#toska-writes

[toska-writes]

Hello Toska!

I really enjoy reading your stories, they are really good! I see so many fanfics that swear, or have nasty stuff, but yours are good. I was wondering if you do requests? If so, could you do one with the Bad Batch (mostly Hunter and Crosshair) where the reader is a female Jedi? And the reader goes on a mission and risks their life to protect one of the Bad Batch but they get injured? Take as much time as you need, thank you for your time! :)

Yeah this may be from a few months ago…. But here we are

“Concussion Protocol”

Summary: concussions are risky business, and a certain “unconcerned” sniper makes sure everything this ok

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader (Platonic)

Warning: small mention of blood, throwing up I guess, nothing crazy

Word count: 1313 (I meant for this one to be a short blurb but whatever

Notes: I changed up the request a bit but it was just a small thing I wanted to write

The ringing was so loud. Though maybe it was so loud because everything else is so quiet. Or maybe you couldn’t hear anything else at all.

The only thing you did know is that if you kept thinking about this it would make your head hurt more than it already was.

And that was saying something. Your head felt like it weighed an extra 50 pounds as you were hunched over trying desperately to catch any breath and keep your head from hitting the floor.

Ringing, that’s all it was. For a moment you could hear your own thought and could have sworn something touched your shoulder.

You couldn’t tell, it didn’t matter at this point because in all honesty you couldn’t even tell where you are.

No no the something definitely touched your shoulder because it was a lot firmer this time. Your whole body shook with whatever was on your shoulder and if it wasn’t for something else grasping your other arm you definitely would have fallen over.

You looked over slightly, more even breaths rolled through you now, and finally something came into focus. A hand…. Oh that’s what was holding you up right now.

The shaky image of helmet comes into your view with a hand now place under your chin slightly lifting it up.

The way the helmet was moving you assumed the person hold be talking to you, it was either that or the world was spinning around you.

They looked familiar, whoever they were, but if you tried to think anymore you were pretty sure your head would pop right off. What did even happen? It was blurry looking back now.

Crosshair watched them for a moment, their eyes lost in thought finally trained back onto him but only for a moment before they drooped again.

He felt the growing weight of your face in his palm before you slumped over even more

“Okayyyy” He muttered more to himself since the calls of your name moments ago fell on deaf ears. The first thing Crosshair had to do was get you off of the battle field.

He was just lucky he saw you in time, the amount of now broken battle droids scattered around your unaware mind scared him. Scared him more than he would like to admit.

“I found them, I just need someone to cover me.” Crosshair spoke cooly into the comm, the panic rising in him however contradicted him.

A confirm from someone on the other side didn’t really matter to Crosshair at this moment, it mattered getting you to open your eyes again.

Finally the ringing died down, enough to recognize there was a voice coming from somewhere extremely close to you. It took a moment more to realize it was your name someone spoke.

The fight to open your eyes was hard. The dying light still hurt your eyes as they tried to adjust again.

“Hmmm?” Was all you could get out before you felt a thumb trace over part of your forehead.

It worried Crosshair of where this blood was coming from, he tried to keep in away from your mouth and eyes with his thumb for a moment.

The sound of blaster fire sounded closer to his head than he would have liked.

“Come on Crosshair go!” He heard hunter practically yell in his ear. Right he could worry about wiping your face later.

You felt yourself move off the ground slightly. Looking around you were about to protest to the person that you still couldn’t identify in your state, but the swirling world did not pair well with your head. This resulted in you quickly shoving your head towards the armored chest that held you.

A groan must have escaped your lips but a husked voice reassured you quickly. Wait no you definitely knew that voice, but for the love of maker a face nor name could make it to your brain.

A feeling did however, and it was warm in your chest- you had nothing to worry about if he was here.

“Where are we going?” You finally managed to slur some words together without moving your head too much.

“Towards the Marauder.” He spoke clearly to you, no more ringing seemed to disrupt your hearing. “Can you tell me what that is?”

The question struck you as odd for a moment. Of course you knew what the Marauder was….right? That didn’t stop you from thinking for a moment before you responded with “… a ship?”

“I’m actually impressed” was all that came from whoever held you as he started to slow down more. You couldn’t tell with your eyes closed when your surroundings changed but a quick tap to your check and you opened your eyes to the inside of a ship.

“Is this…” you started, a limp hand gestured around before returning with a thump to your lap. “ the Marauder.

The figure now crouched in front of you with on hand keeping you sitting straight up nodded once before reaching with his other hand a removing his helmet.

“Can you remember anything else?” He spoke softly and slowly to you, but you didn’t answer.

The man had a tattoo over his eye, one that caught your attention immediately.

You knew who that was. A smile broke across your lips and a small laugh forced its way through your mouth. A shaky hand of yours reached out to the side of his face with the tattoo. He let it happen and watched your face hoping for any recognition.

“Crosshair.” Finally something you remembered

The man, now you were sure was Crosshair, nodded ever so slightly again but the smirk was prominent in his features.

“I’m going to clean your head ok?” He rasped.

The smile couldn’t be swiped from your face either as you continued to smile at him. “Crosshair.” You spoke again. Just like the first time it wasn’t a question, you were sure.

He hummed as a response before pushing you back slightly and dampening a rag as he still was crouched on the floor.

“I’m tired.” It was the first and only thing you were thinking about or could think about. The pounding in your head and the swirling of the world was becoming too much.

“You just have to wait a few seconds for me ok?” The cool ragged touch your face and surprisingly didn’t burn. “I just have to make sure nothing too serious is going on up there.” He poked the middle of your forehead with his finger.

Crosshair deemed his work satisfactory enough when he could finally locate one of the many cut along your forehead. Grimacing at it he decided that it would definitely need stitches.

But you didn’t have to know that right now. “All done.” His nimble hands returned to your shoulders pulling you up. Your eyes once again opened, though you couldn’t fall asleep since Crosshair did anything in his power for you to keep talking to him.

“Is it nap time?” He almost couldn’t make out your words for a moment before he took your face in and sigh.

“Don’t tell Tech, but yeah I think you deserve a nap time.” Crosshair still planned to scan for more injury’s but could letting you sleep change a lot?

Before he knew it your body leaned forward and quickly crashed into his own, your head found its stop between his shoulder plate and his neck perfectly.

The words were soft now muffled into his skin but he could nearly make out “Thanks Crosshair.” The voice faded out towards the end but that what brought the smile back to his face.

Thought he was sure they would never hear it again small “ Of course ad’ika” was muttered into the air before he scooped the padawan up into his arms once again to move them someplace more comfortable.

————————————————————

If you want to be added to the Taglist let me know!

@arctrooper69 @thereforepizza @padawancat97 @pb-jellybeans @floffytofu @verybadatwriting @solstraalaa @ray-rook @gregorsmissingarmor

#star wars #star wars clone wars #the clone wars #clone wars #my writing #toska-writes #the bad batch #big brother crosshair #crosshair x platonic!reader #crosshair x reader #crosshair x you #the bad batch x platonic!reader #the bad batch x reader

[deadpanwalking]

What do you mean by Nabokov’s handwriting having a Russian accent? Is he writing in a style of handwriting that was unique to Russia at the time?

Nabokov used an informal style of Russian cursive to write in English. Here is a picture of entries in his travel journal, where he wrote in both languages—you can see the characteristics that carry over from Cyrillic to Latin.

