What are your ideas/suggestions for graphing your data so it's reported in multiple, meaningful ways?
I plan to represent my data using a mix of bar graphs, line graphs, and possibly pie charts to highlight different patterns. For example, bar graphs can compare performance across content creators, while line graphs can show trends over time (like engagement growth). Pie charts could help visualize proportions, such as types of content posted. Using multiple formats allows me to present the same dataset from different perspectives, making patterns easier to understand and strengthening my overall analysis.
summary: Plagued from horrible nightmares, you make your way over to Crosshair's bedroom, looking for some comfort.
warnings: reader has nightmares in the beginning, in which crosshair dies or gets hurt in various ways, pre-relationship, some hugs and snuggles, sharing a bed
words: ~1380
a/n: hello! it's been some time since i wrote a crosshair x reader fic. even though it's a rough start, it's mainly fluff and soft!crosshair. this is also a fic for @summer-of-bad-batch, with the prompts "forget i asked.", hugs and nightmares. i hope you enjoy!
Crosshair gets shot.
Crosshair jumps off a cliff, trying to land on a smaller one below. He misses.
Crosshair gets stabbed.
Crosshair is crushed by falling containers.
Crosshair stands too close to an explosion. He blows up.
Crosshair is surprised in his gunner's nest. He doesn't make it.
Crosshair's other hand gets cut off.
Crosshair lying on the floor, lifeless.
Crosshair gets tortured, his wailing a sound you'll never forget.
Crosshair, smeared with blood. His own blood.
Crosshair, slumped in a corner, unmoving.
Crosshair, dead.
Dead. He's dead. He's dead and he won't come back again. Not ever.
You'll be alone with all those horrors in your memories. You'll never be happy and careless again without him.
You're the one who is tortured. Who falls off the cliff. Stabbed. On fire. Dead.
Dread fills you, pain everywhere. In every fiber of your body. It hurts- it hurts so much- and you're alone. All alone.
You wake up, screaming.
It's dark, the air too hot. You're sweating and shaking at the same time. Your lungs scream for air, you're breathless.
Where are- Where are you? It's dark. Too dark, you can't see a thing.
Outside there's some noise, it sounds like a broke radio: all you hear is an unsettling kshhh that comes in waves, but it's not as aggressive as you remember it.
It's hot. So hot, that your hair stick to your face and your bed feels disgustingly wet.
Suddenly, there's a scream.
No, not a scream - a bird. A bird that twitters this weird melody. You know that melody from... from... home.
It's your neighbor's bird. At this unholy hour.
You swallow, start to reach around.
Wood, something soft, and then metal. You tap the metal, and it gets brighter in your room.
Your room. With the yellow walls, the wooden furniture and the many photos and paintings on the wall.
You're at home.
At home.
You take another shaking breath.
It was just - just a nightmare.
But you're still unsettled.
Crosshair- he was dead, killed in too many different situations.
You swallow, your throat feels dry, and you reach for your glass of water on the nightstand.
You empty the glass.
It calms you down a bit.
But you're still shaking, so badly.
You know it was just some stupid nightmare, but - but you just couldn't calm down completely.
Is he fine?
Yeah, of course he is. He's just two rooms over, probably sleeping like a baby. Without any nightmares.
But, what if not?
Before you think twice about it, you're up and sneaking through the dark halls and only stop in front of his room.
Quietly, you knock and after getting a sleepy "what", you open the door quietly.
It creaks, and makes you jump.
"Sorry- I- I just- are you okay?" you ask him.
His room isn't as dark as yours - his curtains are open and a silver ray of moonshine lights up the small room.
He looks at you from his bed, buried beneath his blanket.
"Yeah, of course I'm okay. It's in the middle of the night, what did you expect?" he asks, not amused by you waking him up. You know how much he appreciates his sleep and at the same time he's just right - of course he's okay. It's in the middle of the night.
"Oh- I- s-sorry," you stammer and try to walk out backwards again, your eyes on his.
He looks at you contemplating, sitting up after a second.
"Hey, are you okay?" he asks after a few seconds. Your hands were still shaking, and you are still just about to cry.
"Yeah- yeah I just- I had a nightmare, and you died and- I was alone and- Just wanted to make sure you're still here and okay," you stumble over your words, and you see how Crosshairs face softens.
"Yeah I'm fine. I- are you?" he says, and you could hear worry in his tone.
You swallow and try to say yes, but nothing comes out of your mouth. You're still scared shitless, and agitated. Nothing was fine.
Crosshair seems to notice as much.
