs and stomach as he did so. A low, pleased curse rumbled low in his throat at your lack of underwear, smiling against your skin as he ducked down to kiss your hips and soft stomach while completing his journey.
 “I knew it was only a matter of time before I convinced you to stop wearing underwear to bed,” he says warmly, encouraging your thighs over his own while he kneels between your legs.
You can’t help but scoff at the wording of his observation.
“Yeah, if that’s what you’re calling ruining all of my expensive undergarments with your impatience, then yes Floyd, you’ve thoroughly convinced me to forgo underwear.”
 With an easy familiarity, Tab slips his hands under your nightdress and ghosts his blunt fingernails over the swell of your breasts, smirking at the goosebumps his touch elicits across your bare skin.
You lift your shoulders off of the bed enough to bring the bunched-up nightdress up and over your head before tossing it somewhere on the floor beside you, allowing your eyes to drift shut as he bows his head to kiss at your nipples in near-reverence. His hands map the rest of your body in a cycle that only he can predict, the sound of his skin brushing against yours paired with the warmth of his palms and mouth relaxing you in a way that no hot bath or soft bed ever could.
Floyd groans as you rake your fingers through his hair, allowing you to guide his face up to yours for a slow, imploring kiss before one of his hands slips in between your legs and massages at the lips of your sex.
 “Was I taking too long, Sweetheart?” he asks against your lips, his voice growing rough with need. “How long have you been this wet?”
 You don’t answer, choosing rather to roll your hips into his touch. Your breath catches in your throat at the first swirl of his middle finger over your clit, something that he does again with a smug hum against your lips.
 “Don’t worry, Y/N,” he reassures you as he wets his cock with your arousal. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll make it all better.”
 Whoever said that slow sex couldn’t also be filthy had clearly never met Floyd Talbert.
 By the time he’s flipping you onto your stomach, you’ve been brought to the teetering precipice of release three times- his mouth and fingers and cock working you up while he kissed the sweetest admonishments into your skin. Tab called you needy, cockhungry, and wicked- all while kissing across your skin with such a sweet contrast to his words that it made your head spin.
When he finally, finally pulls your hips up and begins to piston into you, you’re already so delirious for him that you are pleading for him to let you cum- something that only serves to make him grip your hips harder and groan in anticipation. 
 “Dirty girl,” he grits out as he bends enough that his forehead can rest between your bunched shoulder blades, the line between admonishment and praise blurring headily as you feel that familiar flutter building in your lower belly. “Are you going to come for me? Can feel you shaking for me like a good little whore….”
You barely have to ask for more before he grips your sex possessively with one of his hands, your orgasm tearing through you and stealing your breath as well as your capabilities for speech.
 Floyd, whose curse is drowned out by the rush of blood to your ears, follows you quickly over the edge- grinding out as much of his own release as he can in between your legs before collapsing atop you. 
Almost as an afterthought, Tab slips himself from your body, rolling to lay beside you as you both come down from your highs.
 “So good,” you’re barely aware of him panting out. “You’re so fucking good, Y/N….”
You blindly reach out to drape your arm across his waist, incapable of returning the praise just yet.
He knows, though. You know he does by the way he sighs happily beside you.
~End of smut interlude, doodiLEEdedoo~
~
“Y/N?”
You look down your body to where Floyd's head rests in the valley between your ribs, your fingers having been lazily combing through his overgrown hair for the past twenty minutes. 
“Hm?” you reply, your other hand snapping out to grab one of the pillows near the top of the bed and folding it beneath your head so you can watch him.
Turning his head to press a kiss on your skin, he looks up at you lazily. When you smile down at him, he returns with a content grin of his own.
 “Can I ask you something?”
Raising an eyebrow, you narrow your eyes teasingly. “I don’t know, Floyd….can you?”
You nearly shriek when his fingers dig into your sides, rolling your lips together in an attempt to quiet your laughter as Floyd bestows biting kisses up your sternum while you wriggle beneath him. 
“You’re such a brat sometimes,” he grumbles as he takes your face in his hands, unable to keep the smirk from his lips. “Lucky for you that you’re a good lay….”
Rolling your eyes, you nod your chin at him.
 “Just ask me already, you jerk.”
 His wicked expression softens, eyes scanning your face as you look up at him. The beginnings of a knot start to twist in your stomach, feeling the first drops of anxiety begin to stain your blood.
 “Floyd…..what’s wrong?” you ask, not liking the way he suddenly electing to look at your mouth rather than into your eyes. “Is everything—?”
“Would you ever marry me?”
 Your eyes widen at that. That had certainly not been what you were expecting him to ask you.
 Taking in a deep breath, you consider his words for a bit before answering immediately.