#a lot of people who immigrate when they're older write like this—i recognize it because my parents and grandmother do this as well #it's trippy for me to read because my brain glitches a little processing cyrillic hardware running latin software #it's kinda like toggling the language setting back and forth #vladimir nabokov #toska #cosmo-naute #assbox

[ignify-caligo]

[CAPTAIN PRICE HEADCANONS]

note: I have like my last exam in approximately less when 9 hours and what do I do? Write John Price centric headcanons like I’m possessed- anywho! Writing this was like sipping on a cup of tea that got half the sugar dumped into it - real sweet on the feels lmao. There’s also some sneak peak on Toska (my oc) so that’s fun too.

other related works: here

————————————————————————————

Captain Price and John Price may act differently between on-job and off-duty mindsets but one common thread is; a massive protective streak. None of the 141 boys is going to suffer under his watch if he can help it. Jokingly they refer to him as “the 141 mama bear” but truth be told, that’s exactly what he is even though he himself won’t admit it out loud. This behaviour shines through the most around much younger people when Price himself, such as Soap, Gaz and Roach.

His need to take care of his charges ends up with him herding a sleep-deprived/sick or exhausted adult man. Often it ends up being Ghost who’s past his capacity of taking care of himself and towing at the brink of collapse. On occasions, his tired mind will spew heartbreakingly truthful comments and remarks. Once it was “Wish you were my real dad.” mumbled silently against Price’s neck. Without even blinking an eye, Price responded with “I am and always will be, Simon.”

He always uses cedarwood-scented body wash - so often that it basically merged with his natural scent.

Has reading glasses prescript because of the strain his eyes have gone through thanks to paperwork and shameless reading at ungodly hours without proper light source. He outright refuses to use them in public.

Makes great toasts and grilled cheese sandwiches - they are so delicious that everyone in 141 loves them and consider them one of their comfort foods. Price will gladly make some extra ones if he knows that the boys are interested in them - especially when one of them is under the weather or just tired. A pair of toast with their favourite cheese and meat with a side of their sauce/spice of choice greets them whenever he notices them being not their regular selves.

When going grocery shopping, he is the one to make a list even before going out of the base - if it isn’t on the list god forbid you to try and sneak something into the cart. “We don’t need this, we got the same thing at base already.”

He is more of the salt over sweet snacks type of person. Pretzels and salty sticks all the way for him. Sometimes chips but he much prefers the previous options.

There’s also a heavy obsession with anything that has salted caramel included. If there’s an option for salted caramel dessert at the cafe, he won’t even hesitate with picking it up.

Sleeps in a matching pyjama set or nude - no middle ground. Thankfully if it’s the latter he will put on some underwear/sweatpants, when he's in need of something outside of his quarters.

Snores like a monster truck 80% of the time, otherwise, it seems like he’s not even breathing at all during his sleep. Soap got so stressed because of the motionless body of his captain that he did the unthinkable; he woke him up to see if he even was alive. Price obviously wasn’t thrilled with his nap being disturbed.

Gets himself into rabbit holes far too easily when the topic genuinely interests him, especially when it’s history or classic literature related. Loves his Sherlock Holmes novels with a passion.

“You draw the line wherever you need it, Sergeant.” Price would definitely draw the line at brainwashing and conditioning someone, he wouldn't even wish that kind of fate for his enemies. He may use living leverages as seen in modern warfare 2019 - but that? He’s all loud and clear on his no.

Makes subtle rounds around the living quarters part of HQ every night. Just to assert the fact in his mind that, yes, my boys are all right and safe at home. Walking through the corridor with enough force in his step to let the sound resonate and echo - letting all of them know that he’s there. There’s no doubt that all of them recognise his steps less than within a heartbeat. Occasionally knocks in a short pattern on their doors and waits for even a small sign like a grunt or his knock pattern being repeated back. Only when does he move on, the knowledge of them being there behind the door - eases his mind tremendously.

Some OC featuring HC for my guilty pleasure (lmao):

There’s a somewhat chill rivalry between him and Nikolai when it comes to taking care of the newest 141 addition - Toska. Where Price is the stern (in a protective manner) dad/captain - Nikolai is the uncle you go to when the dad is being too stubborn about something.

Price lets Toska sit with him in his office while doing paperwork on occasion. Mostly out of the fact that Toska won’t be a distraction like some people tend to be in the same scenario (looking at you Soap and Gaz) - it’s something that few people, in general, can participate in (there’s like Ghost and Roach being also invited to spend quiet time in the office too).

Tries to engage with Toska in small-time activities that “the kid” had missed throughout his stay with the Shadow Company – simply watching a show with Toska quietly sitting in the vicinity is a secret guilty pleasure he cherishes even through the rocky road that all of them are walking on most of the time.

#call of duty headcanons #cod headcanons #caligo's headcanons #captain price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #gary roach sanderson #simon ghost riley #nikolai #toska oc #john price #john mactavish #kyle garrick #gary sanderson #simon riley #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #I love of them ur honor- especially price bc he a dad fr #also liked doing this - getting some ground for serious writing and all lmao

[fishysaltine]

Hmm, deciding to post a little WIP I’m chipping away at for the moment while I bounce around trying to avoid burn out.

#bg3 #my writing #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #bg3 tav #YES I wrote Ship to Wreck #and Toska #leave me alone I’m fighting for my life in college

[deadlycupid]

stay quiet - taod mafia au

for @writerfae (hope I can make your day better with this 🤍)

“Ah, Jesus fuck!” Tommy muttered, shaking his hand and inspecting it for a wound in the pale light. Nico immediately pushed him from behind when he didn’t go on.

“Why are you stopping?”

Nico pressed against his thigh again.

“No shoving!”

“Then keep moving!”

“I can’t, something pricked my hand.” Tommy whined. He was now feeling for a spike in his palm but couldn’t find one.

He heard Nico sighed.

“If I had known you were such a baby I would have taken Noah with me to spy on the Fallen Angels.”

“No reason to be mean.” Tommy muttered and rolled his eyes, yet he kept on crawling.

If Tommy had known that for an observation he had to crawl in the gutter he wouldn’t have volunteered.

Honestly, he had thought it would be a lot more fun than this. In his mind he was wearing all black clothes, with a holster and a gun and his hair slicked back.

The light would fall onto him and make him look all mysterious and hot. And maybe, just maybe Nico would notice and fall in love with him. (One could at least hope.)

In reality, he did wear black clothes (even some really cool black boots) and a holster with a gun but his hair was a mess and his clothes probably too from all the crawling in the dirt. Ain’t no way Nico was falling in love with him now.

“And you really think they are around here?” Tommy asked.

“I wouldn’t be here if I thought otherwise.”

Tommy had to give him that one. Yet he found it highly unlikely that the most respectable and dangerous mafia clan was holding a meeting in this old rotting building, that threatened to collapse any second.

Even Tommy was used to more luxury and he wasn’t as highly respected.

Then again the Fallen Angels wanted his death, so maybe he had been handled with a lot of care his whole life. But was that his fault? Hardly.

Tommy had not chosen to be his father’s successor, the Redburn’s heir. And only god knew how often he had tried to out run his own destiny. How often he had fantasized about leaving his family and living a normal life, with mundane problems in a mundane neighbourhood where gossip revolved around who was dating who and not who had killed whom.

But he couldn’t have that life so it was useless to reminiscing it never happening.

“Okay, now on your right should be a ladder.” Nico informed him and he was right.

The ladder wasn’t more then a few metal bars fasten to the wall. They were rusty and as Tommy looked further up he saw a few of them missing. Just great.

“And we’re supposed to go up there now?”

“If the gentleman didn’t mind, today.”

Tommy sighed but started climbing up the ladder.

Under his breath he muttered: “the things you do for love.”

The broken bars ripped his soft skin open but Tommy bit down on his tongue to mute the cries of pain that dared to leave his lips.

Nico behind him made no sound at all, as if the sharp edges couldn’t hurt him at all.