"Do you want to talk? Come here, you can... Do you want to sleep here?" He then proposes and your breath hitches.
You know you like him a lot. Like a lot a lot. And sometimes you feel like he likes you too. In the same way, you like him. But then again - none of you never took it a step further. You are just friends that could be with each other a lot. It felt like the two of you were too shy to do anything about it. But this time, it feels like he just made such a big step at once. And you are ready to take him by the hand and walk that step with him.
Of course, he still could just mean it in a friendly way - but he didn't need to ask you if you wanted to stay the night.
He could just have asked you to talk to him and then send you off again.
But sleeping in his bed feels... intimate. It is special. And it definitely isn't something you'd do with just a friend. Not in Crosshair's world, at least. And not in yours, either.
You know that. And he knows it, too.
With a head full of thoughts, you almost forget to answer. Only when Crosshair's voice sounds across the room again, you remember that he indeed asked you to talk with him, and to be with him tonight.
But Crosshair's words are not what you expect: "Forget I asked," he says after a few minutes of just silence.
You swallow. "No- I- you'd want that? I- of course I want to," you whisper and take a step closer.
Crosshair just looks at you.
"If your offer still stands..." you add.
Crosshair takes a few moments, in which you fear he already changed his mind and instead of getting a step forward, you just took three steps back, but then he nods a single time.
You come closer and carefully sit next to him.
He lifts his blanket and lets you slip under, close to him.
You feel his warmth, his body. His chest raises with every breath he takes, and suddenly you're just so close.
"You just... died. So many times," you whisper and start to tell him about your disturbing nightmare. You feel how tears well up in your eyes again, but you pull yourself together and stop yourself from crying. He's fine.
Crosshair listens, and nods. When you finish, he's quiet for a few seconds.
"I- don't know what-" he begins to say, hesitating. Then he sighs quietly.
"I'm not the best at comforting others," he admits quietly. "But... Wrecker really appreciates hugs," he then says. You see some insecurity in his eyes, and you soon realize it's because he doesn't want to hurt you or say the wrong things. So instead, he just asks: "Do you want a hug, too?"
A small smile appears on your lips.
"If you're okay with that, I'd love to," you whisper back. You're not sure if you see it right, since it's dark and his face is just lit by the moonlight, but for a second you think his face becomes a little peachy.
"Wouldn't offer if I wasn't," he says and carefully lays an arm around you.
You sigh quietly, embracing him and his warmth, and put an arm across his stomach, too.
Together, you slide down and you nestle your head on his shoulder, drawing small circles around his stomach.
Even though the night started in such a horrible way, it's easy to find an upside about it all. You and Crosshair were far away from talking about your feelings for each other, and you sure as hell have a long road in front of you. But you were pretty sure you just took a big step on this road, and you are ready to gear up and take some more.
You fall asleep just moments later.
This time, you don't have any nightmares or other disturbances, and for the first time in a long, long time you feel well rested when you wake up. Still in Crosshair's arms.
@summer-of-bad-batch
Week 12
Prompt: Nightmares
Rating: General Audiences
Word Count: 2226
Summary: Crosshair wakes from a nightmare to hear Omega sobbing, and he forces himself through his fear to go check on her. Hunter is already helping out.
READ ON AO3
Crosshair woke from his nightmare to hear Omega sobbing. The aching fear gripping every muscle in his body, and eating away at his chest told him to lie still, to do nothing or else They would kill him. And probably torture him first too.
But wait, no! This was Omega. He had to move, had to go to her.
Crosshair bit back a cry as he rose, everything in his brain telling him he was going to die, but then… nothing and no one attacked.
He stumbled a bit when he got out of bed, everything so, so dark, even with the lights he’d now turned on. He was cold and clammy, shivering from cool sweat that had soaked into his pajamas.
Crosshair managed to get to Omega’s room, breathing hard, head aching, neck so tight he felt like any movement would surely break it.
With a sigh, Crosshair leaned forward, pressing his head against the wall, listening to them.
Maybe he should leave. Hunter seemed to be handling it. But this was Omega. He could never leave her while she was in danger. In fact, his nightmares tonight had mainly consisted of her getting taken from him, of watching her get tortured by Hemlock, living his torture. Her screams still echoed in his mind, digging in deep.
Crosshair made his presence known with a gentle knock on the doorjamb, but Hunter didn’t seem very surprised.
Omega had jumped at his soft knock, and Crosshair’s mouth drew in a tight line from guilt from the guilt that struck him like a blow to the chest.
At first he averted his eyes, from Hunter, from Omega.
