#it could only target breathing opponents anyway

[xmoriartea]

With Rahadin's marching orders on Vallaki divined by Alkali, there was just one thing left to do: prepare to murder an elf.

Alkali immediately got to work with setting Forbiddance across the town again and discovered the Martikovs had left the Inn in the care of Glita and Gaetor — the local general store owners who Alkali had previously married — while they took care of Family Business.

We grabbed some of Gaetor's egg mess breakfast (the halfling cannot cook yeesh), and whole lot of us joined the Newly Weds™ at their weird pocket fortress they stole from Kalina's attic.

Things needed to get done and we had to game plan - there were so many plans, also we looked over things we'd been stockpiling over the last few weeks.

Lots to do, not nearly enough time. But at least Bandit was vibing.

Before we split up, an octopus floated through the sky towards us. Taron learned new warlock things! Woo! But he was telling us things were ROUGH™ underwater with dead things pounding on their doors. Less Woo.

I sent a Sending to a merfolk vampire we has scared off — his name is Ricardo — and told them if they wanted to prove themselves, to protect the Sanctuaries from the outside. They were Not Thrilled™ but said they'd try. It was the best we could offer the lake until other things were dealt with.

Meanwhile, Tanner, somehow, being the face?? had a few more people to go check in on.

Lady Wachter for one and trying to explain to her that Holtz was Strahd was Something™ APPARENTLY Strahd is just TOO BUSY to meet his people, so she's never actually seen him before.

Busy my ass.

But she was shook enough to maybe believe it, and Tanner made sure she knew what was at stake and what would happen if she turned on us. Then he popped off to the wizard elves who were a little magic hung over in their home-shack (we sort of shoved them in Bluto's old place since he was fish food and Alkali doesn't like the elves anyway).

Kasimir did not want to believe there were People in the lake, and also was not convinced Alkali isn't a man-eating Sahuagin based on Tanner's descriptions on the creatures that terrorized the merfolk prior to Strahd picking up that mantle. But alas, they were warned Rahadin was coming.

Alkali meanwhile took care of updating a very tired Ismark on both the whole Rahadin thing and the whole 'btw two of your council people just got married' thing. Not sure what concerned him more. But he did promise to get her a drink after this and she's holding him to it.

While Tanner had more individual stops to make, she checked the walls, trying to get an idea of what waited for them outside and also told some guards to shove their fucking racism because there were definitely more dead peasants than Vistani out there.

But she DID see an unfortunately familiar Vistani corpse out there.

But the Newly Weds had some Frostwhispers to share the news with, and probably good to do that before war hit the town more so right? So to House Frostwhisper they went.

Faraga was cackling outside and chucking bottled storms at the house to taunt Ethel - Tanner wanted her to bring water to the town... so she got Weird about it. But points for creativity!

Inside, Papa Frostwhisper was shocked by news, a little sad he didn't get to see it, but happy for them. Also terrified for Tanner. GG. Grand/Mother-in-Law Ethel is a nightmare and he welcomed Tanner into the family, but also maybe advised him to run a little

They found Ethel using her current model boy toy to move mechanical bits around for her in her she-shed-workshop out on the grounds. SHE actually made the pump system Tanner was looking for.

Ethel being... Ethel. Did not accept that her ""fAiLuRe"" granddaughter had gotten married. Insisted this was a stupid prank. To which Kalina kissed Tanner to shut up her grandmother, and then dragged him out onto the street.

Grandmother was v angy but Tanner was proud.

Some of out friends had been out looking for supplies or bringing Tanner's things from the Inn to the Fortress, and so the two got to work as soon as they got back - artificers, man, they never stop.

But as the Clerics were rejoining the party.... war horns started to sound...

Rahadin had entered the chat.

With a force of 40~ and 2 fucking undead cyclops behind him, Rahadin had come to Vallaki.

And his grotesque little shouty friend was decreeing they were here to arrest Arabelle on grounds of treason. Like that was going to happen.

Tanner launched a paper bird with a wanted sign for Strahd saying we were investigating him on the grounds of impersonating a noble, but weirdly, that's a charge they didn't care about. So he launched a cold mold bomb at the shouty boi

See Tanner's built these horrific cold mold bombs that just CHASE open flames and do massive cold damage. And when Rowan shot a little bit of fire at it... That shouty bastard did not know what hit him.

Rahadin sent the cyclops forward, prepared to take down our walls, and Alkali simply said No to that, Turning Undead and sending both cyclops fleeing. And you know, Rahadin's not a happy fellow, but it SEEMED like that wasn't how he wanted that to go. Huh. Weird.

Tanner gave us all fly and we took the fucking fight to them, He put up an ice wall around Rahadin, sectioning him off from his army, and Alkali saw her chance.

See Alkali is a siren sort. She guards the ships that sink and she does not save sailors. She makes sure they go down with her ships.

And Rahadin... Rahadin wanted to drain a lake to catch a fish.

She didn't like that.

Rahadin fell, quickly. And one critical hit from our lady elven cleric he'd been quite rude to and one failed save and Rahadin was down.

... his cohorts didn't super want to leave it at that thoogh and called a fucking Undead Dragon down from the skies.

So for under a minute in real time (lol combat) there were two fights going on:

Tanner, Kalina, Mina, and Rowan were all focused on the FUCKING DRAGON.

Alkali and Arabelle focused on taking out the leadership that kept trying to reach Rahadin's body.

See I was going to make sure this genocidal dusk elf stayed DEAD.

And then the amazing happened...

Arabelle managed to counterspell a Revivify on Rahadin.

But the priestess was up to something. Something... I as the party cleric was intimately familiar with.

Y'all its rude to use your player's abilities against them!

The evil priestess got some Intervention. And while her god gave her some UMF, she still had to cast it again. Unfortunately for her, she was right in Sunbeam path and that second revivify never went off. Tragic.

Free diamond though!

Meanwhile, the dragon was doing some fucking damage, it hit like a fucking truck. But Kalina is a paladin now and she slammed some SMITES into those bones. The guards at the gate got to watch their councilwoman just DESTROY a dragon, it was beautiful.

And as the dust settled, Alkali lifted Rahadin's corpse from the field and flew up with it as she and Tanner addressed the army.

Rahadin was dead. Their dragon destroyed. Revaluate. Do you surrender or leave?

One of them got mouthy, so Tanner fire bolted their trebuchet...

...and we returned to the wall to a fucking sea of applause.

They were still concerned about the whole undead army thing outside, but we just cleared out hundreds of them, a dragon, and RAHADIN.

Instant Morale Boost.

Also: Rahadin's in a bag of holding!

That's always fun.

Over lunch, Alkali debated whether she was going to Animate him (SO TEMPTING. SHE REALLY WANTED TO SIC RAHADIN ON STRAHD OKAY) or do the sMaRt thing and funeral rite/curse him so he can't come back. She'd have to think on it more.

#barovian currents #dnd #curse of strahd #yes yes i know #drown is HELLA overpowered #but i made a deal with the DM to use it responsibly #it could only target breathing opponents anyway #so strahds off the table #butttttttt -eye emoji- she had her target planned anyway

[bihanarms]

Chapter 6: A Deadly Dance

chapter 6, here it is ;)

"Did you miss me?" 

It was Krauser, Again. A sinister smile stretched across his lips.

Not really..

In a brutal gesture, he violently propelled her outside with devastating force. Her body was thrown into the air as an involuntary scream escaping her lips. The rough and cold ground brutally caught (Name), taking her breath away. But before she could fully regain her senses, the armed man rushed with his knife towards the woman still on the ground, ready to plunge it straight into her throat. "You will pay for what happened earlier."

Luckily, she had quick reflexes to put her arms in front of her and fend off the attack from the former Major, but the strength in his arms far surpassed hers. And the knife was getting closer and closer to her skin.

Suddenly, adrenaline surged through her veins, silencing the pain and fear that threatened to engulf her, as she managed to escape his grip with a well-executed swift move. Immediately after that, she quickly got back on her feet, ready to strike back. Her eyes locked onto Krauser, on the ground from her counterattack, a mixture of determination and anger animating her gaze. Without wasting time, (Name) seized a nearby piece of scrap metal, gripping it tightly. She knew her only chance of survival was to neutralize that man before he could harm her further. Even though he was twice her weight and size, what did she have to lose by trying? I'm as good as dead anyway...

"I must admit..." Krauser began as he got up from his fall. "You're not bad for a mere journalist."

"I'm not your ordinary journalist.." (Name) retorted, assuming a defensive stance. "Let's just say I'm accustomed to the 'field.'" Even though I had never seen this 'kind' of thing before...

A slight laughter escaped her opponent's lips. "Well, try to hold on as long as you can. You're going to die either way."

Krauser lunged at (Name) without hesitation, and their duel began in the oppressive darkness of this eerie landscape. The movements were swift and fierce, each seeking to gain the upper hand over the other. His knife whistled through the air, threatening to pierce her defense, while she exerted all her strength to fend off his attacks and retaliate with her improvised scrap metal. The sounds of steel against steel reverberated in the surroundings, accompanied by Krauser's determined grunts and (Name)'s panting breaths.

.

But it didn't take long for the soldier to slowly gain the advantage in their intense confrontation. Obviously, despite her determination, she had no chance. Fuck, this bastard is too strong. (Name) began to feel a twinge of despair as she knew she had to act quickly to turn the tide.

As she found herself in a weakened position once again, pressed against a wall, both arms attempting to push back her assailant, she felt her muscles grow weaker. This time, she wouldn't be able to escape from his grasp.

"A soldier.. li-like you?" (Name) struggled to articulate, drawing on her last reserves of strength to resist. "I can understand what happened with your soldiers was un..unforgivable. But that doesn't give you a reason to target innocent people."

"So, what's the plan? Are we giving persuasive speeches to discourage while facing imminent death? Am I no longer disgusting?" His grip grew stronger, and the young woman's words only served to further infuriate the soldier. Fucking hell, it's only a matter of time before I snap.

"You...y-you still are, make no mistake, but you're clearly being manipulated by all these people. I.. just find it truly unfortunate."

"I'm a free man who made a choice."

She had to find a solution as quickly as possible if she didn't want to die now. The blade drew closer, while Krauser's strength intensified, overpowering that of our young journalist. It was only a matter of millimeters before the knife pierced her heart. Drops of sweat fell from (Name)'s forehead, a mix of exertion and stress, as her arms began to tremble under the pressure.

"Fuck-I'm not.. talking about that cult. I know you've just infiltrated it." the tip of the blade started to graze the woman's skin. "Hmph..that red-dressed woman and a man named Wesker, I overheard them using you." Those were her last words before Krauser retrieved his knife and prepared to plunge it into the young woman again.

.

"How do you know about them?!" the man exclaimed aggressively.

I’m not dead? The knife was intentionally lodged in the wall a few millimeters from her face.

.

Damn, I'm not dead. she thought to herself, slumping to the ground, her limbs unable to hold her up after all the effort. Her condition left her unable to attempt anything further, her heart racing and breathing becoming increasingly labored as she struggled to comprehend how she was still alive.

"Talk, now." he said sternly.

He stood before her, his features hardening as he fought against the emotions overwhelming him. "I overheard a conversation. I swear." the breathless young woman replied.

Abandoning any notion of combat, he took a step back, creating space between them. His piercing eyes were fixed on (Name), searching for the truth in her expressions. The soldier remained silent, seemingly weighing her words in his mind. They were not mentioned in the documents; she couldn't have made them up. His thoughts were in turmoil, his convictions shaken by the possibility of being manipulated.

.

"Krauser? Are you there? Have you found the girl?" a sound came from Krauser's pocket. "Our followers couldn't find her."

A silence fell as the two locked eyes for what seemed like an eternity. The man took a deep breath before grabbing his walkie from his pocket.

"She's not on my side, try looking south on the island."

Wait-what? the young woman's brows furrowed suddenly, confusion etched on her face. Why didn't he expose her?

Noticing the expression on the woman's face, Krauser approached her, finally crouching to her level as he retrieved his knife, still embedded in the wall.

"Don't think for a second that I did this for you," he murmured, his face close to hers. "You're going to tell me everything you heard in detail."

#resident evil #resident evil 4 #resident evil remake #re4 #re4 remake #re4make #resident evil 4 remake #krauser #re4 krauser #major krauser #resident evil krauser #jack krauser #krauser x reader #rer4r #leon s kennedy #operation javier #darkside chronicles

[snakes-and-fluff]

Replaying P3P got me in a headcanon-y mood, and I wanted to share! So behold: Creepy SEES headcanons!

The gist is that the Dark Hour is so unnatural and strange that spending time in it alters one ever so slightly. The members of SEES still view each other as normal, but other people find themselves feeling weirded out around them... From staring off into the distance when nothing is there to having altered body functions, here's a list of specific headcanons I have for this idea:

-She might often miss against Shadows, but when it comes to regular archery practice against stationary targets, Yukari's clubmates notice that her accuracy seems downright unbelievable. In addition, she'll hardly blink when focusing on when to let her arrow fly, and her breathing rate slows down quite drastically.

-After going missing, Fuuka seemed... different when she returned. She never spoke up in class unless the teacher asked her a direct question, and her unfocused look would indicate that she isn't paying attention, but then she scores above-average on every test. Even among SEES, she is an odd one out - able to summon her Persona without her Evoker, and seemingly initiate communication with her even without summoning. After all, spending ten sequential hours in the Dark Hour has to have done... something. They can't explain it, but even after the events of Persona 3, just having Fuuka around reminds them of how the Dark Hour felt.

-One time in Home Ec class, Junpei's sleeve caught fire. A classmate of his, after not being to move in shock for a few moments, dumped water on it. Junpei's jumper was ruined, but his skin was entirely unharmed.

-Aigis is very beautiful, and it soon became common to hear people describe her as a doll. But the longer she attended Gekkoukan, the more unnerved everyone got. It was the sort of thing you felt you weren't supposed to notice, but drew your attention anyway: she always looked the same. Hair always in that exact same cut, never tousled or untidy. Uniform set perfectly, not a button out of place. For a while, her expression was like that too, but then she began to smile regularly. This should have been reassuring, but only made the other strangenesses stand out more.

-Everyone calls Mitsuru an ice queen because of her lineage and personality. Also, the room seems colder when she's in it. Much colder. Student council members take to wearing coats for meetings no matter what season it is.

-Nobody who was there could forget a certain boxing match. It was regionals against another school and the opponent was HUGE - actually towering over Akihiko. Akihiko landed a few good blows, but then the opponent's fist connected squarely with Akihiko's face, hitting the side of his jaw and splitting his lip. Akihiko didn't react. No sound, and no change in his expression. He just stepped back in and continued the fight, and was soon victorious. The crowd cheered and the referee raised his arm in victory, but for a few moments Akihiko still just stood there, eyes strangely vacant, almost seeming to glow.

-The protagonists have unnaturally cold hands. It's not dangerous (in fact they don't even notice it themselves), but anyone who touches/brushes their hands notices it instantly.

#headcanon #persona 3 #p3p #p3 #SEES #yukari takeba #fuuka yamagishi #junpei iori #aigis #mitsuru kirijo #akihiko sanada #makoto yuki #kotone shiomi #persona 3 femc #persona 3 mc

[imbxdateverything]

It has been five months but I finally did it...

This fic is inspired very heavily by this prompt posted by @whumperofworlds (go follow them. now.)

Fandom: Gintama

Whumpee: Sakata Gintoki

Warnings: description of active panic attack, mentions of drowning, PTSD episode

AO3 link: x

wordcount: 1,580

fic under cut

—

Gintoki panted, his bokuto held tightly in his hand as he waited for his opponent to make a move.

The man leisurely held his gun at his side, putting Gintoki on edge. Gintoki had never cared for guns, certainly not like Sakamoto had. They had all been up against too many gunmen to count during the war, barely escaping with their lives until they learned how to use the enemy's large numbers to their favour.

Against a single armed opponent, though, Gintoki could feel the tension in his every muscle. With a sharp inhale, Gintoki ran towards the man, his sword raised and ready to strike.

He feinted to one side before swiftly striking from another, but before he could make contact with his target, the man had dodged the strike. He brought his gun up to aim at Gintoki and fired.

The sound of the trigger being pulled echoed in Gintoki's ears. He stumbled as he tried to sidestep the beam of light coming towards him, bringing his bokuto up uselessly as it followed his descent and pierced through Gintoki's heart.

Gintoki jerked at the impact and looked down at where it had hit him only to find unmarred skin. He pressed his fingers over his erratically beating heart but couldn't find anything out of place. He briefly wondered if adrenaline was making him think he was unhurt (it wouldn't be the first time anyway), but he couldn't be sure.

Deciding it a problem for later, Gintoki lifted his head to look at his opponent with nerves alight, but the place the nameless man had been occupying moments ago was empty.

A few seconds later, Gintoki slowly got to his feet and carefully looked at his surroundings, getting ready for a surprise attack at any moment. It didn't come.

He breathed for a few moments, his fingers still tense around his bokuto. Once Gintoki's breathing slowed to normal levels, he made his way home, his taut muscles unable to relax.

As he walked, his hand found its way once again over where Gintoki knew he should've had a wound, but inexplicably didn't. It stayed there until Gintoki saw the two familiar signs outside his home.

Climbing up the stairs to the Yorozuya office didn't help alleviate the feelings in Gintoki's chest of something being wrong. But, being unable to find an explanation and feeling uncomfortable with the sweat from the battle sticking to his skin, Gintoki pushed the thoughts away and slid the door open.

Once inside, Gintoki greeted Kagura, who was sitting on the couch watching TV with a napping Sadaharu at her feet. He didn't receive an answer, but that was normal; the young girl was too often engrossed in the screen. He wondered where she could have gotten this habit from as he shut the bathroom door behind him.

Absentmindedly, Gintoki prepared the tub with warm water. The sound of running water that filled the room was loud. Too loud. Gintoki frowned slightly when his ears started to ring alongside it.

It was suddenly too hot in the small bathroom and the thought that he had accidentally turned on the hot water instead crossed Gintoki's mind. Gintoki submerged his fingers into the water to check, but immediately pulled his hand back, staring at it as it started to tremble.

With his heart beating loudly and the rushing water even louder, Gintoki quickly turned the faucet off and took a step back. Images he didn't want to see, memories he didn't want to remember assaulted his mind and Gintoki clenched his eyes shut to try and escape them.

Gintoki took a few unsteady steps until his back met with the wall and he slid to sit on the floor heavily. He tried to calm his breathing, but as more and more memories dashed in front of his eyes, he found himself panicking.

Frustration surged weakly through Gintoki's body for a moment; he thought he was finally getting better, he hadn't had an episode in over four months. So, why now?

Why now?

That beam of light the man had hit him with suddenly crossed Gintoki's muddled mind. Was this his doing?

But... he couldn't have known. Then how...?

Memories of drowning and being held in place warred against Gintoki's many questions. In the end, Gintoki was left spluttering as phantom dirty water filled his throat, no answers to be found.

Gintoki started coughing hard to get rid of what wasn't there, bringing up only saliva and whatever couple of bites he had sneaked from downstairs for breakfast.

He cracked open red rimmed eyes to see the room around him sway and darken, dangerously resembling the place Gintoki found himself in in his worst nightmares, and closed them again.

Gintoki didn't pay any attention as the door beside him cracked open, he could barely hear the voice speaking to him over the blood rushing to his ears. A gentle hand laid itself on Gintoki's thigh and he flinched, his breath hitching.

So many hands. Rough and forceful. Holding him down. Holding him under. Did they ever let go?

Gintoki's lungs seized painfully, expelling nothing. He brought his hands up to claw at his throat, but they were seized firmly and he weakly pulled at them, unable to break the hold in his panic.

"Gintoki, open your eyes." The voice finally broke through the haze encompassing Gintoki's mind, making him freeze.

Carefully, Gintoki obeyed, darkness making way to familiar gray folds. Gintoki lifted his blurry eyes to see Otose's gentle face looking down at him, her gaze containing a softness Gintoki had become intimately familiar with over the years.

That was what made him come undone in the end. Gintoki's arms shook in Otose's hold, his face ducking to let the tears finally flow down freely.

As soon as the older woman let go of his arms, Gintoki surged forward to embrace her, his head buried in her shoulder, making a mess of her kimono. Otose didn't find it in her heart to scold him as she hugged him back.

Soon after, Kagura hesitantly joined the two on the bathroom floor, rubbing small circles on Gintoki's back. They stayed in that position for a little longer even after Gintoki's tears had stopped choking him.

With a hand on Gintoki's back, Otose helped him stand and led him out of the bathroom. On the way out, Gintoki glanced at the still full bathtub before ripping his eyes away.

Otose could feel Gintoki shudder under her hands, but she didn't ask. She knew Gintoki was too stubborn to say what was bothering him— even with how much he would complain about any little insignificant thing every day.

Together with Kagura, the two sat Gintoki on the couch, the TV long ago turned off. Sadaharu waddled to sit by Gintoki's feet protectively, sensing the distress still thrumming weakly under Gintoki's skin.

Otose sent Kagura to the kitchen to get something for Gintoki to drink, and by the time the young girl came out again with a carton of strawberry milk, Otose had sat down next to Gintoki; a handkerchief in her hand that she was using to dab softly on Gintoki's damp skin.

The older woman watched as Gintoki's eyes regained and lost their focus over and over as she gently wiped the sweat off his face, and she remembered a similar situation from a few years ago, when Gintoki had first come to live with her; Still much too skinny for Otose's liking and with too many bruises that had yet to fade, that Gintoki had yet to learn how to hide from her.

It had been a mild evening, the last customer having left not twenty minutes earlier when Gintoki had come rushing in through the back door. He had been soaking wet, heavy strands of hair falling over blown wide eyes, a towel clumsily wrapped around his middle.

Otose was momentarily startled but she was quick to shake it off and go to his side, questions of what was wrong already falling from her lips as Gintoki tensely stood in the doorway.

Her words halted instantly when Gintoki brought a shaking hand to grasp firmly at Otose's sleeve, his head bowed. He wasn't that much taller than her back then, and looking at his pitiful state, Otose sighed softly and guided Gintoki back to his room with a few soothing words.

She grabbed another towel on the way and helped him dry off completely before she sat down in front of him with a sad smile on her face, silently keeping Gintoki company as she waited for him to calm down.

The next day, neither of them brought up what had happened, but the vulnerable and grateful look Gintoki had given her that night stayed with Otose even after all these years.

Now, the older woman watched as Gintoki's eyes slowly cleared, how he tentatively reached for the carton to take a sip. She smiled when Gintoki pet Sadaharu softly, tenderness and amusement visible on her expression as Kagura started complaining of being left out, effectively pulling Gintoki into one of their usual bickering matches.

Watching the scene with fond eyes, Otose couldn't help but wonder what hardships the young man she had come to consider her son had lived through. She doubted she would ever know, but she knew she would be there for Gintoki when they came back to haunt him until she could no longer.

#ehe #sorry this took me 5 months........ #mine #fanfic #whump #gintama #sakata gintoki #ptsd #panic attack #hurt/comfort #ao3 link

[queentheweeb]

Gang Orca X Female Reader Finale

A/N: This was a cute 6 part story that I will be ending here!

