#'sorry im a bit too busy with other comms right now to take yours/work on yours'

[starsiide]

if an artist says their turnaround time is usually a week and that they should be done with your specific commission by the end of the week, then goes nearly three weeks without saying something, is it OK to ask them for an update on your commission? I'm a bit torn on whether I should wait a whole month

[cosmichorrorcrew]

Set post finale!

Arisanna hummed walking through Lodestar Grove enjoying taking in the changes since her last visit. They looked up at the tree seeing how many of the branches had healed since she last saw it. However she froze when they saw an all too familiar figure.

“Momboo?”

Momboo turned around and smiled, spotting Arisanna. Arisanna felt herself begin to move and tackled Momboo in a hug. Momboo gave a soft smile and returned the hug.

“Hello again Petal,” they whispered. Arisanna just hugged them tighter and cried into her shirt. “Hey hey it's okay now Ari, I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere again,” They soothed, moving the two of them to sit against the tree. The two of them sat quietly simply enjoying each others presence after so far apart.

“Im sorry I'm sorry im sorry," Ari mumbled out. The other simply rubbed their back and assured her she had nothing to apologize for. Arisanna giggled softly through her tears when they heard a camera click. Momboo looked up to see one of the allays and smiled.

“Hello Forrest,” she greeted getting a few small chirping noises from the allay in return.

—————

“How are Bruin and Easton doing?” Arisanna asked rearranging a few books as she sat with Momboo on a call through her comm.

“Easton has been busy with teaching and getting another doctorate as they often do,” Momboo started, giggling a bit before continuing, “Bruin has been spending more time with Athena and working on their creations, they seem a lot happier than when i saw them before so its nice.”

Arisanna paused listening to her girlfriend talk happily about what her kids were getting up too and smiled.

“Whats got you sappy Ari?” Caspian commented, appearing from somewhere. Ari jumped looking up only to see Caspian.

“Not that its any of your business but Momboo can hear you,” Ari replied hearing Momboos laughter through the comm. Gods she had missed that sound.

“Hi Momboo! Tell Ari she needs to take a fucking break!” Caspian called, gaining more laughter from Momboo.

————

“Boo love, I should be working!” Ari half heartedly complained as they let herself be dragged out of Elysium. Momboo laughed, dragging Arisanna to the old Starbarks. It was time for the book club!

“You know Caspian can handle everything for a few hours petal and I'd take any excuse to spend more time with you,” Momboo playfully teased watching Arisannas face flush. They spent the rest of the day together Fenris showing up for a bit for book club. Arisanna smiled watching the sunset her head on Momboos lap, this was nice, she adored her partner and the soft moments they got together.

[from-a-reckless-writer]

They were fighting.

In the DEO.

Again.

“Moms fighting again?” Nia casually leans on the desk next to Brainy, who is currently hunched over some screen. 

“It appears so,” He answers, not really paying attention. In the distance you can hear yelling and the tell-tale woosh of a cape. 

Nia had removed her comms the moment Supergirl spotted Lena Luthor on the field. She’s pretty sure half of the agents did the same. They all knew what was coming. 

And well, if the approaching bickering were any indication... 

“I had it covered!”

“Yes, because an on-coming missile with your name on it was you having it covered, clearly.”

“I saved ten lives today, Supergirl. Jealous you only saved three?”

“It isn’t about that and you know it.”

Nia sees Alex stride in, obviously going in for an attempt to pacify Supergirl. 

And also because it was partly Alex’s idea to send Lena with the Alpha team, in her defense Lena was the only person she could trust enough not to tamper with the device.

“Come on, Supergirl, Lena is more than capable in the field and she volunteered. She saved the day, you kno—”

“Butt out of this, Alex.” Supergirl grits out, too busy staring Lena down to even spare her sister a glance. 

“Sorry?” Alex scoffs, shocked at how easy she was brushed aside. She was tempted to pull rank and use the ‘I’m the Director, here.’ card, if she was being honest.

“No, Alex is right,” Lena points out, “I did save the day. Time for you to acknowledge that the both of us are just as capable as the other. And if saving the day means getting in the line of fire, then so be it.”

