//Clone Ship

//Clone Ship

In an AU where Mayday survives and retires with Crosshair on Pabu, I feel like he and Crosshair would be that one sickeningly sweet couple that gets on everyone’s nerves. Crosshair would still be his grumpy self, but he’d be uncharacteristically giggly and flirty with Mayday in a way that scares the crap out of everyone because “who the hell are you and what have you done with Crosshair?”

Crosshair and Mayday would be that annoying couple that feed each other bites from one another’s plates at dinner and make out in public places like hormonal high schoolers. When they would try to do anything together, the pet names and obnoxious flirtation would come out. If anyone tried to get in the way of their antics, Crosshair would come for them like an angry, shivering Chihuahua.

Crosshair and Mayday would treat Pabu like their personal, private honeymoon, and everyone else would be subjected to it.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Bleach (Anime & Manga) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ishida Uryuu/Sado "Chad" Yasutora, Inoue Orihime/Kurosaki Ichigo, Abarai Renji/Kuchiki Rukia Characters: Ishida Uryuu, Sado "Chad" Yasutora, Kurosaki Ichigo, Kuchiki Rukia, Abarai Renji, Inoue Orihime Additional Tags: Coming Out, Secret Relationship, Friends to Lovers, From Sex to Love, Outing, Post-Chapter 686: Death & Strawberry (Bleach), Internal Conflict, POV Ishida Uryuu Summary:

Rukia et Renji ont encore quelques jours à passer sur terre et espèrent bien voir leurs amis manquant. Uryû va avoir ses jours de congé et Chad revint vainqueur de son championnat. Tout le monde sera réuni pour fêter son titre de champion...

Seulement Chad et Uryû fêtent leurs retrouvailles en avant-première et la rumeur de leur liaison fuite dans les journaux alors qu'ils se questionnaient sur l'évolution à donner à leur relation.

Preparing a chat bubble and I noticed that when Hunter says 'that's why those males tried to eat us' if you watch Tech in the background far left you can see him go from just listening

to OH NO HUNTER IS SAYING WRONG THINGS

Ok but-

Modern AU where Tech and Cross do drag racing on the side.

They mean two very different things.

Another short story inspired by @paperback-rascal. I started writing this months ago, but only just finished recently.

[Here] is the artwork that inspired this story.

The View From Halfway Down

Drug-use, anxiety, unreliable narrator

Crosshair hadn't done spice in a long, long time. The rest of Batch would be furious if they knew how badly his fingers itched for it after the Empire had- not that it mattered. The others would never find out. He wouldn't let them know how fucked up his head had become.

The vendor was selling spice. Tied to one of the beams, in a very specific knot, was a shoelace; that was how Crosshair knew. Spice was an illicit substance, a hard drug—dealers couldn't exactly buy a billboard to advertise the stuff; this was the only way to indicate to potential buyers that the drug was available for purchase.

Crosshair narrowed his eyes and reached for the shoelace with lithe fingers. He was intimately familiar with the knot; shortly after leaving Kamino, he’d wrestled with an increasingly crippling addiction to spice for months. The Batch, upon discovering his dirty little secret, had been disappointed but not surprised. Crosshair was, after all, the biggest fuck-up ever produced by the long necks, and everybody knew it. It didn’t matter how high he scored on written exams, or how far away he could KO a target, he was the kid who stole flasks from trainers, and nicked stims and sedatives from the medical facilities, who usually spent two days a week locked in solitary to sweat whatever he'd taken out of his system.

His whole identity was effectively boiled down to five lousy words: the kid who got high. 

He hadn’t gotten high in a long time. He smoked cigarettes for a while—just after getting clean from spice—to help with the anger and anxiety, but the smell of tobacco made Hunter nauseated, so he kicked that habit too. Toothpicks became an easy go-to whenever his fingers itched for a smoke or a needle and, even though they didn’t do much to curb the anger, he couldn’t deny: it was nice to have something to chew on. 

“Would you like to buy something?” the vendor, a spritely, young togruta woman asked, gestured to the potted orchids on the shelf behind her. 

She must’ve spotted Crosshair absentmindedly toying with the shoelace. She had to be discrete about her wares. Thus, the plants: Crosshair had enough experience with dealers to know that she had probably taped the packets of spice to the bottoms of the pots, should a customer show interest in the more lucrative side of her business. 

Hence, why they remained on the shelf behind her, practically under lock and key. 

“No, thank you,” Crosshair said, his lips pressing into a thin line. His hand snatched away from the shoelace and drifted up towards the half-healed incision where his inhibitor chip had been removed only a few weeks prior. Dirty fingernails dug into the scab until it bled. If Echo saw him picking at it again, he was likely to get a lecture. 

Luckily, Echo wasn't looking. At least, not at the moment.

Part of him thought he should warn her: spice would ruin her life. However, another part of him thought she looked happy, and didn’t want to ruin it for her. Life would fuck her over anyway, why not enjoy it while it lasted? 

Once again, his fingers idly returned to the shoelace.