Part 5

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You woke up in the hospital disoriented. You didn't exactly remember how you ended up there anyway looking down at the bandages on your arms and you felt the bandage wrapped around your head. You lay there blearily looking up at the lights trying to piece together what had happened. You left your job early leaving Ember behind to finish her shift and since you were hungry you stopped by to get some food that's when a villain attacked and you stopped him but your drawback got the best of you because it's been a long time since you had to use that much power and strength on an opponent. You glanced over to the window and saw that it was pitched black meaning you were out for a few hours. You looked at the clock and saw it was in fact 11 PM and you were more than likely not going to be released until the morning. 

"It's nice to see that you are awake." You flinched hard sitting up to stare in the direction the voice came from. Standing by the curtains in all of his glory was Kugo. You had a fleeting thought of why he was there when you remembered he was the one to bring you to the hospital.

"Yeah...I'm sorry for worrying you." You felt a bit bashful for not only showing off to him but then needing to be rescued and taken to the hospital because your drawback told you fuck you. 

"There is nothing to be sorry about. You were defending yourself and trying to help out the heroes. Was it extremely dangerous and a bit stupid? Yes. However, if it wasn't for you then he would have caused way more damage than what was necessary. For that, I thank you." He bowed a bit to you surprising you. Why was the number ten hero bowing to you? It felt so weird!

"S-Stand up! There is no need to bow to me! It should be me thanking you! Who knows what could have happened to me if you didn't take me here for the effects of my drawback." You weren't about to tell him that when overused way past your limit you can bleed out. You found out the hard way when you needed 3 blood transfusions when you damn near severed your leg in a car accident. He looked put off by your sudden outburst but he stood up as requested before fixing you with a stare.

"What exactly is your quirk? I am patient but, you did say you were going to tell me." Oh yeah, that's right you never told him the full extent of your quirk nor the drawbacks. You knew all about his and he barely knew what yours was. 

"Come sit next to me." You pointed to the chair watching as he made his way and sat down. His demeanor and size made the chair look kid size. "Well, I'm an elemental user. I have one of the rarest quirks which is the ability to use, create and control the 4 main elements which are Air, Water, Earth, and Fire in that order. This makes me an easy target for villains because I can be used for so many things which is why I chose a simple office job. I didn't want the stress of being a hero knowing I always have to watch my back. Yes, saving people would have been the best reward but my nerves and anxiety would not have been able to handle it." You took a break watching for his reaction which was hard considering he has years of schooling and his face under his belt. You continued once he gave you a nod signaling he is still listening. "My drawbacks depend on what element I use. When I use Earth too much too fast it causes me to bleed from all orifices. When I use water I catch blinding headaches, the worst one I had was that I was blind for a whole week. When I use air I cough up blood and finally, when I use fire I can burn from the inside out. I know my limit for all four." You took a breath scrunching up the sheets under your palms waiting for him to digest everything you said and mull it over. You worried your lip chancing a look at him and blushed when you noticed he was already staring at you. 

"...You're amazing." Your face erupted in scarlet fidgeting not sure how to react. He was in such awe when he said it and it made your insides go all mushy and gooey the butterflies in your stomach traveling all across. "You're such a gift to this world...A gift to me...You're so precious and I just..." He started fumbling reaching a hand out to you and you didn't waste any time placing both your hands in his giant palm. You enjoyed his cold skin rubbing against your clammy skin. It made you feel better and it just felt like home. "I know you're strong...So strong...and beautiful, kind, sweet...Never once did I get malicious intent from you...You're perfect and...I want to make you mine...If you let me." You don't know when the two of you got so close but you both were face to face with each other inhaling each other's breath. Your eyes bored into his red eyes. Searching. Pleading. Needing to know that this wasn't all a dream. You took a breathtaking at your surroundings. You felt his skin on yours, smelt his ocean breeze musk waft off of him, and saw his blood-red eyes shrouded by his smooth black and white skin. He may not be fully human, but who cares? He was still the best thing you have ever seen and happened to you. Who wouldn't say yes?

"Of course Kugo." You pressed a light kiss to his snout smiling at the pleased rumble that erupted from his chest. "There is no one else that I want." You giggled a bit and squeezed his hands giving him the best grin you could muster. 

"...How about once you're out I'll take you out on another date." You hummed happily practically buzzing with happiness. You couldn't wait to tell Ember such good news.

"That sounds like a plan." You giggled as Kugo let out a louder pleased rumble before coughing in embarrassment. Yeah, this was something you can get used to.

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This concludes a beautiful end to a mini-series! Thank you and stay tuned for further chapters :)

#anime #fanfic #manga #bnha #mha #fanfiction #quotev #quirks #fluff #x reader #Gang Orca #x female reader #Gang orca x Female reader #kugo sakamata #Kugo Sakamata x female reader #Gang Orca pro hero

[bitacrytic]

...but red is mine [10]

Read Previous Chapter Here

___

"So what are you going to do now?"

***

There was only one answer to that question. Vegas wasn't a child anymore. He knew what the stakes were. Kinn was distracted without Porsche, Korn was in the hospital, Tankhun wasn't even a fair opponent and Kim hadn't been a part of the equation for years.

It was time to strike. 

If Vegas wanted to survive, he had to join his dad. After all, the main family was out to get Vegas' blood, anyway.

"You should know," Porsche said, as Vegas revved the engine. "That Pete is trying to seal his mate mark."

Vegas stalled, kicking the bike stand back into place. 

"What? Why?" 

There was no need pretending. Porsche knew. Porsche had practically admitted that he knew Pete was with Vegas. And even if he didn't... there was no way Porsche didn't know about the safehouse.

But the soulmate part of it, that was new.

"I took him to see a doctor."

Vegas didn't know what to say.

"I'm assuming that if you could do those things to him without feeling it yourself,” Porsche frowned. “If you could do that to him, then your own mark is sealed. Am I right?"

Vegas nodded, stiffly.

"If he doesn't want you-"

"I'm never doing anything he doesn't want me to do again, Porsche."

Porsche watched him, the picture of a man too broken to even argue with Vegas. He looked like he wanted to say a lot, wanted to give Vegas a shovel talk of some sort. But there was nothing left in Porsche anymore. He didn't even look like he'd be any good in a fight.

"Just take care of him," Porsche said, in the end.

But that wasn't something Vegas needed to be told. Pete was precious. Pete was important. Vegas had no idea what the outcome of the day would be, but he'd be damned if anyone from his side so much as touched a hair on Pete's head.

***

"You will be well advised to turn around and go home."

***

Yeah, like that was going to happen.

Papa fired the first shot, and all hell broke loose. Not that Vegas hadn't been expecting that. They'd come to kill and/or die. Someone was bound to go first. And if Chan didn't mean business, he shouldn't have raised his gun in the first place.

His men were hindered from firing clear shots and the few times Vegas could have hit Kinn, Pete was in the fucking way. A moment's pause nearly cost Vegas his life as a shot went right past his ear. He ducked out of the way. But as he did so, he saw Pete dragging one of the bodyguards away. 

Vegas charged into the mansion, firing at will. His target was Kinn, but it was incredibly unfortunate that Kinn was guarded by Pete.

Pol, was it?

He'd been hit and Pete was dragging him to safety. Which was awesome because that meant Kinn was alone, pinned down, ripe for the taking. Vegas stood, reloading his gun as he aimed, moving closer to where Kinn was. This was it. The moment his entire life had been gearing towards. Because, now, Papa would see. He would know that Vegas had caught Kinn. He'd beaten Kinn. He'd done what even Papa himself couldn't do.

He heard the shot from behind him go off. Wondering what his men could possibly be shooting at since they couldn't even see Kinn yet, Vegas turned around. There, Porsche was, geared up, firing at Vegas' men who had been facing the other direction. In a few steps, Porsche had taken out nearly half the men in the area, cutting right through to where Kinn.

"Fucking Porsche," Vegas hissed under his breath, taking cover again.

He'd asked Porsche to pick a side. They'd worked together. Porsche knew he couldn't trust the main family. Vegas had at least hoped that Porsche would stay out of it. 

If Porsche was showing up to protect Kinn, Vegas didn't care anymore. Porsche had picked a side. And the side he'd picked was about to get demolished because Vegas had come to rain down living hell.

***

"Don't."

***

Toy cars?

Fucking toy cars?

On the cusp of victory, Vegas had stood for a few minutes. Damn near seconds, because he had Kinn by the balls. The utter defeat in his eyes when Vegas pointed the gun at Porsche was enough to clear every doubt of Vegas' superiority to Kinn. Because Kinn wore his heart on his sleeve. Without meaning to, without caring, he'd announced to the entire world that Porsche was his everything.

Porsche deserved what was coming.

If Vegas put a bullet in Porsche's head, Kinn would die. Who cared if they'd been allies less than twenty-four hours ago? Porsche betrayed Vegas first. He knew what it meant to go against the minor family and he'd chosen to do so. He'd put himself in the unique position to be wielded as a weapon against the head of the major family.

Except, what ended up coming was a fucking toy car.

The funny thing was that if Porsche hadn't pushed Vegas to get out of the way, Vegas would be suffering from much more than a couple of ringing ears, right now. Fuck! Rolling over, Vegas swayed as he used the wall to stand. All his men were down. At least the ones in the garage. He could still hear gun fire, so somewhere around, somewhere far, his people were still fighting. 

But Kinn and Porsche? They were nowhere to be found.

Groaning, he leaned on the wall, then pushed away, heading in the direction he'd seen Porsche run. He could still do this. He could still win. It wasn't over till one of them was dead.

But then, Pete was there.

He could have very well been a figment of Vegas' imagination. Even if he was real, Vegas wasn't going to actually shoot him. Pete wouldn't shoot him either. They'd done this dance before. Pete couldn't hurt Vegas anymore than Vegas could hurt him.

BANG!

Vegas cried as the bullet went through his arm.

"Fuck!"

"Follow Khun Kinn," Pete ordered the guards. "I'll handle this."

Vegas looked at Pete. He could see the anger there. He couldn't blame him. But surely, Pete understood that Vegas was sorry for how things had turned out. He would never have hurt Pete if he knew who Pete was. He was about to apologize, when Pete punched him in the face. Whatever strength Vegas had left, evaporated as he succumbed to the floor, staring up at the garage.

Utterly defeated.

But Vegas had hurt him.

Pete was crying when he crouched over Vegas, but each time Vegas reached up to him, Pete responded with a punch to the face. It hurt. It stung. Physically, it felt like hell. In his heart though, yeah, Vegas was soaring. Because Pete looked like he was hurting. He didn't want to hit Vegas.

Vegas could understand loving someone and wanting to cause them unimaginable pain. He felt that way about his father all the time, so he could recognize it in Pete. Hitting Vegas didn't give Pete the satisfaction that he wanted. But he couldn't stop. Not unless someone stopped him.

Using everything in him, Vegas grunted and shoved Pete over, climbing onto him.

"I'm sorry for everything," Vegas said.

That didn't seem like the right thing to say because Pete cried even more.

"Sorry?" he asked.

He shoved Vegas back down. This time, when he hit Vegas, it was quick, harder and with clear intention. Pete meant to cause Vegas pain, now. When Pete slowed down, crying again, Vegas reached up to him. This was his chance to make it right. Because he knew what the outcome was.

Vegas was going to lose. 

As long as Pete was on the other side, Vegas would never win.

"If I die today," Vegas said. "Could it be you who kills me?"

Pete frowned at him, confused.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Vegas smiled. Pete, so foolish. So ignorant. The fact that Pete couldn't see where this was all going was so funny to Vegas. So endearing, that this man who was surrounded by all this violence and intensity, this man who felt things a hundred times more than everyone else, couldn't understand the simple fact that Vegas would never come out of this alive.

"I love you, Pete."

Having stunned Pete in place, Vegas pulled him down and kissed him. One last time. If he died now, Vegas would die knowing that his soulmate knew how he felt. Without waiting for Pete to recover, Vegas pushed him aside and ran. His legs could barely carry him, but Vegas had to go. He couldn't lose Kinn. If Vegas was going to die, Kinn was coming along with him.

***

“Would you stop saying you’ve got nothing left?”

***

Macau was all that was left.

Vegas was a coward. The easy way out was just so inviting. He didn’t have to bow to Korn. He didn’t want to. But if he shot Korn, Macau would pay the price. It would not be enough to kill Vegas. Macau would kneel. Macau would bend. Macau would fall beneath Kinn’s boot. And it would all be Vegas’ fault.

But Vegas couldn't take it. If he died, Macau would rise. Right? He had to believe that because Vegas was too much of a coward to take anything else. He was so tired. One bullet was all he had left. One bullet would do the trick.

Vegas screamed because, what the fuck, Pete? What was he even doing here? What did he think Vegas could do for him? Papa was dead. Korn was a fucking liar. Very recently, Vegas had tried to kill Porsche. Again. Vegas was infected with failure and Pete? 

“Vegas, don’t.”

Fucking Pete. 

“Don’t turn your back on me?” he cried. “I’m hungry.”

“If you’re hungry, let someone else take you to eat.”

Pete got up and really, at this point, Vegas should have just walked away. But there was literally nothing left in him. If he had any energy, he was reserving it for this bullet. Because where the fuck was he supposed to go? What was he to do now? Add Pete to the short list of people the major family could hold over his head and use to control Vegas? 

At least Macau knew not to trust Korn. Pete? Pete would be an anchor around Vegas’ neck that not only supported but protected any bullshit Korn was planning to feed them all. 

“You dare push me away?” Pete asked. “Why did you tell me you wanted to be with me?”

“Why didn’t you seal your mark?” Vegas asked, refusing to turn around. Because if he did, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. 

“You’re my…” Pete’s voice broke. “You’re soulmate.”

“You shouldn’t hesitate, Pete. Seal it. I have nothing to offer you anymore.”

“I’m your pet, aren’t I?”

Now, that wasn’t fair. 

Pete had left because of this exact thing. He’d bashed Vegas against the head, unlocked himself and left because he hated how Vegas was treating him. And yet, he was saying this now. Why? Did he mean it? Did he want it?

Or was he just saying anything because he wanted Vegas to look at him?

“I want my owner.”

His father was gone. There was no protection above Vegas. No one to tell him where to go or what to do. Vegas had never been so powerless in his life, even though this was the first time there wasn’t someone above him.

Why did that sound so untrue? Vegas was trying to function here and Pete was fucking with his plans. He couldn’t invade the major family properly because he was worried about Pete getting hurt. He was compromising and breaking down his life to avoid being a burden to Pete and Pete honestly thought that Vegas was worthy of being anyone’s owner? He really thought that Vegas wasn’t losing his mind because Vegas was ownerless, himself.

Did Pete think Vegas was worthy to own anybody? Let alone Pete, who was boundless as the waves, crazy as the wind? Pete who rebelled at everything and resisted Vegas’ need to own and compel him. That Pete wanted Vegas to be his owner?

“Could you please turn around and see me?”

A simple request.

Like a fool, Vegas turned around.

How could he resist, now that Pete was coming out from behind the pet persona? Pete was calling to Vegas. How could he say no?

To his surprise, Pete wasn’t crying. He was smiling. Like the goofy, foolish child that he was. Vegas couldn’t even pretend that seeing Pete happy wasn’t the best thing. Maybe he’d been too rash. He had nothing to give Pete. Only burdens. Only disdain from the major family.

Vegas felt the first bullet slice through him, before he heard the shot. He wasn’t even sure what was happening. All he knew was that Pete’s face went from unbridled glee to shock. Then another bullet. And another. And another.

Vegas was fated to die today.

Shit, Vegas thought, falling to the ground. Because the outcome was still the same. Whether Pete did it, or Vegas did it himself, or some random major family guard.

#kinnporsche #vegaspete #Vegas POV #soul mate au #canon-compliant

[rosesradio]

i’m out of the timezone for silverusso day but whatever, have some silverusso anyways!

warnings that, since it’s my silverusso, i peppered in all that gross wording and dub-con (it’s just kissing no smut but it’s still ~gross~)

words: 1.3k. this was unedited and written at midnight. enjoy!

Daniel knows everything. He's not misinformed in the slightest. He would be foolish--immature--to have doubts in Sensei Silver. His new Sensei was a brilliant man, and the bond of trust between them was to remain unquestioned.

If it were, he might face uncertainty on the mat. Not trusting Sensei Silver would be his downfall, it'd get him hurt just like last time, with Johnny Lawrence.

Silver had commented on the fight, on how Daniel could have been more prepared. It'd been a close match. The crane kick took Lawrence out not because it was powerful, but because it was a surprise. Silver had told him during training that it was better to surprise his enemy with power than to surprise them with a flimsy party trick.

But Silver knew he was powerful. He was the head of a newly forming era of Cobra Kai, and Sensei Silver would trust no one but him. But with that responsibility came trials, which were never easy.

The boy in front of them, no older than nine, was trembling. Nose twitching like a rabbit, arms curled in on himself. Daniel tried for a smile, but after meeting Silver's eyes over his shoulder, he couldn't help but raise a brow and smirk. Honestly. A piece of meat in the lion's den, and Daniel had overcome his lions long before.

"He wants to be Cobra Kai," Silver explained, hands behind his back and walking leisurely circles around them. "He's driven by desire--much like you, Danny-Boy. And as you know, in the quicksilver method, I can teach him all the discipline required. But you...well, I need your help. I need you to test just how devoted he is."

A velvety veil of silence slipped over the dojo then, as if someone had drawn the blinds further closed and upped the temperature. The boy in front of Daniel had the same messy black hair that Daniel had, but lighter skin dotted with freckles. He even had large front teeth like Daniel. Comical. Daniel wondered if he got made fun of. Shoved around. Maybe that was why he was here.

As Daniel looked up into Silver's clear blue eyes, though, he knew the boy's purpose didn't matter. His name was meaningless here if he couldn't make a name for himself--they might as well assign him a number.

"Go on," Silver nodded, his smile reserved only for a moment before stretching wide across his features. Daniel liked making him smile--it made him feel good, doing what he was told and doing it right, doing it well. So why did his smile make his blood rush every which way, or his hair stand on end?

Daniel got into fighting position. The boy eyed him for a long moment, lagging, missing his cue. He had these large, sad pissy eyes like his dog just died. Daniel looked over at Silver again; he wasn't going to let his opponent get in the way of being an unbiased teacher, that's what he would say. If he went soft on this student, he would walk away thinking he was a champion without actually earning it. Then the world would pummel him into a flattened mass of blood-sticky, contorted bones.

Contorted.

Daniel can't let this boy get contorted. His vision hones in on the target, the objective.

And everything else fades to black.

Silver's grip around his wrist and the frantic ringing of the shop bell brings Daniel back to full awareness again. His breathing is erratic, and he can smell the blood on his hands before he sees it, before he feels it, slick and sticky and so dark it doesn't seem real on his fingers.

Daniel's heart is thudding in his chest, but it feels distant, off-kilter. Like he's having a dream or watching a movie.

"This isn't--" Daniel starts, and hearing his own voice makes his eyes sting. And he's looking at his hands in confusion because if he looks in recognition he might fall to his knees and draw his own blood to repent.

But why does he feel bad? He tested the kid's devotion, and he ran off. Nothing wrong with that. Wounds could be fixed, and maybe, if he really was devoted, he'd return.

"Did I...do something wrong...?" He asks, feeling like a kid asking where his pet goldfish is going when mommy flushed it down the toilet.

"Wrong?" Sensei Silver laughs softly, his large hand patting Daniel's shoulder comfortingly. Perhaps the grip is harder than he intended, but Daniel can feel his nerves jolt. Can feel his stomach tighten, his cheeks flush.

His limbs tremble, worse than the boy's did earlier.

First love, hm? Can't live with them, can't live without them.

"No, Danny-Boy, you were perfect. A born beautiful fighter. That kid, just...didn't have it in him."

Daniel took his words to heart, could feel the hesitant smile on his lips. Because Silver complimented him. And smiling would be polite.

"Thank you," Daniel grinned, shrugging as if it were nothing. Because when he saw Silver's smile in return, his eyes like brilliant bright shards of broken glass, he knew he'd do anything for him. "When he comes back...if he comes back, though...I want to give him another chance. That would show devotion."

Silver grinned, giving Daniel that curious look that made Daniel feel on a tightrope. Like Silver was trying to take apart his gearbox and see all the components in order to put that statement together. Other people had given that look before, but never were so curious, so caring as to investigate.

"I'm not sure that would be fair," Silver said. "To show devotion, he'd need to stay. To endure. You can't leave a fight in the street and come back when you're ready, right?"

Daniel hesitated only for a moment. He knew Sensei Silver hated it when he hesitated to agree to his teachings. He had this aching guilt that it made Silver insecure, even if he didn't show it. Because he could be quite sweet to Daniel...his favorite student.

(His only student. Until they could find more with proper Cobra potential.)

Daniel swallowed. Nodded. Smiled. Silver wrapped his arms around Daniel's waist, a hand coming up to ruffle Daniel's hair. "You did so well for me today," He complimented, sweet like honey.

He was being incredibly sweet today, this affection Daniel ached for, stung in every vein for. He put his hands on Silver's biceps and looked up at him with a smile, meaning it a little more here and there. It came in waves, a natural rhythm.

When Silver asked Daniel to do something, Daniel obeyed. When Daniel obeyed, he got that affection he so desperately craved. When he got that affection, Daniel had to say thank you.

He knew how Silver liked to be thanked.

Daniel leaned up on his tip-toes, pressing his lips to Silver's. Everything about him felt so incredibly adult. His face, his hands, his lips, they all felt bigger. Hotter. Like he was drinking straight vodka at a party when his mom said he could have a sip of champagne. The hot, heavy need settled over him like a blanket in a fever: the desire to prove his desire worth it.

(Because it's not childish, and it can't be childish because he's not a fucking child. He's not a fucking child and he'll prove it until his knuckles bleed red and he's relishing the salty taste of his own tears.)

He'll rip himself to shreds. Rewire himself. If that's what it takes to grow the hell up.

He'll fucking kiss him until he can convince himself he likes it.

And his world is upside down by feeling, underwater and flipped on its axis whenever this happens.

(He misses Jessica. It pangs in his heart when he's with Silver this way. Everything he's given up.)

But when Silver's got him pinned against the wall, it's the only time Daniel is allowed to lose, and he takes it graciously.

His arms fold in on himself despite how Silver has opened him, as meddled in the middle there. His nose twitches much like a rabbit as he eyes Silver curiously, breath heavy with Desire. Devotion.

Silver kisses him firmly, unequivocally. Hot, heavy. Suffocating.

Silver is the lion, and perhaps if Daniel remains still, he can learn the Discipline it takes to become a lion alongside him.

#rose. silver's the cobra rose. like cobra kai you know--oh. they're gone. they went to bed. sucks #isn't it like super sexy when i chastise myself in third person. or do i just sound delusional lol #anyways i had fun with this lol. silverusso is always a really...fun pair #lmk if you want more of this. it'll be limited because it takes smth out of me but i'd be willing to write little things #and now for bed :-) #silverusso #daniel larusso #terry silver #silverussoday #rose's tkk rambles

[simpingforthisonedeer]

The Path We Take

°•. Request .•°

"For your event could I maybe request your ideas on how Marx and Julius met each other? Like did they meet regularly at the entrance exam or did Julius „find“ Marx and recruited him like he did with Yami?" by @luminouslion

°•. Notes .•°

Surprise surprise! It's been so long since I passed 300 followers but I wanted to work on these event requests anyways because I was feeling inspired and I loved all the prompts💞 I was initially not able to even begin the event I was so excited about because of health complications and other factors but I hated breaking the promise I made to the people who requested so here I am! Look at the list of prompts requested for this event here and enjoy this story!

