#don't forget that
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"Don't Forget That, Okay?
Pairing: Crosshair x reader
WC: 2,020
Warnings: A bit of angst/hurt feelings, but what do you expect with Crosshair. All is resolved by the end though.
Prompt/Square: “don’t forget that”
Summary: The Bad Batch have a rare few days of leave, meaning you get a chance to visit home. You invite the boys to tag along. But Crosshair makes his discomfort with the domestic scene known.
a/n: So my parents were those parents growing up. They were the ones who “adopted” my friends. My childhood home was open to anyone going through a tough time or in need of additional support, no matter what that looked like. Even if everything was good, they were always checking in on friends and trying to feed them (seriously, like an ungodly amount of time was spent eating). Many of my friends have my parents’ cell numbers to this day (we’re all over 30) and still text them just to chat.
I couldn’t help but think of how “I don’t need anyone” Crosshair would react to reader bringing him home seeing a well-adjusted and reasonably happy family and feeling so out of place. Think a Shawn Hunter in Boy Meets World situation. And that just made me want to hug him. Then I saw my Clone x Reader Bingo Card courtesy of @clonexreaderbingo and “don’t forget that” seemed to fit perfectly!
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The wind cut against his skin, the harsh sting reminding him how exposed he was.
Not just because his armor was still inside, too far to grab before the need for fresh air overwhelmed him. No, the barely silent current that ran along through his muscles and shocked like a raw nerve was thanks to you.
A bitter burst of air pushes past his lips without consent.
Of course, like always, you didn’t need to try to get under his skin. You’d done that naturally the first second you’d stepped on the Marauder, meeting him quip for quip as soon as you opened your mouth. Your tenacity and stubbornness grated on him and thrilled him in the same breath, and soon he began craving your verbal matches.
They would always end at an impasse, leaving him more determined to force you to back off … or get a rise out of you. Soon, he began craving the intimacy of them. He began craving that moment when the two of you stood toe to toe, willing the other to cave first so you could follow.
He saw how easily you meshed with his brothers, how they could make you laugh out loud or comfort you after a tough mission and he had longed to join their ranks. Longed for much more, actually.
And then you stumbled. Stuttered, technically. And it opened the door.
He still hasn’t figured out what caused you to trip over your words that day, but when he turned to look at you, confusion melted into smug contentment at the sight of your wide eyes roving over his arms before snapping up to meet his.
Ever since, the second you started to get mouthy with him, Cross would pull himself up to his full height to tower over you, almost as if he was reminding a reg to mind his place. Well, in a way he was. But your place — where he’d like it to be, anyway — was much closer than he’d let any of those regs. Hell, closer than he’d let his brothers most days, if he was being honest.
And Maker if your reaction didn’t spur him on each time. He didn’t need Hunter’s hearing to know your heart would start racing. He could see the desperate way you’d try to control your breathing, chest heaving so pretty, just for him. Because of him.
The fire that raced through his veins that first time seared that image into his memory forever. He thought then he would do anything to keep you there. Next to him.
You seem to feel the same. In the months since, you had rarely left his side. You continued to constantly wheedle him, though neither of you jabbed with the same venom anymore. Not really. It was all an act, a dance to pull you together without either needing to be the first to succumb to the vulnerability he could feel tug at his heart every time he caught you sneaking a glance at him.
But again, without a thought, you put him right back on his ass. Now, it feels like his stomach felt would fall out his ass if his chest didn’t collapse in on itself first.
She doesn’t even know it.
And you shouldn’t. It was his mistake.
He forgot he was a soldier, a clone built for nothing more than war. That truth had honestly never bothered him before. He had his squad, his missions and his skills. That’s all he needed out of life.
But seeing you here …
He should have known accepting the invitation was stupid. When the Batch had been given a few days of leave, he should have kept to his routine. Stayed in the Marauder, cleaned his rifle and caught up on sleep instead of agreeing to join you and the others in visiting your home planet.
When the ship first touched down, he could see his brothers surveying the area. But as they approached an almost picturesque home at the end of a picturesque road, their curiosity remained as Crosshair’s morphed into bitterness.
It was too bright, too open, too peaceful to be anything other than alien.
Your smile was dazzling when you called out to your family with a lightly mocking tone, but the contentment on your face when your mother pulled you into her embrace broke his heart. It’s why he was the only one of the Batch to refuse the same welcome from her.
That Tech looked slightly uncomfortable with the overt affection was little comfort. Crosshair couldn’t even bring himself to tease his brother. Not when you so clearly belonged here. And Crosshair knew he never would.
So when your mom tried to get him to talk about himself, when your dad asked what he’d like to eat for dinner, when you looked at him with those eyes that shone with so much kriffing happiness it would have brought him to his knees if he were a weaker man ... he ran.