“This isn’t about you being incapable-”

“Then tell me what exactly is it about?”

Supergirl licks her lips, swallows and Lena braces herself for another retort but instead she fixes her with a stare that only Supergirl reserves for the bad guys and coolly states, “You are not to go out in the field and that’s final.”

She turns to walk out but Lena’s temper just skyrocketed tenfold. 

“Wow. You did not just say that to my face.” There was something in the way that Lena Luthor’s voice dropped that made Supergirl turn around. DEO agents are openly watching on now, not even bothering at subtlety anymore. The two women fighting in front of the whole agency certainly haven’t tried subtle at all. 

“Let’s make something clear here, Supergirl,” Lena fumed,  “This is my life and I get to call the shots. You don’t get a say in what I decide to do or not to do. Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I don’t have a say? Rao, sorry my mistake! Forgive me for thinking that my sharing a last name with you means a cent to you as much as it does to me. You’re right, who the hell am I anyway? Sorry for wanting to keep you alive.”

Supergirl is breathing heavily two inches away from Lena’s face. Heat and anger rolling off the both of them in waves. They’re in a world of their own now. A world in which Lena is having trouble deciding on whether she should scream some more or pull Supergirl’s lips into her own. 

“Im sorry- Last name?” 

The voice wakes them to reality. A reality that makes both of them sober up and realize they’re in the middle of a very exposed DEO headquarters; makes them aware of the collective gasp that has just happened. 

Supergirl backs away. 

“Please, fucking tell me that I heard you wrong. Or I swear to God-”

Alex heads straight for Supergirl and Lena quickly realizes the implications of what Supergirl had just said. She essentially confirmed to the entire place that they’re— 

“Alex, I can—”

“Yes or no, are you or are you not married?”

So, this is how Alex Danvers makes criminals confess. Lena had never seen Supergirl cower before, but by the looks of it, if Lena had been the one in the hero’s boots she’d also be shaking. 

“Yes.”

Oh, no. 

“Alex, listen,” Lena starts and Supergirl looks at her—no, not Supergirl, Kara—Kara looks at her and Lena sends her a reassuring gaze that screams, ‘I’m with you.’

In that instant it must’ve looked like a switch had been flipped. From Lena attacking Kara to Lena defending Kara in a split second. 

“Listen, we were going to tell you. It isn’t like what you think—“

“Oh, no no,” Alex quickly dismisses Lena, “I’m not going to listen to you. This is between me and you,” Alex hissed not even looking at her, directly glaring at Supergirl instead. 

“Alex, just—” Lena tries but she does the mistake of moving her shoulder in an attempt to put an arm on Alex and she cuts off with a, “Fuck.”

The Danvers sisters look up at her yelp of pain, concern flickering through their faces. Supergirl swiftly speeding to her side, and the shoulder wound she was so trying so hard to keep Kara from seeing, is now out in the open, bleeding profusely. 

“You’re hurt.”

“Fuck,” Lena says again as she tries to take in a breath, pain shooting down her entire right side. 

“Take her to the Med Bay,” Alex orders, eyes briefly tracing Lena’s shoulder before turning to Supergirl again, “If you think this discussion is over, you’re sorely mistaken. You and I have a lot to talk about. And I fucking mean it.”

Lena watches as Supergirl swallows in fear at the sight of the DEO director walking out. 

“Everybody, back to work! Show’s over, morons!”

As if somebody had hit the play button, a buzz resumes almost exaggeratedly; DEO agents immediately flailing to get back to work, embarrassed at being called out so blatantly. 

Lena tunes back in to Kara, “C’mon, hold on to me,” she mumbles, quickly bending down to put an arm around Lena’s knees and pulls her to a bridal carry. 

She doesn’t point out that it’s her shoulder that was injured, not her legs; doesn’t point out that she can walk absolutely fine. Lena can clearly see how Supergirl needs to be as close to her as possible right now. 

So, she clings tightly and presses harder back against her chest.

*** 

Lena’s mind is running a mile a minute right now, she needs to know what’s going in her wife’s mind and she needs a plan on how the both of them are going to do damage control. 