It wasn’t that you didn’t love him, because you did. No, what gave you pause was all that marrying him would entail- the greatest obstacle being that you were already married, and unless more things had changed in post-war America than you realized, polyandry was still illegal. Not to mention the fact that, upon marrying Fred, anything you had once been able to call your own was now- at least legally speaking- his.
 You didn’t even have any right to the house you and Floyd had been living in. It, along with everything inside of it including you, was Frederick’s in both name and law.
And that was what scared you the most- the idea that, should you divorce Fred, you’d be penniless. Homeless. Destitute. You would have nothing.
But, as you looked into the blue eyes of the man you loved more than anything in this world, you realized that you wouldn’t mind any of that at all.
 Because you’d have Floyd Talbert.
 With a heavy sigh, you sit up so he doesn’t have to lean over you any more- taking his face in your hands and giving him a smile.
“I’d have nothing to offer you, you know.” You grin a little wider at the confusion on his face, brushing your fingertips over his bottom lip as you continued. “No savings or car or house for you to come home to at the end of a long day?”
 As the wrinkle in his brow smooths, you know that he knows what you’re really asking him. Bringing his own hand up to mess with the ends of your loose hair, he pouts for a moment.
 “Hmm, that’s a tough call, Y/N,” he says with a faux seriousness, tilting his head consideringly and narrowing his eyes at you. “I really like this bed frame—”
You nod, biting the insides of your cheeks to keep from laughing. “It’s a nice bed frame-”
“And the mattress? Best thing I’ve ever slept on.”
“I’m sure. All that built-in lumbar support cost a pretty penny, too.”
 Smirking openly now, Tab brushes his nose against yours. “Still not the best thing in the house, though. I’ve gotta say, the pretty girl who lives in it takes the cake in that regard.”
Cupping your hands around the back of his neck, you pull him in for a deep kiss, the both of you almost clicking your teeth together several times because of the stupid smiles on your faces. When you pull back, you peck a quick kiss on the tip of his nose before sitting back enough to look him full in the face.
“If I could, I’d have married you already.”
 The smile he gives you is nothing short of breathtaking.
“Yeah?” he presses, biting his bottom lip like an excited kid.
“Yeah, Floyd. I really would.”
“Good,” he says simply, carefully slipping from your grip enough to shift back down so he’s resting his head on your stomach. “Maybe I’ll ask you one of these days.”
 Looking down at him fondly, you let yourself lay back so you can grin up at the ceiling.
 “Who knows, Floyd Talbert,” you say quietly, heart feeling so full it could burst. “Maybe I’ll even say yes.”
 “Good.” he grumbles.
“Good.” you agree.
~ ~ ~
(HELLO YIKES AND SORRY MY DUDES I’M PMSING AND DEEP IN MY FEELS BUT THANKS FOR SOLDIERING THROUGH THIS PILE OF YUCK!)
Taglist: @mrseasycompany @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite​ @happyveday​ @sunsetmando​ @ricksmorty​ @liebgotttme​
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girlgirlgirlnormal · 3 years
Text
Niragi x OC x Last Boss (Part 3)
Sooo, I wrote a third part! Noone asked for it, but I think I´m going to write more parts, just because I enjoy writing these characters and am having a writers block on my other project :/ And maybe I should proofread and edit the other two parts, but here you go!
But hey! This part is not smut but an actual game! 
I hope you enjoy it! 
part one - part two
“What the fuck where you doing?”, Hina was ripped out of her thoughts as Kuina approached her, whisper-shouting, “What happened?”
“I got laid”, Hina informed her friend, she had woken up sandwiched between Samura and Niragi. At first, she thought that she should be waiting for them to wake up, but it was still dark and they looked both so peaceful. If Hina was being honest, her body was still hurting. A quick look in the mirror had confirmed all the bruises and hickeys she had been feeling, all over her throat, chest, and thighs. Her bikini top only covered the most of her breasts, everything else was exposed. She had stolen a pair of shorts from the drawer, that at least covert the bruises on her butt and the hickeys on her upper inner thigh. She hoped they weren’t going to be too mad about her sneaking away.
“What?”, Kuina exclaimed.
Her eyes widened, as she saw the bruises on Hinas body, “You call that getting laid? You look like you survived your own death.”
“I had worse nights and I´m not even lying about that”, Hina smiled at the pretty girl next to her, “My last boyfriend”, she formed quotation marks with her fingers, as she said boyfriend, “used to do way worse and I still had to dance every night.”
Kuina gave her a sympathetic smile, “Look, I´m sorry about that, but I don’t believe that putting yourself in a situation in which you could easily get killed is going to help with your trauma.”
Hina rolled her eyes, “I did cum twice”, she informed Kuina grinning.
Loudly exhaling through her nose, Kuina shook her head. She was about to say something, but she stopped, grabbing Hinas hand and staring at something behind her. Mustering up a smile Hina turned, finding Niragi and Last Boss approaching them with fast steps.
