Insert - Tumblr Posts
Excerpt 2 from "Scoped Out" - Echo-centric
18+ only
Mildly NSFW; nothing explicit, but it does get a lil' saucy.
Mild trigger warning, I feel it best to mention; Reader is recovering from bad injuries sustained during an explosion, and Echo is the group's primary medic. This scene deals with the care that goes into helping someone with limited mobility do normal daily-life tasks.
With fluff. Because I can. And I would have loved handsome heart-of-gold soldiers taking care of me during/after my own hospital trips, so here we go!
This one is Echo-centric.
Also I know this is the second one I've posted but actually, chronologically for the book, this scene happens before excerpt #1 lmao
--
You’re no longer high as a kite every waking hour, only during the night and for a little while when you just wake up, as Echo has been upping the dose to help you sleep through the night.
But during the day, you put up with the constant ache.
Today, however, is very exciting.
You’re perched on the edge of the mattress in the borrowed black shirt, as Echo carefully works on getting your annoying leg cast ready to be removed. He’s been using small clippers to snip all the way down the length from your hip to your ankle, and you’re doing your best to hold still.
Especially when his delicate fingers work cautiously beside the hemline of your shirt, his cheeks tinged pink as he dutifully ignores the fact his patient isn’t the typical gender he’s used to working on.
“Hold still,” he admonishes you again as you fidget.
“Sorry, it tickles, and it itches,” you complain, grimacing as the sensation grows more insistent, your left hip demanding a scritch right where you can’t reach it through the cast.
“You’ll be able to shower soon,” Echo promises, and you hold in an excited breath as he starts prising the cast apart, instructing you to hold it at certain points to assist.
“How did you lose your arm?” you ask tentatively, as he works.
Echo pauses, sparing you a glance from his task.
“I got blown up in a citadel attack. The Techno Union decided I’d make a good computer part,” he reveals.
He says it casually, like it’s no big deal, but you almost lose your lunch at the wash of crazy anxiety and panic that floods through your body from where his hands touch your leg.
“I-I’m so sorry,” you stammer.
Echo looks a little confused at your reaction, then uncertain for a moment as you see the vulnerability in his eyes.
His warm smile does a lot to hide the darkness that haunts them, you realize.
Suddenly, you just want to hug him. He looks like he needs it.
“You look like you just saw a ghost,” Echo says after a moment, then carefully pulls the cast the rest of the way off your leg, supporting your ankle with his good hand as the hooked implement he attached to his mechanical arm-socket discards the cage-like material off to the side.
“I can feel your stress,” you say quietly. “Emotions transfer through touch.”
Echo snaps his head up to stare at you with what you know is at first, alarm -- no one likes their secrets getting out, after all, and he grimaces.
“Uh… Sorry,” he says awkwardly.
“No, don’t be,” you’re quick to refute. “I can’t even imagine. Do you want a hug?” you offer.
You think he’s about to say yes, his eyes softening with something like gratitude, before you see his eyes suddenly flick downwards like it’s pure reflex, and he quickly looks away, cheeks pink.
You clear your throat, and quickly tug the shirt a little farther down your hips now that the cast is no longer in the way.
“Uh… Maybe later,” Echo quickly answers, then carefully helps you onto your feet.
You put all your weight on the right foot to begin with, breathing through your teeth as he supports you. Standing, the shirt easily falls down past mid-thigh, almost to your knees when your shoulders are both even.
“Take it easy, start slow,” Echo reminds you as you carefully begin to put weight on your left leg.
There’s no increase of pain -- no feeling at all, actually, except a strange disconnect of being aware your foot is touching the ground and weight is being distributed upon it -- but you feel the aching soreness all over, and you don’t feel very steady.
Echo slowly loosens his hold and steps away from your immediate side, his hand still lingering on your upper back as you look down at yourself, testing your balance.
“Alright, this is good, this is really good,” Echo says approvingly, looking at your bare legs with shyness forgotten as he studies their posture with optimism. “Try taking a step forward, towards me,” he suggests, moving to step in front of you a little ways as his hand slides over your shoulder, and remains lightly touching your bicep, just in case you end up needing support.