Kara lays her down softly on a Med bed and without a word Lena strips herself off. 

Both of them silent as Kara gets supplies on a nearby table. She sits behind Lena and cleans the wound wordlessly. She’s patched Nia up in secret, way too many times, to know how many stitches Lena needs.

“I’m still mad at you.”

Are the first words that Kara utters.

“Good. I’m still mad at you too.”

She hears Kara sigh and she doesn’t need to turn around to know that Kara’s face is scrunched up in a pout and a crinkle. 

“But...that doesn’t mean I won’t protect you against Alex.”

“I don’t need protection from Alex.”

“Really?”

“Okay, fine she scared me a bit.”

Before Lena can reply she hisses in pain and Kara brings her lips near the wound and “Sorry,” she whispers. 

“We have to talk about this don’t we?” Kara sighs out, finally addressing the elephant in the room.

“Yes, darling, we do.”

“We also have to reach a compromise about this, don’t we?”

“Yeah, Kara, yeah we do.”

Lena hears another sigh and she can guess what Kara would say next.

“Just so you know, I hate this. I hate this very much. If I could have my way, we’re not having this discussion and you’re staying put and staying safe and not running off to danger. Hell if I can have it my way you won’t even be stepping inside the DEO. But...I can’t have my way can’t I?”

“No, darling, I’m sorry.”

Kara sounds so helpless and Lena just wants to make all the complications in their relationship go away. But that’s not how real life relationships work. Relationships are hard and messy and work. God, they are so much work, but being with Kara is worth all the work in the world. They’ve come a long, long way for this. 

If this had happened two years ago, the both of them would not even think about compromise. Kara would just push through with what she believes is the best way to keep Lena safe and would have insisted on keeping Lena locked in a safe house somewhere. And she guesses past Lena wouldn’t even consider the merits of communication with Kara, either.

“I just want you safe.”

“I know.”

“Never want to see you hurt.”

“I know, baby. But Kara you can’t always keep me safe, do you understand that?” Lena says carefully, she wishes she could turn around right now and cup Kara’s face.

“I know it’s hard for you, but this is what the both of us signed up for. Do you think I’m happy whenever you fly off to God knows where, when I see getting shot at in the news, when you leave in the middle of the night? I’m just as scared as you are, Kara.”

But that’s the price the both of them have to pay for falling in love when one is a super hero and the other is a world saving genius.

Kara bandages her neatly and Lena turns around to face her, moving a bit up in the bed and pulls gently at Kara’s wrist to join her.

“I know,” Kara breathes into Lena’s hair as she positions herself,  “I’m sorry. For fighting, for yelling, for...accidentally telling everyone that we’re married.”

Lena tries not to laugh at how Kara pouts at the last one. 

“Forgiven already. I’m sorry too.”

“I love you, you know that?”

She feels more that hears as she fits herself underneath Kara’s chin, tucked tight beside her. 

“I love you too, so, so much. So much that I agreed to a secret wedding,” Lena tells her, “And as much as I would love to continue our little heart to heart, I really think you should go to your sister now.”

“Nooo, Lena noo,” Kara groans out, “Come on, we can just stay here and cuddle and I can kiss your shoulder better and maybe you can give me a kiss too and I don’t have to talk to Alex.”

“Oh, but you do.”

“Have I mentioned I also hate when you’re right?”

“Once or twice.”

“Mmph. Fine. But half an hour of cuddles first and then I go talk to Alex, deal?” 

“Deal.” 

Lena agrees, greedy for Kara’s warmth and also thinking that Alex certainly needs more than half an hour to cool off. Kara certainly needs more than that to think about the words she’s going to tell her sister. She’ll probably die by the end of their conversation but at least she died knowing that the whole world knows Lena Luthor is her wife, right?

***

“Alex, I know you’re mad-”

“Oh, I’m not mad, I’m livid, Kara. Livid.”

Maybe it was a bad idea to talk to Alex in an empty DEO training room where her sister could easily turn on red sunlamps and deck her for keeping things secret.