“Good morning”, she greeted, as soon as the men were in a hearing distance.
Niragi was the first to reach her, one of his hands forcefully grabbing her hair, while the other held his sniper rifle, “Why did you leave?”, he asked angered.
Hina took a deep breath. That was the kind of behavior her old boyfriend had portrayed daily. At least she knew how to handle it.
“I needed to get something to eat”, she gestured towards the bar, her plate was still sitting there, only half eaten, “I didn’t want to wake you. You were both seeping so peacefully.”
“You ran away from us”, Niragi said, Last Boss standing behind him, with his arms crossed.
“I just went to get breakfast”, she said, “Why would I leave you?”
“She deserves a bit of trust after she’s been such a good girl last night”, Samura commented, still not raising a finger to help her.  
“I hope its ok that I borrowed some shorts”, Hina said, still not acknowledging her hurting scalp, “You kinda destroyed my bikini panties.”
“They look great on you”, Samura informed her, finally putting a hand on Niragis shoulder, “Come on. She´s just eating.”
Niragi looked her up and down. His gaze lingering over all the bruises and hickeys they had caused. His fingers unwinded from her hair and glided over her throat, amazed by how pretty the purple spots looked on her.
“I’m yours, remember?”, Hina asked smiling, “I won’t just leave.”
“We were wondering when your visa is going to run out”, Last Boss asked, stepping beside Niragi, “We are going to the game tonight. We want you to come with us.”
“My visa ends in two days”, Hina answered, “but it wouldn’t hurt to renew it a couple of days earlier.”
It would hurt. Walking hurt and she couldn’t even sit. Her ass and clit were still throbbing from being abused the night before.
“Good.”, Niragi said, “We’ll see you in the evening.”
With that they left as fast as they had approached.
“Why would you go to a game with them?”, Kuina asked, “What will you do if they sacrifice you?”
“Probably die”, Hina answered, sighing as she saw Kuinas frown, “If they can help me to survive here, I’ll take it. If I die, I die. There is really not much to do about it.”
“Why are you so indifferent about dying?”
“I don’t want to play games forever. I don’t really want to go back to the real world either. I have nothing there.”
She was lying. She had someone. Someone she would never see again. Someone she wasn’t able to have even back in the real world. She would not be able to have him once she got back. Her boyfriend would never allow it.
Hina spent the rest of the day in her room, trying to cool her core to ease the pain and waiting for the gong. The gong always announced that it was time to get ready for the next game. She hoped that it was not a physical game. She didn’t know if she would be able to fight or even run.
“Don’t be stupid”, she whispered to herself, “If you can dance on the pole after he had his way with you, you can run and you can fight.”
They had been nicer to her than he had been. Even the fact that Niragi choked until she had seen black spots dancing in her vision didn’t stop that from being true. He had been so much worse, and nobody had been able to protect her.
Sighing she made her way to the lobby. It was getting dark, it couldn’t take much longer for the gong to go off. Many people seemed to think the same way. The lobby was already fairly crowded as Hina approached. She couldn’t help but notice the lingering gaze of a couple of people, examining her bruises and hickeys. She held her head high. The sports shoes she was wearing were comfortable, but she couldn’t help thinking her dancer shoes would be so much more appropriate right now. She was used to strutting with platform heels, not giving a fuck about what other people thought about her or her profession or all the bruises she had all over her body. She smiled as she saw Samura and Niragi standing in the back of the lobby, talking to some other militants and walked over to them. They stopped talking and watched her move towards them.
“Good evening”, she greeted them, still smiling.
“Hey”, Niragi greeted back.
Last Boss just smiled.
They didn’t start a conversation. Hina did not know what to talk about, with all the other militants around them and the men did not look like they were interested in talking to her anyway. Niragi was back to talking to the others while Samura was still watching her. She looked up at him, still smiling. His tattoos looked nice. She wanted to trace them with her fingers, but she didn’t dare.
“You’re still wearing my shorts”, he said, “Why? You’ve been to your room.”
“I like them”, Hina informed Samura, “They´re comfortable and they are yours.”
“I thought the whole girl steals her boyfriend’s clothes was only a movie trope”, he deadpanned.
Boyfriend? Did he assume they were in a relationship? Did he want that?
Before she could say anything else Hatter was on the balcony, giving a speech about the games and how they all were comrades. Hina didn’t listen. Part of her wanted it to be true. She wanted to be able to go back to the real world. She didn’t want to play games to survive.
She was whisked away to a car with the militants and off to the game before she knew it.
They reached the venue, an old warehouse, in short time and went in. The phones were laid out in a small room in the entrance. Hina couldn’t help but notice how hot it was in there. For once she was happy that she was only wearing a bikini top.
She picked up a phone and let herself be squished between Niragi and Last Boss as the registration proceeded. There were 4 other people as the voice announced that registration was closed.