Though that must be false because Tommy knew that Nico most likely didn’t feel the pain because of the numerous scars that already graced his hands.

Tommy had often wondered how Nico had gotten them but never worked up the courage to ask him. It felt rather intimate to ask and Tommy was afraid that they haven’t reached that level of closeness yet for the question to come across as casual.

Tommy reached the top first and pulled himself up over the edge. He held out a hand for Nico, Tommy, how Nico had pointed out already, was a gentleman after all, and after a hesitant second Nico grabbed it. With a swift motion Tommy pulled Nico up, he was a lot lighter than Tommy had thought he would be.

Now they were cramped together in a chute, Tommy guessed what used to be a ventilation shaft, though it was important to mention that Tommy hadn’t really taken a look at the blueprint previously.

He had been too distracted sitting in front of Nico who had leaned forward, revealing a good portion of his upper body when the button up shirt, that he never fully buttoned, had been dragged down by gravity.

Nico on the other hand had memorized the whole route after all and led them to the exact spot they wanted to be so now he felt like it made no difference if he had paid attention or not. A piece of the wall of the shaft was missing and gave them a perfect view of the meeting of the Fallen Angels, but still hid them well enough so that they wouldn’t be caught.

Tommy’s heart stopped for a second when his eyes focused on the men all dressed in black suits. Those were the people he had hid from his whole life. Now they were not even five meters away from him. His father would be furious if he found out. His mother’s face would be pale from nausea. But Tommy couldn’t help but feel exited.

Tommy and Nico position themselves next to the hole, each of them on one side.

Operation: spying on the Fallen Angels could start.

But the distance and the hushed voices made it almost impossible to understand what they were saying, only snippet now and then would reach Tommy and Nico but they didn’t help them make sense of any of the actual conversation.

“-bomb on the decks.”

“The little princeling- missing-“

“Probably dead-“

Tommy’s eyes widened. That was him they were talking about. Little Princeling, a nickname he hated to death.

More important however, the Fallen Angels thought he was dead. Everyone probably thought that. His heart sunk thinking about his parents, David, even Lilieth.

They were probably mourning him and he had no way of notifying them that he was still alive.

“The little Princeling?” Tommy whispered instead.

“The heir to the red falcons.” Nico answered shortly.

“Is it beneficial when he’s dead?” Tommy asked despite fearing Nico’s response. But he needed to know what his worth was to Nico with his title. What he thought of him when he wasn’t just a skilled fighter who happened to be a victim of the bomb explosion on the decks that made him end up as Nico’s responsibility.

Nico sighed. “Good for the Falken Angels.”

“And for you?”

“Me?” Nico shrugged his shoulders. A few strains of his long hair had slipped out of his ponytail and snugged around his jaw lovingly. Tommy’s hands twitched to reach out and tuck them behind his ear.

“I thought I would meet him someday and could be friends with him. That was when my parents were still alive. But years have passed and he has never been seen in public. I’d like to believe that he’s still alive, solemnly so that I can meet him and form a bond with him. I’d like to have him and in extension his family, on my side once the war starts.” Nico’s gaze flicked shortly towards him. “And now be quiet.”

Tommy turned his head back to the Fallen Angels, who were still deep in their conversation.

“We have to be careful-“

“The watchdog-“

“-goes furious.”

“Next victim-“

Tommy couldn’t understand the rest of the sentence.

“Who’s the next victim?” He asked Nico quietly.

“How would I know? I sit right next to you, I don’t understand more than you.” Nico growled.

“You think they mean the watchdog?”

“I don’t know. Didn’t I say ‘stay quiet’?”

Tommy sighed trough his nose but didn’t say a word. He suddenly felt helpless. What if their next victim was David? What if David got injured because of him? Tommy would never be able to forgive himself for that.

“-find that little devil-“

“How did he even escape?”

“-take down that Asian bastard.”

“-thinks he’s so high an mighty.”

Tommy sucked the air in sharply.

“Don’t you dare say a word.” Nico hissed and turned his head towards Tommy. His black eyes glistened dangerously in the pale light.

“I wasn’t going to.”

“No? Toska, we are observing them, not having a little chat. All you’ve been doing is questioning me. The question you have could have been answered afterwards.” Nico said, his voice stern.

“But we hardly hear anything from here.” Tommy tried to defend himself as if he was a child.

“And with you talking we hear even less.”

“Well, then shut me up!” Tommy was getting frustrated too now.

“I will.”

“Yeah?” Tommy said, an eyebrow rose in challenge.

The next thing Tommy knew, were Nico’s lips pressed on his own. He gasped slightly, which only encouraged Nico to deepen the kiss, then his hands found their way to Nico’s hair and he pressed back.

While their kiss grew more intensely, neither of them was willing to submit to the other, Tommy untied Nico’s hair and let his hands run through the long rivers of black hair. In the mean time, Nico placed his hands on Tommy’s shoulders, steadying himself there since he had blindly lurched towards Tommy.

Tommy pulled on Nico’s hair and he moaned into Tommy’s mouth, all thoughts left Tommy’s brain.

“You’re the worst spy ever.” Nico mumbled against Tommy’s lips, never straying far from them.

“And yet I’m here with you.” Tommy couldn’t hide the smile.

His hands run down Nico’s sides, over his strong muscles to his hips. Then he pulled Nico down, so that the younger sat in his lap. Nico gasped surprised but only leaned forward to kiss Tommy again, his hands now one in Tommy’s hair and one around his neck.

Tommy’s lips move from Nico’s mouth to his jaw and down to his neck, where he peeled the turtleneck down to leave open mouth kisses along Nico’s artery.

“You planned this, hm?” Nico mumbled, shuddering when Tommy sucked in his skin. “In your tight jeans. Thought I wouldn’t notice, pretty boy?”

Tommy whined.

“But I notice you. All the time. Staring at me when you think I’m not looking. Dressing up pretty when you know we will meet.”

Tommy breathed hard against Nico’s neck. The sensation of Nico’s words and the way he toyed with his black curls had him weak. Damn this shaft, if he could have Nico only here, he would spend the rest of his life on this dirty floor.

“Who are you?” Nico whispered and Tommy lifted his head, ready to tell Nico the truth, lay all his secrets bare in front of him.

“Yours.” Tommy mumbled against Nico’s lips instead and kissed him again. And again and again. And this time Nico gave in and Tommy deepened the kiss, his hands running up and down Nico’s back.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” Tommy nibbled on Nico’s lips.

“Believe me I do.” Nico stuttered.

Tommy felt hot all over. He wouldn’t ever let Nico get up from lap again. He didn’t care what his parents told him about Nico, they got him all wrong.

Nico wasn’t cold or aggressive. He was calculated and focused, focused on keeping the ones he loved safe and he didn’t care what he had to give to achieve that goal.

Nico wasn’t selfish. He was cautious, because he knew what it meant to lose someone. And Nico was so so soft under all his carefully constructed layers of thick leather. He was just a boy, who wanted to be loved. Who wanted to give up a bit of himself and know that it would be handled with care and protection. And god was Tommy ready to do just that.

Slowly Tommy pulled away from Nico and brushed his hair behind his ear. Nico was so beautiful even in this little light.

Nico’s hair didn’t stay tucked so Tommy repeated the process and Nico leaned into his touch. Like Tommy’s cat Toska had done a million times when Tommy scratched him behind his ear, Nico pressed his head into Tommy’s hand now.

“You’re so-“

Tommy couldn’t finish his sentence because Nico pressed his thumb against his lips.

“You talk too much.” Nico hushed, his thumb moved down Tommy’s chin along his Adam’s apple, leaving a hot trace wherever Nico touched him.