Your first step sends you stumbling forward as your leg buckles out from underneath you when you try to bend the knee, and Echo quickly catches you.
“Alright, try that again one more time and if it still won’t cooperate, we’ll try something else,” he encourages.
“Okay,” you say bravely, and let him help you stand straight again.
You try, you really do.
Your leg crumbles beneath you when you take another step.
~*~
Omega likes this planet, so she’s pretty bummed when Hunter announces it’s time for them to leave. Their ship has been covered under tarps and vegetation Wrecker and Crosshair piled over it, and she watches in dismay as her brothers take down camp. Everyone but Echo is doing something outside the Havoc Marauder -- Tech is taking care of the brazier and generator equipment, Wrecker is removing the piled vegetation, and Crosshair works with Hunter to fold up the heavy oilskin tarps as they’re made accessible.
Omega has already finished her task, the three metal boxes at her feet all loaded neatly with their haul from the markets, and their own efforts foraging. One box is filled almost entirely with nothing but the nutritious, flavorful fruit that grows abundantly in the rainforest biome this planet is predominantly covered with.
“How is she?” Omega asks immediately, when the door to the ship opens to reveal Echo. She’s already jogging over as the cybernetic soldier steps down, and holds a thumbs-up out to her.
“The infection is gone and the lacerations are all healed, but she can’t walk on that leg yet,” he tells her, reaching out with his good hand to gently touch Omega on the shoulder as she comes up to him. “The bone is all patched together neatly enough, but I’m concerned about her head.”
“In what manner?” Tech asks abruptly, cutting Omega off as he comes up beside them with the folded-up brazier hefted in his arms. The soot-scorched device has been condensed down into a neat, double-handled box.
“Her right eye doesn’t appear to be responsive to light, and she’s… A little forgetful,” Echo understates.
Omega wonders why her brother’s cheeks are suddenly turning pink, but he’s already walking away quickly as he tells Tech to go load up the brazier and check on their new friend’s condition.
“Did Hunter manage to find new clothes for her?” Omega asks as she trots alongside Echo, who strides determinedly towards Hunter and Crosshair. He glances down at her, brows furrowed.
“No, nothing we could afford anyways,” he grouses. “Crosshair’s just going to have to deal for a little longer.”
“Deal with what?” the sniper wonders as he looks over at them, Hunter letting go of the end of the narrow-folded tarp so the taller brother can easily flip it over his forearms, then begin folding it into the final, smaller squares as he looks over at Echo and Omega.
“A real burden, watching Butterfly run around in nothing but your spare blacks,” Echo teases with a deviant glint in his friendly eyes. The sniper’s eyes narrow dangerously as he flops the tarp onto the pile they’ve got going on the ground, and he takes the toothpick out of his mouth.
She might be clueless, which is easily forgivable due to her current state, but Echo and his brothers would have to be particularly dense to not notice the change in their grouchiest sibling since she’s arrived in the picture.
Echo hasn’t been with the Bad Batch as long as they’ve been around, but even he noticed how strange it was to see Crosshair in a better mood.
Or a worse one, as the case had been immediately following their escape.
“I doubt she’s going to be running anytime soon,” the sniper sneers. “How’s her leg?”
“In better condition than we feared, but it’s going to take some time before I know the extent of muscle and nerve damage.” He wished he had the equipment to do a more thorough scan. “She can move it, which is a good sign, but she can’t put any weight on it yet. Hunter,” Echo doesn’t need to raise his voice to catch the sarge’s attention, and immediately gains his audience. “How soon until we leave?” he asks.
“As soon as everything is loaded and the ground-check is done,” he answers easily. “Why?”
“Can she shower before departure? It’s going to be a while in hyperspace before we land again, and while I know it can operate during flight, she’ll be steadier on her feet while the ship is grounded.”
There’s only a brief pause before Hunter nods.
“Alright. Get her taken care of; Omega, go along in case she needs help, with… uh,” he falters for a moment, but the girl is already nodding her understanding, and bolts for the ship.
“Right, we’ll be back,” Echo says.