Like a worthless hut'tuun, damn him.
That’s what hurts the most. He knew the truth, deep down. But he hid from it. It was so easy to do when you were in his world.
Seeing you in yours has forced him to acknowledge that your place isn’t with him. It’s here, or somewhere just like here. Somewhere far away from battlefields and blaster smoke. Somewhere where kind words fill the air, rather than explosions. Where you can surround yourself with people who love you and can keep you happy.
You fit here. So completely he’s sure he will never see anything so perfect again. And with that same certainty, he also knows he will never belong here or anywhere like it.
This sort of soft, quiet peace isn’t meant for a soldier … a sniper … him.
“Cross?”
He freezes at the sound of your voice, letting the howl of wind through the trees suffice as a reply. When an exasperated huff fills the air, he expects it to be followed by your footsteps fading away as you turn back toward the house.
But then, you never do what he expects, do you?
So, he steels himself, tensing his muscles and darkening his glare when you plop onto the ground next to him in front of your childhood home.
“Ever heard of personal space?” He spits, hating the insecurity that forces the venom to seep back into his voice on instinct.
“Don’t be stingy, it’s cold out here! Not all of us run warm, you know.” Your tone remains light, joyful. Artificially so.
He doesn’t understand how you could willfully ignore every hostile reaction his body gave. He isn’t sure if he hates it or loves it. “Then go inside.”
Your lips purse as if you’re really considering it, fooling no one. “Hmm … nah. I think I’ll stay put.”
Crosshair scoffs and looks ahead. He doesn’t want to encourage you. But he is selfish. Too selfish to push you away as you scoot even closer, molding your side to his.
“I’m sorry.” You whisper quietly, shocking him into compliance as you gently loop your arm through his, pulling it to your chest as your chin finds its perch on his shoulder.
“For what?”
“Making you uncomfortable.”
“You’re not that talented.” If he is going to do this, might as well be now. Stars, he loves the feeling of your arms around his, of you pressed against every inch of his side, grounding him. But it wasn’t his to enjoy. “I’m not uncomfortable. Just think this is a karking waste of time.”
Leaning away from you, Crosshair tries to jerk his arm out of your grasp. But you surprise him with your strength as you lay claim to the limb, making it clear to you both that he’s not going anywhere.
You tug gently on him, tucking your head slightly to catch his gaze. “Then I’m sorry for wasting your time. I just really wanted to bring you here.”
He buries his confusion, unwilling to open that door without knowing he could close and lock it tight. “That’s stupid.”
“You’re stupid. Leave is rare, and when we do get it, it’s too short. I wanted you guys to make the most of this one, at least, since we weren’t too far away. Because you deserve to sleep in a bed in a room of your own without needing to wake up and take a night shift. Because you deserve a hot shower — a real one, not sonic — without a time limit. Rejecting all that is stupid, Cross.” You’re practically lecturing him, your voice strong as you look at him incredulously.
You keep his gaze for a beat of silence before dropping it. Crosshair feels his lips moving, ready to refute your rather ridiculous nat-born assertions, but you cut him off, your voice dropping to almost a whisper, wavering in a way he’d never heard from you before.
“But there are other reasons, too, ya know? Selfish reasons. Because there’s no better cook in the galaxy than my dad. Because my mom has been begging to meet you for months and I’ve been distracting her on every holocall to save you from that fate. Because I got to meet your family and see where you came from. Your past. Got to see everything that made you, you. I wanted to show you mine.”
His arm is finally freed as your hands drop to your lap, eyes following the movement. He can see the nervous twitch of your fingers as you mindlessly toy with the fabric of your pants. Looking up to study your face, his eyes trail over the curve of your cheek where your eyelashes rested, your gaze still cast down.
“I won’t say sorry for wanting that. But I am sorry for whatever I did that sent you out here.”
Oh.
His chest feels like it’s ready to collapse in on itself again, more intensely this time. And there’s only one word he can think as he reaches out to direct your face to his, as his fingers skim the smooth skin of your cheek, as his eyes meet yours, hoping they convey that one word as yours scream your uncertainty:
Precious.
“You didn’t do anything. I don’t fit here.”
There it is. Simple. Easy. Delivered in his signature gruff tone that erased the hurt it took for him to say them, to accept them.
“Do I fit here?” You ask, tilting your head slightly, almost daring him to say no. A gesture so adorable and infuriating at the same time it makes his blood boil … for better and worse. Outwardly, though, all it earns is a roll of his eyes.
“You always ask such dumb questions?”
“Only in response to dumb statements.” You shoot back, response at the ready as the pair of you fall seemlessly into your natural rhythm.
He narrows his eyes. “Nothin’ dumb about it, doll. Not my scene.”