Words: 1k

Marx glanced sideways at the boy who volunteered to be his partner for the match. It was obvious that he was taking advantage of Marx's meek behavior and average performance he displayed so far. He could only get a few feet off the ground, make a fist-sized hole in the wall, get the easiest target, make a vague shape of mushroom with creation magic(which he got bullied for) and make the seed sprout just like everyone else.

He was just like everyone else.

But if he wanted to get into the best squad, the Grey Deers, he needed to be a lot more than that. A lot more faster, and stronger. But there was one thing that gave him an advantage over everyone else, that wasn't tested to become a magic knight.

It was his brains.

"Tester number 7 versus tester number 34!"

Number 7, that was him.

"Good luck," the boy next to him smirked as they both stepped forward into the light. Marx kept quiet and looked up at the captains. Some came in later during the test but he only wanted one person to look at him: Captain Julius Novachrono.

But his heart fell to his feet. He wasn't there. The middle seat, the seat of the greatest Magic Knight, was empty. An ugly feeling mixed between disappointment and anger bubbled inside of him. He breathed through his mouth as he stood in front of his opponent. It didn't matter. This all really didn't matter.

"Start!"

Marx shot a spell at his opponent as he ran towards him. It clashed with the other's spell and cancelled. A boulder hurtled at him but he ducked. The terrain around him changed but he quickly scaled the landscape. There was one thing everyone here are deathly scared of. And that was killing someone, so they will hold back no matter how much the test administrators assure them. His spells can't kill anyone, and neither can his body.

He found an opening through the debris and he shot a spell like a dart with a string of mana following it like a tether. It stuck to his temple and that was the end.

The boy couldn't remember anything, except that Marx was standing over him, breathing hard, mana sparking at his fingertips.

"The winner is tester number 7!"

Marx hung his head as the administrator called people up to be chosen by the captains.

Or rejected.

Numbers 1-6 were rejected, as will he. He will just have to try again next year after he turns 16.

"Number 7!"

He stepped forward, staring at the cobblestone floor, fists clenched by his side. Marx waited for the next number to be called so he could walk away. But gasps and murmurs rose up around him. He whipped his head up and a silhouette standing in the middle had their hand raised. As his eyes adjusted to the shadows the man was standing in, there he saw him. Julius Novachrono.

Blood rushed to his head as the man nodded at him with a smile.

Marx did it. He was a magic knight.

Someone ushered him away and he moved, dazed.

He thought he had to wait till all the testers were called before he could meet the Captain but the older man came up to him right away.

"Marx! You did amazing out there!" Julius waved as he sprinted towards him.

"I-A-oh, um, thank you, sir!" Marx ducked his head as he blushed. "I didn't even know you were watching, Sir..." he said under his breath.

Julius laughed.

"I try to hide when watching because my fellow Captains told me that people get nervous with my presence."

"I think they just don't like that someone so young is better than those in their prime."

Julius stared in shock and Marx immediately wanted to retract his words. He was so tired and he just slipped up-

The Captain threw his head back and laughed again.

"Someone who is not afraid to speak their mind! That's what I like to see! Though, I am not young," he teased. He leaned close and whispered, "I am 31, you know."

Marx eased up a bit and smiled.

"I knew that, sir." But his smile quickly fell. "But I don't know why you chose me and me only, sir. Aren't you going to bring in others?"

Julius laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I already knew who I was going to choose before the test even started, Marx. I knew I was going to choose you."

He looked up at him, confused.

"Why?"

"I am looking for more than just brawns. I wanted someone really smart who can work with me by my side. I saw your grades in school. Top of your class. But I also read your essays."

Marx felt his blood turn to ice.

"What?"

"I really liked what I read Marx. You obviously couldn't speak against the views nobility hold in society, but you didn't uphold them either in your social studies classes."

"You agree with that, sir? But aren't you nobility as well?"

"Maybe, but I am not blind to those who are unjustly suffering."

Marx looked up at the man, eyes shining. He couldn't believe his ears. This was their next Wizard King.

"We are what we make of ourselves. It doesn't matter if you are a man or woman, peasant or nobility. What do you think about that, Marx?"

He wiped his face and sniffed as he looked up, eyes burning in determination.

"I think, that the path that we take is what makes who we are today."

Julius smiled fondly and turned around, motioning him to follow him.

"And what path are you taking, Marx?"

He jogged up to his Captain's side and walked briskly to match his pace.

"I don't know, sir, but I hope it is right by your side."

Julius and Marx grinned at each other, an understanding passing through them, fate entwining them, before they walked through a portal and faced their future.

#black clover #black clover fanfiction #marx francois #julius novachrono #black clover julius #black clover marx #🌻300 followers summer event🌻

[desired-victim]

Helloo! I wanted to request hisoka with corruption kink. Just write however you want to lolol i dont mind any freaky🏃

Ha *wipes sweat off forehead* I hope this hard work pays off. I put every ounce of effort in writing this 😮‍💨. I didn’t do any bullet points on this one but it does have about four thousand words! Please ignore the possible grammar mistakes, I do have trouble writing dialogue. I worked on yours all night long and I’m exhausted. My fingers sure are. I kept your request deeply in mind. You can see poor, little (Y/N)’s innocence melt right off her like ice cream ;). Anyway, here’s your request, my love 💕

I wanted to honor the divine feminine so you will see my appreciation for the female body below 👇

💕TW: The content below contains: degradation, domination kink, submission kink, dub con, threat of forced anal intercourse, pure smut, corruption kink, possible bad grammar, loss of virginity, dirty talk, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, corruption of innocence, Oh, and Hisoka is a TW itself.

Enjoy…

He’s tall.

God, he is so tall. Such long, strong legs - slender yet thick with muscle. Despite being erotically pleasant, his legs weren’t the best part of him. The best part of him was what your eyes followed. From his shins, to his knees, to his thighs, to his hips, to that beautifully sculpted torso of his, to his neck, and then you reached his eyes.

Those eyes. Those sharp, golden eyes of his.

His eyes unsettled most people. It was as though they could pierce your very soul, and see how weak and worthless you truly are. He's a predator - always keen, always aware, and always watching for a reason for you to be his next target.

Hisoka… how did you get those eyes?

She wondered how she caught his attention. He was the type of man to overlook girls like her. A blushing, doe eyed dolt, who could barely speak to strangers without stuttering a storm.

Why? Why would someone like Hisoka find her worthy of even being near him? Of being in his bed, of being by his side, of being between his legs. He is so very special, and I'm…

“My Little Slice, you look delightful when your down there~”

His voice shook her out of her thoughts. She looked at his teasing gaze and meekly lowered her sight to his lips. There, she saw them curl up into a grin. She tensed up and covered her naked chest with her arms. Just then, she realized how unbelievably exposed she was to his scrutiny.

“Oh, nervous now~,” he laughed out, sitting up from the headboard and closer to her face, “isn’t that sweet…”

More red than ever, she turned her face from Hisoka and leaned back. Instead of letting her move away, his hand wrapped around her wrist and thrusted her towards him. She yelped out as her cheek pressed against his hard chest, her face embarrassingly hotter than his cool skin. His chest rumbled as he let out a chuckle.

She put her hands against his chest and attempted to pull away, but his arm wrapped itself around her. She struggled to shove herself away and her efforts were all for nothing; he hadn’t moved an inch.

Perhaps it was foolish to pursue a 200th floor fighter. Where was her older brother to protect her now? He had lectured her beforehand about the dangerous people here and she laughed him off and teased him about being some sort of guard dog. Now, she needed him more than ever. She had never been in a situation like this before.

“No boys allowed, Y/N!” he usually shouted out, a vein practically popping out of his forehead. It almost seemed like he loved saying that as it was repeated over and over throughout her life.

All she wanted to do was explore a place she never ventured to. To seek the thrill that felt so curious and good, yet hidden like the inside of a flower that hasn't bloomed yet. A buzzing heartbeat that formed when she laid alone at night and gently ran her fingers up her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps and shivers.

Please help me, B/N…

Her struggles came to an end as she huffed, breathlessly. Hisoka’s hand trailed down her shoulders to her waist and to her hips. His hand was met with the pleasant plumpness of her bottom. She squeaked out in shock as his hand roughly squeezed her ass and kneaded it like dough. A loud crack reverated across the room as he slapped it, leaving a red blur behind. She gasped and her face converted into an embarrassed cringe. Frustrated tears pricked in her eyes as her fingernails dug deeply into his skin.

Once again, she attempted to wiggle away. Instead of his arm wrapping around her shoulders once again, she was swept over and under him. He was hovering over her and there was no way to escape. Her previous attempts at fighting back were a failure, and she no longer wanted to fight, only to flee.

Her eyes shot out towards Hisoka’s face only to find him smiling down at her. His warm breath fanning her face and his hips between her thighs.

The glint in his eyes shook her to the core. His facial expression was teasing and playful, but his eyes told a completely different story. She’s seen that look on his face before. The same expression on his face as he killed his opponents. He looked like an apex predator who was about to break the neck of his prey with his jaws.

“You’ve never been fucked before, haven’t you?” he asked, his finger trailing down her cheek, rubbing off a tear she hadn’t noticed fell.

Her face scrunched up at his vulgar language.

“No, I’ve never been f-“ she paused, hesitating before quickly spitting out, “no, ive never been f… fucked before.” Another tear came out of her eye. She never cursed - She wasn’t allowed to.

Hisoka giggled, his smile twisting even further. He looked down at her precious expression and felt his arousal rise.

“You're utterly adorable, you know that? I almost feel a little bad about this. Almost. But you wanted to play, and don’t be a spoiled brat when the other player is better at the game than you.” He mocked, his sardonic gaze on her. It made her want to shrink into the mattress and never come out.

“Now, now,” he said, sitting up, “I’ll make it as comfortable as I can.”

He spread her thighs and examined her high waisted shorts. He grabbed the zipper at the top and unzipped it. Down and down it went, until her underwear was revealed to him.

“After all, the first cut into the cake has to be perfect.”

Her shorts were suddenly off her and on the ground. She was only in her underwear now, more exposed than ever. Most naked she’d been since that time she went to the beach. She’d gotten sunburnt that day. At least then she had a top, now her whole body was on display to him.

Hisoka hummed as he tugged his own bottoms off, revealing the thick length of his cock. His cock looked magnificent combined with the rest of his body. That sexy v-cut of his looked like two arrows directing me to look at his big dick, so large it almost dangled under its own weight. It held its own though, refusing to droop over.

How is that thing going to fit inside of me? she thought.

He spread her legs wide open and examined the thin material of her underwear as the form of her vulva showed through. The flimsy material was practically invisible.

Hisoka’s big hands grabbed her behind her knees, pushing her legs up while also spreading them even further. The bed squeaked out as Hisoka crawled on his knees over to her, placing himself over her.

Hisoka’s claws clenched themselves around her legs, indenting the soft flesh, “You have such a soft, innocent face,” he said, his face hovering over menacingly. “But I know a hungry little whore lies beneath the surface… let me feed that little whore~❤️.”

Hisoka let go of one of her legs and let it fall against the bed. Her loose leg was between his two thighs and her other leg was still being held. The top half of her body was still on the bed. Hisoka’s strength was maintained as he carried half of her body weight into the air.

He’s so strong… of course he is, that’s to be expected of a top floor fighter.

The bed let out a groan as Hisoka pushed himself onto her covered cunt, rubbing his dick between her labia majora. His cock stroked the sensitive heat over and over again, he could feel her hotness tightening and then softening as her pussy throbbed to the beat of her heartbeat. The head of his cock stroked her hard clit over and over again, the little bump riddled with sensitive nerves. Her underwear was sopping as her pussy leaked out sweet nectar. The tip of Hisoka’s cock was also leaking with precum, mixing in with her own sweetness and creating an erotic cocktail.

“Yes, don’t stop,” she begged. “Please don’t stop - I want to cum so bad. Please let me cum, please!”

Hisoka let out a breathy laugh. “If you want to cum so bad, you need to beg for it. Only good girls get to cum. Are you a good girl~?”

“Yes! I’m a good girl! I’m your good girl, Hisoka!”

“Aw, you're so cute when you beg. But I don’t think you're a good girl. No, I think you're a naughty, little slut. Little sluts only get to cum when they're being fucked.”

The sensitive head of Hisoka’s cock pulsated with pleasure as he rubbed it against the soaked underwear. If he kept doing it, he was going to cum way too fast. He couldn’t let that happen. Not before he stretched her virgin pussy with his cock. He’d be damned if he let himself orgasm before biting into her innocence.

His nails dug into her thigh as he pushed himself further into her, making sure there wasn’t an inch of space between their heats. He was going to blow and If he didn’t stop, he wasn’t gonna see that shocked expression of hers when came in her for the first time. The longer he waited, the better.

(Y/N)’s pussy clenched and her breathing sped up. She was going to cum.

I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum, I’m going to-

Hisoka pulled back.

“No!” She yelled, kicking her leg in frustration. She let out another yell as her leg didn’t even move an inch in Hisoka’s grip. His grip was too strong. There was no way she could force her way to freedom.

“I was so close!” she shouted, a tear threatening to fall from her eyes. “Why did you stop! I felt so good!”

Hisoka threw his head back and let out a loud, sadistic laugh.

“Haha, you're so cute when you're feisty! I’m glad I’m the first who gets to fuck you.”

He let go of her leg after getting over his giggling attack. She found herself embarrassed as she blew out strings of her own hair out of her own mouth.

As she was pulling strings of hair out of her mouth, she was suddenly pulled back onto the bed by Hisoka’s hands around her hips. She gulped as she saw Hisoka’s face hovering over her crotch.

The part of her underwear that directly covered over her cunt was a darker shade than the rest of her underwear from when they grounded against each other like animals in heat.

She watched nervously as he adjusted his position. She let out a whole body shiver as both of his thumbs opened her lips like a little book.

Hisoka licked the side of her cunt - not directly stimulating her but gently teasing her. While not directly pleasuring her, the motion relaxed her from her last intense session. A little between-the-main-courses snack, if you will.

She sat up on her elbows and watched as Hisoka lapped at both sides of her lips. She felt a swell of affection begin to grow in her chest as she watched Hisoka’s cheek press itself onto the inside of her thigh. She realized how bold she’s gotten since they began to play with each other. In such a short while, Hisoka had corrupted her - denting that once-perfect surface with his perverted nature. To think ten minutes ago she was so shy she could barely even curse. In such a short time, she’d cursed more than she had in a year. A pang of guilt filled her as she thought about how her older brother would react. But he wasn’t here, and he never had to know.

In her own thoughts, she didn’t notice Hisoka’s face twist into a mischievous smile. Her eyes widened in terror as she felt his tongue on her covered asshole.

“Hisoka!” She shouted out.

How can someone be so vulgar?

“Oh, I’m sorry, my Little Slice~. I just love it when your sweet, angelic face turns into one of horror. It turn me on so badly~❤️”

Hisoka only smiled and slid his tongue upwards towards her pussy. He pushed the tip of his tongue against the entrance of her vagina and wiggled it there. If it wasn’t for her underwear, his tongue would have been inside her pussy.

The nerves around her hole were ablaze and her legs were shaking - with fear, excitement or pleasure? Perhaps all three, she did not know. All she wanted was to be pounded by him; she didn’t care how big and thick he was (from what she saw earlier, his cock had to be as thick as her forearm). Though she was unexperienced and naive to the acts of sex, this feeling was primal and indispensable. She needed it, she needed it like a runner needs water.

His tongue dragged itself from her entrance to her clit.

“Yes, yes,” she moaned out and spread her legs wider without an ounce of shame.

It was overwhelming in the best way possible. It was the most electrifying thing she’d ever experienced and she never wanted it to end. She wanted to be there forever - in that limbo of titillation and erotic reality that was unlike anything she could recreate with her imagination.

Hisoka rapidly moved his tongue against her clit. She squealed out loud and attempted to move her hips but his hands grabbed her hips and pushed them to the bed and continued to flick her covered clit with his tongue.

She lifted herself up to her elbows and looked down at him. A hint of fear aroused in her as she made direct eye contact with him. She was so caught up in her own pleasure she didn’t realize how deeply she was looking into his eyes.

As she continued to lock her eyes with his, her pussy began to relax, getting ready to tighten and cum on his tongue. Her heavy breathing paused and she caught that expression in her eyes.

Then her panties were ripped in half and her bare cunt was revealed to him. In a split second, his entire tongue was inside of her.

She screamed as her virgin cunny squeezed itself around his long, wicked tongue. Hisoka laughed out and wiggled his tongue - messaging and caressing her inner walls as she cummed.

The wetness of her aroused cunt seeped out and dripped down to her asshole, to which Hisoka slurped up and continued his assault on her cunny again. He did this over and over again until I couldn’t handle it anymore. My hands tried to push him away but he didn’t even budge. It wasn’t until my legs began to kick out in panic did he pull away.

“Ah, ah,” she panted, body completely limp. Hisoka observed her body. Her soft stomach was gleaming with sweat and the inside of her thighs were also gleaming.

“You might be the sweetest candy I’ve had since I first tried Bungee Gum all those years ago. I knew the moment I popped it into my mouth it would never leave me, marking me with its sweet syrupy taste just like a Scarlet Letter. Would it be a bold thing to say that you're just like Bungee Gum? You get so pink when you're played with. The pink on your cheeks is almost the same shade as my favorite snack.”

Hisoka let out a sudden dramatic sigh that startled (Y/N) for a second. “Unfortunately, the company who used to make Bungee Gum went bankrupt so now I have to search far and wide just to get a taste. Luckily for me, something similar is always nearby for me to stretch and pull at.”

He paused, looking directly into (Y/N)’s eyes with his own yellow ones. “You are, my sweet little slice~”

Hisoka grabbed her ankles and slapped her legs together. The loud smack of her thighs' sudden connection reverated across the room.

Hisoka wrapped his big hand over both of her ankles and grabbed his cock, stroking back the foreskin to reveal the pink, sensitive tip and a pearl of precum forming. He placed the tip of his cock on her clit, rubbing it in little circles before sliding it down her slit until it reached her entrance at the very bottom. He felt tempted to slip it into her ass before deciding it wasn’t worth the screeching. Even though he could easily cover her mouth and sodomize her tight little ass, he couldn’t just jump into completely breaking her; It would be a better idea to slowly lower her into the fire. A slow burn would be ten times more satisfying.

Putting both of my legs onto one side of his shoulders, he used his weight to push his entire cock into her pussy until his ballsack was resting against her ass.

She hissed through her teeth and threw her head back. She was filled with his cock. So full. So, so full.

She was bursting with new sensations. A new type of pain, a new type of pleasure. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt yet so primal and familiar. It was an instinct she never realized she had.

Bending over her with her legs still on her shoulder, Hisoka connected their lips for the first time that night. She could taste her own saltiness on his lips. It wasn’t the type of kiss she’d seen on romance shows (the ones her brother decided were appropriate enough to watch). No, this kiss was the complete opposite of those. This kiss was rough, unlike anything else.

She felt a burst of bravery as she slipped her tongue out and shyly lapped at his bottom lip. Hisoka let out a sardonic chuckle.

“Feeling brave now, are we?”

(Y/N) yelped as Hisoka slid his entire tongue inside her mouth, licking every corner of her mouth. Nothing was left untouched.

After completely violating her mouth with his tongue, Hisoka pulled away, smiling down at her.

“Are you ready?” He whispered. (Y/N) let out a shuddering breath and nodded. She braced herself by meekly grabbing onto the shoulder that didn’t have her legs with one hand, the other gripping onto the sheets.

Hisoka pulled back until only the tip of his cock remained in her, then he slammed into her with great strength. Her breath completely left her body with the slam of his hips. His hips smashing against her buttocks made a filthy sound that made her want to cum. The plop, plop sound that her pussy was also doing things to her.

Hisoka grunted with every hard thrust. She fit him just like a glove. It was almost like she was made for him. While the male penis did not have as many nerve endings as female genitals, a man can augment his sensations and cause it to heighten by being caressed just right. By holding her against himself, fucking her in a salacious dance, the more sensation builds up in his penis just like when a woman’s clitoris is tapped just so…

The friction of his cock pulling on her inner walls before being pushed inside once again left (Y/N) in a concoction of emotions. First, complete and utter pleasure. As he slammed his cock into her, dopamine bursted in her mind like an explosion of drugs. Second, regret. If her brother ever found out, how would he react to his own little sister getting fucked by the murderous Magician, Hisoka? She knew he’d feel like all his work to keep her safe were a waste of time and energy. Like all those years of pampering and protecting went right down the drain. She couldn’t let him find out. And thirdly, a rebellious energy. She was tired of being locked down by her own innocence. She wanted to explore the world. There had to be more to this world than just what she knew. There had to be.

From head to toe, she felt a symphony of pleasure as she came. Her toes clenched until they cramped. But she didn’t care, the pleasure outweighed the pain. Her fingers dug into his shoulder. She was sure there would be a five fingered mark there the next day. It would be a reminder of his clawed reach and her deflowering.

She screeched out as Hisoka went faster, overwhelming her. She hadn’t even gotten over her orgasm before he began to thrust into her twice as hard. She could feel his cock rub itself against the entrance of her womb.

It was primal to push into her beautiful, soft female body and pull back, only to push himself back. He could feel himself building up the height of his pleasure. The more he pumped, the higher the tower built, just ready to topple over and leave a big mess.

He looked at her closer than ever. Watching as her breast bounced and her lips glowed from their mixed saliva. He saw her eyes as she looked up at him, red from crying in complete pleasure. Her appearance increased his desire to come.

“Ahhhh,” he moaned out, feeling his orgasm in his very bones. It was a sensation he was familiar with. After defeating a powerful enemy, he sometimes glowed with the aftertaste of their fight and his victory. This was very similar - yet so different. More intimate, of course. His prey was still alive and he was still inside their body.

(Y/N) closed her eyes in bliss as Hisoka’s cum finally rested inside of her. Her breathing slowed down and the blush on her cheeks faded into softer shades of pink. The sun was coming down. Its orange tones highlighted her sweaty body like a canvas. It almost seemed like she was a freshly painted portrait. Divine Feminine tamed at last.

Both of them laid on their backs, observing the plain ceiling. It was relaxing to lay down after such an exhausting task. All she wanted to do was shut her eyes and rest.

Rest, rest, rest…

My brother! His fight is over!

(Y/N) shot up from the bed, practically tripping over herself as she gathered her things - putting them on. She didn’t even notice her bra was inside-out. More shockingly, she didn’t even notice cum was dripping down her legs.

Hisoka watched amusingly from the sidelines at her scattering around the room.

(Y/N) scanned the room for one final time. She groaned as she saw her wet panties on the bed, right next to Hisoka. She jumped onto the bed and reached for her underwear. As she pulled back, Hisoka grabbed her wrist.