Blinking rapidly, trying to clear some unexpected tears, he met Hunter’s gaze for just a second, then his eyes landed on Omega. Her pajamas were askew, hair a mess from tossing and turning, surely, and her eyes were puffy and red. Tears still streaked down her face, chest still heaving with sobs, shoulders still shaking.
“Can I come in?” he asked, voice not wanting to come out, as if he’d been screaming for hours.
Hunter looked to Omega. It was her room. She had precedence here.
She whimpered as she nodded. In a rush Crosshair was over by her, kneeling by her bed, holding her tightly, a hand to the back of her head.
“It’s okay,” he told her. “It’s okay.”
He rocked her gently, hand running through her hair, untangling some of the bigger knots with as much care as possible.
He looked at Hunter, who gave him a grateful smile, even as his shoulders sagged with exhaustion.
Hunter rubbed Omega’s back. Her fists gripped Crosshair’s tunic so tightly they were shaking.
“It’s all right,” Hunter murmured. “We’re here. We’re both here.”
They held her in those few minutes in which she had to let out her pain, her fear. Crosshair wondered if she too had the awful ache in her chest, a dark ache that made everything dimmer, even… even her.
Omega eventually stopped crying, and pulled back from Crosshair.
He wiped her face for her, untangled just one more knot in her hair, and cupped her cheek.
“Are you okay now?” he asked.
She shrugged.
Crosshair would have shrugged at that question too. Even now fear tingled in his gut, at the back of his neck, and he had to let go of Omega to reposition himself so he wouldn’t have his back to the door.
Hunter watched the motion with keen interest, taking note of it. He didn’t say anything.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Hunter asked.
Omega shook her head.
“How about we get you back to bed, huh?” Hunter asked.
Before Omega could respond, Crosshair said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.”
Omega nodded in agreement.
“I’m… I’m too scared,” she admitted, still shaking, tense.
Hunter and Crosshair looked at each other over her head. Crosshair wasn’t sure what to do here.
“Why don’t we get you something to drink?” Hunter asked.
“Good, because I’m not getting water.” Hunter rose, giving Crosshair space to get on the bed with Omega. “I’ll be right back. Cross, you want any?”
“Depends on what you’re making.”
Hunter gave him a secretive smile, didn’t say anything (so frustrating), and left.
“What are you doing up?” Omega asked Crosshair. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“I had a nightmare too,” he admitted.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Omega offered.
“No,” he snapped, which roughly translated to I hate talking about things. Omega leaned against him, not at all deterred by how harsh his voice usually came out. Crosshair sighed, and put an arm around her. “A lot of the times,” Crosshair started, mouth suddenly dry, “I find myself having to say where I am, that I’m not… there.”
“Me too.”
“Want to do it with me?”
“Feels ridiculous.”
“I am on Pabu,” Crosshair said, despite also feeling ridiculous. “I am safe.”
When he repeated it, Omega did it with him, though she grumbled it.
“Better?”
“No.”
He rubbed her shoulder, and sighed.
“Me either. But, we both tried. And whatever happens, I won’t leave you.”
Omega wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his chest.
Her breathing began to slow, become more even, and Crosshair noticed his did the same, that he wasn’t panting anymore.
There was a slight creak, and he stiffened, checking the door.
They’re here. They’re here to get me, to take me back. Hemlock—
Hunter arrived with two drinks in hand that were swirls of red and white inside their glasses.
Omega pulled back enough to take the drink offered to her, and she seemed to be admiring the red fruit on top.
Hunter held out the other one to Crosshair.
Well… his mouth was pretty dry.
Grudgingly, he accepted it, mumbling a thanks that only Hunter could hear, surely.
Hunter sat next to Crosshair, and Crosshair, despite loving Hunter, and loving that they were a family again, wanted to shift away from him.
Human contact besides Omega seemed like too much right now.
“What’s in this?” Omega asked, holding her drink up to the light, watching as it pierced the cloudy mixture, making it shine like gems were hidden inside.
Hunter explained the fruit juice and coconut cream that was blended together. In no time at all Omega was sipping it.
Since she seemed to like it, making noises of contentment, Crosshair tried a sip.
Oh gosh, that was good.
That was very good.
Wow.
Hunter was watching him. Crosshair forced a frown onto his face, and Hunter gave a soft laugh, shaking his head at it.
He sipped the delicious drink through a tight mouth, not wanting to admit to Hunter how delicious it was, but holy karking hell, he wanted to drink this every day till he died.