You shake your head, a small playful smile teasing your lips. He knows that smile means nothing but trouble and he can’t afford any more of that. Still, Crosshair can’t help but play along. I really am a coward.
“Well, if I belong here, then so do you.”
Just as simple. Just as easy. But it can’t be.
“That’s not—”
“It is,” you interrupt, leaning impossibly closer. “And if there’s somewhere you don’t feel comfortable, then I don’t belong there, either.”
Maybe he is a weak man. Because against all logic and instinct, when you tuck your head under his chin and curl up against him, Crosshair can’t do anything other than pull you firmly into his arms and hold you tight against him.
A stronger man would be able to keep a healthy distance. But you don’t seem to mind this weakness. And Maker knows he can only fight his own selfishness for so long.
“I belong with you, and you with me. Don’t forget that, okay?”
Your lips moving against the delicate skin of his neck sends shivers down his spine and you, likely thinking it’s from the cold, press further unto him. The ghost of a laugh at your sweet misunderstanding coats his lips before they press into the hair at the top of your head.
“Okay.”
#CFB2023#crosshair x reader#crosshair x you#crosshair x f!reader#the bad batch#tbb crosshair#don't forget that#clonexreaderbingo#clone x reader
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i hope moonbin's family finds peace , and knows he's in better place 🕊... i hope his family , friends and fans take time to process this , it's not easy loosing someone you love to something so tragic, this goes to show no one knows what's going on behind the scenes , if you're ever feeling like you're struggling , don't be afraid to speak to someone you trust 💙 ...
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every time someone draws katniss everdeen with leg hair, my faith in humanity is slightly restored
#same goes with peeta and his prosthetic#she is a normal human being wITH BODY HAIR#THAT IS OK#SHE IS NOT A MODEL#and peeta is cANONICALLY DISABLED#DON'T FORGET THAT#thg#thg series#katniss everdeen#peeta mellark
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quick doodle inspired from a character ai interaction i had with Levi
he's so cutie patootie <3
#chubby levi hell yeah#silly levi he deserves all the smoochies#queer artist#we back on the grind#nah jk#or not hmm#anyways#leviathan obey me#leviathan#levi#levi obey me#levi fanart#leviathan fanart#obey me#obey me fanart#chubby leviathan#chubby levi supremacy#plus sized levi#plus sized leviathan#plus sized art#body positivity#you#yes you#ily <3#you're worth of love regardless of your size#don't forget that
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Okay I'm disappearing off this app for a bit, just a heads up. I've seen some things today that have just upset / annoyed me and my mental health is not good atm and said things have just annoyed me so Iove you guys but I'm taking a break
#doubt anyone will actually care#but i love#don't forget that#sometimes this fandom just makes me a bit upset is all#the 1975 are still my loves#dw it wasnt them that did anything
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Hey. I’m very thankful that you’ve created a platform for discussion, but please be reminded to take care of yourself if discourse is getting too much or there are just some honest to god shitty opinions! Also. It seems like some anons just seem to… take a lot of things for granted? Most writers barely make enough to get by in the first place, and most Patreons I’ve seen are there to pay for early access or writing updates or side stories, without blocking non-paying readers from main-story content at all. In cases such as these, I simply don’t understand the hostility and lack of sympathy pirates have towards the writers? The most those pirates have to do is wait a few weeks so the public demo catches up to the private one. These readers seem to forget that writers aren’t their enemies and are nowhere close to large corporations - sometimes patreons and donations are the only way writers may be able to coast by. In the end, I do think that yeah, it’d be pretty damn selfish for them to pirate work in situations like this.
Yeah <3 I don't mind the discourse, but there are a few topics I'm unsure of how to respond to, and there... a lot, like, a lot, of messages haha. So many I don't really know what to do with them all. They get in faster than I can respond.
I'm gonna take a short break from the topic. Might be a day or two, just because tbh this is taking away my writing time, and I have to prioritise the game for a short while!
We have collected some nice tips for both readers and authors on the topic. And we have plenty more topics to discuss—
But I just reminded myself this is a game blog lol.
See you later!
#We are all on the same side#the side of: solving the problem#don't forget that#<3#Modding/piracy discourse
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The coolest thing about fanfiction is that you can make anything work. Nothing is too dumb or stupid or unrealistic because as long as you plot the story well enough, you have the power to make anything possible.