~*~
The first problem you encounter with the shower isn’t getting your shirt off or getting into the fresher unit, it’s the fact that there’s no stool to sit on as you awkwardly lean against the metal wall. You’re in too much pain to be embarrassed about the fact Omega had to assist you in stepping up into it, making sure you didn’t slip on the textured metal floor and following Echo’s instructions to help you to a T.
You reach for the knob to turn the water on, but your hand pauses just before touching it, and you watch the way your fingers shake.
Both your legs are still numb-feeling, but it doesn’t stop the dull ache you can feel growing stronger.
Stars, you want to get clean, though. Echo and Omega helped you get all the bandages off your body, revealing bright patches of healing skincell-grafts and bacta patches that won’t come off yet for another few days. Those being waterproof, they stayed on your body and make it look like you rolled around in over-sized, neon blue postage stamps.
Your injuries have been washed carefully, but the rest of your body feels sticky and gross from too many days in bed.
You grab the knob, and turn it on, determined.
Worst comes to worst, you’ll just have to let Omega help you up off the floor if you slip.
You always were the optimistic one.
~*~
Omega steps out of the fresher, closing the door behind her with an expression of consternation. She looks imploringly up at Echo, who looks down at her with a sudden spike of trepidation shooting down his spine.
Uh-oh.
“I can’t get her off the floor,” Omega tells him urgently, her voice lowered in anxiety. “I’m so sorry, Echo, I tried, I really did, I’m just too short, and she can’t bend her legs enough to get them under her.”
Kriff.
Echo puts a hand to his face, then lets his fingers trail limply down his features as he sighs heavily. Well, so much for catering to her modesty.
“Help her towel off on the ground as best you can, and get her shirt on,” he says after a moment. “I’ll help her up,” he assures.
Brightening, the kid nods and does exactly that, vanishing back into the room.
A few minutes later, the door opens again, and Omega slips out.
“Okay! She’s ready,” the child declares.
Echo nods, and steels himself at the door, before knocking once and letting himself in.
Kriff.
Butterfly is still sitting in the fresher unit itself, looking just wrecked. Though her physical condition is in actually quite good form, her posture slumps as she sags against a dried spot on the wall, damp hair tumbling messily around her shoulders, legs stretched out awkwardly with a bend at the knees from the short space. Her eyes are tired and droopy, skin still flushed from the warm shower.
Crosshair’s black shirt pools around her form, and though everything important is covered, that little male part of Echo’s brain he can’t shut up has a healthy admiration for the soft skin and bare legs that extend from under the black fabric. He’s glad he’s much taller than her, because if her knees were any higher he would see up--
She looks up as he enters, and offers a weak wave and a tired smile, blessedly missing the way Echo has a small internal crisis as he closes the door behind himself.
“Sorry, the kid tried,” she tells him shyly.
Echo ignores the way his body responds to the sight of a pretty, half-dressed lady on the floor of their fresher, glad for his forgiving uniform that hides the evidence as he crouches down beside the open fresher door. She’s not perfectly dry -- many droplets of water still cling to her skin, especially her bare legs, but her feet are completely dried off. Echo gathers Omega might have been afraid to touch where the woman was so grievously injured, but she needn’t have been so cautious.
He considers a moment, before grabbing the towel that was discarded on the floor, and carefully holds it up.
“You’re wet,” he starts, and boy, is it not a great start.
~*~
If you were any less wrung-out and really just not caring right now about more than the massive desire to get off this cold floor and back into some kind of chair or bed or anything that would let you pass out and go back to sleep, you think you’d be a lot more embarrassed right now.
As it is, you’re having a hard time not finding Echo’s flustered expressions and his obvious shyness endearing, and maybe even a bit exasperating.
Though if you’re honest with yourself, it’s a little bit of an ego boost, knowing that even half-dead and put through the ringer, someone can still look at you and find you attractive enough to get all flustered about it.
You’re about to tell Echo you’re okay with being picked up, when he picks a towel up and looks at your legs.
“You’re wet,” he starts with gentle sincerity, but the instant the choice of words leave the ARC-trooper’s mouth, his eyes bug out of his head as his pink-tinged cheeks turn an impressive shade of red that stands out sharply on his ghostly pale features. “I-I mean, the water- shower-- legs- kriff,” he mutters contritely, putting a hand over his face as he plops down on the floor, embarrassed.