“What, did it not occur to that, oh I don’t know? ‘Oh I’m having a wedding maybe I should text my sister an update? Leave her a note maybe? Dear Alex I’m getting married today!’” Alex roars and Kara flinches. Rao how could she be this stupid?

“Anything would have been fucking nice, than to hear about it in the middle of a heated fight. Tell me, if you didn’t slip up just now were you even going to tell me?” Alex tries to coat the words in anger but she doesn’t miss the way it wavers on fear and insecurity.

“Rao, yes of course I was going to Alex! I- we-” Kara tries.

“Save it.”

“Alex please,” She begs her to listen as she steps in front of her and reaches to hold Alex’s hands.

“When?” Alex snarls and Kara gulps because her sister definitely would not like the answer.

“Remember that time that Lena and I broke up? Then we ran to each other in the rain, made up? And then two weeks later she got assassinated by those CADMUS wanna-be’s and we had to use the Fortress’s tech to track her down?”

Alex remembers that one so clearly. It was funny at the time, how Jess had caught them making out in the middle of an ‘interview’. How Kara was so happy that she won Lena back.

“Yes and?” Alex quips, eager to know the answer.

“And well, remember how I asked to have some time alone with Lena once we rescued her? And made all of you guys leave?” Kara croaks out, fear apparent and Alex just stares at her clearly impatient at how Kara rambles.

“Well, I uh-kinda suggested we get married on the spot because I didn’t want to spend another day not being married to her when people want to kill both of us, every day.”

Alex lets out a heavy, shakes her head and pinches the bridge of her nose. 

“You know this is the part where I say, ‘Not even surprised.’” She states dryly, “Of fucking course you’re the kind of people who would pull this kind of shit.”

 Kara tries to get a word in but, “You fucking owe me a wedding and Mom and J’onn and Alura-”

“Oh my god! Kara! Your Mom deserves to see the daughter she whisked off to another planet, get married! You fucking owe Clark a wedding-”

“Actually…” Kara starts off sheepishly, knowing full well Alex will explode from what she’s about to say.

“Oh for fuck’s sake! Clark knows doesn’t he?!”

Kara flinches again. Good thing her superhearing is dampened here. 

“Well, uh,” Kara wrings her fingers when she realizes there are no glasses to fiddle with.

“Lena said she wanted a Kryptonian wedding so we had Kelex call Kal and uhm he officiated…”

Alex doesn’t say anything to that, just clenches and unclenches fists at her side. 

“I’m sorry!! Okay! I was going to tell you immediately but we kinda got carried away sneaking around and then it just completely slipped my mind because you guys keep pointing out how we’re an old married couple anyway! And and and—“ Kara is grasping for words, anything just to make this all better. 

“Damn it, I messed up haven’t I?” She whispers, realizing  now that the only thing to make this better would be them admitting their mistake and going for amends. 

“Yeah, you did, Kara.”

Kara feels shame course through her.

“I am so mad at you right now for denying me the privilege of seeing you walk down the aisle.  You know I don’t even want that, I just wanted to see you have your dreams come true and see you have what I have with Kelly, god damn it Kara, I love you and I wanted to be there.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I hate your pout. I hate your stupid pouty face. Your billionaire wife better pay for a grand wedding for all of us.”

“Does that mean I’m forgiven?”

“Mom’s not going to let you down easy though.”

Her sister doesn’t really need to point out the obvious.

“I know. Could you maybe be the-”

“Nuh-uh. No. You tell her yourself or have Lena tell her. I’m not doing that shit for you.”

“Fine.”

Kara will take what she can get. 

“I love you, Alex.” She breathes in relief when she sees Alex affectionately roll her eyes at her.

“I love you too, you stupid alien.”

***

“It’s official then? We guys get to call you Moms now?”

Lena never really expected that to be the first words Nia says to her when she enters the Med Bay.

“Yes, Nia. And also, yes, you’re a bridesmaid,” She answers immediately knowing that Nia was going to ask.

Nia lights up and Lena shakes her head at how similar she and Kara beams. 

Yeah, ‘Moms’ really is a fitting term.