Tommy’s head fell to the side and he looked through the hole in the wall again, reminding himself why he was here in the first place.

“Shit, they are gone.” Tommy let out surprised, his back straighten unwillingly.

“I know, they have been for awhile now.” Nico answered him bored.

“You-?”

“I can multitask.”

Nico leaned forward to kiss Tommy again but the grin on his lips didn’t slip Tommy’s eyes.

Truth be told Tommy couldn’t bring himself to care about the Fallen Angles. The information they had gotten had been patchy from the very beginning.

But Tommy doubt that Nico would let them get anywhere near them. It was then that Tommy realized he might be holding the deadliest weapon in this war of families in his lap right now.

Perhaps it should have been freighting but instead it felt exciting.

Tommy sighed and leaned up to kiss Nico harder.

taglist

@writerfae @writing-is-a-martial-art @conundruminprogress @dontcrywrite @sleepy-night-child @bluehourskyeli @dragon-with-a-pen @avian-writes @apeir0ph0bia @poetinprose

#writeblr #wip: the angels of death #writer on tumblr #my writing #mafia au #*​throws this at you* they kiss for Valentine’s Day #not proofread we die like noah #for clarification Tommy had told Nico his name is Toska bc he has to stay hidden #yes Toska is the name of his cat #yes Tommy is an idiot

[bainposting]

Paint The Town Red

(1989 miami) toska getting into a barfight on bains behalf because hes pissed off and drunk and like weirdly defensive about why he stepped in.

#hello bestie making the gears in my head turn #more in the notes because these r hidden😏😏😏😏 #so like 3 months into the miami assignment and they dont really get along too well yet. theyre mostly civil towards eachother #but theyre both gay and angry. thats basically it. and someone is like shit talking bain and toskas like. hey thats my boss stfu #but bains like .... so why did u get into a fight for my honor i didnt ask and u took a couple bad hits so now i gotta patch u up🙄🙄 #ummmmmmmmmmm i have to go write something #asks #ily brynn

[blackcr0wking]

writing silly little backstory for my silly little bg3 characters because i've been watching my partner play most of the afternoon and I just can't get the hyperfixation out of my head lmao

#i also just. need to get in the OC writing headspace again and this has been fun 'practice' when my OCs have me stumped rn lmao #i feel like i'm actually making a new dnd character with all the shit i've been looking up though lmao. Toska has fucking plot hooks

[windsorgirllove]

Hatoful Boyfriend Secret Santa 2023: Aftermath (fic)

@codenamethebird Hello! I was your secret santa this year! I hope you like it, I was inspired by your request for Nageki and Hiyoko- it made me think of this scene I always wanted to write. Enjoy! When Hiyoko woke up there were stars in her eyes.

This water colored world swam around her as she sat up, fields of grass waving like they were underwater. Everything felt cool and misty, like a field in the early morning. At first she thought she was alone. The world was so quiet, there couldn’t possibly be another living being here. But then her finely tuned hunter-gatherer instincts kicked into gear, and she felt a presence behind her, watching her. She turned quickly to face her opponent, only to find Nageki staring back at her, watching. She brightened immediately.

“Nageki! You’re here too!”

“Hello, Miss Toska.” He regarded her coolly, but she could tell he was happy to see her. “You’re awake.”

“And you’re out of the library!” She swept up to him excitedly, examining him all around. She knew that he didn’t like unexpected touches, so she kept her hands to herself. “How did you do that?!”

Nageki looked at her strangely, though that was how he normally looked at her, so she didn’t pay it too much mind. “Will you walk with me, Miss Toska?” he asked instead of answering.

“You’re becoming as sneaky as the doctor, you know~” she said, teasing him. Nageki made a bit of a face at that, and she laughed as they began walking. “Do you know where we are? When I woke up I was in that field, and I don’t remember going there.”

“Maybe you ran there,” he said evenly, and Hiyoko nodded. That seemed reasonable.

“Were you out for a run, too?” she asked. She had never seen him outside of school before. It made this strange world feel somewhat more exciting, having him with her, like being on an adventure. Impulsively, she grabbed his hand. Nageki flushed.

“No. I was just waiting for you to wake up.”

“Was I asleep for long?” She swung their arms as they walked. The cool grass brushed against her legs, heavy with dew. It almost felt more like swimming than walking.

“Not long,” Nageki replied. “Not very long compared to me, anyway.”

“So you were sleeping too?! I wish I knew!” She nudged him. “It would be fun to nap together, wouldn’t it be?”

“Yes…” Nageki squeezed her hand slightly, not seeming to notice he was doing it. “...Well, we have all the time to do that, now.”

“Really?” Hiyoko squeezed back. Something about that idea made her feel very peaceful. “But what about school? Are we going to sleep through that?”

“Yes.”

“Really?” Hiyoko slowed down. They were coming up to a bank of trees, but before that, the grass had been cleared away, and there were train tracks, running off in either direction. “Is something wrong, Nageki?” she asked quietly. “You’re acting strange. I mean, I can’t imagine you skipping school! Although, I guess you are always in the library… are you actually a truant???”

“Not quite. Miss Toska… Hiyoko.” She blinked at the name change. His voice had become more sincere as well, and even quieter. “What do you remember?”

“Before waking up here?” Nageki nodded. “Um… let’s see…” She thought about it for a moment. “I guess the last thing I remember is… going to check on Ryouta in the doctor’s office. Yes, I remember! He wasn’t feeling well this morning, so I went to get him before going home. I wonder, did I fall asleep in the office? Or after I went home?”

“...would you believe neither?” Nageki was looking away from her when he asked that, down the tracks, as though looking for oncoming trains. But there wasn’t any. It felt like nothing could disturb the stillness that surrounded them.

“...I might,” Hiyoko finally said. “Something strange is going on, isn’t it? Stranger than normal, I mean.”

Nageki nodded slowly. “You didn’t fall asleep in the doctor’s office. Or at home.”

“I didn’t fall asleep at all, did I?”

He shook his head.

“Then where are we?”

He paused. “I’m… not entirely sure. I’ve never been here before. But I believe it’s where we go… after.”

“After what?” Nageki didn’t seem to want to answer. That was alright, though. Hiyoko thought that she might have an idea.

“I guess that mean old doctor finally got me, huh?”

Nageki turned to look at her in surprise, but Hiyoko was just smiling gently. “It’s alright! I figured it would happen sooner or later.”

“You are much too calm about your impending death, Miss… Hiyoko.”

“Well it isn’t impending now!” She grinned brightly once more. “Besides, that’s just one of the dangers a hunter gatherer needs to consider!”

Nageki sighed at her boisterousness, and she grew softer. “But that makes me wonder… Did the same happen to you?”

“In a way… But there will be time for all of that later.” In the distance, the low sound of a train whistle was heard. 

“Are we going on a trip?” Hiyoko guessed, and Nageki nodded. “That sounds fun… but what about everyone else? What about Ryouta? I’ll miss them…”

“They’ll miss you too… but they’re alright. Ryouta was sleeping here with you for a while, before he went back.”

“He was! Wait… that probably isn’t good…”

“No. He was badly injured… but he’s alright now. Sakuya helped save him.”

“Sakuya?! Did he finally stop being a tsundere?! Nageki, you have to tell me everything!”

The train sounded again, much closer now. Nageki smiled, and brushed her hand with his. “I will, I promise. We have all the time now… if you want.”

Hiyoko smiled, and grabbed his hand as he moved it away, holding it in hers. “I would love that.”

The train pulled up. The two of them didn’t hesitate. They had a whole world to explore together.