“Game code: 8 of spades. Game: The floor is lava. Game clear is achieved then players cross the warehouse and enter the safe zone. Time: 15 Minutes”
After the announcement the door behind them opened, unveiling a large warehouse. The floor was literally lava. Objects were floating in the lava, monkey bars and ropes were dangling from the ceiling. A big digital clock was counting back from 15 minutes. Hina sighed, stretching her legs.
So much for protecting me, she mumbled and watched as Niragi attached his sniper rifle to a harness and Last Boss examined the lava.
She watched as turned to one of the women that were not part of the militants and shoved her to the edge.
“What are you doing?”, the woman cried out, “Stop!”
“We need to find out if this is really lava”, Samura only explained, holding the poor women by her hair and shoving face to the edge.
“It cant be lava”, said Hina, all the attention was on her now, “I don’t think that the stuff could float in lava, it would be too hot. It still seems to be pretty hot and I would not recommend touching it.”
It was a thick blubbering substance and steam was rising. If everything she had seen on nationaly geographic was right lava looked different.
“Come on”, she said smiling, “we don’t have much time.”
With that she walked over to the far right of the room and jumped on the table that was floating there. This seemed like a decent starting point. Many other objects were floating nearby and some monkeybars were hanging nearby. Standing on the desk she assessed her next move. The chair, which was placed about a meter from the desk was the nearest object, but it didn’t had enough surface area to land safely. She chose to jump a little bit further and landed on a piece of driftwood. From where she was standing the best jump she could make was to a globe. She looked back. Samura had let go of the woman and was following her. Niragi was standing on something that looked like a sink. She was about to make the jump as a piercing scream echoed through the warehouse. She turned back, the militants all seemed fine, someone was struggling in the lava. The struggle didn’t last long. After mere seconds the person disappeared.
“Maybe acid?”, Hina asked, turning back to Samura.
“You didn’t let me check”, he just said, shrugging.
Hina leapt on the globe, landing on her stomach, barely able to lift her legs enough to not touch the lava. She could hear Samura jumping on the driftwood behind her as she started to lift herself of, trying to stand up, to be able to jump to the monkeybars. The monkeybars were leading straight to a spinning bed in the middle of the room.
“Time remaining: 10 Minutes”, the computer voice announced.
Hina had finally managed to stand up. The globe was slippery, but it wasn’t a far jump to the monkeybars. Once again she was happy about the muscles she had gained while dancing. She managed to grip the first bar. It was swinging back and forth violently, as she realized that the next bar was too far to just grab. She had to built momentum. She leapt, grabbing the second bars.
She heard a loud splash and someone else was screaming. A shudder ran over her back.
“Come on princess”, Niragi was already on the bed.
When did he get there? Taking a deep breath she leapt to the next bar. Only three more there left and she could jump to the bed.
Another scream. She couldn’t look back, but it sounded like a man. Fueled with adrenaline she made the last leaps. She was hanging on the last monkeybar as she felt it swing harder.
“Jump, Niragi will catch you”, Samura said, she could hear him leaping from one bar to the next, making it swing harder.
Hina nodded and using the swing she let go then she was nearest to the bed. Niragi did catch her.
“Nice”, he said, dragging her to the side so last boss had a place to land.
“Its easiest if we go that way”, he explained, after Samura joined them on the bed, pointing to his right, “the objects are smaller but the distance between them is shorter.”
Hina and Samura nodded. Niragi made the first jump. He made it look so easy as he made the second jump and landed effortlessly on his feed on a small barstool. After the bed had spun around two times Samura gave Hina a small nudge, “You first”, he said.
Hina nodded and made the jump, landing on her butt.
“Ouch”, she mumbled, standing up and making the next jump to the barstool that Niragi had already vacated.
Another scream echoed through the warehouse. Hina looked around. Only one of the other militants was left and the girl that Last Boss had threatened to push into the lava was a couple of meters behind them, sitting on top of a piece of driftwood.
She made the next jump. Only a couple more jumps were left.
“3 Minutes left”, the computer voice announced.
“Fuck”, mumbled Niragi, “Come on, princess.”
She jumped. Samura was close on her heels. She jumped again. And again. Niragi reached the other edge and started looking for the door to the safe room.
“2 Minutes left”
“Found it”, Niragi announced, opening a door. He left it wide open and went back to the edge, reaching for Hina, “Come on.”
Two jumps were left, but one of them was another globe, much smaller than the one she had jumped on before.
“You can do it”, Samura said behind her.
Mustering up her courage she made the jump, landing on her stomach. It took some effort to stand up, but the next platform, another sink, was close, so she made the jump. She turned back and watched Samura make the jump to the globe, somehow landing on his feed.
“30 seconds left”
“Come on!”, Niragi screamed, extending his hand to her.
She made the last jump and found herself in Niragis arms. Not even two seconds later they were joined by Samura on the edge.