“Alex making you do another wedding huh?”

“Yes, she is.”

Nia snorts, “You say that as if you don’t want the world to know Kara Danvers is wholly and solely yours.”

Well, she isn’t wrong, not that Lena is ever going to admit that though.

“Can I please plan your wedding? I have prophetic dreams. I can totally tell you what would look perfect on that day oh, oh, oh! I can even tell you if it’s going to rain, if you want an outdoor wedding that is. Oooh, maybe I could even see who’d catch your bouquet— “

“Nia, slow down,” Lena mutters before Nia plans out the whole wedding then and there.

“Kara and I will talk about it, but I think she’ll agree, you don’t really need to convince us.”

“Yes-yeah uh right sorry, you should definitely do that. Sorry it’s just I’ve been shipping you and oh my this is so exciting!” 

Trust Nia to say ship is now endgame in regards to their marriage.

Nia jabbers on as Kara walks in and gives the both of them a big grin, Alex trailing behind her. 

“I guess, congratulations are in order, Danvers.” Alex rolls her eyes and it takes Lena a moment to realize that she was referring to her.

She tries to calm down the happy flutter in her heart and the emotions bubbling out of her as she utters a weak, “Th-thank you, Alex.”

“Actually, Luthor-Danvers, we hyphenated,” Kara clarifies, which really doesn’t help the happy flutter at all, just adds to it. 

Alex just sighs and mumbles an ‘Of course you did.’

Before walking towards the bed and surprising Lena with a tight embrace.

“You do know, now you have two Danvers worrying for you every time you walk out in the field now, right?”

 And Lena just laughs. Because for the first time in forever she’s got people genuinely wanting her to exist. To the point that they’d do anything to keep her safe. 

She’s got family now and if it means overprotective Kryptonians and fierce blaster wielding older sisters, she really wouldn’t have it any other way. 

***

They’re fighting. 

In the DEO.

Again. 

“Moms fighting again?” Nia doesn’t really know why she keeps asking, this is like a daily occurrence now. Agents don’t even bat an eye when bickering echoes off the halls, nowadays. Apparently, this is what happens in the CatCo bullpen and L-Corp offices too. 

Alex appears next to her. 

“You know you really should stop calling them that, especially since—“

“WE ARE NOT NAMING OUR KID, POTSTICKERS!”

[letsunity]

Not Afraid - Chapter 5

Summery -  

The Bad Batch go to Tatooine to resupply and avoid the Empire. As per the usual, Omega gets separated from the group. Fortunately for her, Krayt's Claw just so happens to be nearby. Bossk and Embo guide her to Boba Fett, who takes interest in why the Kaminoans want her. It's a reluctant partnership, with the Bad Batch having to rely on Krayt's Claw to navigate non-military life.

The war left many without homes, jobs, anything to live for. Their only option was the criminal life, stealing to survive.

The camp is small, with junk and scrap lying across the ground. The boss was building something they could sell to get credits, enough to leave Lothal safely. Even so, they'd have to start stealing from the city; the farms didn't have enough.

This Empire has to be better than the Republic. Unless it involved the war, the Jedi ignored those suffering, even turning a blind eye to slavers. The Empire promised food, shelter, pay; all people had to do is apply. A few in the camp had that plan, preferring the new military than eating scraps for pocket change.

As the boss was paranoid, they had several mines strewn around the camp. That would end up being their greatest enemy, however.

Blasters fired from above, striking the buried mines and setting them off. The explosions burned their eyes, heat and scrap flying into the air. The ragtag thieves scattered, confused and frightened by the sudden attack.

Smoke grenades landed nearby a boy, the bellowing smog obscuring his vision. As Alex looked around, desperate to find safety, he met the blaster of another boy. This one was only a year younger than him, maybe two, but had the eyes of a monster. He could've sworn that they shimmered yellow for a moment as the end of it hit his head.

Boba pulled a knife from his suit, throwing it at a thief's knee, practically removing it from their body. The mask over his nose and mouth shielded him from the smoke. He didn't need his eyes to acquire the targets; he just needed their terror.