#codenamethebird #hbfss2023 #hatoful boyfriend #hiyoko tosaka #nageki fujishiro #my writing

[toska-writes]

“Sleeping/Cuddling Clone Headcannons”

Clones x GN padawan reader

(I guess it could be read in a different way butttt I wrote it with the intention of reader being younger)

Enjoy this because I couldn’t sleep last night!

Rex

• He would definitely be the one everyone goes to for a post mission cuddle

• I mean can you blame them? How could you not feel safe in his arms??

• Rex is 100% the one that would trace small patterns over your arms or back to help you both sleep

• He sleeps wherever as long as you stayed asleep and were comfortable- losing feeling in his arm? That doesn’t matter

• His arm is like a weighted blanket around anyone that he shares a bunk with, it doesn’t matter who it is he has to be holding them tightly

Cody

• I think Cody is the type to wrap his entire being and soul around whoever he’s sleeping with

• He just gets so close and it’s not even his fault because he’s asleep

• Would be the person to nuzzle his head in the crook of your neck, and vise versa

• Definitely the big spoon but occasionally will switch

• If you are in the same bunk as Cody I think you would start off barely touching but by morning it would be like you were stuck together.

Fives

• Fives is a complete starfish in his bunk and will take up as much room as he can

• However of course if you do ask to bunk with him he would definitely move over, but don’t be surprised if a leg or arm invades your space in the middle of the night

• If you struggle with falling asleep or nightmares I think he would be a verbal comforter and would whisper things in the dark

• His head would probably rest somewhere on your stomach or on your back

• He honestly loves when there is someone else in his bunk with him and can’t remember the last time there wasn’t

Echo

• Sleeps on his back like he was trained too

• You would just show up one night a snuggle right into his side melting into his stiff shape

• Over the course of a few minutes, whether he his conscious or not he will turn more and more ‘out of regulation’ until he has you in his hold

• He definitely holds you so that his chin can rest perfectly on the top of your head

• He practically radiates heat and it feels so nice on cold campaigns

• After joining the bad batch you found that’s it’s much better for the both of you if you just sleep in each others embrace

Hardcase

• Snores like an absolute freight train

• He use to be a very heavy sleeper but after the events of Umbara Hardcase feels a lot better if your in his bunk too

•He will absolutely be the big spoon and will put his head on your shoulder and by your neck

• Ok but just imagine Hardcase’s bed full of stuff animals- if that’s not the cutest thing then idk what is

• they are all named and he would definitely give you one to cuddle with along with him

• Loves when you trace over his tattoos, it puts him right to sleep

Kix

• Kix doesn’t get enough sleep as is, but using the excuse that if he lays with you you’ll go to sleep too

• You can practically feel how exhausted he his with his tense muscles when he lays down

• In this case he is definitely the little spoon. With everything this he deals with being a medic it’s the least he deserves

• You love making up funny stories to try and soothe each other as you both lay there together

• Kix definitely sleeps with some sort of white noise to try and drown his racing thoughts

Wolffe

• He would protest a little bit saying that he likes his personal space, but my boy is so touched deprived and will think that this is the highest form of trust

• It’s like sleeping with a warm weighted blanket

• Wolffe would be that person that wouldn’t really fall asleep until he knew you were alright

• He would definitely be a head scratcher because of all the times that Plo Koon has done it for him

• Wolffe wouldn’t tell anyone really if his padawan stayed in his bunk or not but everyone could definitely tell by his attitude and that there are no bags under either of your eyes

Fox

• 100% the small spoon. I will fight you on this one don’t try me, I believe this with my whole heart

• Just to be held like that He would pass away

• Following the same theme I think he would grumble about it and not really want to give up some space in HIS bed to you

• He completely melts into your touch and will find a way to get closer and closer to you

• Fox would definitely sleep in the fetal position

• I think he would be one of those people that wouldn’t get nightmares if someone held him tight enough and I stand by that

_____________________________________

There will be a part 2 to this with the bad batch and others!

Taglist: @arctrooper69 @thereforepizza @pb-jellybeans @padawancat97 @floffytofu

#star wars clone wars #star wars #the clone boys #the clone wars #clone wars #my writing #toska-writes #clone boys #captain rex #commander cody x reader #fives x you #echo x you #hardcase #captain rex x reader #commander fox x reader #reader insert #clone medic kix

[unhonestlymirror]

"Подивіться, які ахуєнні помідори, візерунок наче полум'я🔥"

That's what I love the Ukrainian community for. No russian arrogance, no russian toska (or more correctly піздостраданія), only good fucking tomatoes, memes, nature, quarrels for funny reasons - despite everything we also write about russian occupiers.

[ignify-caligo]

Hussar 4,5,10, 13

Toska 2,13,14

Florian 8,9,4

This is real embarrassing for me but hey, I finally managed to answer this ask!! Surprise for ya all (even for me lol) I’m sure - also I’m so so sorry for how long this ask been sitting in my inbox Ranger, hope ya forgive me hah 😅😅

Before you go and open the keep reading section, I want to warn that the total number of this thing is like 2012 words so be ready for a big reading lol

muse development questions here

CHARACTER: HUSSAR

4) what seemingly insignificant memories stuck with your character? 

One of those kinds of memories comes in the form of how his daughter ran to him all teary-eyed and pale as a ghost. It was the first thing he witnessed after coming home near midnight once again. He truly thought that something horrible had happened, dropping his leather briefcase in haste, and swooping his little girl into an embrace without hesitation. From the sound of it, his 5-year-old was the only one still waiting for him, his wife nowhere to be seen from the quick mental survey he did through the cramped living space. Before he could utter any kind of question to his daughter, she opened her mouth to show a blank space between her front teeth, while simultaneously showing off the tiny milk tooth lying on top of her small palm. Luckily for Hussar, his blood pressure did not skyrocket to a dangerous degree, it would have been quite an embarrassment if he had to explain the reason why he was having an almost heart attack. Unluckily for him, this memory of a daughter-father-only situation would be one of the last ones before the divorce. 

Another instance relates to his time in training before he became the Hussar himself. His training squad was sent for tactical training in the Bieszczady Mountains for a whole week. The training was based on solo survival tactics and navigating the wilderness without contact with HQ. Being there was an experience, sleeping under an open sky, feeling how nature enveloped everything with its majestic beauty - the views especially had been ingrained in Hussar’s mind. More so than even the training he was in the first place for. However, the first time he saw a bear wasn’t one of his fondest moments in Hussar’s humble opinion (especially when it tried to go for his MRE). 

5) does your character work so they can support their hobbies or use their hobbies as a way of filling up the time they aren’t working? 

The easiest answer for this is both. Hussar’s hobbies like bike riding or hiking for example consume a lot of the free time he miraculously doesn’t fill with work-related matters, especially when he ultimately gets told by either his close family or coworkers that he “haruje jak dziki osioł” (works like a wild mule). Forcing this man to take a mandatory leave, is like sending him to the literal gallows in his honest opinion. When it comes to the matter of supporting his off-time activities, he takes a meticulous amount of time to have his needed equipment in top-notch condition compared to some (looking at Gromsko being the type to see a flat tyre on a bike and going “nah, its fine”) people he drags with him to those small adventurous. 

Another thing that he uses his high salary for is to get materials needed for… crocheting. That’s right, Hussar sits down in his lounge chair with a ball of yarn and crotchets or at least tries to. Compared to his other hobbies, this one is a newer skill he is trying to develop, apparently, his therapist says it’s a great way for him to work around his feelings as well as his anxieties related to work life and all the side effects of working in a “you can be killed any day” environment he frequents. Plus, he can save some money by making gifts for his close friend circle rather than spending money on expensive items all the time (his cats get also nice and cosy blankets for their own as well). 

10) what would your character make a scene in public about? 