“Tell me, (Y/N), how would your older brother react to hearing about how I ruined his little sister's innocence? How I fucked her and she enjoyed every second of it? I bet he’d try to kill me~.”

(Y/N)’s mouth opened and closed, not a single word leaving her starstruck mouth. Her body was paralyzed with fear. She forgot who she was dealing with in her panic.

“What's the matter? You want to keep our little secret just between us two? Fine. However, come to my room tomorrow at the same time you did today and we’ll have some more fun. If not…”

She didn’t need to ask - She knew. She imagined the consequences in her mind, thinking about the outcome of her moment of weakness.

Hisoka wasn’t done with her; this was just the appetizer.

—-

“Hey, (Y/N), where were you during my fight? I didn’t see you in the crowd at all.”

“Oh, I was just getting some snacks.”

“Ah, alright. Next time just tell me beforehand. I wouldn’t want a stranger taking advantage of my little sister. Right, sis?”

“Haha, yeah…”

#hxh imagines #hxh headcanons #hxh hisoka #hxh x reader #hisoka morrow x reader #hisoka x reader #hisoka morow #hisoka #hisoka imagine #hunter x hunter #hisoka x y/n

[moonlight-frittata]

I Don’t Need a Mechanic

Overwatch: Dva and Brigitte (a few others make appearances)

Word count: ~5500 

My take on when Dva meets Brigitte and the first month or so of them getting to know each other on base.

---

Six months Hana Song had been a part of Overwatch, and during that time she set a very strict precedent that no one, not even Winston or Athena the AI was allowed to touch her mech, Tokki. So seeing the back of someone inside the cockpit as she entered the Watchpoint Gibraltar hangar made her blood boil. 

“Excuse me!! What the hell are you doing??” 

The person’s body jerked, their head banging against the low roof of the cockpit ceiling they wedged their torso inside. Hana heard a short mumble of something incomprehensible and a long, thick ponytail of red hair retreated from the mech in a hurry. A very tall, buff young woman around Hana’s age emerged blushing with a sheepish grin.

“Ah! I’m so sorry, I couldn't help myself. I’ve always wondered what these Korean models looked like up close. But in hindsight I really should have asked first.”

Her accent was European, but it was hard for Hana to place with any real certainty. Could have been Scandinavian, remembering some of the players from Finland she competed against back in her pro days. 

“Yeah, you should have fucking asked.” 

The crimson hue on the tall, possibly Finnish trespasser’s cheeks faded and she held her ground, not scared off yet by D.va’s harsh tone.

“Right. Won’t happen again, I promise,” she said. 

Dva scoffed a bit and pushed past the buff intruder to look inside the mech to inspect if anything was out of place. A moment of stuffy silence passed between the two and Hana hoped the other girl would get the message and leave.

“I’m Brigitte Lindholm by the way.”

Hana let out an audible huff as a familiar freckled face appeared looking through the glass on the other side of her heads up display.

“Oh. Yeah, Fareeha warned me a new girl was joining,” Hana replied from inside the cockpit while she busied herself checking Tokki’s systems. 

“And you’re Hana Song, right?” Brigitte continued lightly, clearly unperturbed. “Or do you prefer to go by D.va?”

Hana paused at the mention of her gamer tag turned call sign. 

“It’s Lieutenant Song, actually.”

Brigitte raised an eyebrow at the curt reply, her smile fading to a neutral expression. It only dipped for a moment though as she extended her hand. 

It was an awkward gesture to shake hands from inside the mech, even though the front of the cockpit was partially open near the joysticks. Hana looked at Brigitte’s outstretched hand and gentle smile on the other side of the glass. Was this a joke? She pursed her lips and sized Brigitte up for a few tense seconds before reaching out. The grip was firm and Hana’s hand practically disappeared in Brigitte’s large palm.

“Lieutenant Song. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Hana sighed and rolled her eyes, a little of the bluster going out of her at the sincerity in Brigitte’s tone. Satisfied that no harm had come to the mech, she backed out of the cockpit.

“Just call me Hana. That rank doesn’t really mean anything here anyway. Lena will probably make fun of me if she hears you calling me Lieutenant.”

Brigitte walked back around Tokki to join her, a lingering hand tracing over the pink exoskeleton as she moved. “I’m surprised she doesn’t make you call her Captain.”

“Oh, she’s tried.”

Brigitte laughed. 

“Sounds about right.”

D.Va chuckled for a moment, briefly disarmed by the new stranger, before she remembered how this person was rudely poking around her stuff only moments before, and snapped back into her gruff demeanor. 

“Lindholm, you said? Like Torbjörn Lindholm?”

Brigitte sighed, clearly used to this connection.

“Yes. Genius engineer of Overwatch 1.0, founder of Ironclad Industries, husband to Ingrid, and father of way too many children, including yours truly.”

“So, you grew up in an Overwatch family?” Hana asked as her full attention focused on Brigitte for the first time in their conversation.

“You could say that,” Brigitte said. She picked up a silver ratchet resting on a nearby worktable, spinning the head around between her fingers and levering the handle back and forth, testing the weight distribution of the tool in her hand. 

Hana could tell there was more to the story than her new teammate seemed willing to let on. She found it interesting that Brigitte, who had been all candid smiles a moment ago when she was caught somewhere she shouldn’t be and oversharing to someone she just met, was now hand waving around the subject.  

Overwatch kids are pretty up their own asses about 1.0 normally. Wonder what her deal is...

This was what Hana was known for back in her pro days. Seeing a flaw in an opponent’s defense and breaking it wide open. But she needed to remember she only just met this girl, who would soon be her teammate. Maybe save that for another day. 

“Well, Lindholm. As long as you stay clear of my mech, I don’t see a reason we should have problems working together. What’s your specialty?”

Brigitte perked up at the change of subject.

“Support. Both base level engineering support and in the field. I've got my bachelor’s degree in mechanical engineering, and I’ve been working on Reinhardt’s gear for over a year now. Angela - I mean, Dr. Ziegler, is training me to be certified as a field medic.” 

“Tough job. Think you can handle the gore?”

A wry smile pulled at Brigitte’s lips, her head shaking back and forth in a small, bemused gesture as she placed her hands on her hips. 

“You don’t pull any punches do you, Lieutenant Song?”

D.Va crossed her arms, holding eye contact with Brigitte who matched her gaze with amusement. 

“The best shot caller in the world is just a loud piece of shit if her team isn’t up to the same standard. So yeah, I like to know who has my back and if she can handle herself.”

Brigitte regarded D.Va for a moment, her jaw working back and forth as if chewing on the approach she wanted to take in response.

“I’ve been patching up Reinhardt for a while now. If I’m honest though, I’m scared it’s not going to be enough one day. But that’s not what I need to focus on, and instead I’ll do the best I can to support the people here.”

The plain way Brigitte shared her apprehensions left Hana uncomfortable. She couldn’t imagine telling someone out loud she was afraid, especially on her first day. Though in truth, she herself felt scared shitless half the time while doing this work.

Brigitte’s smile was back. Did it ever leave that pretty face? It did suit her though, framed by the freckles and warm brown eyes. If this girl wasn’t built like a literal tank of 6 foot something muscle, Hana might have more apprehension about sending her out to fight Omnics and Talon. 

“Well Lieutenant Song, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time with my intrusion. Fareeha and Winston will be missing me very shortly for the rest of their planned orientation schedule,” Brigitte said as she carefully placed the ratchet she previously picked up back on the workstation, breaking the spell of awkward silence.

D.Va smirked, feeling tension leave her shoulders to match Brigitte’s playful demeanor. 

“Mmm, well now I understand why you were hiding down here.”

“Yes they are indeed quite enthusiastic and thorough with their material.”

She gave a wink and started to walk away, turning briefly to call over her shoulder.

“I noticed there was a small coolant leak under the left fusion cannon. Might get a bit sticky on the left hand.”

“Bye Brigitte, enjoy your 300 page orientation manual quiz.”

Brigitte waved once more and turned around, already so sure and familiar with the layout of the hangar and the base.

She’s just another Overwatch kid, and just another nosey engineer trying to get in my mech.

Hana lingered by her workstation, picking up the ratchet Brigitte had been fiddling with and thinking over their brief encounter again. 

Would this girl be a liability on the battlefield? Brigitte looked strong on the exterior, but then, so did Tokki. If you took away the mecha armor, inside was just a squishy human target bullets and fire could cut through like paper the second she was exposed and vulnerable.

Hana took a deep breath.

She walked around to the left fusion cannon and did indeed see the signs that a coolant leak was backing up inside the casing. Pretty subtle to spot with minimal visible damage to the exterior. 

Not bad, Lindholm.

D.Va pulled her headphones on, turning to her latest loop of pop songs to blast while she went to work removing the panels on the cannon to replace the broken coolant line. The task felt good, and helped her mind drift to thoughts other than her conversation in the hangar.

---

Hana didn’t see much of Brigitte the next few weeks. The new recruit was busy with training and learning mission protocols expected of field agents in addition to shifts with Mercy in the clinic to  fulfill the certifications Brigitte was required to complete. Hana would see her sometimes at dinner, often in a spirited conversation with Reinhardt or Lena. It seemed to take Brigitte no time at all to fit in amongst the old guard, but it seemed that’s what being the favorite niece of pretty much every person here would get you. 

Hana would half listen to their stories, always feeling awkward and out of place amongst their banter. Overwatch was like a family, but she was more like the stranger invited as someone’s plus one. Everyone seemed to have an ingrained familiarity with each other. A single word could trigger a whole series of anecdotes every person around had some personal insight to add on to. 

Remember this! 

Oh how is so and so?  

Damn, that was 5 years ago already? 

Even on her squad in Korea, she never had what they people here seemed to have. Dae-hyun was a close childhood friend and followed her into the MEKA squad, but the other pilots were a different story. There was always a bit of friction and distance with the rest of her teammates because of their history as pro-gamer competitors forced into an arrangement as teammates. It never really gelled beyond cordial coworker relationships. Hana’s celebrity status didn’t help either, only adding another barrier between herself and the others. The fame of D.Va closed her off in access to most people unless they were on the other side of a screen, and then they only saw a polished up version of herself. 

Not exactly the best way to get close to people.

Sometimes she was curious to learn more when she heard the Overwatch stories, but she always stopped herself before saying anything. It was easier to pull out her phone and queue up a game. Easy to pull back and ignore them, and usually they left her alone to do it.

She was okay with that. She was okay with keeping Hana and D.Va separate. She was okay with only polite greetings and trite platitudes. She didn’t need to know about the times from before, or what her Overwatch teammates did on the weekends. She just needed them to listen to her in the field and leave her room to make her plays. Like every time she started a new game, she didn’t have to focus on the past, or what others thought, she just had to focus on the objective in front of her. It’s what got the job done and what kept her alive.

---

Brigitte kept her word to stay out of Hana’s mech. She set up her own work station on the other side of the hangar where she worked on Reinhardt’s gear as well as her own. Hana would sometimes see the blue flash of a shield out of the corner of her eye over the hum of diagnostic scans or smell the burn of sparks from welding. 

One day curiosity got the best of her when she heard the loud, repetitive pounding of a hammer on metal and she wandered across the hangar. 

“You’re doing that by hand?”

Brigitte stopped working when she heard the voice behind her, the deafening echo silenced on the metal shoulder guard she was beating against.

“On this armor I do. Reinhardt’s gear is special from the time it was made. It has to be maintained with some older techniques.”

“Why?”

Brigitte looked at her surprised for a moment then laughed, loud and warm. 

“You know, I wondered the same at first. It’s a bit of the way this armor is made, modern techniques can be too harsh on it, interestingly enough. Too precise and it becomes too fragile.”

“That doesn’t sound true,” D.va said.

“Oh, questioning my methods huh? Well, maybe the truth is more I didn’t originally have the right gear out in the field, and Reinhardt didn’t have much modern tech either, so the only way to do it was by hand. But it’s nice actually to keep doing it this way, I like getting my hands dirty with it. Helps me relax.”

“See that I believe.”

“Well, I’m glad I have your approval, Lieutenant Song.”

D.Va rolled her eyes, but smiled a little.

“I told you before, you can just call me Hana. Although, I do like the respect of authority.”

“Lieutenant suits you.”

Hana smirked a little at the complement, turning to pick something up on a nearby table. She picked up one of Brigitte’s gauntlets, slipping it on her hand. Her arm sagged under the weight, the glove coming up well above her elbow.

“Is it exhausting wearing all this armor? How do you run around with it on? I can barely lift this thing.”

“There’s movement assist when the unit is turned on. But I mean, I think I can handle it.” 

Brigitte smirked as she made a show of flexing her well defined arms, and Hana couldn’t help but gawk a bit before she turned back to fiddling with the glove. 

“Um, yeah I uh, noticed you seem to be in good shape.”

“Oh yeah?” Brigitte was smirking, clearly enjoying the slight fluster she was causing in her new teammate. Hana put the glove back on the table and gave Brigitte a light shove on the arm.

“Oh give me a break, you know you’re buff. Do you even own a shirt with sleeves?”

“I’m very familiar with OW 2.0’s handbook, and the dress code is quite lax about on-base personal attire. But, mostly I just like hearing you complement me.”

Hana rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m glad you’re strong enough to move your ass around in this armor so you can protect my blindspots while I’m doing all the real heavy lifting.”

Brigitte laughed again. Hana couldn’t help but smile too at the warm sound. Brigitte’s whole face lit up, and her eyes crinkled around the edges. No wonder she was the favorite niece.

“Fair. I’ve seen your battle footage and some news clips when you were back in Korea. You’re so strong, I doubt you even need me.”

“Ah, another fan of D.Va. Well, who can blame you,” Hana said with a flick of her hair. She continued to walk around Brigitte’s workstation, picking up random pieces of armor. Brigitte didn’t seem to mind.

“Actually Reinhardt was the real die hard D.Va fan. We used to always have a stash of the instant noodles with your face on them in our rig. Great shelf life. I’m surprised he hasn’t asked you for an autograph yet.”

“Well he’s one to talk! Did you know, when I was a kid there was a Reinhardt special edition line of noodles? I remember I tried them once and they had such a weird flavor. It was like ketchup and curry powder or something. He had a pretty big fanbase in Korea actually.”

“Hah! I didn’t know that, but I’d believe it. There’s been so much Overwatch merchandise over the years, I’ve lost track. They were such celebrities back in the day.”

“Yeah.”

Hana knew a thing or two about having her image used for propaganda. She wondered for a moment what it was like for Brigitte, growing up amongst the same environment, but removed from the center of it. An image of her laughing in the cafeteria with the old guard flashed through her mind. She decided it must have not been too bad, and refrained from asking the question.

“Okay well, I’ll leave you to your meditative, hammer time. I need to get back to my mech anyway, I’ve got a mission tomorrow morning,” Hana said, turning to leave. Brigitte let out a long sigh, slumping into a chair. 

“Oh, it must be nice to leave the base.”

Hana stopped in her tracks, curious again, hearing such an outburst from Brigitte. She turned around and poked one of Brigitte’s large muscles near her shoulder.

“Oh come on, don’t be dramatic. You’ll be done with your training block soon. Fareeha is just, really particular before she lets anyone out on a mission. It took almost two months, and me breaking every score in the simulators for her to let me out in the field.”

“I know, I know. It just sucks sometimes feeling like everyone is being overprotective of me. I can handle myself, I’m not a little kid.”

Hana couldn’t help but give a little hmphf sound, her lips pulling down at the corners. 

“Yeah, I get that feeling. You can’t speed up time though, you just have to grind it out.”

Hana wasn’t normally one for listening to whining, but she thought Brigitte looked quite cute while she pouted, her arms crossed tight against her torso and her lip jutted out. It was hard not to laugh at the sight a bit, but Hana held her tongue. She really did know how it felt to want to prove yourself.

“Hey come on, there’s plenty of work you’re doing here that’s valuable. And when you’re ready, you’ll get called up and out there with the rest of us.”

Brigitte took a deep breath, seeming to blow out the negative feelings in one dramatic sigh. When she straightened up in her chair she seemed to be in better spirits, smiling at Hana again.

“You probably know better than anyone how to do that. Thanks Lieutenant, I’ll try. Let me know if my hammering gets too distracting. I can always go find something else to do.”

“It’s fine. I hardly noticed.”

“Well in that case, I’ll just be over here until dinner time.”

---

A few days later Hana almost threw her computer across the hangar. 

“Why is this piece of shit so useless!”

The MEKA diagnostic program she used to keep Tokki up to date was crashing every five minutes when she tried to run a scan of the system. It had slowly been degrading the last few weeks and after the latest mission it apparently decided it had enough. She tried every trick she knew, both from working on the mech for years and everything she could think of on her personal gaming rig, but she only had rudimentary coding skills and was vastly out of her depth.

“Everything okay?”

Brigitte’s gentle voice called out from a few feet away as she had stopped her own work to come see D.Va’s meltdown.

“Everything’s fine. Except I’m going to have to go throw this piece of crap, and then myself, in the ocean.”

“Sounds like a costly solution. What’s going on?”

“It’s fine. I’m fine, I don’t need anyone’s help.”

She could feel Brigitte’s sympathetic look burning into her cheek and hated it.

“Okay no problem. I’m around though, just let me know if you want an extra set of eyes.”

Hana stared at the email she had sent to Dae-Hyun the day before that still had no response. She knew her mech’s hardware inside and out, but he was the one who really handled all the intense computer program internals. She was out of her depth here and needed him to call her so she could get this thing working again, but he wasn’t answering. Maybe he was deployed somewhere or too busy with a social life now that she was gone. 

She had decided to come here for Overwatch. So maybe she should trust Overwatch.

“Brigitte, wait a minute.”

The other girl paused and turned, only having walked a few feet away from D.Va’s workstation.

“I could probably use some help here, if you’re still offering?”

Brigitte smiled, but it was more muted than her usual mega watt grin. Hana appreciated that she wasn’t making a big deal about it. 

God, why is this girl so nice.

“Definitely.”

Brigitte walked around the workbench where Hana set up her computer station and listened to the general description of the problems. As Hana started clicking through screens to show the protocol she usual ran, Brigitte held up a hand to make her stop.

“I understand what you’re saying, but looking at the text, I can’t read Korean. Does it have a translation setting?” “I doubt it. This thing was only meant to be used by the Korean MEKA squad.” Hana felt her stomach drop at how quick her hopes of getting this programming running were already dashed.

“Well lucky for us, Overwatch has some very robust translation tech we can utilize.” “Really? It’s not the AI is it? I’ve been so resistant to letting her in my computer.”

“That would be one possibility, but there are some more localized options we have. I’ve had to do this once or twice on one of my papa’s projects.”

“How long will it take?” “Don’t know! Could take a while, I’m not going to lie to you, especially with your program already acting buggy. But don’t worry Lieutenant, we’ll sort you out.”

Hana groaned, already having major doubts about letting Brigitte mess with her tech. But she didn’t have a lot of options, and this was probably the least embarrassing choice on the table at the moment. 

Brigitte moved back and forth between D.Va’s workstation and her own across the hangar, gathering cables and a laptop she would use to debug the system. Hana watched over Brigitte’s shoulder for a while, monitoring her work to get the translation program working on the MEKA diagnostic software. 

“Where’d you learn to do this type of thing?”

“Back in college. I had to learn a certain amount of coding for my major, but I helped out Winston some in his lab on campus and he taught me a lot of tricks too.”

“Jesus, is there literally anyone on this fucking base you don’t have some personal connection with?” 

Hana stepped away from the computer and dropped down into an empty chair with a huff, spinning the chair on its axis in erratic circles.

Brigitte stopped typing and watched Hana’s tantrum. “It bothers you that I’ve got a close connection to Overwatch?”

Hana did not reply, but crossed her arms and let out a frustrated sigh. Brigitte’s gaze held her for a moment but eventually shifted back to the computer screen as she seemed to weigh her thoughts on how to respond.

“Why did you leave the MEKA squad to join Overwatch?” she asked finally. “It doesn’t have the best history as an organization, you know.”

Hana stopped spinning to look at the side of Brigitte’s face, who’s eyes were still trained on the laptop screen. “Well it’s better to actually be in a fight than on the sidelines.”

Brigitte stopped what she was doing and turned to face D.va. “You’re the best pilot in the MEKA program. Why would you be sidelined?”

Hana let out a bitter laugh. “Best pilot? I was more than that. I was the face of the fucking Korean army! Which eventually meant I was too valuable to be an actual soldier.” Hana stood up walking to the end of the workbench, reaching out to touch one of her mecha’s guns. She couldn’t see Brigitte, but she could feel the other girl watching her.

“I got real banged up in a fight with the Gwishin. Like, probably should have died kind of banged up. I was out of action for months. After that, the army realized they couldn’t let the poster girl for their success stories die in an actual fight. So they moved me off the Busan base and deployed me to lead baby fights happening inland, but whose sole purpose was really just a photo op.”

Hana balled her fist in anger at her side, remembering how awful it hurt seeing images of herself on television in all those epic battle sequences, reporters singing praises of heroism, only to know the real truth that it was all a fabricated lie. She couldn’t stand it.

“So when Winston and Lena came to my apartment and asked me to join the new Overwatch, it was a no brainer. My piloting skills are too valuable to just be sidelined in a studio with a green screen.”

The MEKA squad team was fairly understanding when she told them. The same couldn’t be said for her commanding officers, but as D.Va, the amount of influence and money at her disposal proved sufficient for a smooth enough transition.

“I believed this was my shot to get back in the fight. So even if there’s some bad history there, this is a new chance for me, and I am ready to deal with any fallout.” 

Text whizzed by in the background of the computer screen as the console spat out a continuous stream of logs from the program Brigitte fired off as she listened in silence. 

“I never liked Overwatch. I still don’t,” Brigitte finally said.

Hana turned to face her, very confused. 

“Really? But, you’re like, one of the legacy kids.”

“All that means is I know more of the gritty details and seen firsthand the way people I love were chewed up by this place.”

Hana’s brow furrowed in thought, crossing her arms as she focused on Brigitte. Hana had been so taken in by all the happy scenes in the mess hall and around the base, she hadn’t even thought about the implications and complications that must have been a part of Brigitte’s life. She was so good at always putting on a bright face, how could she have known? 

Brigitte took a deep breath, looking weary as she took a moment to gather her thoughts. 

“When I was a kid, it was like I was one of those audience members you talked about. I was told all the best stories about heroes and villains, and it so happened that my family were literally starring as those heroes. But when I was a little older, I started learning more about history, and the other side of things. The PETRAS act. In fighting and war crimes. Blackwatch. Angela’s medical tech weaponized against her wishes, by my own father it turns out. Winston and Tracer buried under so much red tape, I’m honestly surprised they were ever allowed to leave a military base of their own free will. And Reinhardt... He’s a lot like you, I think. Brave, loyal, too stubborn to be just the face of a movement without putting his own skin on the line. Not when there’s something bigger than himself he believes in.”

A deep sigh, and an almost painful expression crossed her face.

“So no, I don’t like Overwatch. But I also can’t sit on the sidelines while they risk their lives, knowing I can help them. They’re my family. So here I am. Family can be complicated, ya know?” 