One decided to attack him, which was a mistake. A female Twi'lek tried shooting him, but her aim was atrocious. Boba ducked down, his spiked boot striking her shin. As she fell, Boba grabbed her arm and rolled her over his back, sending her to the dirt. Calmly, he kicked away her blaster and placed cuffs behind her.

That's three down.

Another bandit tried their shot, using a machete instead. Boba's armour was fitted against primitive blades and slugs, so this was a pathetic attempt. Boba rose his arm to block the slash, scowling into the man's frightened eyes. With him distracted, Boba drove their arm into their chest, the machete sticking through his spine.

He spat blood on Boba's face, shaking in terror. He twisted the machete, listening as life gargled from the man's body. He kicked the corpse's stomach, ripping out the machete as he threw it into the shoulder of another.

Boba counted fifteen, a majority of them younger than twenty-five. They weren't a challenge, just part of the job. Given their lack of weapons, they're only grunts, worthless to the big guy.

"Got 'im!" Wrecker yelled, having caught somebody. "He's a squirmer, too!"

Boba walked towards the hulking clone, a grin growing on his face. The Phindian spat, despising the tiny clone.

"Great catch," Bossk complimented, hissing at the angry caught man. "How the mighty have fallen, huh, Eve?"

"Do not call Moralo Eval that degraded nickname. He will each your liver!"

"You know this guy?" Echo questioned, dropping a tied up girl. "Looks like a friend of yours."

Bossk raised a scaled brow at the jab, lips shifting back to hint at his teeth. Echo tried mimicking him, expecting it to be an intimidation display.

"Moralo Eval. He helped General Kenobi and Cad Bane attack the Chancellor," Hunter named, glaring at the man. "What're you doing on Lothal? Doesn't match your type."

"Moralo Eval escaped prison, not too difficult. He was pursued and crashed here. He'd have done the work himself, but better safe than sorry. Fortunately, since the Empire started their occupation of the capital, he's met many local rats."

The first person thing was always annoying. Bossk assumed it to be part of his narcissism.

Wrecker sat him down as Tech placed the cuffs, glaring at the angry Phindian. The sociopath analysed them, planning ways to escape and leave the planet. Jango's son knelt, staring the man into his deranged eyes.

"Jabba's going to love you, Eval," he grinned maliciously, imagining what the Hutt would do to him. "You help us, and I'll delay his pet getting a taste of Phindian. Know that if you refuse, I'll have to remove your limbs, given your expertise at escape. Bossk is always hungry."

Next was a staring contest, seeing who would back down first. Boba felt him mulling over his options, Bossk snarling behind him, snapping his jaws threateningly.

Echo was going to interfere, but Hunter raised his hand to stop him, wanting to see what happened next.

Having been told to 'guard' the ledge, Omega skipped over, interested in what went on. There were some people on the ground, some with blood on them. She'd seen it before, but not freely pooling around people.

Seeing some distress, Wrecker was quick to pick her up, keeping her at a distance from the battle. She wasn't ready to see any of that yet.

"What is it that Boba wants?" Moralo relented reluctantly, sneering at the teen.

"Biological chips are making the clones behave like droids. They follow any order given. That means if asked, they'd make you into a bottom bitch. If the clones have free will, they'll be easier to manipulate, exploiting their 'compassion'. We'll be helping each other further future endeavours."

In a second, it went from hostage to business deal. The sudden whiplash seemed normal for them, another part of this career. Even though it was wrong to help this guy, they got a lot out of it. Hunter wanted to understand this process more, understand how to proposition enemies into reluctant allies.

It's evident that these two hate each other but were willing to cooperate for a common goal.

"Moralo Eval will assist in this goal, though only for himself. Once complete, Moralo Eval and Fetts cease working together. Agreed?"

"Until we're done, you've got a deal," Boba nodded, using Wrecker's knife to cut through the cuffs. "Dengar's going to love this."

"That one is still alive?" Moralo said, genuinely surprised. "He expected Dengar to be dead by now."

"He continues to disappoint," Bossk added, suddenly friendly with the Phindian.