Hussar is the most non-confrontational type of person you will ever encounter when it comes to the civilian public scene. It is not without any reason he was promoted to being a general, his public image is of the calmest person alive, and the Tibetan monks would be jealous of his cold-headedness. The duality of his public persona and what happens behind soundproof and closed doors is mind-blowing to the average person, especially when the person in question manages to spill over Hussar’s composure. Because there is always a limit to someone’s patience and in the case of Hussar it’s when you manage to create a fuck up on a nuclear scale. It usually happens in the workplace, whenever he manages to squeeze some time between report writing, meetings and such, he will overview manoeuvres on the training grounds. Suppose you manage to break one of the safety protocols such as incorrectly handling firearms. In that case, he will rip you a new one without any hesitation. People around you will part like the Red Sea to let a foaming Hussar right to where you stand (if you look around you will find some of your fellow comrades doing the sign of the cross, already sensing a funeral coming) because they are not going to catch a stray bullet. 

The longest monologue of fury that Hussar has given so far was for straight 45 minutes (time recorded by an extremely tired Rysiek wishing for a straight double vodka shot already at noon), where the general managed to drag in the poor soul’s family several generations backwards into the lecture because there had to be something genetically wrong with the private if he thinks “playing darts with rifles equipped with bayonets” was a brilliant idea. 

13) what does your character pretend or try to care about? 

When it comes to pretending, he will tell whichever higher-up in question that he only cares about “the mission’s success”. In reality, he will not regret and hesitate to pull out when the situation down below gets too hot, the safety of his people or god forbid, any civilians accompanying the mission, is much greater than any winning streak. As much as the stress of a new position and responsibilities weighs him down, he doesn’t think of his subordinates as numbers or statistics as many of his peers do; he still feels and keeps his connection to the unit and its members alive rather than succumbing to the pressure of a new rank. 

Of course, he also juggles his relationship with the Polonaise squad between friendly and professional because if he turns too cold he will lose his chosen family and if he shows too much attachment the higher-ups will chew him out. Keeping this balance is similar to the Sisyphus myth, where Hussar is stuck in a “między młotem a kowadłem” (between a rock and a hard place) situation almost constantly. He, of course, pretends that it does not affect him at all. 

In reality, he does not give a damn about his new status, but he needs to pretend so he doesn’t come out as “insolent” in the eyes of his superiors. The thing he cares most about is keeping his subordinates from getting killed or killing themselves by performing ridiculous stunts. 

CHARACTER: TOSKA 

2) what was the best thing in your character’s life? 

From what he knows, the best thing that happened to him recently is being “adopted” (read: being picked up from the mess in Las Almas by TF141 after everything, with a gushing wound in his side and hands cuffed behind his back for “everyone’s” safety) by his current commanding officer, Captain Jonathan Price. As much as he is sceptical of the motives and schemes of these new people around him, he has all he needs and wishes to have: bed, food and new targets. What else is there to wish for? 

However, something is lingering behind closed doors, in the shadows, whispering of the time he had someone who wasn’t exactly a CO but something more… motherly? A soft-spoken voice, almost of an angel’s quality, speaking to a little child in a weird and foreign language… similar in sound to the words spoken by Nikolai when his helicopter malfunctions but of a different nature... It drives Toska to his wits end because he can’t- won’t remember what all this means. 

13) what does your character pretend or try to care about? 

Toska is a simple thing, or that is what his previous COs said, he only needs to care about succeeding when it comes to his missions. Failure is not acceptable, it always was like that. Until this new CO of his, the people Toska is surrounded by, with their hawk-like stares whenever he moves a simple inch, they try to crumble his devotion. They say; “Take it easy, kid”, “Do something else, mate” or “You don’t have to take care of everyone’s equipment”, but if he isn’t needed… what is he supposed to do? He pretends that he understands and that he cares about the “no’s” and “take a rest’s” they spew at him each time he tries to be of service. 

14) how does the image your character tries to project differ from the image they actually project?

He’s a dutiful weapon, there’s no “different” image or portrayal for him. If you need a soldier, he is a soldier, if you need an attack dog, he will be an attack dog. Whatever it may be that his COs want, he will deliver because; he is what they made him nothing more nothing less. 

Under that image though? There is a seed that wants to bloom out, but so far, the darkness all around won’t allow it. It may change, with time and by Toska accepting the new status quo he has been put in the middle of. 

CHARACTER: FLORIAN

4) what seemingly insignificant memories stuck with your character? 

Florian remembers the first time he saw an insect that wasn’t either a mutated killing machine or the local “wildlife” of the underground bunker. It was a grasshopper of all things, rubbing its’ long legs together and creating a sound that Florian had never heard before. He didn’t know what it was or how it got inside, but his curiosity was and still is never-ending and with that, he caught it by putting it in a glass jar. The ten-year-old at the time boy, ran to his mother with glee, being of course careful of his little prisoner, having in mind to show the critter to her. Instead, he bumped into his father, who when he saw the creature, ripped the jar from Florian’s hands reprimanding him about all the “radiation” and “danger” that the older man was known for labelling everything with those exact words. 

8) how many friends does your character have? 

Without counting his future camaraderie with certain Russian rangers’, he had quite a small group of colleagues growing up in Berlin. Most of those colleagues were in reality only for show, because of course having the son of one of the New Berlin’s heroes as a friend boosts someone’s social status immensely. Especially when it had its’ benefits within the new world’s school with its’ favouritism towards high-placed individuals and in turn, guaranteeing the person with better jobs, supplies, resources and equipment.  

Nonetheless, Florian had a close friend who didn’t take advantage of his heritage and legacy but saw him as a living and breathing individual. They would be the one person to aid him in the future when he would take the great leap and venture into the world’s ruins in search of his father. 

9) how many friends does your character want?

Having an early experience with friendships solely based on his status or whatever else he could offer, Florian has a hard time wanting any new “colleagues”. His determination to stay independent and to not be someone’s boost into their own agendas makes him hesitant to form any new relationship of his own accord. That mindset gets challenged quickly when he gets himself stuck in an inescapable situation amongst people he does not understand a lick of what they are saying, where the only option is to follow a mysterious man who doesn’t utter any words towards him (which is better in his opinion, because he would not understand them anyways). 

#call of duty #metro 2033 #hussar oc #toska oc #florian oc #captain john price #caligo answers q. #caligo's writing #caligo's oc #this is for whoever got through my shitshow of thoughts: 🍪❤️ #watch me losing coherent thought the deeper in text you go lmao #but fr I had a blast writing this even tho it’s like 3:30 am and I should sleep #please if ya read this - I wanna talk about these critters with someone so much it’s borderline insanity 😭😂

[vasheden]

I was tagged in a thing! And remembered it this time! Thanks @sae-mian!

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Last song listened to: Молчат Дома (Molchat Doma) - Тоска (Toska)--Wife's friend sent it along to me because yeah, this is my vibe

Favorite Color: A nice mossy green

Last Movie / TV Show: Catching up on What We Do in the Shadows

Sweet / Spicy / Savory: Sweet and spicy, separate or together depending on mood

Relationship Status: Married! 11 years! (what the hell I do not feel old enough to have been married 11 years)

Last Google Search: Molchat Doma, that band ^

Current Obsession: I am still fully engrossed in Baldur's Gate 3. Brain is constantly rotating these characters. Getting back into my FFXIV characters though. Been feeling like writing some more for them (just need time).

Gonna tag @halikyon @okami-zero @shipperwolf1, if y'all feel like it!