“Go”, he said, shoving Hina to the open door.
Just as the voice started to count down from 10 Samura was the last of the trio entering the room. He wanted to close the door, but Hina stopped him. She wanted to help the others, but they were too far away.
“3”, counted the voice.
Sighing she stepped to the side, letting Samura close the door.
“Game cleared.”, the voice announced.
She felt herself being squished by two bodies, as Samura and Niragi hugged her while on the other side of the door pained screams erupted. They didn’t scream long.
Their phones beeped, showing that they had earned 8 additional days to their visa.
“Let’s go home”, Niragi said, opening the door on the other side of the room.
Sighing she followed the men out. The cool night air felt nice after the hellish heat inside.
“You were good”, Samura commented as they were seating in the car.
They had lost everyone else in the game. She was wondering why they were not upset over the deaths of their militant friends, but she guessed that it would make sense. She had known that they didn’t really have many friends in the beach.
“Theres an executive meeting”, Niragi informed her, as they reached the beach, “Go to Samuras room, we’ll come as soon as possible.”
Hina nodded and watched them walk away.
“How was the game?”, asked Kuina, who had approached her from behind.
“They did not sacrifice me to find out if the floor was really lava.”, Hina deadpanned, “What were you up to?”
“Just hanging out with Chishiya”, Kuina answered, “Did you just say the floor was lava?”
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elowenp · 3 years
Text
part 1, this on ao3
~
It’s a normal night, until it’s not.
Dick had been purposeful when he had said that Damian could make mistakes. He remembers the way the necessity of perfection had eaten at him when he was younger. He knows that Damian is even more susceptible than he was to that burning self-disgust at anything less than a flawlessness. Upon taking over the mantle of Batman, Dick had decided that Damian needed to know there was at least one adult in his life who wouldn't disown him for delivering anything less than perfection.
He hadn’t thought so much about what would happen when Damian actually did make a mistake.
It happens when Dick is in the middle of congratulating Damian on a particularly impressive move, one with a more gymnastic slant which Dick is sure is based on one of his own trademarks. He’s telling Damian what a good job he’s doing and Damian is puffing up with pride, a smile playing around the edges of his expression. Then Dick catches the glint of the sniper rifle scope.
The ability to dodge bullets is a trademark of members of their family. Damian should feel the whistle of the bullet coming his way, he should jolt back from the air parting in front of him. But Damian's too caught up in his pride to do any of those things quickly enough so within a moment of Dick spotting the rifle scope there’s a bullet in Damian's leg.
Dick is so used to falling that he doesn't remember a time when it didn't feel like flying. The way his stomach drops now though, it doesn't feel like flying. It feels like the kid he said he'd take care of has blood spurting from his leg and it's all Dick's fault.
To his credit Damian is very calm about it. Dick knows he’s been shot before although he doesn’t know if it was a purposeful part of the boys training or not. His blood boils at either prospect. Even as the crowd is still screaming for their heroes to come save them Dick grabs Damian from the blood soaked ground and rushes to the batmobile, putting it on autopilot as he tries to stabilise the patient.
“I’m sorry.” he whispers, “I’m sorry. We’ll be back at home in no time and we’ll get you all fixed up, okay?” Dick blinks away the tears at the sight of Damian bloody and pale in front of him. Impediments to his vision will only make it harder to get Damian stable.
“Okay.” Damian replies, voice remarkably steady.
Now aware that someone he trusts is going to make it all better, Damian promptly passes out.
“Shit.” Dick says, young ears now unable to hear him. “Shit shit shit shit shit. Fuck.”
He swears to his heart's content for the rest of the ride back to the manor and it does very little to make him feel any better.
No, the swirling sea of worry-guilt-anguish in his stomach only begins to abate at the sight of Alfred in the bat cave, perfectly calm and with all the necessary medical supplies ready. They get Damian to a bed and Dick tries to make himself useful as Alfred treats the bullet wound.
He isn’t particularly useful and spends most of his time fretting.
“He’ll be fine, Master dick.” Alfred says once he’s finished up and washing the blood from where it had stained his skin.
“Of course he will.” Dick replies, attempting to sound a little more nonchalant than he actually is. From the look Alfred gives him he doesn’t think he succeeds.
He’s spared the indignity of having to say anything else by the rumble of Tim’s motorbike pulling into the cave. Tim gets off with an urgency Dick isn’t sure he expected and when he takes his domino off there’s genuine worry in the frown between his eyes.
“Is he okay?” he asks, his tone frantic.
“He’ll be fine.” Dick's grateful to find that his voice is far more level now than it was ten minutes ago.
Tim tilts his head to the side, looking at Dick. His expression narrows into something slightly more analytical than concern. “Are you okay?”