Despite having seen it with his own eyes, Echo couldn't fathom what he was looking at. Were all bounty hunters insane? They appeared to be!

"What do we do with the kids?" Hunter asked, motioning to the ones tied up. "The ones alive, anyway."

"Give 'em to the farmers and get our credits. The loth-wolves will clean up this mess," Bossk answered, looking up. "And it would appear that we have an audience."

Hunter looked up, his eyes meeting Fennec's orange helmet. Now discovered, Fennec slid down the ridge, shooting at the group.

"Amateur," Moralo sighed casually as he rummaged through the garbage.

He lifted a makeshift flamethrower, unintimidated by the sharpshooter. With a manic smile, Moralo burst a stream of flame towards the woman, the range further than it should be. Hunter was eager for round two, running alongside the fire to engage Fennec.

"Wrecker, help Hunter. I'll get Omega outta here," Echo ordered, helping the girl down. "Bossk, protect those kids. No them, no credits," he added, playing into the money motivation of the lizard.

"Not exactly, but fine, I'll keep them alive," the lizard huffed, sulking towards the targets. With the usual threat of eating them, he shoved them to their feet and started moving.

"I wanna help," Omega said, worried for Hunter and Wrecker. "I know she's after me, but I can still help."

"You are helping, Omega," Echo sighed, kneeling to be at her level. "By knowing that you're safe, the others don't have to worry. We're going to stay at the farm village and wait for them to come back, ok? It's a tactical retreat."

While she wanted to stay, Echo was right. By staying away from Fennec, they could handle her. With Echo, she reluctantly ran away with him, hoping that they'll be alright.

"Pateesa, Koose Shag Wata," Boba growled into his comms, shooting at the woman. Wrecker had no idea what he said, but he understood the next bit. "Throw me."

"Eh, what?"

"Just throw me," he repeated, still holding Wrecker's knife.

Wrecker shrugged and picked up the teen. With a running start, he happily lobbed the teenager, interested in what he'd do.

As anticipated, Wrecker threw him over the other hunter. The Phindian got the idea fast, shoving her into the location required. Boba threw the knife, getting the woman in the leg. He tucked and rolled, getting back on his feet with a few bruises. Angrily, she turned back and planted a well-placed blaster shot in his chest. If not for his durasteel, he'd be deader than Rako's career.

Hunter exploited this as he elbowed her, glaring.

"Why did they send you?" Hunter demanded, lifting her. "Why do the Kaminoans want Omega?"

"It's not part of the job to ask," she spat, headbutting him again.

She jumped out of another stream of fire, scowling at Moralo as he threw the empty item at her. Boba fired at her, not aiming for the head as Hunter wanted him to.

"Bounty Hunters aren't allowed to kill one another," Moralo provided, guessing that the clone was new to this way of life. "Moralo Eval is greatly interested in this 'Omega' you spoke of. He presumes she is part of this 'chip' business."

"Probably," Wrecker shrugged as Fennec ran back into the trees. "Should we go after her?"

"No," Boba answered, rubbing his chest. Before Hunter asked, Boba lifted a tracking fob with a smirk. "With any luck, we'll be one step closer to figuring things out."

"She'll find it. She's not stupid," Hunter sighed, feeling like a fool.

"That is what the fake ones are for," Moralo added as if it was obvious. "Moralo Eval is eager to learn of these chips. He likes the stupidity and incompetence of clones."

That is somehow supposed to be a compliment, but Hunter didn't like it. Wrecker looked over to Bossk, who was hissing and yelling at their pay. Curious, he walked over, counting thirteen.

"Don't ye worry, we're only gonna give ya to the farmers, no problem," Wrecker declared, punching Bossk's shoulder. "Yo nephew is mad. Told me to lob 'im!"

"Just like his dad and granddad," Bossk sighed proudly, sneering at the captives. "Any of you got a name? Calling you numbers is more of a Government thing."

"Alex," one of them said, glaring at the two. "I'm going to join the Empire and get rid of people like you."

"I look forward to seeing you try and fail," the reptile shrugged, casually lifting the boy like he weighed nothing. "How are you going to stop a guild that has outlasted not only the Republic but the previous Empire? Set your sights on something achievable, boy."