#rambles#analysis#wanna make Thoma snap at someone? you can do it!#wanna make ayato cry? that's possible as well!#wanna make tighnari recite a love poem to you? go for it!#even if at face value it is ooc with enough effort anything can become ic#you are god#don't forget that#you can do whatever the hell you like#also on an off topic changing notification settings dropped my anxiety from a 7 to a 2 in an instant#it's amazing how big of a difference little things can do#no but seriously like character x reader writers are so powerful#why?#bc they have full control over reader#by making reader whoever they want reader to be they can put the character in any situation possible#you can force reactions using reader#you can away the story however you like#isn't that cool?#tho some feel faceless readers are the best ppl will always get attached to a reader with personality#imo one of the first steps i take to writing a story of first figuring out my goal and then like...#figuring out the best reader personality that will achieve that goal
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important message
youtube
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My cat became a lot more affectionate these days and I'm wondering if she's ill or pregnant cuz that's one of the symptoms and now I wonder if Ladybug knew this she probably would've known how to behave around Chat Noir this season but if we exclude the fact that he never told told her what's the problem, Marinette never had a cat and doesn't know this.
#Adrien is a kid#But he's also a cat#Don't forget that#miraculous ladybug#marinette dupain cheng#adrien agreste#ladybug#chat noir#Ladynoir#Ladynoir conflict#Cats
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This whole fucking testimony is an affront to survivors everywhere.
"If it gives a voice to someone who doesn't have it, so be it." Immediately after: "Because of this now I can't have a career."
GTFO AMBER
#gtfo with that bullshit#anti amber heard#amber heard is an abuser#amber heard is a liar#amber only cares about amber#don't forget that#justice for johnny depp
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if you see this
you should combine waldorf-style sculpture with needle felting. Use wool yarn/thread. It''ll turn out sick-like.
Trust me on this.
I've got amazing taste.
#something i wanted to do#i don't know how much longer i can do this#but here we both are#the tags are timeless#no?#i'm faltering tbh#good luck#the art of needlefelting can be improved upon the more we experiment#don't forget that
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reblog to push bobo berens down the stairs
#spn#fuck bobo berens honestly#so tired of people ignoring his racism just because he's gay#he's a white gay man#don't forget that
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I was just reminded of a post I saw quite a while ago in a conversation about my writing.
I write tragedy, I write horror, I write what is going on in my head at any given point. The bad thoughts, the sad thoughts, the thoughts that people don't know actually live in me.
And that's okay! It is not bad that I write these things!
I am helping others with me writing, even inadvertently. I am providing a safe space for people to confront these feelings and learn how to cope with them. I am providing examples of people who learn, cope, and heal well and examples of people who don't. People who lose themselves to the thoughts and feelings.
My writing has value intrinsically because of this. Even if I cannot see it.
#brb gonna find that post now#andi talks#writeblr#i am getting better at accepting the darker sides of me and what I write#but it is a process#and my brain is not great with it#anyways#your writing has value too#don't forget that
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So you are giving the robots basically a robotic subconscious to process things without active input. That is frightfully powerful with how robots are
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I want to be standing next to her when I do
XXXI. Write a cento. nb. A cento is a poem made from lines of other people’s poetry. As such, this is a @slateblueearthbelow Appreciation Post. Remix by DJ Mimsy.
Hope is a scam. But she’s also the best kind
of friend, the one who shows up at rock bottom and
offers you a hand.
((Hey, go fuck yourself,
I want having a body not be a life sentence, but a book I read over and over and over again until I’ve dog-eared every page.))
A peculiar grief comes:
The first day the air
and the dark and the things
that live there, things with too many
legs and not enough eyes,
(structural vulnerability—I love him, and the way my body knows it too.
small weight on my thighs, orange fur
Can’t hide from surprising joy, (
that this thing has become strange.
a balance beam cracked in half, like expecting))
lives in the body, but I
I don’t remember
what it’s like to not have pain. (but she just wants to break out.)
But I’ve seen the sun rise on more mornings
than I can count. It’s never the same, not even once.
Open your heart valves:
Hope is a secret I keep in my ribcage, tucked under
the whole
world full of tiny assholes, and leaves,
and worms, and whales, and joy.
I used to go outside at night and
walk around with my head back until
The most honest things
caught in the curved bones like a cathedral—
grass, soaking the bottom of my green
wool cloak, heavy with dew and the
possibility of new.
hope cascading like a waterfall
her best self about to bloom.
(has me new, at last.)
#napowrimo#slateblueearthbelow#your flesh is a container for the most hope anyone has ever contained#don't forget that#tankatomo 5 ever#cento poem#poetry
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warner bros purge counited by revomed animated series from hbo max
I'm not sure what this is about specifically, but I have been seeing that they have been purging, I'm not sure what it means financially, socially tho it's dumb it seems, but it's a great wake up call for what I've always thought, analog stuff is better lol BUT it does also give us some insight as how badly handled everything must have been before Discovery though because literally before the last regime, WB for all its fault was considered reputable, but now, look at it
#Anonymous#Inbox.#Like karma's a bitch#and corporations will eat their own limbs to save themselves kids#don't forget that
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