Dick tries to say yes. He really does. He's Tim’s big brother, he’s Batman. Of course he can tell his little brother that he’s okay. But after a moment of silence Dick glances towards where Damian lies far too still on their operating table and feels the tears he's been fighting off resurface in his eyes.
Tim nods as if this is confirming something. “Come on.” He says. “Let’s get out of here.”
Dick tries to protest that Damian needs someone to be here when he wakes up but Tim just continues to pull him gently out of the cave.
“He’s going to be out for the next few hours. I can make you hot chocolate in the meantime.”
Dick wants to keep protesting but he’s been left tired and weak by the nights events. He allows himself to slump as his little brother leads him out of the darkness.
~
Dick talks. Significantly more than he had intended to.
He talks about how he can’t balance this awful dichotomy of guardian and commander. He talks about how he’s still not entirely sure how to be Batman, let alone a parent. He talks about how he can’t keep doing this without something breaking.
Probably him. Possibly Damian. Both answers are unacceptable.
“I’ll to fix this” Tim says. The determination in his expression reminds Dick of when he came to his bludhaven apartment all those years ago and demanded Dick reprise his roll as Robin. “I’m going to make a call, we’ll sort this out.” he promises.
Tim’s always been good at that. Tugging on the fraying strings of their family tapestry until it resembles something whole. It’s how he came into the family in the first place and Dick has always been grateful for that.
Tim leaves, already dialing a number into his phone with a look of intense concentration. Dick wants to go check on Damian but Alfreds got that handled so it’s not like he’ll actually help. Sitting idle at the boys bedside will probably just make him feel worse.
So Dick hangs his head and waits for someone to save him.
~
“Give me a lift to the airport?” Tim asks far too sweetly. The tone of voice doesn’t suit him.
“You can drive.” Dick points out, suspicious.
Tim gives him a look, like Dick's being difficult on purpose. “It’ll be a bonding opportunity.” he says, his tone lowering to something closer to his usual cadence. Dick still feels suspicious but there’s a million things he has to do today that are more important than arguing with his only sane brother, so he nods. Tim grins in response and gets up with a lot more energy than he tends to these days.
Dick decides that there’s little use in thinking on it more. He’s in charge of far too many things at the moment, he’ll let Tim control this one.
~
Cass appears in the collection area, suitcase in hand, and Dick feels the weight of the world become significantly lighter.
She's more muscled than she was when she left. Her footsteps are more confident. It makes pride rise in Dick's throat as he realises how brave his little sister is for growing so much all by herself.
She picks up her pace once Tim and Dick are in view, almost breaking into a jog as she approaches. She wraps an arm around each of them and Dick can feel her smile pressing against his cheek.
Dick realises that his own smile is pressing against Cass’s cheek. His chin is somehow resting in Tim’s hair.
He savours the moment and feels more full than he has in a long time.
“Welcome home.” He says into Cass’s neck. He feels her smile even wider in response.
~
That night as Dick is about to go on patrol Cass taps his shoulder.
“I can do it.” she says, pointing at the Batman suit Dick had been about to start putting on.
Dick frowns, pushing away the golden hope bleeding into the edges of his soul. “It won’t fit.” he says.
Cass shrugs. “I won’t wear it. But I can do it.”
Dick feels his frown deepen. Cass is younger than him and she hasn’t been in Gotham for so long. It’s not a good idea for her to take on the mantle. She’s already got far too much weighing her down without adding another impossible burden for her to bear.
Dick looks past Cass for a second to allow his eyes to rest on Tim, busying himself with sorting his own gear out but none too subtly watching the exchange between Dick and Cass. He gives a slight nod. An endorsement. Dick looks back to Cass who is smiling very gently at his indecision.
“Okay.” he says, and the room releases a sigh of relief.
~
Cass has been Batman every night since she got back a week ago and Dick hasn’t felt this light since Bruce died.
She was always the best fighter out of them. Always a little faster, a little more cutting, than any of her brothers. She isn’t as used to the detective aspect of things but she's surrounded by enough people trained in that aspect of the job that it isn’t a problem. Dick wears the Nightwing suit and flies higher than he has in months. Damian tends to work with Cass, Batman needs a Robin after all, but will pop up on Dick's patrols with silent requests for ice cream and a shoulder to lean on.
Cass can be Damian's Batman. Dick can be his guardian. It was always too much to ask of Bruce, for him to be both. For him to be their teacher and their hero and their father. Splitting the load seems to be going far better than anything Bruce used to try.
~
Sometimes Dick will catch Tim smiling at him the same way he does at a problem just solved. He wants to say thank you. Thank you for letting me outrun that awful burden for a little longer. Thank you for saving me. But he supposes that’s just what brothers are for.
Instead he asks Tim if he wants to go train surfing. They haven’t since before Bruce died. Dick was far too busy trying to keep the world from collapsing in on itself and Tim was too busy trying to find a way to stop Dick from crumbling under the pressure of it.