Before Hana could come up with something to say, the computer dinged behind them. Brigitte tapped on the keys, reading quickly when a smile crossed her lips. 

“Look at that, perfectly legible Swedish.”

“It’s fixed?” Hana hurried over to look at the computer screen.

“Well, the translation program is running. Now I need to actually debug your diagnostics program.”

“Ughhhh, I’m never going to leave this place.”

Brigitte chuckled. “Don’t worry, we’ll get it done. Feel free to go get some dinner if you want. This will take a while.”

“No way I’m going to leave you here all alone!”

“I promise I won’t touch Tokki.”

“It’s not...it’s not that, Brigitte. I just don’t feel right strolling off to dinner while you’re stuck here fixing my shit.”

Brigitte smiled.

“Okay. I definitely don’t mind the company.”

---

Hana tried to keep up with what Brigitte was talking about as she debugged the code. And she could follow along, for a while. Eventually she was way too lost to feel useful, and didn’t want to distract Brigitte while she was fixing the issues, so she retreated to a nearby futon against a wall. It was well past midnight, and Hana’s eyes were starting to droop. Brigitte drank one of the Dva branded nano cola energy drinks a while ago and seemed to be completely in the zone. 

The next thing Hana knew there was a strip of bright light in her eyes as the sun started to stream in through a window in the hangar. Hana stretched to pull out the discomfort her back protested with from not being in her bed, but it was really not that unfamiliar, considering some of the positions she’d fallen asleep at her gaming computer before. A blanket was draped across her body she didn’t remember picking up when laid down on the futon. She was all alone in the hangar and her watch told her it was just after 5am. 

“Brigitte?”

No one answered.

She sat up, noticing an unopened water bottle and energy bar laid out on the ground beside her futon with a little sticky note.

“Give it a go, Lt - Brig”

Hana scooped up the rations and dropped in front of the dark screen of her laptop. When she started up the terminal screen, her diagnostic programming kicked off like it normally did. All in Korean. 

The screen showed exactly where an electric circuit was tripping in the defense matrix grid of the mech, which had been glitching in the field the last few days. Hana noticed the parts and tools needed to complete the fix laid out on the workbench neatly, but when she poked her head in the mech, it remained untouched.

She smiled to herself.

“Kept her word to stay out of Tokki. These Overwatch kids are too much sometimes.”

D.Va pulled the panel off her mech and got to work.

----

At dinner that night, Hana spotted Brigitte in the mess hall with Reinhardt, Tracer and Winston. Brigitte gave her a wink when she noticed her. Hana got her meal and sat beside her, leaving her phone in her pocket for once.

“Thanks for the help with Tokki, Brigitte. Works like a charm now.”

“It was my pleasure, Lieutenant Song.” Brigitte’s smile was kind, her expression gentle and warm. Hana noticed this close up Brigitte’s eyes were lighter around the edges, and she had a few more freckles on her left cheek than the right.

“Did I just ‘ear you call ‘ana Lieutenant?” Lena cut in. “She’s ‘Lieutenant’, but I can’ get none of you to call me Captain? Double standards round ‘ere, I tell ya what.”.

“Well, Hana was a more recent officer in her respective position, while you have been discharged from the RAF for several years now.”

“Who’s side you on Win!? Those ranks don’t expire!”

Brigitte chuckled, whipping her head around to look at Tracer’s shaking her hand dramatically in the air, eyes downcast in an over acted, scandalized look. Hana also let out a small giggle.

“Your rank on the flight simulator scoreboard sure did,” Hana said, poking her tongue out with a playful smirk at Tracer. Brigitte, Reinhardt and Winston all laughed.

“She’s got you there, Lena,” Brigitte said.

“The youth of today. Ruthless.” Tracer grabbed a fist over her heart as if shot in the chest by a bullet.

“You know, back in my days of Overwatch…”

Reinhardt started in on one of his specially tailored stories for whatever situation was at hand, this case a very detailed recount of the first time he granted a field promotion in the Crusaders. Brigitte sighed, correcting inaccuracies she heard along the way, giving a wink to Hana when Brigitte’s presence in the story was pulled into the story much later on.

Lena took up the torch after that, remembering a time she accidentally flew into restricted airspace and managed to sweet talk her way out of being shot down. They all took turns sharing more elaborate one ups from their time before Overwatch. Hana even volunteered a story, sharing the time she convinced Dae-hyun to set Tokki up to stream a battle with the omnics. She broke her single day subscriber count in under one hour.

They all laughed well into the night, and for the first time Hana really started to feel like part of the team.

---

Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed!

#overwatch #mekamechanic #dva #brigitte lindholm #laura writes #man I've been poking at this for ever finally time to just put it out in the world so I can think about something new ahaha #hope you like! #hana song #(also there was no 300 page onboarding manual until Pharah wrote it)

[merakiui]

Frostbite

yandere!childe x (gender neutral) reader art credit - GNSN_FA on twt cw: yandere, blood, minor gore (lacerations), unhealthy behaviors/relationship, mentions of death/hypothermia, fighting

It’s borderline animalistic, the way you cling to warmth and life like a starved, neglected hound. Your fingers stiffen in a vain attempt to flex—to successfully grasp your sword like a true warrior. The furs that were once draped over your body are ragged, torn to shreds from a dangerous battle between the elements and him. There’s no mistaking the excitement that lights his every nerve like bulbs hanging from a Christmas tree, coated in the maddening swell of potent bloodlust. If surrender was an option, you would have done it long ago.

Even then, you’re certain he wouldn’t give you such a benevolent chance no matter how hard you were to beg and plead.

Your breath materializes like a phantom in front of your face, a cruel reminder that you’re still breathing in a battered body. Your fingernails are chipped, blood running down the tips from an icy struggle, but you refuse to succumb to the cold. Instead, you allow yourself to be swept up in his electrified stare. 

“What’s the matter, comrade?” There’s a wry smile pulling his chapped lips apart, showcasing flawless teeth aligned in a perfect face. Despite the brutal wear of this current fight, he’s still handsome. And that makes you sick. “I thought you said you’ve gotten stronger. If I wanted a real battle, I would’ve challenged one of my subordinates and that’s nowhere near as fun as this!”

Keeled over in the snow, your lungs burning with each rattled inhale, you struggle to meet his eyes. The deathly chill of the Snezhnayan climate claws at your exhausted form like the porcelain fingers of a skeleton. You might as well surrender to the freezing temperatures. After all, the frostbite is far kinder than the fighting machine looming over you, the toe of his boot nudging your trembling self. 

“I... I am strong,” you manage to say before the dangerous wind pierces your throat like a dagger. Like the icicle Childe’s wielding, a happily convenient reaction between Hydro and Cryo elements. You cough and crimson paints the snow. “Strong. I’m strong.”

“Then get up.” There isn’t any warmth in his tone. Cold like ice and devoid of his former playfulness. Under all of that nonchalance, a fierce, chiseled warrior lies in comfortable wait. When his eyes trace your hunched form and he spots the blood that dribbles past your lips, practically freezing as soon as it makes contact with the frigid air, those dull hues widen. Surely he’s hit a weak spot, a vital organ or something close to a fatal blow. He wonders for a brief moment if you’re afraid of death. “You’ll freeze if you don’t move.”

A flash catches your attention and then there is the flow of suffocating water. Sharpened blades of ice surround you on all sides, nearly scraping your arms, so you force yourself onto unsteady legs. Internally, you’re searching for a way out—for a way to give up before you bite off more than you can chew. This sparring match wasn’t your request, but you had been a fool to accept, having been so certain of your strength and wit. But you aren’t accustomed to Snezhnaya, whereas Childe has spent years of his life here: training, learning, and fighting until he was worthy of the Tsaritsa’s praise. 

With sloppy movements, you cut through the ice as if it’s butter, eternally grateful for the sharpness of your trusty sword. You can’t tell when this fight will end, but you hope an opening with present itself. As soon as it does, you’re running as far as your frozen legs will take you. Like a feral beast who fights desperately against the unfair hands of the Grim Reaper, you stumble forwards, slashing blindly at your target. He’s thoroughly amused with your struggle, having seen this sort of desperation many times before on the battlefield.

It’s a depressing thing, knowing you’ll be destined for failure and yet you still push onwards. As if that will turn the tide of this battle in your favor. Childe almost admires your persistence, but it isn’t all that special. He’s seen it all before but not quite in the way you portray it. Your despair is far more delectable than that of any low-ranking Fatui soldier. Childe could bask in this for eternity and he’d never grow bored. To have you by his side as his punching bag—it excites him just a little too much. 

Naturally, the more he spars with you, the more he’ll grow accustomed to your attack and defense patterns. A strategy is only worthwhile if it rakes in victory. No matter the cost. No matter how many fall and grovel, begging for their pitiful lives. In a way, his moral compass is rather skewed. He supposes that makes him a bad person, but he’s never been one for the hero role. 

Childe taps your shoulder and you whirl, slicing upwards with your sword. The blade cuts the air, not the torso of the man who jumps back with such deadly precision. The expression he’s wearing haunts you: a wicked smile, pupils blown wide with the thrill of life and death, and a blooming bruise from where you managed to hit him in your earlier scuffle. In any form, he looks good, be it blue and purple, red and pale, or even frozen stiff by the very ice that reacts to his Hydro abilities. You can’t stand your weak heart, as you’re well aware of the face he’ll bear tomorrow. Friendly and disarming, a total opposite to the grinning madman twirling water-turned-ice blades like they’re circus batons. 

Like always, you’ll return his kindness because you’re a fool. Because you like the soft, wholesome Childe that cares lovingly for his family—the side he’s displayed in rare instances that glimmer beyond the gilded portrait of a battle-hardened soldier. 

You fall hard on your back, landing in the thick snow with a wheeze. There is no warmth on the battlefield. Only pain, suffering, and the certainty of death. You push yourself to get up, but your muscles won’t move, too heavy and sore. You know you’re strong—you’ve faced many opponents before and you’ve lived to boast of your successes. You can beat Childe. You have to if you intend to avoid fights with him in the future. 

“Well, this is upsetting.” He’s frowning now, idly tapping the crystalized water while he circles you like a sharp-toothed predator. “Didn’t expect this to end so quickly.”

Liar. You already know I can’t beat you, you want to say, but the words escape you. Not yet, anyways.

A sneer splits your dry lips and blood trickles down your chin like a woeful river. You don’t need a mirror to witness the damage. 

“Teucer won’t like this,” you say, staring up at Childe with dead eyes, hoping to prod at his weak spots. If the mention of his brother affects him, Childe doesn’t let it show.

“He doesn’t have to know,” he retorts, brushing aside such a possibility with ease. 

Right. Because you expect me to put myself back together like a toy. Of course, almighty Childe, the greatest toy salesman in all of Snezhnaya. 

“Well.” You pause to exhale and pain shoots through your side. Through your bleary gaze, you can see a deep laceration. Blood stains what’s left of your attire, and you move your rigid hands over the wound to prevent anymore blood loss. “Congrats. You won.”

“You’re giving up?” Bewilderment flashes across his face for an instant before it melts away into an emotion you can’t place. Anger? Sadness? Is he unhappy with this win? 

“What does it look like? I can’t possibly fight with these injuries.” 

It hurts to speak and you wish he would just stop. If he could accept the outcome of this battle, this wouldn’t be such a problem. You’d be able to patch and heal yourself up before your condition gets any worse. With the chill seeping into your open cut, harshly kissing slick, wet blood, you doubt you’ll make it inside before passing out. Vaguely, you recall the unfamiliar stages of hypothermia. At worst, if you stay out in this fatal weather, pinned like an entomologist’s butterfly under Childe’s monstrous gaze, you’ll freeze to death. At best, you’ll escape, build a fire, and warm up to the best of your ability. Weighing your options, you’d rather lose a finger or a toe as opposed to your life. 

“You can fight.” His blade is at your throat, the pointed tip niggling into your jugular. It’s more of a threat than a warning, a means to spur you into action. “You’ll never get stronger if you’re always running away, comrade.”

Your life has some value; Childe just can’t see that. In his eyes, a fight should be seen through to the very end, even if it’s marred in death and destruction. Yet here you are, choosing to abandon your pride. That must have some strength in itself, right? You hate his face, his childish nature, and the fact that his everything is making you reconsider. You’re doomed to fail if you continue to push your frostbitten body past its natural limits. 

“I...” The blade slices along your throat, a mere surface wound. You can’t feel the sting or the sticky blood that spills out like flowing tears, having become as numb as a fish-eyed animal near extinction. “Childe—“

You don’t want to hurt him and he knows this. It twists his insides like a knife in flesh, turning and turning until organs pop and leak into soupy conflict. The blade leaves your throat and another harsh wind blows between the two of you, glacial and prickling. He distances himself, tracking your form in case you happen to move. You’ve stopped shivering at this point, lying flat on your back and staring up at the dark sky. Snowflakes cling to your lashes like the hands of death, pulling you closer to an invisible grave. 

“You can fight.” Is that desperation in his voice? You almost laugh at the idea. He’s not a desperate man; he doesn’t need to be when he has it all. “Get up, comrade.”

“I think...I’ll stay here,” you whisper, your heartbeat irregularly slow. You’ve never counted the beats before, but now it makes for a fun distraction. “Good job, Childe. You’ve definitely...”

Gotten stronger.

You possess strength, just not the type Childe wants to experience firsthand. He has no use for a lonely, unseeing corpse. And when your eyelids flutter, closing upon a face that reflects frozen death, he releases a sigh. His blade falls at once, landing in the snow with a thump, and he bends down to gather your fallen frame in his arms. Somehow, whenever he spars with you—whenever he’s within touching distance—he feels alive. As if you’ve breathed meaning into his frostbitten soul, warming the cold beast that lurks and pounces at the sight and smell of fresh bloodshed. 

If he’s learned anything, it’s that there’s always going to be room for improvement. You just need to train more, and he’d be over the moon to fight you until it’s your blade slicing through his skin. In the meantime, though, he’ll have to kiss color and life back into your monochrome world of death and despair. 

As the greatest toy salesman in all of Snezhnaya, it’s only fair if he repairs the damages done to his favorite toy. Break, repair, and repeat. A cycle befitting a messy relationship and an even messier slew of choices. Rinse and repeat, like waves licking up a carcass bound to the shore. 

Come morning, you’ll be shiny and new, ready to sit by his side for another leisurely ice-fishing outing. Childe isn’t known as the greatest toy salesman for nothing, and you’re just barely scraping by with each battle scar and bandage—courtesy of such an illustrious, experimental toy salesman. 

#genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #genshin impact childe #genshin impact tartaglia #yandere childe #yandere tartaglia #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #yandere childe x reader #yandere tartaglia x reader #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact ajax #yandere genshin impact ajax #ajax x reader #yandere ajax x reader

[indecisive-behaviors]

Originally I was just going to add this as a reblog to my previous post about the parking lot scene in KK2 but it’s almost 2k words so now it’s getting it’s own post. Be forewarned- this is fucking long.

TW for discussion of PTSD, child abuse, neglect, injury, and death, in relation to topics surrounding the show, under the cut-

Obviously, Cobra Kai is a show based around the premise of “what happened to that Lawrence kid after he got kicked in the face?”, which is honestly a pretty cool idea for a show. Johnny’s story is never explained past sitting on the sidewalk with his head in his hands at the tournament, and there are no real context clue’s to figure out what may or may not have happened.

In the show we get to learn early on that Johnny’s life spiraled after the tournament, going from bad to worse to “holy shit how are you still alive”-dropping out/never going to college, working jobs he seems to hate, becoming an alcoholic, presumably many dead end relationships, and not being there for his kid. And yeah, obviously, this would be a hard pill to swallow for anyone watching the show if Johnny had just lost the tournament. If we never got the scene in KK2, he would have just been some kid who lost a tournament- we see at the end of the first movie that(through tears holy shit Billy) that Johnny is the one who gives the trophy to Daniel with his famous line, “You’re alright, LaRusso.” There’s a level of grudging respect in that moment that isn’t lost on anyone who sees that movie- that Johnny, who throughout the movie only sees Daniel as some whimpy kid, gets proven wrong and respects that. If we didn’t have that scene, there’s reason to believe Johnny would have apologized, tried to make amends, Something, even if it was just being less of a dick at school.

But then, we get the parking lot. We get a far off shot, intended to distance you from the scene, framed over Daniel’s shoulder. This makes sense, Daniel is the main character, the protagonist, the underdog hero- why wouldn’t it be framed in his perspective? But the scene is about Johnny. We get the shouting match, the back and forth- “No, you’re the loser man.”- and again it’s fairly obvious how Johnny sees this situation. This is a man who we assume(and is later confirmed) to be a surrogate father figure, who set his friend up for failure, and then basically forced him to do the same by targeting an injured opponent, and forcing him to fight without honor. This same man presumably follows a teenager out to the parking lot, to harass him, to tell him he’s off the team, to tell him he’s a loser, that he’s nothing.

But at that point, Johnny knows the truth, even if subconsciously. At the end of the day Johnny knows that Daniel LaRusso was a worthy opponent, and that regardless of the cheating and manipulation, Daniel could have won anyway, and did win, despite of it.

And then Kreese grabs him, too fast to react to, Johnny too surprised even knowing that Kreese is the bad guy here, not believing that he would ever willingly hurt him- and Johnny isn’t strong enough to fight him off, none of the boys are, so Johnny is forced to suffocate for almost a full 30 seconds(which I double checked for the record- also as a reference, 30 seconds is about the average time it takes for a person voluntarily holding their breath to pass out- this does not account for the oxygen lost during a struggle, and the lack of preparation from both surprise and panic. The only silver lining here is the fact that Kreese was most likely compressing his windpipe, not his jugular, which would have made him pass out in about 5-10 seconds, and would have caused permanent brain damage or death in about 15).

Now, PTSD is a complex thing. I’m not a psychiatrist, and what small amount of information we have is all we have to work off of, but I feel fairly comfortable in saying Johnny mostly likely developed it after the incident. This not an uncommon take in the fandom as far as I’m aware either. But, if we assume this, we also have to assume that after the fact nothing would have been done about this. Not just in the sense that we still don’t really know everything that happened right after the tournament, but that in the early 80s, PTSD wasn’t really a thing yet.

Sure it was absolutely a condition that existed, but Post Traumatic Stress Disorder wasn’t even added to the DSM-III until 1980- and for a long time afterward, was only seen as a condition that affected primarily war vets. Even after an event as traumatic as having a man you considered a father trying to kill you, in public, without remorse, would not have been seen as something to warrant the diagnoses, let alone treatment.

Johnny Lawrence was 17 when Kreese tried to kill him, and this boy would have been offered no resources beyond filing charges with the police. And as we see in KK3, either this didn’t happen either, or someone(presumably Silver) got the charges dropped. So on top of almost being murdered, Johnny had to live with the fact that the man who did that to him was still out there, and to top it off, still ran a dojo at least for a few months after the event. The only relief he could have gotten is after Kreese faked his death.

And sure, Mr Miyagi may have gotten Kreese to let go eventually, but as several people have pointed out in comments and tags, left him and the other boys alone with Kreese still standing there in the parking lot and just... drove off. Kreese has already been established to be a psycho with no problem hurting children, a little bit of glass might not have prevented him from trying again.

So why did I talk about all of that? Because it all contributes to why Daniel LaRusso works as a credible antagonist in season 1 of Cobra Kai.

Think about this- Johnny blames losing everything on Daniel in season 1, but we specifically get a shot in KK1 and later KK2(”You’re alright, LaRusso” and “I did my best” come to mind) where he seems to be at least mostly accepting of the fact that he lost(with what was actually an illegal kick but that’s a rant for another time). So why does he blame him for everything 30 years later?

Because 30 years later, Johnny is forced to go outside, go to work, and pretend like he doesn’t see what feels like every street corner(including right outside his apartment mind you), a literal billboard sized reminder of what happened to him.

The rest of this is mostly speculation but it makes sense in my head so bear with me.

When we get introduced to Robby, it’s made pretty clear that Johnny has not been in his life for a bit. In season 2 we get Johnny’s heart to heart with Miguel, where he divulges that he missed the birth, because he spiraled after his mom’s death. This however doesn’t suggest that he stayed gone, especially knowing that it wasn’t long enough for Robby to not consider seeking out his dad. Because tacked up to the fridge, is a picture of Robby in his soccer uniform as a kid. It’s an early detail you can see in previous episodes, and says a lot about how Robby grew up. To be fair, this could have been given to him by Shannon, and not taken himself, but it’s the sport Robby’s playing that makes me question this. KK1 dedicates an entire scene to Johnny being on the soccer team in high school. Soccer, while maybe not as important to him as karate, is still part of his character. Robby does not know karate in season 1, Johnny obviously didn’t share it with him, but that doesn’t mean Johnny didn’t share anything with him.

So Johnny’s back in his kids life, maybe doing better for himself, maybe cutting back on the drinking. LaRusso Auto is already established to exist at this point but it’s in Encino, a place Johnny has no reason to go to, and probably doesn’t want to. He’s trying again and things are okay. But Robby knows enough about Daniel to know that going to him will piss off his dad. So Johnny had to have talked about him at some point. The billboards here are what’s important- they’re in the first episode, the first scene montage, Johnny draws a dick on one of them as some petty revenge.

The first billboard goes up in the late 2000s to mid 2010s. Johnny sees it, maybe he has Robby with him at the time, maybe he goes home and says something there, but he says something in a way that sticks with even a child as being important. More billboards go up. Dealerships starting popping up more and more. Daniel’s face, and by extension, the memories, the flashbacks, become inescapable. Johnny, for a third time, spirals again. Before he even knows what’s happening, he’s lost his relationship with his son. And it’s all Daniel’s fault. Of course Daniel doesn’t do it deliberately, but the constant reminders are enough to send him back into a tailspin and Johnny blames him for it.

Because it’s Daniel who is a constant reminder of his failures- it’s Daniel who caused him to lose the tournament and almost get killed, Daniel who put up the billboards that trigger his flashbacks, it’s always Daniel Daniel Daniel.

And then Johnny gets it in his head that he wants to be better. He opens a dojo, teaches Miguel and the other kids, wants to try again- and he almost succeeds.

Johnny up to this point has not deliberately antagonized Daniel in any way. Sure he named the dojo Cobra Kai, but Cobra Kai is all he knows. Besides Johnny doesn’t blame karate for his failures, his best memories are Cobra Kai and he’s trying to be better than Kreese. So what’s the harm in this really? His building is in Reseda, there’s no reason for Daniel to ever be there, he doesn’t do it out of spite, it’s because he lives there and rent is cheap. He doesn’t know about KK3, doesn’t know about Daniel’s own trauma. This isn’t an attack. Johnny sincerely just doesn’t know.

Enter Daniel, stage left. Daniel makes no attempt to talk to him- he simply makes demands and accusations, before he starts making active attempts to put him out of business.

Sure, we as the audience know Daniel has good reasons to not want Cobra Kai back. But Johnny doesn’t. All Johnny knows is that the kid he picked on in high school- who won, who got everything Johnny wanted, who grew up to be successful, has a wonderful wife, two kids who love him, a thriving business- is doing everything he can to make his life hell 30 years after the fact.