Crosshair munched on the fruit at the top, feeling the cool sweetness in his mouth. It brought him back to reality, even more than most things could. He wasn’t sure if he relaxed, if that dark ache left his chest, but his eyes weren’t constantly darting to the door, to Omega to see if she was still beside him, and safe.
She visibly relaxed as she enjoyed her drink, and Crosshair had more of his. The cream was incredibly soothing, and the cold a refreshing burst of reality.
Omega finished her drink so fast Crosshair was worried it’d come back up if she laid down. She was going to do so, and he grabbed her hand.
“Let’s go to the living room,” he suggested.
Omega yawned. “And do what?”
“Batcher’s there,” Hunter supplied. “She’s sleeping by the couch.”
That was enough for Omega. She stood, and leaned so far back to get the last drops of her drink that Crosshair worried she’d fall over. She stumbled a little, and Hunter managed to get up, and catch her, laughing. He took her glass.
“Come on.”
Crosshair went with them, carrying his drink, enjoying the refreshing cold as it seeped into his clammy hands (at least he’d feel like one temperature now, rather than two warring within).
It wasn’t cold in the house, but was filled with a comfortable warmth. Though, Crosshair knew if he stepped outside that humidity would hit him instantly. However, he was contemplating having some nice, hot caf.
Instead, he sat on the couch, still enjoying his drink.
Batcher had woken up at them entering, and now Omega was petting her, playing with her.
Hunter was in the kitchen, cleaning up a little, having used various measuring spoons and a cutting board for the drinks.
Crosshair set his down on the caf table for now.
“Coaster,” Hunter complained, back towards him.
“How do you even know—”
Crosshair couldn’t quite get out the last word because Hunter just pointed to his ears.
With a sigh, he grabbed a coaster, and then placed it under the drink.
“Better?” he hissed.
“Yes.”
Then Batcher leaned too far back in her roughhousing with Omega, and spilled the drink.
Crosshair was close to cursing, Omega was laughing, and Hunter already had a towel to clean it up… supposing Batcher left any to clean. She was lapping up the drink running along the caf table, and dripping onto the floor, to the rug beneath it.
“Oh, the rug,” Crosshair complained, watching the red juice stain their nice, cream rug.
Omega stopped giggling enough to pull Batcher back.
“Come on, girl, that’s not for you. That’s for humans. Hum-ans,” she sounded out.
“I don’t think she knows that word,” Crosshair said.
He rose to get another towel and help Hunter with the mess.
It was while he was dabbing at the rug, that he realized the front door wasn’t in his line of sight, and he… didn’t care. For now. He wasn’t afraid, waiting for an attack. He was thoroughly distracted by the mess Batcher had made, from being with his family. He hoped this was helping Omega as well.
Hunter yawned as they finished cleaning up, his eyes watering.
Crosshair nodded his head towards the hall. “Why don’t you get some sleep?”
“Same to you,” Hunter said. “Eventually. Please.”
“We’ll go to bed soon,” Omega told him. “I promise.”
“Good. You have to wake up for school in a few hours.”
Omega groaned, and buried her face in her hands. Crosshair couldn’t agree more. He hadn’t had school, but if he was up for a long time before training the day had always been brutal. Though, it was okay if Omega wasn’t up for going. Sleep was more important. Good sleep, not sleep riddled with nightmares.
Omega and Crosshair sat on the couch, Batcher lying across both their laps. They idly pet her, and she closed her eyes in contentment.
Omega yawned, which made Crosshair do so.
“I dreamed about you,” Omega said into the silence. “They—the Empire—they were hurting you, using you to make me turn myself over. Crosshair, it was horrible. It was so violent. And—and I can’t get it out of my head. Sure, I don’t feel as… afraid, but it’s like it was real, like you were actually dying in front of me.”
“I dreamed about you too,” he admitted. “You… took my place in Hemlock’s CX experiments.”
They hugged each other in the silence that followed.
Crosshair was aware of Omega slowly drifting off, leaning more and more against him, body going limp. She was getting big, but after getting Batcher off of them, Crosshair still carried her to bed.
He left a small light on so she wouldn’t awake in darkness, feeling like she was in danger. He left her door cracked too, so she could feel like there was an escape if she needed it and woke up in a panic.
It was hard turning from her sleeping form in her bed, hard knowing she very well could have more nightmares. He finally managed, and as he was heading to his room, Hunter (wasn’t he supposed to be asleep?) leaned out of his doorway to say, “Thank you. For helping her.”
“What else am I supposed to do?”
“Crosshair, just let me thank you.”
He sighed. Then gave a small grin. “No.”
Hunter chuckled.