“Yeah.” Tim says, his smile twisting and morphing until it goes from analytical to soft and relieved. “Yeah I’d like that.”
~
"Do you miss him?" Damian asks one day. Dick doesn't need any clarification on who he's talking about.
The two of them are sat on a rooftop, legs swinging over the side. Damian is holding a rum and raisin ice cream Dick had pressed firmly into his hand. Dick decided a while ago that Damian should be offered the opportunity to try all the flavours he missed out on in the earlier part of his childhood and he thinks they're making some pretty good progress.
Dick considers for a moment. It's a complicated question. "Yes," he starts, because of course he does, "But it doesn't hurt like it used to. Not now that I can focus on being myself instead of squeezing myself into the shape of the person I'm mourning. And you?"
"Yes." Damian starts, because of course he does. He pauses for longer than Dick did but that makes sense. Damian's thoughts are complicated enough that Dick can't help but be proud of the kid for being able to untangle even a few of them. "But I know a lot of people who've died. And at least this time I gained what I came searching for regardless of what happened to Father."
It's not a thank you. Dick knows that it's going to take a little more time for Damian to learn how to shape his mouth into those words. But it's a start.
Dick looks at all the life surrounding him and smiles.
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Text
The Sniper and The Medic: Chapter 6
Starring: Crosshair, OC Joan Vo
Chapter Warnings: Injuries
Taglist: @proadhog @skippyhopperwisdom
AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)
< Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter >
Chapter 6: Black and Blue
Crosshair found himself hesitating outside the door to Joan's office. It looked just like any of the other doors down this hallway; he'd probably passed by it before without ever giving it a thought. But now that he knew where it led, who would be on the other side, he felt his stomach twist in apprehension.
And then he felt the dull pain from the bruise along his ribs and decided to just get it over with. He knocked, and heard her muffled voice calling back for him to enter.
Her office wasn't like the others he'd seen. Some kind of paneling had been put up against the standard white walls and a giant black rug took up most of the floor. It made the space feel smaller, but cozier. Even some of the lights seemed different, not as harsh and glaring as they usually were in these facilities. A desk was pushed against a wall on one side, and a small couch against the other. There was an assortment of other items about, from a bookshelf to a coffee machine to an exercise ball. A door lay open in one corner, and from his two-second view as he passed by, Crosshair determined it was a bedroom.
Joan herself was in the middle of the room, her back slightly turned as she faced a dartboard across from her. She had a dart poised to toss, but paused to look over at him and smiled in greeting.
"Hey Crosshair."
She didn't ask how he was this time, instead returning to focus on her game. Her tongue stuck out a little as she aimed and released the dart. It only barely hit the top of the board.
"Damn," she sighed. There was only one other dart on the board, the rest on the floor beneath. She faced him again with a smile. Her hair was out of its usual ponytail and she wore shorts along with her tank-top. Crosshair briefly wondered if he would ever catch her not looking wonderful.
"Do you play?" She came toward him and handed out her last dart.
He shook his head but still took the dart from her, hoping she wouldn't notice how much pain he was in. His plan was to casually ask for a bacta patch and then leave. If she wondered why, he'd say it was just a bruise but that he was fine and the only reason he came was because Hunter had insisted.
He would not, under any circumstances, tell her what had really happened. That he had been distracted by thinking about her while trying to run up some temple steps, causing him to trip and fall on top of the butt of his gun, which had gone underneath his chest plate and jammed his ribs. Nope. That was a secret he planned to take with him to the grave.
So he took the dart, held it up briefly, and tossed it over to the dartboard, hitting the bullseye square on.
Joan looked between him and the board a few times incredulously.
"You... you didn't even aim," she finally said.
"I aimed," he asserted.
She held her hands up with a little laugh. "Okay, Mr. Sharpshooter." She went over to the board to collect all the darts, looking back at him with another incredulous shake of her head. He was glad to have impressed her so much, especially when he wasn't feeling well.
"So, did you just come here to show me up, or what?"
She walked back to him, and it was then he noticed the large, gnarly-looking scar that spanned the entire length of her left thigh. Around it were tattoos of little birds, made to look as if they were flying in a spiral, up and away.
"No..." he said, distracted by her scar and tattoos. There was always something new to learn about her.
"Oh shit," she said, stopping a few paces from him. "You're injured, aren't you?"
Her eyes scanned up and down his body, trying to assess his condition. Of course she could tell when someone was hurt, he cursed at himself. It was her job. "Where?"
He vaguely motioned around his abdomen. "Just a bruise. I'm fine. Hunter..." he started to say, but she had set down her darts and was moving to take hold of his shirt. He put a tense hand on hers to stop her.
She looked up at him, half-amused. "I've probably seen worse."