And this could only have happened because in 1986 John G. Avildsen decided to add in a scene meant for the original movie into the sequel, for absolutely no fucking reason.

#meta analysis #ranting about cobra kai cuz I can #johnny lawrence #daniel larusso #cobra kai #karate kid #I will never get over the fact that that was an actual scene that they filmed #and then got no resolution #FOR 30 YEARS #I apologize to everyone for this post #obviously I have a lot of feelings about this

[carelesscreativity]

Kross Fatal Sparring: Gift for ShironuK

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

[Based on this Thread: https://twitter.com/shironusins/status/1385432090225909763?s=21]

(SFW, Blood, Angst, Dismemberment)

Killer felt so... itchy. He felt one of his sockets twitch as he stared straight ahead, his empty eyes fixed on the wall across from the bed. He was laying back against the backboard, having been sharpening his knife. His arms had suddenly fallen limp in his lap, his soul having given a sudden, violent spark that had rattled him and left a tingling along his bones. It wasn't a comfortable one. He felt a pressure and quickly realized that he had been holding his breath the whole time.

He shakily exhaled, watching as a billowing cloud of glowing red mist escaped his jaws. He supposed that was his LV flare for the day. It was the shortest one he'd had in a while and even the most painless. He furrowed his brow and after another moment of recovering, slowly began to sharpen his knife on the whetstone once more. He was so focused on that, he nearly had a soul attack at a knock on his door. He stared at it for a moment, his mind not quite clicking before it caught up to him. "Hold on!" He called.

He slipped out of the bed and stretched, figuring he already knew who it was. He always showed up around this time. Killer picked up his knife, slipping it up his sleeve and moving over to the door, unlocking and opening. "Hey there. Come to see me?" He asked teasingly. Cross scoffed and rolled his eyes. He opened his jaws and Killer was already out the door, shutting it behind him. "Hell yeah, I would love kick your ass."

"We're sparring." Cross said flatly, scoffing warmly as Killer turned to look back at him with an innocent smile and a shrug. Cross' eyes flicked to his soul for just a moment, the target glowing much brighter than usual. Killer got his attention with his snarky, teasing voice.

"That's what I said, isn't it?" Killer led the way down to the training room, his smile only faltering once he was turned away from Cross. He furrowed his brow just for a moment, wondering why he still felt so itchy. It wasn't the kind of itch that he could scratch. It was one that was deepset in his bones and marrow. It was inside and Killer wasn't sure he'd felt something like that before.

They reached the large, open room and Killer gave an abrupt spin to face Cross, turning on his heel and giving a lazy smile. The soldier almost ran right into him, nearly jumping out of his bones. "You need to stop doing that." He said gruffly, a soft purple dusting along his cheeks. Killer reached up and Cross raised a brow in response before sighing as Killer traced his fingers over his cheek with a grin.

"Why would I stop? You always look so pretty when I do it." Killer's feverishly bright soul allowed itself to bend just a little and the faintest eyelights were seen in Killer's usually empty sockets as he grinned. "Alright!" He turned away and walked a few feet ahead, slipping his knife out of his sleeve and into his hand. He spun back to face him with that teasing grin, ignoring the prickling. It was spreading from his soul, he realized, having been unable to pinpoint the origin earlier. He got into a starting position, watching Cross summon his large knife and do the same.

Killer's head was swimming and his thoughts kept slipping out of his grasp. The match began, both of them fast and precise. The blows exchanged between them would be superficial if they ever landed. He knew the others liked watching the two of them spar and would probably already be coming to see them. The clanging and clinking of metal on metal echoed through the training room, the prickling becoming more and more powerful. The sounds were blurring, but Killer kept his body moving.

He didn't even feel like he was the one moving it though. His body was on autopilot, acting without his mind being fully attached. He wasn't focused on the fight. Killer was SO itchy. Mid-strike, his soul gave a powerful crackle and it made him stumble just long enough to miss a dodge. There was a faint searing pain across his cheek and Killer felt something spilling down his face. It wasn't more than a cut, he could tell that much. But the way his soul suddenly flared up made his bones feel electrocuted. He was in danger. He was in danger and that had to be remedied.

He was on his opponent in an instant, pinning them hard enough for their head to crack against the ground. Killer's body was still on autopilot and he couldn't even really see. All he saw was red and black and brightness. It was so fucking bright. He couldn't speak and even if he was, he couldn't hear himself. HE WAS SO FUCKING ITCHY. His arms were moving. His arms were moving and he could hear noises that were comforting and familiar though the itchiness, which was quickly becoming painful. His eyesockets were no longer empty, but they were pitch black and melting down his face. A true visage of terror and a picture perfect reminder of what he was. He felt like he was melting on DETERMINATION.

Screaming. He could hear screaming but he couldn't tell who's it was. He had sheared straight through his opponent's armor, aiming at the same spot over and over, liquid spilling through his fingers and the familiarity of it all was sending him on a high like he'd never experienced. He dug the knife in and yanked it downwards, breaking through everything in his path before resorting to frantic stabbing wherever he could hit. His entire body felt like it was on fire and he was pretty sure he was smiling as he felt marrow spatter his face and felt the crunching of bone beneath him. It was all so much. It was all so much and he was living for it. He needed more to satiate that burning itch all over his body. INSIDE his body. He needed MORE. He needed-

"KILLER!" The itch went cold. The prickling felt like it was retreating into his soul and all of a sudden, he was aware. He was shaking. He was shaking from the exhilaration and everything was still too much. His hands were wet. He could feel the liquid hate running down his face, but there was something else he couldn't identify. He was breathing so hard. It felt like he'd just run 300,000 miles and he was gasping down air. He was shaking so hard. He wasn't itchy anymore.

He became... aware. His opponent. His entire body went cold and he didn't want to tilt his head down. He forced himself to anyway and met Cross' empty eyelights. Cross' face was intact, give a couple of purple spatters and the tears streaming down his face. It was everything below it that was now the problem. His uniform had been torn straight open, the edges frayed and it now being more purple than it was white (He had sheared straight through his opponent's armor). His right arm had been completely shattered off, the ground below cracked from the force of his attack (aiming at the same spot over and over). His ribcage had the worst of it, the ribs broken in a straight line from his collarbone to the edge, just BARELY missing his sternum (He dug the knife in and yanked it downwards, breaking everything in his path).

Cross looked dead. He looked dead and Killer stared at him. He couldn't. He couldn't be... He couldn't. A glow caught his eye and he looked over, blinking the liquid hate from his eyesockets to see that Cross was holding his own soul loosely in his hand, having gotten it out of his ribcage before Killer had attacked. His ribcage was covered in stab wounds. His large red knife was completely gone. Killer could feel his arms drenched halfway up to his elbows in purple blood and his knife wasn't even shining anymore. Hadn't he just sharpened it? He loosened his grip on the handle and watched the purple blade fall to the ground and clatter a bit away, the sound echoing through the room. He heard footsteps.

Then, it struck Killer just who's voice had yelled his name and by the time he realized, he was already being yanked off of Cross by several tentacles around his limbs. He was tossed backwards and caught, being laid on his back. Though he'd heard and thought and seen so clearly for a few moments, he was back in a blurred world, the sounds faint and muffled. He was itchy again. Someone else had him and he managed to process a faint glow again, this one a wide eyelight ringed in red, blue and purple. Killer was focused on the dark shape of Nightmare hunched over Cross' broken body.

His voice sounded far away and panicked as someone else grabbed Killer from the other side. He could see the red glow of another eyelight fixed on him. He had the vague idea that he was being restrained and he gave a quiet nod. He was so itchy. He was so, so itchy. He dropped back as his soul gave another violent flare, his vision being swamped in that bright, bright red again as he opened his jaws. He was probably screaming, but he couldn't hear it at all. Black was creeping into the edges of his vision and he collapsed against the ground as it came rushing in, effectively silencing him and shutting him off to the blurred world around him.

————————————

The knock on Killer’s bedroom door was slow. He didn’t move. If it was Nightmare like usual, he would just teleport in when Killer didn’t open the door. He kept himself buried in his blankets in the dark. The curtains had been shut for a long time. It had been nearly two months and Nightmare still couldn’t even send Killer on a mission. Killer couldn’t stand being in the light because it would show. He would see it. The reminder of what he did.

They’d cleaned him up best they could, but Cross’ blood seemed to have permanently stained his bones a faint purple. Killer couldn’t look at his arms or hands without feeling that itchiness and a devastating chill through his entire body. The bedroom was illuminated only faintly by a thin strip of sunlight through the curtains. He was thinking about him again. He was thinking about Cross. He was thinking about when he’d visited him in his bedroom about three weeks after the incident.

Nightmare had been there to monitor both of them, holding Killer’s soul in his hands since he knew the negativity Killer would have from just seeing Cross would break him if not drained immediately. The soldier seemed to be stained with his own blood as well. Killer had managed to apologize to him in a tearful mess. Cross had accepted it, but when Killer had clasped his hands in front of himself, Cross had flinched so hard that there had been a soft crack and new blood had appeared, soaking through his bandages.

Killer had stared at it and Cross had begun to say something, but Killer was already long gone. They hadn’t seen each other since. No one had seen Killer, in fact, except for Nightmare, who stopped by constantly to check on him and drain the negativity that would build up and fester in his target soul. There was another knock before Nightmare’s familiar presence was felt in his room. Killer didn’t move until a voice he wasn’t expecting shocked him straight up out of his covers.

“Killer?” Cross’ voice was quiet and Killer turned to look with wide eyes. Before he even processed it, his body had moved to the farthest edge of his bed. Cross stared at him from next to Nightmare’s side. He looked exactly the same as before the incident in the dim light of the bedroom. Nightmare moved around to where Killer was, holding out his hand. Killer released his soul to him without a second thought, his eyes still fixed on Cross. His arms burned.

“Yeah.” Killer’s voice sounded broken.

Nightmare had already started pulling shame and guilt from him, moving away to stand across the room from both of them. Cross seemed hesitant before he came over, sitting on the edge of the bed farthest from Killer to give him space. He sighed. “I don’t blame you.” He said quietly. Killer stared at him for a moment. He didn’t understand. “I know that probably doesn’t make much sense, but please just know that I don’t blame you.” Cross said, giving a very weak smile.

It sent a pang straight to Killer’s soul. He missed seeing that smile. But Cross was so stupid. He was so stupid to forgive him so easily, especially for what Killer had done to him. He was far too forgiving. Far too merciful. Killer didn’t deserve any of that. Before he knew it, something else was spilling over his eyesockets along with the liquid hate. He prayed his tears weren’t that visible, but the way Cross’ shoulders sank and his smile faltered didn’t give Killer much hope. “I’m sorry.” Killer said shakily. Cross blinked and nodded, saying that he knew. “Cross...”

Nightmare was pulling a lot of negativity from him now. Cross blinked and sighed. “Killer, it’s okay.” Killer shook his head, burying it in his hands. “You didn’t hit my soul.”

“What if I had, Cross?? What if I had killed you on that dirty fucking floor???” Killer was shaking as he spoke. Cross blinked before saying that he hadn’t. He stared at Killer for a moment before moving a little closer to him. He sat in the middle of the bed now and Killer was staring at him with wide eyes. He placed his hands at his sides and Cross felt his entire body lock up for a moment at the sudden movement. He quickly relaxed, but Killer had already noticed.

The sadness and shame that Nightmare had to pull would feed him for millenniums, but he didn’t want that. Cross blinked before trying something else. “H-Hey, how about I bring up some snacks and hot chocolate? We usually would have some after we spar anyway, right?” Killer blinked tearfully at him and Cross tried for a smile. “I’ll go make it and bring it up, okay? We can talk about this... okay?”

Killer stared at him for another few moments. Cross may have already forgiven him, but he clearly wasn’t unaffected. And just because Cross had forgiven him didn’t mean that Killer forgave himself. This could be a step, at least, back to whatever they’d had before. He finally managed a quiet nod and Cross visibly perked up. Killer managed to meet his gaze as he whispered a quiet ‘okay.’

[hellothere-generalangsty]

Gloved hand (Crosshair)

Summary: Crosshair found a way to get rid of his chip, and went looking for his brothers in the depot, fully aware of the confrontation that would follow.

No pairing or reader description, only the member of the Batch

Word count: 2761

CW/TW: ANGST; Death, trauma, guilt, violent memories/ nightmares, burns/scar, some swearing; I don’t know how graphic my style is, so if I forgot anything please tell me!

Tags: @allamarisss @loth-wolffe @imalovernotahater (you all asked 🤧)

@razena88 @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s (non of you asked but I thought you'd want to check it out since you reacted to my Crosshair post; if you don't want to be tagged just tell me and I'll remove it !)

Notes: I had to. Because you’re all nice and I love pain, so here is the Sad Hour: Crosshair Edition™; Enjoy! (aka, I hope you’ll suffer a bit)

PS: sorry about the little dots when I skip a line, it’s the only way I could well...skip a line. I’ll try to find another way for the future!

PPS: The Neighbourhood - Roll Call is the song I listened to while writing this 🤭

______________________________________

He knew they were waiting on him, on the move he would make. They didn’t know about his chip being removed – not yet – and he knew he only had one shot.

How ironic.

He was still wearing the Imperial armour, face covered by his helmet, rifle attached to his back. He could see the way Hunter tightened his fingers around the trigger, and he recognised that look; the one he usually gave to his opponents before he killed them. He could get away; Hunter was a good shooter and his senses did helped for that; but Crosshair was the marksman. He guessed by a simple look at the scenery that the shot would crush through his pectoral plates, and given the distance and the type of blaster, it would surely shake him out, but it wouldn’t kill him.

As much as he sucked at it, he had to resort to words. He wasn’t the Empire’s puppet anymore, and trying once again to threaten them…It was simply out of the question.

Slowly, he raised his hands to his helmet, grabbing the lower part of it. He waited a second, not sure about the short moment where his vision would be obstructed.

Come on, you don’t get to worry about getting shot. Take the damn bucket off.

He pushed it up his head, briefly closing his eyes as a ridiculous way to sooth his morbid thoughts. When he opened them up again, Hunter hadn’t moved an inch. He didn’t know how much time he had, so Crosshair dared to take a step forward. Then another, holding his helmet in one hand, keeping the other one on the plastoid covering his chest, gently taping it with a gloved finger.

He stopped at the fourth step. The Batchers tensed up, unsure of what his next move would be. Crosshair knew what he was doing.

T’s your time to shine, Cross.

“DC-17. Round it down to a 7 meters distance from the target, slightly move your arm to your left.” He taped on a small spot of his chest plate, never breaking eye contact with Hunter. “Make me proud.”

It was a bold move, he knew it too damn well. He forced himself to maintain eye contact with them, with him, as much as it scared the crap out of him. As much as he hoped, deep down, for his brother to take pit-

.

 It was quick, bright. Finger pressed against the trigger, Hunter noticed every wave in the sound of the shot as it echoed in the depot. He followed the blue deflagration as it got spit out of his blaster, sliding the air in a thin whistling, brushing past Crosshair’s left arm, hitting another clone further behind.

He didn’t know if it was the right decision; but he knew enough about Crosshair to try it.

“I said ‘to your left’” was the only thing that came out of Crosshair’s mouth as he turned his head to look at the man lying on the floor a few meters behind him. He wasn’t dead, and now they had to quickly evacuate.

But Cross was alive. For now.

“Tech, get in there and be ready to take off when I tell you to! Wrecker, you cover us. Crosshair.”

The sniper pulled out his own blaster, back turned to the Batchers, ready to shoot any intruder trying to rip him away from his family once again. He soon felt a firm hand grasping his shoulder and dragging him back. He didn’t fight it, didn’t look at it. His focus was on the men running in the depot, on the way he hit them with such precision it almost felt too easy.

He was the last one to get in the Havoc Marauder, still shooting as the door closed shut in front of him.

.

 “…Crosshair?”

His heart pounded so hard in his chest that for a moment, he thought it might go through the plastoid armour and crush against the wall. There was the next move. So easy to execute, yet so terrifying.

“Crosshair, look at us.”

It was the tone; too formal, almost polite. He hated it. But he obeyed anyway, slowly turning around to face his tattooed brother.

Don’t look down. Don’t look down and cut that crap.

Hunter remained silent for a moment, examining Crosshair’s face scarred by burns, his new shaved side and white patch on the side of his head. The violent pumping and barely shaky breath told him more than the stoic eyes he was staring at.

“How’d you do it?”

“A droid helped.” Hunter’s nod was the only answer he got.

Keep talking, di’kut.

“I-”

“I missed you.” confessed Wrecker. “I think we all did.”

Now it was his turn to nod. What could he possibly answer? ‘I missed you too, but mostly because my chip made me want to kill you.’?

You didn’t wanted it, you had no choice.

“You didn’t have a choice,” Echo got a bit closer to him, even though he couldn’t tell if it was a good idea. “We know you didn’t.”

“Now that you removed your chip, you’re out of risks.” commented Tech, trying to comfort him a bit.

Each second passing was getting him closer to the edge. He wasn’t looking at faces, he was looking at phantom targets, still feeling the stings stabbing his brain every time he hesitated before shooting at them. Their voices were hardly getting to him, they were so distant, probably a faint memory from a time where he still had control.

“…get you something to eat, and you’ll go take a shower. Works for you?”

“Yes, Sarge.”

He knew the small clap on his shoulder was more of a friendly kind than a brotherly one. He hated it. He deserved it.

.

.

 He never felt that uncomfortable while eating with someone before. Even lunches on Kamino’s cantina weren’t as awkward. Tech tried to initiate a small talk, mentioning their next mission, the supplies they would need to get, and Omega tried to keep him going by nodding and asking questions he knew were useless.

But really, it was just an excuse to avoid the talk. Given the situation, it would probably hurt less to just… confront him. Tell him he scared them, when he callously ordered Hunter to stand down and surrender, told his troopers to “aim for the kid”. Not that he didn’t know; he found the confession in their eyes every time they would look at him.

He barely ate, rolling a fresh toothpick between his gloved fingers as he weakly chewed on his food.

“I’ll take the first round tonight,” Hunter muttered, mostly for himself.

Crosshair slowly got up from his seat, putting his ration away, trying to avoid the stares. He slid his toothpick between his lips, nibbling a bit harder than usual on the wooden texture. All he had to do was turn around and leave the cockpit. He had done it countless time by the past, what’s one more?

He wanted to lay down and sleep his pain away, get drowned in the pillows and forget all about what happened. He took a few steps, pretended he didn’t flinch when a hand caught his own, but couldn’t bring himself to smile at Omega when she gently rubbed his knuckles.

She didn’t say anything, she simply followed him to the bunk beds. Crosshair could barely look at her, because every time he did he could only see the scared look she gave him when he ordered it.

Aim for the kid.

It was haunting; she was just a child, a mixture of a little sister and a daughter for the Batchers, and he tried to rip that away from them too.

His attention shifted to the beds when he noticed the lights around his. He could also see a glimpse of a plush – oddly familiar – and a soft blanket nicely pulled over the mattress.

“We – she needed a place to sleep, and you were gone so…”

Wrecker, who followed him too, was uncomfortable; he was the one who came up with the idea. As much as he missed Crosshair, he knew he needed to take care of his little one because she was here. But now, Cross was back.

“Keep the bed,” he murmured, “I don’t mind.”

And he meant it. He would have done the same if Wrecker, or Echo or whoever went missing like he had. The kid deserved a comfy place to rest, her life with them already being chaotic enough.

“I can sleep with you, I don’t mind. I can stay at the end of the bed if you’d prefe-”

“It’s fine, Omega.”

He painted a weak, yet gentle smile on his face, hoping for it to convince her. It did, because she nodded and held his arm against her for a few seconds as to hug it. Wrecker – and Echo later that night – offered him to sleep in their bed. “I can sleep with Tech if you want it all for yourself” the 501st vet assured him. But Crosshair declined each time, pretending that he would probably not sleep anyway tonight, just tonight, because he needed to get used to this place again.

In a way, it was true. He needed time to find his footing here, to get back to the way things used to be.

Don’t pretend it will go back to ‘how it used to be’. It could never.

.

 When everyone headed to bed, Hunter returned to the cockpit and found the sniper sitting on his own.

“I’ll take the first round, Crosshair. Go get some sleep.”

“I don’t have a bed,” he barely confessed, his usual sarcastic tone nowhere to be found.

“Take mine for now, I don’t need it before a few hours. Don’t discuss it,” he pursued when Crosshair tried to reply, “I’m not giving you a choice.”

It took him a second to realise how clumsy it sounded, but Crosshair spared him the embarrassment of an apology when he got up and nodded.

“Alright, sorry.”

Hunter grabbed his shoulder, unsure about his next move, but trying anyway.

“It’s…We can’t pretend nothing happened, but we’ll work through this. All of us,” and when he heard Crosshair’s heart pumping harder and his breath getting heavier, he added, “as a family.” Before letting go of him.

Crosshair couldn’t even speak anymore. If he tried, all that would come out would be confused babbling and an awkward throat clearing. He hoped on his brother’s heightened senses to read through him like an open book, throwing back one last look before he got back to the bunk beds. All the Batchers were already sleeping, peacefully wrapped in their blankets or holding their plushie against their chest. He sat on the edge of Hunter’s bed, his blacks still on, eyes locked on the soft lights emanating from his old bed.

.

 Hunter woke up when he felt a soft weight landing on his lap. The smell got him almost immediately, a mixture of gunpowder and iron.

“You should have surrendered.”

His eyes shifted to the slim shadow standing a few steps away, lurking on him with cold determination.

“Crosshair?” He looked down at the soft plush laying on him. Lula. Her head was almost ripped in half by a now barely fuming hole. He couldn’t hide the fear splashing his eyes, neither could he refrain his voice from breaking when he asked “what did you do?”

“I did what had to be done. This is why they put me in charge to track you. I’m efficient.”

Hunter shivered at the sick smile he could hear in Crosshair’s voice. His thoughts ran from the plush to Omega, to the bunk beds at the end of the hallway, to his brothers left unarmed at the mercy of a sniper who had none.

“You should have killed me in that depot.”

“Crossha-”

A quick thud filled the cockpit as a red, bright light stroked Hunter right through the chest. He fell back into his seat, unable to breathe, but way too aware of the burn on his skin, of the nerves flaming up under the chock and the heat, of his heart rapidly pulsing then slowing down in a macabre countdown. He got dizzy, eyes blurring out despite his desperate attempt to get them focused.

He struggled to keep his head up, until a gloved hand grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look up. He could guess the shapes of the helmet, the green and grey shades melting altogether as his eyes barely held open. As he felt his own heart stop, his last breath making him chock, he heard his brother’s voice taunting him, one last time.

“Good soldiers follow orders.”

.

.

  Pitch black. This is all Crosshair could see when he abruptly opened his eyes. The blanket was rolled up at his feet, his blacks soaked in sweat, and his head aching. A sudden terror grasped him as he held his temple, tripping off the bed as he tried to get up, muttering Hunter’s name. He choked up on the syllables when he realised he was sleeping in his brother’s bed, while the tracker was nowhere to be found. He found himself struggling for air, the same way he would if someone stabbed him repeatedly in the chest. He dragged himself to the refresher, locking the door as soon as he got in.