You’re too tired to laugh, but you can feel the humor bubbling in you as you reach over and sympathetically pat his wrist.
“I know what you meant,” you assure him tiredly. “It’s okay.”
“Sorry, can’t help it, guess all the regs are programmed to find you pretty,” Echo tells you bashfully as he peeks out from under his hand. “I swear, my hands won’t wander,” he promises you fervently.
“I know. I think you’ve already seen everything, anyways,” you say, your own cheeks turning pink.
Echo laughs, easy and carefree, and its a nice sound to hear.
“Yeah, well, it’s a little different when you’re bleeding out and there’s blood everywhere. This is, uh…” His golden gaze looks anywhere but at you as it darts around the small room.
“An unexpected perk to your job?” you tease. “At least I’m not Wrecker. I’m not sure anyone could pick him up.”
Echo’s face turns wide-eyed for a moment at the thought of trying to help THAT big baby out of this tiny space with non-functional legs, before he just shakes his head.
The awkwardness is mostly gone as he leans over into your space, and dutifully starts gently patting down the water still clinging to your skin. You limply raise your arms up when he tosses the towel aside and slides his good arm behind your back, then starts to stand.
In hindsight, you should have seen this coming.
~*~
Crosshair and Tech are the first ones on the ship when an impressively loud CLANK and swearing is heard from all the way outside. Crosshair doesn’t stop until he’s at the fresher door and yanking it open, and finds a somewhat comical sight.
Echo is laying on his side on the floor, eyes screwed shut and rubbing his head with a groan as Butterfly’s hands flutter over him, wanting to do something to help the poor soldier but not having the strength to do more than be present.
The instant his eyes register the quick facts of a lack of any present danger and the conclusion Echo must have slipped on the water that has gotten all over the floor and makes the bottom of his boots glimmer, Crosshair’s eyes innocently drift over to Butterfly again, before his gut clenches and he sucks in a sharp breath.
Maybe his brother didn’t slip on the water. He might have slipped on nothing.
That’s the unbidden thought in Crosshair’s head as he wordlessly shuts the door in Tech’s face, and strides over to help.
~*~
You were embarrassed, dealing with the natural awkwardness of Echo treating you; but when Crosshair steps into the room, you think you might die of mortification as he looks down at you both with the same intense expression he always wears. Echo took pains to look away and his obvious shyness made it sort of endearing, like this silly joke between you.
But with this man, you are the one who feels shy.
The door shuts firmly behind Crosshair as he steps over his brother’s legs on the floor and helps the man sit up, dryly admonishing him not to take on more than he can handle before the sniper is efficiently leaning down into the fresher box, and carefully scoops you up.
Long limbs hoist you off the floor with unexpected ease as Crosshair seemingly effortlessly straightens, giving you a chance to settle in his arms before he steps backwards, angling his torso so that your legs and ankles don’t whack the frame.
“Tech, we have a man down,” Crosshair calls dryly as he shoves the door open with his boot and steps out into the narrow space.
“Kriff off,” Echo calls.
“Did you faint?” Tech wonders curiously.
“No! I slipped on water!”
You’re silent as the expected teasing continues, tongue tied up as you let yourself be carried down the walkway to a bunk that you know is familiar, yet still feels strangely foreign as the sniper settles you carefully down onto the mattress.
For the first time in days, you’re aware of your own abilities as a tickle of energy zips up your legs when your bare skin makes contact with the bedsheets.
It’s gone as quickly as it came, your mind thoroughly caught up in its own whirlwind of emotions.
“Sorry,” you mumble.
“For what?” Crosshair wonders lazily as he tugs the blanket free from under your legs.
Your face turns scarlet when you watch his long fingers snatch the hem of your borrowed shirt and tug it down farther over your bare thighs, looking entirely unaffected as he then drags the blanket up over you.
“Being trouble,” you say after a moment.
He shoots you an amused look you’re not sure how to interpret, before he abruptly straightens, and looks both ways down the ship.