That wasn't exactly what he was nervous about. Most doctors here would've had him disrobe on day one, one of many ways he felt humiliated in any examination room he went in. But since working with Joan, he'd been able to get over that fear a little. He didn't feel judged or scrutinized under her gaze. And he hadn't had to take any clothes off thus far.
But he let her lift up his shirt anyway, knowing he couldn't really stop her with the amount of pain he was in. Hopefully she would only pay attention to the injury.
She bent to inspect it and he couldn't help but glance down at it, too. It was the first time he'd seen the actual damage, and it definitely looked as worse as it felt. A large bruise was splattered across his lower ribcage.
"Um," she said with a little sigh. "Yeah that's... that's not good."
Crosshair braced himself for her to scold him, or fuss over him, or worse, demand to know what had happened. But instead, she calmly took a step back and folded her arms across her chest, looking him right in the eyes. "Well? What are you going to do about it?"
He scowled at her question. "I don't know. You're the medic."
"Last I checked, Clone Force 99 doesn't have a medic."
Crosshair realized what she was going for. She had made it clear just as much as Hunter had that the goal was for them to be prepared for their missions. If he couldn't figure out how to heal himself on Kamino, he didn't stand a chance doing so anywhere else. The problem was he really didn't know how to figure it out. Tech would know way more about this sort of thing.
"I'd ask Tech for help... I guess," he ended up saying.
That amused smirk ended back up on her face. "Yeah? When did this happen?"
"This morning."
"And did you ask Tech for help at any point between then and now?"
"No...."
"So what are you doing to do now?"
He wanted to sigh, but breathing was becoming much more strenuous. Why couldn't she just help him? He didn't really like when people fussed, but at this point, he'd much prefer that over standing around any longer. He got an idea, a rather silly and selfish one, but it was just the two of them and he figured he might as well give it a shot.
"I... I guess..." he pretended to think of a plan, letting his breaths come out shorter and louder and making himself sway a little on his feet. He didn't need to put on much of an act, just succumb to the pain and faintness he was already feeling. As predicted, Joan stopped testing him and rushed right to his side.
"Okay, okay, stay with me, Crosshair," she said softly. She wrapped an arm around his back, knowing he wouldn't be able to stretch his arm up and over her shoulder in his condition. Even through the pain, Crosshair felt a little excited tingle run through his body as her frame pressed against his. She began slowly leading him toward the couch. "I'll give you a pass on this one, but you need to stay awake so I can teach you what to do."
Joan helped him sit on the edge of the couch and quickly launched into her teaching moment. She had him cut open his shirt and showed him how to use the handheld x-ray monitor to asses if any ribs were broken. After determining it was just a bad bruise, she then explained how not to treat it: no bandagings, no deep breaths, but also not too many shallow breaths or else pneumonia might settle. She had him apply his own bacta patch and repeat back the frequency he should replace the patches while it healed. She also made him promise not to strain himself for a while, knowing he'd still need to train, but wanting to ensure he did it as safely as possible.
The whole time, Crosshair was in awe... of her medical expertise, her calmness, her way of inspiring him to take his health into his own hands. He wondered if she would ever feel the same about him. It was one thing to be impressive at darts, and a whole other thing to actually be attractive. Sitting there with his shirt off, his slight frame hunched and an ugly bruise on his abdomen, he wasn't sure he could pull it off.
Once she'd taught him all she could, she helped slip a poncho over his head, the only thing he could put on until the bacta settled in and gave him more range of motion.
"Thanks," he told her. "Sorry if I ruined your evening."
"Not at all." She walked with him to the door. "Also, I'll make sure Hunter lets you all have tomorrow off. I told him he could push you guys, but not break you."
"It wasn't Hunter's fault." Crosshair couldn't believe he was admitting this, but it was too late now. "I... kinda got distracted."
She gazed up at him for a moment, her green eyes subdued in the dim lighting. He knew if there was ever a moment for him to say something meaningful, it would be now. But he didn't know the first thing about flirting. He wasn't even a conversationalist in general. What could he possibly say?
"Green." The word slipped out of his mouth before he could even think about it. Her eyebrows quirked up questioningly. His heart thudded painfully in his chest. He gulped and tried to save himself. "We did the Endor sim today and I realized my favorite color is green."
She didn't react right away, just kept looking at him with that soft look in her eyes. Then she said, "Mine too. I didn't know how much I'd miss it, coming here. Maybe... maybe you could show me the sim some time? Not to run, just to look at."
He nodded, trying to contain the blush that threatened to appear.
"Although, maybe I should get some target practice in... Clearly I'm not that good at it."
"Is that why you resort to punching droids?"
She laughed, a genuine and lovely sound that made his heart race for completely different reasons.
"I'll help you practice," he said, finally stepping into the hall to be on his way. He wanted to leave before he said something stupid and ruined the moment. "The least I could do."
"Deal," Joan grinned.
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