The bright light forced him to close his eyes for a few seconds, but once he got used to it he reached the tap. His hands, usually so precise and steady, where uncontrollably shaking, to the point of him getting cramps.

The cold water did nothing to help; he shivered to the wet contact, lightly gasping when he splashed his face, but did it again, and again, trying to wash off the pain of his body.

Did I killed them? Did I? What if I did, what will I do, what if I killed them, I can’t- I can’t lose them, not again, not this way, I-

His head was buried in his hands, and it demanded all his strength for him to look up in the mirror. He quickly regretted doing so.

He hated those scars. Mostly, what they represented, what they meant.

It means you tried to get them burned alive; you ordered for them to be burned alive by an active propeller. This is what they mean, this is what you did.

He hated his reflection, lurking and haunting him the same way his memory did. A phantom pain none of them could imagine.

You like to pretend they don’t get it, but they do. Their own brother tried to kill them. You did that, Crosshair; don’t put the blame on your victims.

“Kriff,” he bitterly chuckled, tears burning his eyes.

You did this to yourself. Take some responsibilities.

He tried to maintain eye contact with himself, fingers gripped so tight around the edge of the sink he could feel his muscles quiver. He didn’t have a choice, he knew that. The chip forced him, the Empire used him to do these terrible things.

If a gloved hand kills you, will you blame the glove, or the hand?

You’re the hand, Crosshair. Nothing you will ever say or do will change that.

Nothing.

“Shut the kriff up,” he gave up, angrily pushing himself away from the sink, but still catching a glimpse of tears running down his cheeks before he turned his head, defeated. “Keep the snide to yourself.”

He jolted when someone softly knocked on the door. He took a few deep breaths to calm down his pumping heart, wiped away the tears with the back of his hand, and opened the door.

“I didn’t find you in the bed,” Hunter explained while analysing his expression, “I thought you’d be in here.”

“I can take the next round.” Crosshair calmly responded.

“Mine’s not done yet.”

“Hunter, please I- let me take the next round.”

He couldn’t say which of the two, his muffled “please” or his begging eyes, convinced Hunter; but it worked and that was enough for him. He didn’t flinch this time, when his brother gently patted his arm; he even wished for a quick, warm embrace. But he doubted Hunter was ready to get affectionate with him so easily. Truth be told, he didn’t feel that comfortable either. It was a crave he couldn’t fill.

He still cracked a weak smile as Hunter nodded and returned to his bed to get some rest.

Crosshair dragged himself to the cockpit, his stomach twisting at the sight of the empty seat on his right. He fell into his own, a long sigh slipping from his lips.

.

Don’t fall asleep.

#I hope you're sad now #I am #crosshair feels #crosshair #tbb fic #the bad batch writing #the bad batch #tbb #tbb crosshair #angst #Sad Hour for Crosshair #poor lil sniper #mesa writes #sad crosshair #sad batch

[technowoah]

THESEUS - a dsmp story ( DreamSMP x Queen!Reader)

CHAPTER FOUR : LOOK ‘EM IN THE EYE AIM NO HIGHER, SUMMON ALL THE COURAGE YOU REQUIRE THEN COUNT!

Chapter Summary: Wilbur makes a proposition, Tommy finally gets his fight, warning shots are fired and the bomb that was planted finally went off.

pairing: c!wilbur x queen!reader

an// tbh im not that happy with this one, I hope yall like it! but hopefully Ill like chapter 6 lol

⚠︎ swearing, dsmp spoliers(?), angst, fighting, minor blood mention, not proofread. Y/N/N = your nickname

word count: 5.1k

THESEUS MASTERLIST 

"Are you sure you want to do this because Tommy is a good fighter!"

"He's also good at being annoying, so you'll die either way."

"SHUT UP YOU TWO!" 

Currently Tommy and You were by a small lake in L'Manburg facing each other with swords and guns. Fundy and Tubbo were belittling Tommy on the sidelines. Tubbo was trying to convince the both of them not to do this so they wouldn't get hurt badly before the actual war begins. Wilbur was standing in between the two and Eret nervously standing off to the side with Tubbo and Fundy.

When You arrived you explained to the three people who were there, Tubbo, Fundy, and Wilbur, that Tommy and you were going to fight that day. Tubbo and Fundy were not for that idea at all, but Wilbur approved it. After a while of thinking and conversation of course he agreed. 

Eret and Tommy arrived at L'Manburg as well and apparently Tommy already told Eret that he was fighting his wife.

"You know what Eret? I'm gonna fight your wife today! Yeah it'll be a good fight, don't worry I wont hurt her that badly."

Of course Eret did not want this duel to happen and tried to convince Wilbur to not let the two do this to one another. He was concerned about the task and hand yes, but You getting hurt or even worse, killed was not a thing he wanted not needed. Tommy was a loose cannon, he worked on impulse. You were basically fighting a bull while wearing all red.

Wilbur had pulled You aside for the second time this week and started to have a conversation with you again. It was a needed conversation so when Wilbur grabbed her arm.and pulled her away you didn't hesitate this time. As the two talked in the distance you heard Fundy yelling at Tommy about the dangers of fighting You at a time like this. Your mind was all over the place at this point.

"You know how this works?" Wilbur looked at You and Tommy.

"Yes!"

"Yes I do"

You knew what was going to happen. They both had 6 bullets in their gun, if they use all of their bullets they can use their swords instead. You were in your head at this moment. Wilbur was explaining how this duel would work to Tubbo, while You contemplated whether to waste youshot by shooting in the sky or aiming at Tommy's foot. you didn't want to hurt him at all, they had a war coming soon so hurting Tommy would not help L'Manburg. Then again, when was helping L'Manburg a part of your mission?

You snapped out of your mind and saw Tommy glaring daggers at her. He looked harmless.

"I am going to beat you." Tommy said in a voice that can be only compared to a robot.

"You wish!" You scoffed and smiled, smiled which made Tommy scoff and look away.

Wilbur spoke over the two, "ALRIGHT! You two will be back to back facing away from each other, then take ten paces. When I say "fire" you two will fire and shoot and fight until one is damaged and cannot battle anymore or until I call a draw. Understand?"

"Yes Wilbur!" Tommy exclaimed.

"Of course." You calmly said.

"Alright" Wilbur agreed and motioned for the two to turn away from each other. 

They had both touched backs and You had taken a huge deep breath. 

The dilemma in your head was still spinning. Whether to shoot him or to shoot into the air. you would be a coward wouldn't you?

"You scared?" Tommy taunted you.

"No. Just getting ready to beat your ass."

"HA! That's not gonna happen. You're all talk." 

"We'll see about that." Wilbur spoke, inserting himself into their conversation.

Wilbur had stepped back towards the group of men who sat and were watching the whole duel. There was tension in the air, they all could feel it. They all thought this was a bad idea, You thought this was a bad idea. What if this tore the whole plan apart will they ever get to-

"READY? ONE!"

They both took a step.

Aim to the sky or aim towards Tommy?

"TWO!"

Where would you aim?

"THREE!"

What would happen if Tommy ended up dead?

"FOUR!"

Would Dream be happy?

"FIVE!"

If you aim towards the sky. Tommy might shoot. you would be an open target.

"SIX!"

It would be over right? If you aim at the sky?

"SEVEN!"

Tommy.

"EIGHT!"

Up in the air.

"NINE!"

How can this end?

The sky? Tommy? Where does the bullet go?

Where do you go?

"NUMBER TEN PACES, FIRE!"

*bang!*

Tommy's eyes widened and You stood my ground.

"She shot her pistol towards the sky?!" Tubbo shouted.

Wilbur stood there with a smirk and Eret let out a sigh of relief and immediately relaxed. Tommy didn't shoot his gun at all; he looked like a deer caught in the headlights. This was the right way.

-----------------

"I want you to shoot into the sky." Wilbur had taken you to an uninhabited part of the wall to talk.

"Why?"

Wilbur had sighed and looked over to where Tommy was gloating to Eret about dueling his wife.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, "Tommy is rather impulsive. He does things without thinking or with any concern for consequence. He says things without thinking too, as you've seen firsthand."

You nodded and laughed before Wilbur kept talking.

"I want him to hesitate. I want him to think for once. I know he wants to fight right now, he's riled up because of the battle. I expect him to shoot, but I hope that he won't. He won't." Wilbur seemed to be convincing himself this was a good idea.

"That's reassuring." You replied sarcastically.  

Wilbur rolled his eyes, "I believe he won't kill you nor harm you. At least that's the plan. I care for him. He's a good fighter and he should be able to see his opponent before going all ape shit." 

"I get it. I want to do this, but you said he works on impulse. What if he shoots?" You continued to worry.

"I'm here. And uh- Fundy is great at healing. We have healing potions in the van as well. You will not die on my watch. We need you for the war."

You nodded and continued to stare into Wilbur's brown eyes waiting for another comment from his mouth.

"Do this for me please? For us?"

You opened your mouth to speak, but Wilbur sighed before continuing his statement, 

"You don't have to do this. I should've said that first. I understand that death is scary, believe me I don't want to die either. So I can figure out another way to get to Tommy if you are uncomfortable with this."

This time it wasn't a forced situation. He was literally giving you a huge way out, an open path, but you already agreed to fight before. It wasn't like you were put into this without paths to take. you had options. Now that potions were involved and there are spectators that can act as doctors eased your nerves just slightly. you can do this.

"Or were you planning on shooting Tommy anyways?" 

--------------

You looked towards Wilbur and smiled warmly at him and he returned your same smile.

"WHAT THE FUCK?! YOU MADE ME LOOK LIKE THE BAD GUY! YOU-"

 "I didn't even call it a draw yet Tommy. You can still fight-" 

"It's clear that my opponent doesn't want this. If I did, I would be more of a bad guy than I already am now." Tommy dropped his gun to the green grass underneath his feet. 

You followed suit, dropping your gun onto the grass below you. You walked towards Tommy trying to find the right words at this moment. He had his head hung low looking at the gun that laid in the lush grass in front of him. You had walked towards him and put a hand on his shoulder and he began to tense up at the friendly gesture.

"Tommy, you're not a bad guy. You did the right thing at that moment. You're neutral really, if you would've shot me then yeah you would be considered "the bad guy". But in reality, there is no such thing as good or bad, there are just people with different morals." You whispered that last part and Tommy seemed to reluctantly understand, still sticking to his main idea of him being a bad guy. 

He was really stubborn, which made it harder for you to make him feel better.

"This is what I wanted Tommy! I wanted you to hesitate before you shot her." Wilbur tried to pick his spirits up by revealing his plan.

"THEN WHAT IF I SHOT HER?!" 

"you would've been fine. Plus you weren't going to brutally damage or kill Y/N right?"

Tommy stuttered a little bit before speaking, explaining himself.

"No I wasn't! My goal was at least to scare her, or graze you with my bullet." Tommy rushed.

"What if you slipped up and hit Y/N instead?" Tubbo came into the conversation leading Fundy and Eret with him.

"Then I would feel incredibly horrible that I hurt an ally." Tommy said while hanging his head. "I understand, Wilbur, I understand what today's duel was for." Tommy continued.

"To be honest, this was a last minute decision! I talked to Y/N before and we both decided it was a good idea for you. Especially when a war is coming up."

"Mhm. I am okay now. I've learned, and I just hope that I can transfer this into the war." Tommy seemed relieved, but also not wanting to learn his lesson. It was bad to assume, but it sounded like he wanted to get this lecture over with.

Wilbur humed while turning away satisfied with what happened today. He walked towards the HTO van with Fundy following suit leaving Tommy and you standing next to each other still recovering from what just happened. Eret and Tubbo were standing a few feet away from them making small glances to the two making sure they are okay.

"I still hate you." Tommy grumbled.

-----------------

The five citizens were sitting in the meeting room making potions with the brewing machines or doing their own thing at the moment. Wilbur didn't have anything planned for today except for making many potions for battle. You were helping with potions as well. you were more skilled at potion making than battle. you can hold yourself down and maybe kill someone, but you don't recommend for herself to do that.

"Wow Y/N/N you're making potions so much faster than I am. Teach me your secrets!" Tubbo exclaimed.

"What did you call me?" You asked The boy softly.

"What do you mean? I called you Y/N/N." Tubbo said, confused.

Has Dream ever called you Y/N/N before because it seems like you've never been called that before. Tubbo was still looking quizzically at you waiting for an answer.

"I don't think I've been called Y/N/N before." You answered.

"Y/N might be uncomfortable with that." Wilbur joined into their conversation.

"Oh! I'm sorry! If that made you-"

"I'm okay! You can call me Y/N/N'' You said while waving your hands to dismiss the situation.

"Good! I thought I was being a creep or something." Tubbo laughed.

"Y/N/N HELP ME OUT WITH THESE POTIONS WILL YA?" Tommy shouted from across the room.

"Okay you don't get to call me Y/N/N." 

Tommy huffed, "If my best friend can call you Y/N/N I will too!"

"Okay children settle down." Eret said while looking up from the book he was writing.

There was another pause until Fundy had spoken.

"Today seemed like a good day huh? Even though it isn't over so far, so good eh?" Fundy tried making conversation after writing whatever enchantments in his book.

"Yes it was so far! Very surprising today." Tubbo agreed with Fundy.

"Tommy and You gave me a heart attack today. I wouldn't consider this a good day so far." Eret exhaled jokingly. He seemed in good spirits today.

"I'm sorry I gave my husband a heart attack." You taunted.

"But seriously that scared me. Thank goodness nothing happened to the both of you. I wouldn't know what I would do." Eret continued.

"You would live." You said bluntly, staring at him. 

Eret nodded at you, sending a small smile your way.

"You would've been a good fighter. Have you fought before?" Fundy inquired.

"I have fought before! I've been trained as well, I'm more into the sneaky side of things, and making potions like I am now." You cheerfully explained.

"Sneaky things?" Wilbur asked.

Your eyes widened slightly before maintaining your composure. you forgot that Wilbur was still on youtail. He thinks that You is still suspicious, so of course when you said that he would jump on the opportunity to interrogate her.

"You could be a spy for us! Maybe spy on Dream and George!" Tubbo exclaimed.

Oh the irony.

Wilbur hummed, "Maybe, that would be interesting. We could get information and they wouldn't turn her down."

"It would be too late anyways if they've seen you here so it would be a major red flag if you showed up there trying to join their team." Eret spoke up, still concentrating on writing enchantments with Fundy.

Thank God that Eret was here, You would be stumbling for the right words and then eventually blowing their cover. you had this happen too many times. They are almost to the end you have to pull back.

"True. You're right!" Wilbur agreed. "Plus we've been more productive since you two came back."

Eret and you both nodded in agreement and went back to doing their tasks.

Tubbo and You were standing together on one side of the room making potions and talking to one another until Tubbo made a quiet gasp. 

You looked at him and followed his line of gaze until you saw them again. It was Sapnap and Dream on the top of the new, enlarged L'Manburg walls. Dream pulled back his hand and whipped something toward the van. It looked metal and shiny as it bounced harshly in the grass. 

Sapnap then pulled out a bow and arrow and Dream had set it on fire. Sapnap launched the arrow into the walls and it landed by the machine that Dream had thrown. The grass around the arrow caught on fire as well, not making a huge fire but enough to scare the two.

"WILBUR! You have a gift!" Tubbo said as he rushed out of the van and You watched carefully through the window so the two wouldn't do anything to the boy.

"Where did he go?!" Wilbur yelled.

"He went outside to grab the metal thing Dream and Sapnap threw." You said keeping an eye on Tubbo as he came back into the van.

Wilbur rushed towards the window where Aryia was stationed and looked towards the top of the wall where Dream and Sapnap were. Dream took one last final glance at the two in the window then turned away to jump down the wall with Sapnap following suit.

"Guys you might want to take a look at this." Tubbo said while placing the metal thing, which was an old answering machine, on the table.

Wilbur sighed, clearly exhausted with everything that had been going on. He sat down on the edge of the table. Tubbo pressed play on the machine and the recording started.

"Tommy, and Wilbur, and the rest of L'Man-child-burg. We are at war. There is no mercy. We have burned down Tubbo's house, we have planted TNT cannons around your land, we have cobblestone walled the outside, we have shot one warning shot inside your walls. WE HAVE NO MERCY, NO MERCY FOR YOU! We will burn down your houses! We will kill everything inside your walls and we will take back the land that is rightfully ours. If you do not surrender I WANT TO SEE WHITE FLAGS! WHITE FLAGS OUTSIDE YOUR BASE BY TOMORROW AT DAWN, OR YOU ARE DEAD!"

*beep~* 

There was a long beep until Tubbo shut off the recorded message. Everyone was silent looking at each other for the next move. Everyone either had a face of anger or one of concern. Eventually everyone turned to Wilbur who had his head down, his hair slightly covering his eyes in a thinking pose. We were waiting for a response from the leader, but it didn't seem like anyone had a response to this situation.

"Hey lets just-"

"Grab me a book and a pen" Wilbur spoke.

------------------

It's been about an hour since we last received the message. The sun has gone down and they are all still sitting around the meeting table. 

"What do we get? What's the report?" Wilbur asked.

Tommy started, "Okay so here's the situation, the ‘Dream boys' they're on the roof, they've already killed me and Tubbo once, they feel like they got their power. Their egos are up-" 

"They've taken it all." Tubbo added.

"I don't know man, what do you think we've got to do now? Ultimately you're the leader here." Tommy asked the older man.

Wilbur paused before speaking, "I think, the element of surprise is needed. We can't go in just guns blazing."

"My son, how are you doing?" Wilbur asked Fundy.

Fundy stuttered before speaking, "I could've been better."

Wilbur smiled then opened the book he had been writing in for the past hour.

"Before we go into battle though-

"WORDS OVER WEAPONS MY FRIEND!" Tommy interrupted Wilbur

"My gents and m'lady, may I read you the Declaration of Independence?" 

Wilbur had started to read through the Declaration complementing the writers who wrote lines in the book. He began reading the main parts of the book.

"When in the course of human events it becomes necessary for-"

"Wilbur" Tommy interrupted Wilbur again

"Yes what, what?" Wilbur asked annoyed

"They're surrounding us, Wilbur." 

Tommy stood up looking out of the window at the many fiery arrows making their way towards the van and making the grass around the van catch on small fires.

From inside the van it looked like rain from hell. All the fears you once had came flooding back into your mind. you put herself right in front of the greatest fighters, and assassins in the kingdom and you might not make it out alive. 

Wilbur started to head out of the door trying to face his opponents. They all were putting themselves out there exiting the van as fast as they could like a huge target. Speaking of target, an arrow shot by Sapnap landed too close for comfort next  to Wilbur. He seemed un phased at this.  

"They're not the best shot." Wilbur turned his back on the archers and stood in the doorway to the group inside.

Wilbur began to yell at the archers, "Gentlemen how are you!?" 

"Good!" Dream replied bluntly.

Surprisingly they could hear both of each other. 

"Do you like the view of our nation!?" Wilbur asked as he smirked.

"Oh God!" Tubbo exclaimed, worried because of the taunting Wilbur was doing.

"We might be a little out gunned here gentlemen." Eret said softly to the others while placing a hand on your shoulder in a comforting way.

"I thought this was a trailer park!" Dream shouted back. 

"Very funny, listen. It seems like you've gained the upper hand in people! We will meet you in the field, but on our own terms!" Wilbur concluded.

"YEAH!" Tommy shouted at the archers hyping Wilbur up.

The rest laughed at Tommy's antics trying to keep it together.

"Please stop making things worse!" Tubbo laughed.

Another arrow was shot at Wilbur's feet. He was clearly stunned by this, turning to the rest of the L'Manburgians he spoke to them.

"We armor up gents." Wilbur said, walking away.

Just as he walked away Tommy followed Wilbur outside of the van and then an arrow was shot into Tommy's bicep by George. Tommy yelled in anger and in pain, and the rest followed suit yelling in shock. Tommy clutched the arm that the arrow had found its way into, he tried to keep it together as he fell to his knees. You rushed to Tommy's side trying to take the arrow out carefully and heal him. He kept on shielding his arm away from you and kept babbling incoherent nonsense about “leaving him alone” too.

"It's okay! I'm fine! I'm fine! Don't worry!" Tommy kept shouting.

"You're not fine Tommy, let me help!" You yelled and he finally succumbed to you.

You slowly pulled out the arrow and used bandages that Eret had rushed to give you to wrap around his arm carefully. Throughout this whole process Tommy had a face of discomfort and pain until you had successfully bandaged his upper arm so no blood would seep through. Later on you would have to tend to his wounds more delicately.

"Just stay inside!" Fundy yelled in a hurried tone and was angry at the fact someone had already gotten hurt.

This would've been the outcome of the duel if you hadn't followed Wilbur's orders. Either way he would've been injured. Of course they would go for Tommy. Wilbur's right hand man. It was bound to happen. 

You and the rest of the men were clad in netherite or diamond armor and they surrounded Wilbur waiting for another order.

"Tommy I'm putting you in charge of this army." Wilbur said.

Your eyes widened. Didn't Wilbur just say he acted on impulse. This was a bad idea. you were going to die at the hands of the people who gave this opportunity to you.

Wilbur continued, "No matter what happens during this war, no matter who wins and who loses. Just remember that we're on the right side of history."

You have heard that before. What side of history was you on? They have rubbed off on you of course, but with different morals coming from both sides, whose morals do you fit with? If you die, will you be painted in the wrong manner? Are you on the right side as you stand with Eret and Fundy in L'Manburg? Is there even a right side?

"Up the walls we go!" Tommy exclaimed as the group climbed the ladder over the walls.

Your heart was pounding as Tommy led the way towards their next destination. This was going to be very interesting.

----------------

Tommy led us to the destination where the other warriors were on top of a small tower looking down on the L'Manburgians.

"God- whatever we do, don't go up the tower." Tubbo exhaled. 

"We have to get them down to our level. We have to get them to come down on their own accord." Wilbur commanded.

"Those bastards." Tommy said as an arrow made of fire was shot precisely onto the ground.

The floor began to rumble as the ground cracked and smoke began to rise beneath you revealing the red, fiery TNT that blew up from beneath them breaking the very ground and dirt they stood on making everyone lose their balance. Everyone started screaming, scrambling to get away from the constant chain of TNT slipping and falling on the debris, and the crevices that formed. You had started to run faster,and faster, sometimes you fell to your knees because of the ground shaking and breaking underneath you. You couldn’t look back but you heard screaming and you could only hope and pray no one fell into the big canyon the TNT made behind you. Your mind was not catching up your feet as you blindly followed Tommy into his own home, cutting around the whole kingdom. The rest followed close behind making their way into the house. 

Their clothes were tattered and dirty, singes from the fire were on their war uniforms and armor. As they scrambled for safety the arrows kept coming, hitting the house and the ground outside of it. You felt like this was it for you, your first friends, your enemies shooting arrows of fire at you through your so-called enemies house. You had to stay alive though, keep up the act, but right now you didn't really have to keep an act up because you were actually scared for your life.

The grass in front of Tommy's house was burning while the men gave Tommy all of their arrows. Wilbur commanded them to hail them with arrows. Arrows began burning through the walls breaking into their safe haven. To escape this situation Wibur had told all of them to scatter and make it harder for the archers to shoot them. They all did just that, playing on the defensive dodging the arrows that were hurled towards their way. 