Crosshair turned away, opening his door, about to head into his room. But he turned around, seeing Hunter disappear into his own room.
“Hunter,” he called softly.
His brother turned back. “Hmm?”
“Thank you for helping me too.”
Knowing Crosshair was a private individual and that thanking anyone for anything was difficult, Hunter didn’t say a word, just gave a nod.
Crosshair went back into his room, eyes stinging from exhaustion, and collapsed onto his bed.
He didn’t feel safe enough to turn his lamp off, but he felt a little better as he started to drift off. He was on Pabu. He was safe. His family was here to help him.
Crosshair had more nightmares, but they didn’t leave him feeling like he was going to die.
I’m on Pabu. I’m with my family. I’m safe.
Omega’s safe.
Still, he went to check on her, and he smiled at the sight of his daughter sleeping soundly.
I chose to analyze the youTube gaming space, so the elements of data that would be most important for my conclusions will be audience engagement through likes and comments, views and upload frequency for my case.
What is data within your space? How does it impact your analysis?
Data within YouTube is the number of views, likes, and comments that individual people use to interact with videos that they either like/dislike. The option to dislike a video is also a feature that viewers can use but these days it’s unlikely you’ll see a dislike count. This is important for my analysis because paying attention to what types of videos are pulling higher views, can tell me what type of content specific audiences are looking to interact with the most. This allows me to understand which videos are more likely to perform well from a creator within the genre of content I’m analyzing in my project.
The Batch were crowded around Gonky, who sat proudly in the center of the kitchen, his chassis serving as a makeshift game table. A colorful board stretched across his top, illuminated by the soft glow of the ceiling light.
Wrecker slumped in the seat beside Omega, shoulders hunched and cheek pressed against his palm. He held up his game piece and stared at it as if it had personally insulted him, as if he was about to collapse on the bench from boredom.
"Don’t wanna play anymore," he groaned. “Can’t we blow somethin’ up instead?”
Omega gave him her best wide-eyed expression—equal parts adorable and manipulative. It worked. It always worked. Wrecker sighed and gave her a sheepish smile before placing his piece back on the board.
“Some board games are known to enhance problem-solving in military strategists,” Tech piped up, adjusting his goggles. “They’re also statistically linked to improved mood.”
Echo, seated on her other side, took a slow sip from the steaming mug Hunter had passed him. “Consider the mood boosted.”
Across the table, Hunter drew a card. “Alright, let’s keep this moving—”
Before he could finish, Tech leaned forward, eager.
“I predict you’ll advance four spaces,” he said, tapping the board.
Hunter gave him a flat look. “Tech, stop doing that.”
But the Sergeant glanced at the card and frowned, then moved his piece four spaces.
Wrecker pointed a thick finger at Tech. ““HEY! How’d you know that?! Cards must not’ve been shuffled right!”
“Because I’m observant,” Tech said, smug as ever. “And Echo shuffled them properly. I checked.”
The cybernetically enhanced clone rolled his eyes. Tech wasn’t done.
“Based on prior draws and discards, Hunter’s next card had a 68% probability—”
Wrecker didn’t wait for the end of that sentence. In a single dramatic movement, he swiped at the deck—sending the board flying. Game pieces launched like tiny missiles. Gonky tipped sideways with a surprised beep, knocking into his brother, who flailed backward and hit the floor with a thud. Echo’s tea splashed across his chest and the corner of the board clipped Hunter square in the head.
Omega ducked, arms over her head, laughing as the chaos unfolded.
Voices rang out—grumbles, curses, groans.
Tech blinked up at the ceiling, deadpan, then pushed himself up on his elbows. His larger brother, completely unfazed by the wreckage, sat cross-legged in the middle of it all, squinting at the scattered cards. The deck seemed random enough.
He looked up, eyes wide. “It is random! Tech, you’d make a great Jedi!”
Tech stood, brushing himself off. “This has nothing to do with the Force. It’s predictable outcomes, not mysticism.”
Minutes later, Echo was back with another mug of tea. Hunter sat nearby, pressing a bacta pack to his forehead, muttering under his breath, elbows on his knees. He watched as Omega and Wrecker crawled across the floor, searching for a missing game piece under the table.
Tech calmly reset the board on Gonky’s back, adjusting the pieces with practiced precision.
“If we switch games,” he said casually, “I could factor in revenge-based decision-making. I am able to adapt.”
Bonus Prompt: Injury || Game Night || Alternate Prompt: "I bet I'd make a great Jedi."
33/39 || 34/39 || 35/39
@summer-of-bad-batch || banner by @the-little-moment