“You sure? It’s an easy plant to take care of. I’ll even throw in a free packet of fertilizer, just for you,” she said with a sly, carnivorous smile, gesturing to the shoelace. “You look like you could use a little help, after all,” 

He OD’ed on spice once. He would’ve died if Tech hadn’t found him laying face-up on the floor of the ‘fresher, choking on his own vomit. For most people, hitting that kind of rock-bottom usually prompts a desire to change. Crosshair, however, took great pride in not being like other people. Even after nearly dying; even after Tech lectured him, and Hunter shouted at him, and Wrecker bawled, he continued to use. It was, after all, the only thing that made him feel normal.

He never earned his brothers’ trust back, even after he quit. It was understandable, he supposed. He had proven himself to be a liability on more than one occasion. Still, it was irritating when they’d hide alcohol from him, or he’d catch them poking around his room for illicit substances that weren’t there. Sometimes, Crosshair liked to think they monitored him because they felt guilty. Guilt was easier to accept than love. In a twisted sense, it made him feel wanted.

Crosshair was clever and introspective. He was aware of the fallacy, of course. It wasn’t love, or guilt, or concern that motivated their behavior; he’d simply proven himself to be too untrustworthy to be left alone. The word ‘liability’ came to mind once again. 

“Free?” Crosshair sneered, incredulous to the point of irritation. “What’s the catch?” 

“You and I both know what the catch is, sugar,” the togruta chirped. “When you get hooked, you’ll know where to come to get your fix,” 

Anxiety and irritation flashed across the sniper’s chest, and his lips curled up into a snarl. He dipped his hand into his pocket to retrieve a toothpick and- 

Right. No toothpicks. He hadn't had a chance to buy any.

How kriffing idiotic. 

The worst part was the nagging little voice in the back of his head that reminded him that he hadn't been like this while under the influence of the chip. The itching under his skin, the cravings, they had all been eradicated. Part of him missed that influence; the chip had freed him from the burden of consciousness, if only for short bouts. It had served the same function of the spice, in a way. In those blackout moments of total obedience, there had been no anger, none of the constant, underlaying fear of failure that had plagued him his whole life. 

After all, it wasn't as if the spice hadn't served a purpose. The high was a relief, a respite from the constant churning in his brain. 

"Hey toothpick," the Togruta said sharply, and Crosshair scowled. "Do you want the plant or not?"

He shouldn't even have considered it. He didn't want to be like this anymore. He never wanted to be like this in the first place. 

But it was the only thing that made him feel human-

And not like a malfunctioning droid. 

"How much did you say it was?" he asked. 

The woman rolled her eyes. "Sugar, you must need this bad. I told you already, it's free. Hell, I feel sorry for you. I'll throw in an extra packet of fertilizer, just for you, baby. You really seem like you need it," she had the audacity to look smug, and Crosshair had the audacity to look offended. 

But she wasn't wrong. He did need it, he needed something to make him forget about-

Well, everything.

Absently, he scratched at the great, cavernous scar on the side of his head. Once again dirty fingernails dug in, but the burn scar  “Free?” he asked, licking at his too-dry lip. 

He knew he ought to refuse. He ought to say no. He hadn’t used in such a long time and if his brothers found out, they’d be so disappointed in him.

Not that his brothers weren't already disappointed in him. They’d left him behind. They’d replaced him with some girl-

Taught her to shoot-

Given her his com-

The togruta snorted. “Well, nothing in life is truly ever free,” she chided. 

That touched a nerve. It shouldn't have, but-

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!” he snarled, fists clenched at his sides hard enough that his fingers ached. He was free. His choices were his own. His thoughts were his own. No more chip. No more Empire. He was free. 

The vendor recoiled. “Take it easy, pal,” she snarled right back. “You know the risks. You want it or not? And don't you dare raise your voice at me again, you here me? I bet you think you're real tough, all grouchy and scowling, but you don't scary me, buddy,"

It felt like being scolded by one of the fucking longnecks.

Except this time, Crosshair might have felt a twinge of guilt.

Crosshair’s heart was pounding in his ears. He twisted around and glanced at his squad. 

The other batchers were crowding around some booth selling woven goods. Wrecker and the girl were wearing matching pink ponchos. They were laughing. 

Hunter looked so fucking proud. 

And Echo was looking at him. He looked concerned. Using modified, one-handed combat signs, he asked Crosshair if he was alright. He must've heard the yelling. 

Crosshair flipped him off.

Echo glared and returned the gesture. 

"Yeah. Fine, whatever. I'll take your plant. I only need one packet of fertilizer, do you hear me? This is a one time occurrence," Crosshair spat vehemently. They both knew it was never just a 'one time occurrence'.

The Togruta beamed. "Sure thing, sugar. One little flower, just for you," she winked as she handed him the plant. 

To his surprise, he couldn't feel anything under the dirty pot. 

But when he dug his fingers into the soil... 

His stomach churned with guilt. There was his little packet of manufactured sunshine. 

"I'll be seeing you soon baby," she winked, and Crosshair twisted away. 

Just this once. That was a he needed. Just this once, to catch his breath. 

Crosshair really putting in the hours on being the gayest sibling who causes the most problems