Eventually the archers jumped off of the tower retreating towards a nearby river. The L'Manburgians currently had the high ground and You started shooting with arrows purposefully missing so you wouldn't hurt them.

"They are heading to Ponk's tower!" Tommy shouted.

You looked up to one of the highest towers in the kingdom. Damn.

"In that case we need to start heading towards Ponk's tower!" Tubbo yelled, ceasing his arrows trying to get the rest of them to follow his lead.

The men followed Tommy through his shortcuts to get to the base of Ponk's tower faster. Fundy went forward shooting at the others at the base of the tower. You, Eret, Tommy and Tubbo followed Fundy and started shooting and dodging as well. 

For now they have retreated towards the walls of L'Manburg hiding slightly below the top. Wilbur was there at first then the rest of the groups followed. The arrows couldn't reach them and the boys cheerfully pointed that fact out. Soon they had started slowly retreating as the sun went down in the distance. You sighed and cheered with the rest of the men that they finally stopped fire. Your heart still beating fast you looked behind you towards Eret sending each other a knowing glance.

The rest were cheering and complimenting each other until Eret spoke up.

"Gentlemen, I think we need to go back to our home." Eret said.

"I think you're right, Eret." Tommy agreed happily.

They made their way back to L'Manburg into the night with Tommy leading them for the last time tonight. Tommy and Wilbur were playfully bickering through the whole walk back to L'Manburg. It was a fun time filled with laughter and it was much needed after that whole war. Even though they all were beaten and tattered with burn marks and scratches, they kept smiling. It's crazy to think about.

The fun ended for you as they reached their destination. The extended walls of L'Manburg were in their sights and your heart rate picked up even more than it had before. This is the end. 

"Gentlemen in L'Manburg I have a secret weapon." Eret says, sparking a new conversation.

"What is it?" You asked playing dumb. 

"What is it?" Wilbur asked asked as well

"A secret weapon!?" Tubbo exclaimed.

"I feel like Eret is just going to pull out a giant missile." Fundy joked around and your breath hitched. If only they knew.

"But seriously, what do you mean you got a secret weapon?" Tommy spoke fast.

"I've been grinding for equipment, I've been grinding materials." Eret said not to give it away.

"Show us please!" Tommy exclaimed as they all entered L'Manburg once more today.

You joined in as well, "I haven't seen any of this show us Eret!"

You hated lying to them.

----------------

"This is the final control room for you too!" Dream yelled with excitement showing the beautiful dark room. 

The chests were empty, there was a button on top of a podium, and there was a secret room where Dream and the rest would be hiding after the war. The plan was simple enough on paper. The two countries would fight until sun down and then Eret would lead the L'Manburgians to the final control room where he would press the button and then The citizens of L'Manburg would be killed and a life would be taken from them.

Dream has taught You about the life limit. Everyone in the kingdom had three lives and if all three lives were taken, there is no coming back. you felt weary taking away someone's life.

"This is where the battle will end." Dream said calmly

Currently it was just Eret and You with Dream. Dream kept explaining the mechanics of the room while they both listened. You kept slipping in and out of your mind at the moment.

This would be the end, he said. It will all come to an end and you will finally find your place in the huge kingdom. you can finally have closure. It will all come to an end.

"You two are on the right side of history, don't worry. Cause if you do this you'll be doing the kingdom a huge favor."

----------------

"This way." Eret led the group into the final control room.

The men were astonished about the huge tunnel entrance to the room. They continue to rush down the tunnel to catch up to Eret.

"I'm excited to show you!" Eret cheerfully said as he walked. "They will never suspect a thing!" 

They all ended up in the final control room. You made sure to stand next to Eret making sure that they stayed together. you knew where to leave and when the button was pressed but you had a few minutes to play it off.

"WHAT?"  

"This is so cool!"

"What is this place?!"

"There's nothing in the chests." Wilbur said bluntly, as he turned to us still crouching because he opened the chests.

"Eret?" Tubbo asked.

Eret pressed the button and then the wall behind Wilbur opened and revealed Dream, Sapnap, George and Punz. The men started to scream in shock. They were getting attacked. Blood was being spilled and fire was burning down the whole final control room. Eret grabbed your hand pulling you to a secret wall, opening it to reveal stairs that led out of the final control room trying to protect you from getting hurt.

The L'Manburgians fought anyone they saw, but the others knew who specifically to kill. As the L'Manburgians fought for their lives you heard Wilbur yell out over all of the chaos.

"A TRAITOR! GET OUT GET OUT!"

Were you a traitor? Yes you were. They died. The fire around their bodies began to calm as their murders stood over their bodies breathing heavily. There was an orange and purple tint to the room. It looked unreal. This was it. Their bodies began to glow a light blue color and disintegrate showing that one of their lives was taken that day. This was the closure you wanted, but why did it feel like an unfinished symphony? Like it reached the climax of the song then ended.

It's over

Eret saluted to their disintegrating bodies and you followed suit.

"Down with the revolution boys! It was never meant to be."

---------------

Wilbur's POV

"Eret how could you?" We sat on the burnt grass of L'Manburg waiting for one another to show up from being killed. 

This was what I suspected from the beginning. Sadly this is what I suspected from the beginning.

"Hey where's Y/N?!" Tubbo whipped his head frantically looking for her.

"They were a traitor as well." Fundy said sadly.

Tommy and Eret were facing each other. Tommy in L'Manburg's walls and Eret standing a few feet outside of them. It was a beautiful picture at this moment, very symbolic. 

Tubbo was talking to Eret in a distraught voice before Tommy had interrupted him. "Eret listen to me! And I mean this in the nicest way possible. You fucked up." Tommy said harshly to Eret.

Eret only smirked at this like the madman he is and spoke around him, "farewell gentlemen." And he left us in our ruins.

I had such high hopes for the two of them. Especially Y/N. I knew they were trying to find their home, their place in this huge world. Maybe they'll find it with Dream. That's not what I would've wanted, but they might want to stay there. they'll be back, they'll find their home soon.

"We'll meet again. I know you."

taglist: @hi-imuwu​

#mcyt blurb #mcyt x reader #mcyt angst #mcyt fluff #mcyt headcanons #dream smp x reader #dream x reader #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot headcanons #wilbur soot blurb #mcyt wilbur x reader #c!wilbur x reader #dream x y/n #dream smp x y/n #dream smp #irl wilbur soot x reader #dream smp x you #tommyinnit x you #platonic tubbo x reader #mcyt platonic #platonic mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #mcyt writers #mcyt writer #dream blurb #c!dream x reader #c!wilbur #dream smp imagines #dream smp fanfiction #c!dsmp

[wanderinginksplot]

Rex + Engineer!Reader

This is the prequel to the Rex + Blanket Fort + Kisses one-shot found here on my masterlist. As this is a prequel to that story, you don't need to have read it for this to make sense. And as you could probably tell from the picture, this takes place during the Onderon arc.

Rex x gn!reader: intended to be early romance, but could be read as platonic.

Word Count: a bit more than 3,400

Warnings: canon-typical violence, including spoilers for the Onderon arc (S 5, E 2-5) of Star Wars: The Clone Wars

---

"And Captain Rex will train everyone in the encampment on basic combat skills and maneuvers," General Skywalker announced.

You didn't pay overly much attention to that. The general was younger than you had anticipated, but he was clearly used to combat and had the kind of authority usually honed through commanding large groups of soldiers. Still, you knew his order didn't apply to you and moved to slip away from the area. Your schematics needed a lot more work before the rebels could attack without bringing buildings down.

"And where are you running off to?" a muscular man with light hair asked, stepping into your path.

You gave a tight smile. "Classified, sorry."

The man nodded toward the general. "General Skywalker says everyone needs combat training."

"Oh, not me," you reassured him. "I'm a contracted engineer, not one of the Rebels. I'm just here to make sure they destroy as little of the infrastructure as possible while they take back control."

"And do you live in the encampment?" he asked.

You narrowed your eyes at him, feeling sure this was a trap. Eventually, you gave a short nod.

"Then you'll be training with me," he said firmly. "Captain Rex, 501st Legion."

You reluctantly shook the hand he offered and introduced yourself, finishing with, "-but I'm strictly an engineer."

"We're worried that this isn't likely to end without one or several attacks on this encampment," the captain told you. "A few hours of training could save your life."

"And a few hours of work on the city's schematics could save the lives of countless civilians," you argued. Sending that he would continue trying to convince you, you shook your head. "The Gerrera siblings are the ones who hired me. I'll let them make the final choice."

"And I'll leave it to the Generals," Captain Rex agreed.

Clearly not taking chances, he marched off toward where Steela Gerrera and Lux Bonteri were talking with Generals Skywalker and Kenobi, as well as a Togrutan female you vaguely remembered as being a commander.

"Generals, Commander," Captain Rex greeted with a crisp salute. You rolled your eyes. Soldiers. "We were hoping you could settle a difference of opinion."

"A difference of opinion?" General Kenobi repeated with a frown.

"What opinion would that be, Rex?" General Skywalker asked.

The captain explained the situation while you stood in silence. Steela met your gaze at several points during the conversation, looking concerned each time.

"We're only here to train the rebels," General Skywalker said after Captain Rex had finished talking. "Not anyone else."

"All of us are rebels," Steela argued, ignoring your signals that you didn't want training at all. "Just by being here in opposition to the Separatist forces, we are all considered a threat to their power."

"A contracted employee is different than someone who joined your cause because they believe in it," the commander countered, wrinkling her nose. "We aren't offering training to mercenaries."

"We're talking about an engineer, not someone hired to perform assassinations," Lux contributed. "What could it hurt?"

"Generals, Commander," Rex said, his quiet voice somehow drawing their attention. "I think every member of the rebel group needs to be trained. I think it's important."

"Rex…" General Kenobi sighed, but Skywalker interrupted before he could expand on his thoughts.

"I trust Rex's instincts," he told the older general. "If he thinks everyone needs to be trained, we'll make it happen."

You made a frustrated noise before you could stop yourself. "I don't need training. I'm an engineer. I don't work in combat situations."

"That's the thing about combat," Skywalker said with a shrug. "You don't always have to look for it. Sometimes, it comes to you. Especially in wartime."

The group split up immediately afterward, seemingly having come to an agreement. You followed Steela, determined to make your case and get back to your schematics.

"Steela, you know I'm not here for fighting," you said, jogging to catch up to the young woman who had hired you. "It isn't part of my contract."

"It isn't, you're right," she agreed. "But I would think carefully before I turned down a chance to learn such a valuable skill considering how dangerous the galaxy is right now. Surely this could be helpful as a freelancer traveling the universe alone?"

You didn't have an immediate answer to that. Steela clearly noticed, nodding solemnly at you before turning away. "The choice is yours to make."

You gritted your teeth, but your feet refused to move from the spot. To your left was the strategic tent and your unfinished set of schematics. To the right, the Jedi were helping the rebels set up some kind of training ring.

"Well?" a voice prompted. You already recognized it as belonging to Rex.

You stood still for a beat longer before giving a loud and heartfelt groan as you turned toward the freshly constructed training ring.

---

You were bad at fighting.

It wasn't really a shock to you. You had never been particularly graceful or good on your feet. That was why engineering had been such a draw - all mental work, almost no physical.

Rex, to his credit, turned out to be a surprisingly good teacher. He had kept everyone basically together as they learned new skills and practiced as a group. Still, he was determined that you would learn to defend yourself and here you were, fighting to shoot targets in the dying light, long after everyone else had scattered.

"I'm sorry," you apologized yet again as you missed. You were half an hour into intensive shooting lessons with Rex and you had yet to hit a single target.

"You don't need to apologize," he assured. "We'll just keep working until you get it down."

"I don't know if I can," you admitted, lowering the heavily modified blaster pistol until it was resting on the table in front of you. "We're losing the light and it's a bad idea to illuminate any more of the jungle than we have to."

"That's true," Rex agreed, rubbing at his neck while he studied the unharmed target. After a moment, he took the blaster pistol from your hands and holstered it at his side, then removed the holster belt as well.

You nodded sympathetically, hoping you could call it a night and put in a few hours of work on your schematics so the day wouldn't be a total waste.

Rex sighed, removing the subtly armored jacket he had been wearing during that day's training. "I guess we'll… we'll just have to switch to something less impacted by visibility."

"Wait, what?" you had time to ask before the stoic captain flat-out tackled you.

You were aware enough to know that Captain Rex had twisted to take part of the impact himself, but you still hit the ground hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs. In that moment of hollow gasping, Rex had pushed you onto your stomach and pinned your hands behind your back.

"The first rule of unarmed conflict is that you can't let anyone surprise you." Rex paused for a moment. "Actually, that's the first rule of any kind of conflict."

"Is the second rule that you shouldn't suffocate your sparring partner?" you croaked out, turning your head slightly so your face wasn't actively being pressed into the dirt anymore.

Rex laughed. It was the first time you had heard anything other than firm orders from him and you paused. It was a nice laugh. You were forced to gather your thoughts a moment later as he released you and helped you to your feet.

"You probably won't see a lot of hand-to-hand fighting with droids, but the armies aren't capable of anything beyond following orders. The armies are commanded by sentients, and those sentients are often closer to the armies than you would think."

"I have no intention of going after Grievous without a weapon," you joked. "Preferably more than one."

"You should stay away from Grievous no matter how many weapons you have," Rex advised. "But this is good to know, anyway."

"Actually, I agree with that," you said, surprising you both. "I'm a freelancer. Anything that helps me defend myself in a potentially hostile situation is a good thing."

"Okay, let's work on your hits, then," Rex suggested.

What followed was two full hours of unarmed combat practice. Rex was always the target, letting you throw punches and kicks against his open palms. When he realized that you were pulling your strikes because you were afraid to hurt him, he found a padded guard among the assortment of equipment the Republic had sent along.

Eventually, though, you were panting and bone-tired. Rex seemed to realize that without you saying anything.

"One last set of strikes and you're done for the night," Rex told you. It was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to you.

But as you punched, Rex moved the guard you had been aiming for. You shot him a look, but he only held the guard up, wiggling it slightly. You set up again, but Rex pulled away at the last second, dodging your fist to bop you on the shoulder with the guard.

"What are you doing?" you asked, exasperated. "You said this was the last set."

"It is. Or, it will be as soon as you actually manage to make contact."

You grimaced at him. This time, when he twisted the guard away, you turned with it. You were focused on keeping your footwork correct and your hit strong. You never even saw him move his foot between your ankles, but with a light tug, you were on the ground again.

"Seriously?" you asked from your spot in the dirt.

Rex laughed again, and this time, you didn't enjoy the sound at all. "Do you think your opponents are going to stand there and let you hit them? They're going to fight dirty - they always do. You just need to-"

As it happens, you never did learn what you needed to do. Rex had stepped too close, and your engineering experience told you that his ankles were at an angle that made him vulnerable to a hit. You kicked his ankle lightly, barely making contact, but it was enough to send one of his feet careening against the other. Rex stumbled, failed to regain his balance, and fell.

All of this was done on instinct and you felt as surprised as Rex looked when he landed on his butt in the dirt next to you.

"Good job," he said, breathless but sincere.

"Thanks," you accepted with a grin. "Does that mean I surprised you?"

"Not a bit," he denied, deflating your ego a bit. "I knew you were capable of it. You're an engineer. Engineers like angles and math. That's all combat is, adjusted for whatever you think the other side is going to do."

"Wait, that's… that's a really good point," you mused slowly. "Can I see your pistol again?"

Rex didn't move. "If you shoot me, you'll surprise me in the wrong way."

You snorted. "I'm not planning on shooting you, Captain. I just want to test how the application of math might help me."

After eyeing you for a moment, Rex stood in an enviably graceful motion and hauled you to your feet as well. Wordlessly, he handed you one of his blaster pistols. He had warned you before you began shooting that he had made numerous alterations to them, but you were still surprised by the weight of the weapon in your hand.

This time, instead of relying on instinct - point, aim, shoot - you worked to apply some logic. When you were sure about your angle, you squeezed the hyper-sensitive trigger and watched the resulting beam of weaponized light hit the target.

It wasn't a perfect shot, of course. Math couldn't fix everything. Still, you had hit the target and you cheered aloud, echoed by Rex's congratulations behind you. You had the presence of mind to set the pistol down before you turned, then Rex was grasping your forearm in the odd way warriors shook hands.

"Great job!" he told you warmly. "You're getting better."

"Thanks," you accepted, trying to vocalize your gratitude. You probably could have been offended by the tone of surprise in his voice, but you chose to overlook it.

"Now we just have to dial in your aim and get you comfortable with firing at moving targets, especially during chaotic situations."

Despite your best efforts, you felt your expression fall at that. Rex laughed again. When had he gotten so cheerful? "I'm kidding. That can be done tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" you repeated doubtfully.

Rex folded his arms across his chest and stared at you steadily. "In one session, you've gone from unable to shoot a gun or throw a punch to knocking me down and hitting a target. If you can keep that pace of improvement, you'll be a force to be reckoned with."

"Or at least be able to stop clients who try to cop a feel," you added.

Despite his darkening expression, Rex's tone was unconcerned. "I'm sure you could break the hand of any di'kut dumb enough to try it now. With some training, you'd be able to tear that hand off completely."

And so you continued to train with Rex after everyone else had finished learning to disable tanks and other intense activities. During the day, you finalized schematics, studying holoimages of Onderon’s capital city of Iziz. Your goal was to record your best guesses for the most and least structurally-sound sections of the city.

The dedication the rebels showed for the safety of the Onderonian people was a big reason you had agreed to take this job. Despite what the Jedi seemed to think, you weren't actually a mercenary. You chose your jobs very carefully, and if something didn't match your morals, you would respectfully decline.

Between schematic work in the day and training at night, your time with the rebels flew past. Captain Rex continued to be patient and helpful as you worked to master the combat moves he taught you - ones decidedly more focused on self-defense than the moves he taught the rebels. The first day you had beaten him in a grappling situation, he had beamed up at you with dirt on his face and told you how far you had progressed. The squeezing of your heart at the praise warned that it was probably good that the captain and both Jedi generals were withdrawing from Onderon shortly, leaving Commander Tano to assist with the remaining rebel efforts.

Despite your determination to stay out of the conflict, you had eventually been forced into it when the Separatist armies had attacked the rebel base. One of the rebels you had known by appearance if not by name had been hit by blaster fire before he could use the rocket launcher held in his hands. He had held it up to you, begging with his eyes that you take out the ship that had fired on him before it could do more damage.

You had accepted, and the ship was a roiling ball of flame before you could make yourself nervous about shooting anything other than Rex’s now-familiar blasters. You tossed aside the rocket launcher and found a discarded blaster. From that point until the combat had ended, thoughts of schematics or building solidity were gone from your head. You were as much a part of the rebel group as anyone else, and you watched with the same horror as Steela Gerrera fell to her death, despite the best efforts of Commander Tano.

The funeral was lovely. Onderonians didn’t believe in mourning for their dead. Instead, they truly celebrated all that the departed had done to create a better society… and Steela had done a great deal.

When things had ended, you were sitting on a raised set of stairs overlooking the ceremonial area. The dais holding Steela’s cloth-draped casket was filled with people far too important for you to bother. You were glad to see Saw speaking with King Dendup. After he had handed you the agreed-upon payment for your services - despite your many attempts to refuse the credits - Saw had left, ignoring the sympathy you tried to offer. He needed to speak with someone, and if that someone was the man he and Steela had worked so hard to save, so much the better.

“Nice ceremony, huh?” someone asked from behind you, and you twisted a bit to find General Skywalker standing there with Captain Rex beside him.

You nodded, but you could feel that it was a half-hearted motion. “Steela was so young. She had a lot of promise.”

“She died fulfilling the mission she set out to finish,” Captain Rex countered. “She knew the risks and thought Dendup was worth it. Her choices were her own. All we can do is respect them.”

With a joyless smile, you said, “Doesn’t make it any easier.”

“It never does,” General Skywalker admitted, sitting next to you. Rex’s comlink chimed and he stepped a respectful distance away before answering it.

Skywalker sat beside you in silence for a while. Normally, you would speak first just for sake of politeness, but you weren’t feeling that generous. You let the silence linger while you watched the activity on the dais.

“Have you ever thought about using your talents for the Republic?” the general asked eventually.

“I thought I was a soulless mercenary?” you asked before you could think better of it.

“And I thought you didn’t work in combat situations,” Skywalker countered. “But I’ve seen the battlefield recordings. You handled yourself well.”

You glanced over at him in surprise. “Are you trying to contract me on as a soldier?”

“Force, no,” he denied quickly. “As an engineer. I sent samples of your work to a friend of mine who works as an engineer in the private sector and they were impressed. The GAR is struggling to find good engineers comfortable working in combat. The pay is a bit lower than you’re used to, but it’s steady work.”

Ah, he had cut straight to the heart of your problem with freelancing. The fight to survive between jobs meant that anything extra you were making was eaten up by the time you were hired on again. And your morals meant that jobs weren’t nearly as frequent as you would like them to be. But being in constant combat… Yes, you had survived this time, but that didn’t mean you were rushing to repeat the experience.

You grimaced. “I appreciate the offer, really, but I don’t know if it’s for me. Combat engineering isn’t really my specialty.”

“I think you’re selling yourself short,” General Skywalker told you seriously. “I’ve seen samples of your past work, and a lot of it is on worlds that have a lot of fighting. I’m sure you know that none of your structures have sustained extreme damage, no matter how much combat was happening around them. That’s an impressive record.”

“You researched me?” you asked, feeling a little stunned.

“Well, the Republic likes to know who they’re hiring. But honestly, I’m not the one who did the research,” Skywalker said, looking past you. You followed his gaze to Rex, who was suddenly very intently looking at his comlink. With a mischievous grin, the general added, “I think my captain has taken a liking to you.”

You fought back a grin, turning away from the captain, and your eyes fell on Steela’s casket once more. Suddenly, keeping a straight face wasn’t as much of a struggle. “If I said yes, what would my official job duties be?”

“You would oversee a group of construction experts - both civilian and enlisted - using maps and satellite footage to find the best possible choices for locations to build bases, bridges, or other structures to help us complete campaigns,” he answered easily. “Preferably, to win campaigns, but that’s more on us than you.”

“And would I work with your group?”

“The 501st?” Skywalker asked, sounding surprised. “I’m not sure, but probably. We’re a planetary landing battalion, so we always need someone who has the knowledge of places to build. You might have to stay behind on some planets to supervise base construction, but you could always catch back up with us. Is that something you would want?”

“Yes,” you said firmly. “If I did agree to that-”

“I’m no good at negotiations,” he interrupted with a self-deprecating smile. “You speak clearly about what you want and I’ll do what I can.”

“I’ll work for the Republic,” you said, feeling the nerves twist in your belly. “If you can make sure I’m permanently attached to the 501st.”

“Deal,” General Skywalker accepted immediately, holding his hand out for you to shake. “Welcome to the 501st.”

---

A/N - I assure you that there is no timeline of any sort happening in my writing, so don't think too hard about where this should fit into the narrative. It won't end well.

Thanks for reading!

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