You’re about to ask what he’s looking for, when his lips turn into a smirk as he leans down towards your face.
You freeze as he draws closer, eyes falling to stern lips and wondering in shock if he’s thinking of--
His expressive drawl rasping in your ear sends unexpected fire shooting straight down between your legs as his lowered voice asks, “Are you really that sorry?”
“Maybe a little bit.”
“Liar,” he accuses softly.
His eyes drop down, before he boldly meets your gaze, and lets you see the appreciative smirk dragging itself across his lips. Before you can reply, he straightens, and walks away just as Tech comes out of the fresher, helping a woozy Echo walk out. You wince; he hit his head pretty hard on the fresher’s frame.
“It is concerning the amount of head injuries our unit sustains despite the fact we all possess shock-trauma resistant helmets,” Tech intones dryly as he helps his brother to his bunk across from you.
“Oh, stuff it,” Echo grumbles.
“Are we set to go?” Hunter asks, stepping up into the ship. At the chorus of agreement, he smacks the door control to shut the side, and wanders for the cockpit.
CHAPTER DROP: Leaking Spark, ch 7
:3
pushed a new updoot out today, I was too excited to share this one.
Reblogs appreciated! (If you don't wish to be notified of my fanfiction chapter releases, I have started using the tag "DatChapterTho")
TADA the thing I spent the last 6 hours breaking my back over! I really need a new chair so i can sit at me desk ;A;
So i drew xemnal, my muse, as Edith Cushing from crimson peak in her beautiful ball gown. I did redraw the movie snippets but changed the dress a wee bit (mainly because some of the pearls and wrinkles didn’t come out right)
It was also a chance to let me try some new coloring techniques which i am pretty proud of.
Please do not repost without permission.
Potentials of Consciousness
Etzel Cardena: "What do anomalous experiences tell us about the potentials of consciousness?" Etzel Cardeña holds the Thorsen Chair in Psychology at Lund University in Sweden. He heads the Center for Research on Consciousness and Anomalous Psychology (CERCAP). His three interconnected areas of research are: 1) The scientific study of consciousness alterations and anomalous experiences, experiences that do not necessarily involve distress or dysfunction (e.g., most psi-related experiences, mystical experiences). He also researches the relationships between hypnosis, dissociation (lack of the usual integration of psychological processes such as sensation, memory, and identity), and performance in controlled psi tasks. 2) Neurophenomenological research on hypnosis, particularly on the experience of highly responsive individuals and its underlying brain mechanisms. 3) Acute reactions to psychological trauma, particularly dissociative reactions, and their long-term sequelae. He has Read more at http://theothersidepress.com/etzel-cardena-anomalous-experience-246
“Why the fucks’it different every time?” Sweeney grumbled softly as he sunk his teeth into the apple cinnamon toast, groaning softly before his lips curled into a small grin. He wasn’t complaining, of course. She was his only devotee, and she wasn’t even a devotee in the traditional sense of the word. It’s not like she actually believed in him, not until he dropped into her life, and just like that she did.
The girl in question smile and tilted her head to the side as she kneaded them sough dough in the bowl, offering only a shake of the head in response. Bread and alcohol, or bread and cream; That’s what the leprechaun liked. Cigarettes also weren’t a bad choice of offering, though it might’ve been cocky.
“I’m using you as an excuse to experiment in baking.”
“Well by all means, don’ let me stop ya, lass.” The red haired man murmured as he sipped from the tall glass of milk set on the counter for him, his eyes focusing on her for a few more moments before ultimately closing. Believers were so hard to come by these days, in any case, he was happy to have her.
When I say I want dabihawks whump, what I mean is I want Hawks to randomly FaceTime Dabi in the following scenario
Hawks: heyyyyyyyy Hot stuff
Dabi: Hawks???
Hawks: s-sorry. But I think- I think I might need some help
Dabi: Hawks??????
Hawks: ‘s jus’ a small scratch. But I can’t-
Dabi: Hawks??
Dabi: Hawks!
Dabi: Shit that’s a lot of blood
Dabi: You know bones are supposed to be inside your fucking body right?
Dabi: I’m on my way birdie, hang in there