#thank you! #about me

[unrequitedloveletter]

So excited for your fall event!!!! I love your writing so much and I have been WAITING since you first posted about it! Can I please request Oh, this could be my last chance - come up with a title and I’ll write a fic for it for Kaz with the title Toska? (It's a Russian word, the definition is my blog header!) But please for the love of the God's, give it a happy ending! My heart can't take the sadness!!

I'm so excited to spam you with likes for this event!!! ❤️

Toska- Kaz Brekker

Hi!! I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get to this! I meant to start looking at fall requests last week but then school sort of took my life over for a bit, and here we are. Again, so sorry it took me some time, but I hope you like the fic nonetheless. 

Fic type- angst with a fluffy ending 

warnings- alcohol/alcohol consumption, a few mentions of blood and open wounds

Toska. An immense ache for nothing and everything all at once. An anguish from the bottom of the heart.

As you read the footnote, you closed the book, casting a scornful glance in the direction of the window to your left. You stood, sighing as you placed the book on top of your dresser. The word was one you knew you’d come to think of often in the days to follow, though such a reality was not yet one you were ready to confront. 

Dread filled your every sense as you heard the oh-so familiar bell toll, signaling nine, as it did every morning. You ran a hand through your hair, steadied your hands against the dresser, pressing your palms flat against it. 

I am calm, you thought as you took a deep breath in. I am relaxed. I do not pine for anyone. You exhaled, taking comfort in the self-said statements even though you knew they were bullshit. 

You went to your bathroom, clutching the sides of the sink and somehow avoiding your own gaze in the small mirror that’d long been mounted to the wall. You turned the water on, keeping it ice cold and cupping your palms under the steady flow that’d begun after a few moments. You splashed the cold water on your face, glowered at yourself as the oh-so familiar feeling settled into your bones as it did every morning, not relenting for a moment, amplifying when your gaze would meet Kaz’s from across the room.

As you exited the bathroom, grabbing a tank top, a decent pair of pants and a black button up shirt to get dressed into, you resented the fact that a word with the definition crammed into the footnote had described the oh-so familiar feeling down to the letter.

You got dressed, pulling a decent pair of combat boots over your feet to finish the look, heading down to the Crow Club with twenty minutes to spare til your shift. You took a spot next to Inej at the bar, ordered a double of brandy. 

“Is he here?” You asked instantly. 

Inej smirked, the guise of her glass of kvas not assisting in keeping it hidden. “No,” she said. “He’s not. Your shift ends thirty minutes before his starts, thanks to Rottys formation of the schedule. You work days, he works nights for the next two weeks.” 

It was enough to make you relieved. “I’ll buy him a drink, then,” you said. Rotty walked past as you spoke, giving you a nod and a grin. 

“A bourbon,” he called to the bartender. You grinned at the familiar face. 

“Make it a triple. Put it on my tab. I’ll grab it tomorrow morning.” You took a sip of your brandy, sighing as you did.

“You’ve never described it,” Inej noted. “You’ve talked about feeling something for him, haven’t you?”

“It’s not what I feel for him,” you responded, wanting to make your way to one of the booths and spend your entire shift sat down, drinking with Inej and eventually Nina, when she found her way down from working at the Ravkan Embassy. 

“It’s what I feel about him. I know I love him, and I know that it’s unrequited, but it--” you stopped yourself short, taking another sip of the brandy. “I don’t know how I can explain it. It’s bone deep, it’s very in-between and it’s--fuck. I can’t even begin to explain how it feels. I just know that it’s very conflictive, annoying and--” you cut yourself off again, slamming the brandy and ordering another double. Inej laughed at the display.

“You’ll find the words someday,” she said, and while you almost believed her, there was some part of you that didn’t. “And even then, not all great loves have been requited.”

You finished your second brandy, and your shift began. The next nine hours were spent behind the bar, making the drinks and taking the tips, making sure nobody that was playing at the tables was cheating. 

When your shift finally came to an end at six, you ended up deciding to stay. You drank with Wylan for a bit, had a few nice talks with a few of the bar regulars and eventually playing a game of Three Man Bramble to pass the time. 

You left at eight, eleven hours after you’d showed for your shift. As you left, Kaz was walking in. Your gazes met for only a moment, a freeze frame in time that lasted ten seconds though you could’ve said it lasted ten hours. 

That feeling returned as you walked out, arms being bitten by the crisp night air of a Ketterdam autumn. You walked to the left, pressing your back against a side wall, and crossing your arms over your chest.

An immense ache for nothing and everything all at once. An anguish from the bottom of the heart. 

The definition of the word toska described the emotion better than you could even fathom trying to. It was an ache that settled into your bones, hollowing them out and making a home of what was left. It ran through your blood, manifested in your tears as you got so overwhelmed with the feeling that you contemplated leaving Ketterdam behind, moving to Ravka or Novyi Zem and starting anew. 

You closed your eyes, ignored the familiar sound of a cane against the sidewalk as you did. You debated hiding, heading home and making it seem like you’d only taken a break to debate grabbing dinner beforehand, but in the end, you chose to do none of that.

“Hi,” Kaz said.

“You should be working.”

“I own the club. Rotty be damned, I’ll set my own hours.” 

You opened your eyes, saw the intensity that lingered in his. 

“You left a book on your dresser this morning,” Kaz said. “Inej noted that you glared scornfully at the window upon reaching the bottom of page 264.” 

“I respect you, Kaz, but if you ever employ my best friend to spy on me again, I’ll kill you,” 

“I have no doubt that your words are the truth,” Kaz said. “And, for the record, it was Inejs idea entirely. She’s worried about you.” 

“Well, it would’ve been wise for you to tell her she could’ve talked to me, if such was the case,” you said. “Fuck it, actually. She would’ve discussed it with me if she were. I’m calling bullshit, Brekker.”

“You dare implicate that I’m a liar?”

“I do,” you said, confirming it further with a nod. “I can’t believe you, Brekker. If you’re the one with the concerns, just fucking say it, okay?” 

“You make it sound a bloody easier than it is,” Kaz said. 

Nothing and everything all at once. 

“I refuse,” you said, moving to abandon Kaz to the small alleyway that he’d found you in. “I can’t keep doing this. I need to leave.”

“Keep doing what?” Kaz asked. “And, even if you were to leave, where would you go, Y/N?” 

You turned to face him harshly. “This!” You shouted. “I can’t keep loving you, Kaz Brekker. It’s turned out to be the precise opposite of a good idea, and I can’t fucking do it anymore.” The ache settled in your bones, the anguish dragging your heart down through your body til it rested at your feet. 

An anguish from the bottom of the heart. 

“And where will you go?”

“Ravka, Novyi Zem, Shu Han, the Wandering Isle. As far as I’m concerned, my options are practically limitless,” you responded. “I don’t care where I end up, Kaz. I just can’t do this anymore. I can’t look at you and--and--”

“And what?” 

You sighed, realizing that going to Fifth Harbor, finding a cafe to sit and simmer in--or perhaps sitting on the docks--was a better idea than it was to return to the Slat.

“And, whenever it is that you find yourself in the Slat, go to my room. Grab the book Inej spotted on my dresser. On page 264, you’ll find a series of words in the footnote. The one you’re looking for is toska. It encompasses exactly how I feel when I’m around you, Kaz. Only after you’ve read the word, understood what it meant, will we come even the slightest bit closer to understanding each other.” 

With the words, you walked off, leaving Kaz standing in the alleyway.

-

A few days later, the book was gone. You couldn’t find it, and you didn’t much want to bother with looking. You were too distracted with packing, anyway, and booking a ticket to Ravka on a boat. You’d find some good employment there, give up the criminal life to which you’d grown so accustomed. 

But, on the final full day you’d spend in Ketterdam, you woke to a note on your dresser. You recognized the handwriting as Kaz’s, and that made whatever wound had existed, the one that’d begun the slow process of healing, reopen. It  tore itself apart, blood flowing from it like water flowed from a tap.

Fifth Harbor. Berth 26. Midnight. 

You scoffed, crumpling the letter and tossing it into the small bin next to your dresser. You got dressed in an old dark grey cableknit jumper and a decent pair of trousers, plus the pair of combat boots you wore everyday, day in and day out. 

You went to your final shift at the Crow Club, leaving just shy of midnight after deciding that you were fine working a double, having started just shy of eight bells that morning. You thanked Rotty as he passed you another note and a to-go cup filled with Kaelish coffee. 

toska can be defined as an immense ache for nothing and everything all at once. An anguish from the bottom of the heart. 

You grinned, scoffing at the note before tucking it into your pants pocket. The weather in Ketterdam bit at your exposed hands, your face, and your neck as you walked, air having grown rather crisp as the clubs filled and the hotels emptied. 

You moved to Fifth Harbor, finding Berth 26 and walking to end of the dock attached to it. You let your gaze move to the boats as they docked, as they unloaded passengers or reloaded them. You didn’t move a muscle as the familiar sound of Kaz’s cane meeting the grass and then the wood met your ears.

“I’m sorry,”

You scoffed. “Try not to pull a muscle, Kaz. I don’t need your apologies.” 

“You might not need them, but they’re what you deserve. I’m sorry that I am difficult to love.”

“You’re not,” you said. “Not in the ways you think you are. I don’t care that I can’t kiss you or hold your hand, really. That’s not what matters to me, Kaz. It doesn’t matter in the slightest.” 

“Then what is it?”

“I felt like you didn’t care for the longest time, and whenever I would look at you, the--” you cut yourself off. “Toska. That sums it up. I long both for nothing and for everything, and it hurts. Bloody hell, does it feel like an open wound.” You laughed a little bit, finding the humor in it as Kaz joined you at the edge of the docks.  

“Stay,” he said. 

“Give me one reason,” you said, not knowing what the reason could possibly be. Kaz would never ask you to stay for his own sake. That wasn’t who he was, how he functioned. There had to be a reason, likely that your spot at the Crow Club would be difficult to replace, even if you were a full time bartender and such a statement was bullshit when one looked at how many people wanted to bartend in the Barrel. 

“Just stay, Y/N.”

“I will not stay without probable cause.” In that moment, you knew you’d perfected the art of lying, because you would. Kaz’s asking you to stay had made you rethink leaving, and he’d barely said it a minute prior. 

“I can replace your job at the Crow Club, I can give away your room at the Slat,” he said. You blinked. It was a total 180 from what you’d expected him to say. “I would prefer if I didn’t have to, though.”

Silence fell across your shoulders, weighing you down as it did. Minutes passed as though they were hours, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, and then suddenly, ten minutes had gone by and you realized that, throughout your entire interaction, you’d not so much as looked at him. 

You finally turned your head, only to find that Kaz had done the same. Your gazes met.

“I simply cannot fathom a day of my life without you in it, Y/N. That is why I would prefer it if you stayed. I could give your job to someone else, give your room to someone else, but it would hurt to do so, because in doing so, I would be forced to acknowledge that you left. In the final day before your departure, I find it hard to do so even still.” 

You grinned, turning to leave. “Meet me at the Kooperom no later than nine bells this morning,” you said as the bell for midnight rang through the city.

“Your boat leaves at half past eight.” 

“If I refund my ticket before quarter past, I get 100 kruge and the chance to buy you breakfast.” With the words, you walked off, heading back through Fifth Harbor and to the Slat, leaving Kaz behind.

-

At nine bells, Kaz joined you in a booth near the back. He ordered whiskey and waffles, and you ordered brandy and waffles. For the next hour and a half, the two of you engaged in conversation.

At some point, you realized that the familiar feeling, the nothing and everything, had largely subsided. As you looked at Kaz, love took it over almost completely. 

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows

[nahhhlina]

My first full-length poetry collection, Toska is out now from Deep Vellum! The gorgeous cover art is by Katy Horan.

You can find it at the following places:

Deep Vellum

Bookshop.org

City Lights

Open Books

Barnes & Noble

Target

Amazon

your favorite local bookstore, if you ask!

If you’d like an inscribed copy, please get in touch with me here.

These are poems about the untranslatable but essential concepts that form us, and Alina Pleskova is the interpreter of their simultaneous hold and flight: “What you call me in the dark / isn’t what I am / & that helps me float / above the moment.” Toska is a book of the immigrant daughter in her not-quite-own world, and a book of contempt for striving and capitalism—but the centripetal force that powers these poems is the nameless part of the self, “ruthlessly / down for whatever,” the locked room that nobody can open even while you long for a breach. Pleskova, generous and funny and modern, is a poet of forthright intimacy. —NIINA POLLARI, author of Path of Totality

Alina Pleskova’s debut collection is into grabbing things by the neck, & not always gently: eros in the ancient bedroom & the age of apps; transcendence & complacency & spirituality under capitalism. Pleskova’s poetics is deliciously generous, even in its moments of ambivalence; reading Toska is like chatting with your best friend about pursuing & evading pleasure while the American project unravels. These poems don’t just see to the heart of queer & immigrant subjectivities; they enact them. I sank with this book, was buoyed by this book—how it, like so many of us in America, experiences perpetual attempt, failed translation, the feeling that we are always missing something just beyond our reach. If only we could tighten our grip, want wanting itself, we might unearth language for identity & desire language, of course, being ephemeral, timeless, fleeting, & stunning, all at once. —RAENA SHIRALI, author of summonings and GILT

Alina Pleskova's Toska bears the burden of the eponymous longing melancholy of living even as it phases into the burn of real threats to human-and humane-existence. Writing from "The country where I live- / its surveillance of us surveilled by the country I'm from-" she counterpoints the impersonal gaze of the state and algorithms that follow our movements with the poet's infinitely careful attention to the flow of the everyday: "Made it this far / without mentioning the rain. // Here it is; it's perfect." Solace is found in community, the imperative to "Daydream what mutual care could do," the vast motions astrology tracks, ancient poet gossip. Overwhelmingly, too, in the mysteries of queer desire and its dream of transcendence, the desire to desire unbounded by intolerance, or worse-murder. These poems telegraph in a seductive whisper that keeping each other alive is enough-it's everything, because "I want the class wars to start, but everyone's so tired." The poet asks, "What song was playing when my heart's chambers I got thrown open to let these breezes in?" This book is the song, its frequencies coming through the voices of friends, lovers, family, the poets of the past, and Pleskova's tender plaint that would "Mourn the redwoods, fireflies, platypuses, permafrost, all else that deserves to outlive us & won't ..." In her hands, poetry is the hack for our earthly hangover, toska / saudade its secret sauce in whose ingredients hide the seeds of a new world. We'll be together there,' "covered in each other's hair." —ANA BOZICEVIC, author of New Life

Reading Toska was a spiritual and whole-body experience. I laughed, I screamed, I teared up, I nearly bought a one-way ticket back to Moldova, I called my mom. No one captures the poetics of eros and diasporic longing amid our late-stage capitalist hellscape like Alina Pleskova. 'Assuring various robots / that I'm not a robot several times daily' does not prevent our speaker from 'stockpil[ing] intimacies almost too ephemeral to clock.' And what a gift this book of intimacies is. Toska is a tender and wry instruction manual for navigating desire and the void. I will follow Alina Pleskova anywhere. —RUTH MADIEVSKY, author of All-Night Pharmacy

#deep vellum #poetry #poems #alina pleskova #lit #katy horan