"It's Alex Kallus, and you'll fear me!"

"Aww, he's kinda cute," Wrecker said, unaware that the boy interpreted it as teasing. "Can we keep him?"

"No!" Hunter yelled, his new dad senses tingling.

He'd known these people for all of fifteen minutes, but Moralo found this group oddly entertaining. He did lust for chaos, and they were drowning in it.

"Moralo Eval finds this group entertaining. His cooperation is heightened."

"Your whole third-person thing is really annoying; you know that?"

"Moralo Eval is very aware, and it entertains him. Your irritation feeds him."

--------------------------------------------------------

Fennec leaned against a tree, ripping her outfit to cover her heavily bleeding leg. Though her armour hid it well, the flamethrower burned.

She'd heard about Jango, having been a little girl when he came to her village. On his own, he decimated a small group of Death Watch remnants, a force of nature. After seeing him shove a grenade down one's throat, she couldn't help but be enticed. It inspired her to enter the underworld, to be like him someday.

She grieved when he died, but it wasn't surprising considering who he faced. Only that Jedi could ever kill Jango Fett; not even the ketamine frog would stand a chance.

There were even rumours that he faked his death, as he'd done so before.

Given that Fennec spent her life becoming a master huntress, she didn't expect much from a child. That mindset almost got her killed, as he missed her artery by half an inch. Maybe the stories were true, where he destroyed a Star Destroyer and beheaded the Quarzite dictator. She doubted it, but then again, he'd been trained by the master himself.

Guild law be damned; her next shot would be between his eyes.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

When Highslinger was told to bring Slave-1 to the boss, he did not anticipate seeing Moralo again.

"Hey, Sling," Omega greeted, happy to see the droid. "How're you?"

Highslinger provided a thumb up, a signal of contentment. He calmly rose his middle digit to Moralo, intent on getting revenge for his shtick on Naboo.

"You're still upset about that?" Moralo teased, waving off the droid's irritation. "He isn't going to apologise. You'd have done the same."

That didn't change Highslinger's feelings on the matter.

"Bitching later, recovery now. Pretty sure my sternum's cracked."

"I can apply a bacta-patch," Omega chirped confidently. "Nala Se taught me how to do it when she was too busy."

"I'll show you where they are," he sighed, his chest burning like it was on fire.

As a Mandalorian, he knew how to tolerate pain. It was something his father taught him long ago.

Highslinger stepped aside as the boss showed the child into the ship. He liked the girl, finding her interesting and curious.

Part of working with the boss was the stance on children. He had few rules which he wouldn't bend, something other syndicates danced around. It was consistent, the pay was always equal, and Boba didn't screw him over. In fact, Boba looked at Highslinger like he was another person, not just a droid.

Droids are property, no rights in the future. Funnily enough, Clones were similar, so there was empathy.

Just being talked to like an individual was enough for Highslinger to swear loyalty to the young Fett. Not hunter loyalty, but the commoner's idea of it.

"Nala Se, Jango once spoke of that one. She's the sadistic one," Bossk hissed with disgust. "Dibs on biting through that one's throat."

"Stand in line," Hunter said firmly, getting an amused grin from Moralo. "What?"

"Moralo Eval is most curious. You lot aren't designed like the common fool duplicates, and neither is she. What's so special about Omega that makes her more of a priority over you?"

"We're trying to figure that out," Echo answered, disturbed by the thing's interested gaze. "Hunter and Wrecker have genetic mutation enhancements. Wrecker's strong, and Hunter can feel electric frequencies."

"As someone aware of the cloning process, Moralo Eval must disagree. Mutations do not equal such abilities; that's something else. Moralo Eval is invested in learning what that something is. It may answer why the long-necks desire the 'Omega' girl."

Inside the ship, Omega took off the helmet, feeling safe within the ship. Her eye ached slightly, but nothing that she couldn't handle. Boba sat on a seat, starting to unbuckle his armour. As he directed her to the compartment, Omega opened another one, seeing the faint gleam of silver and blue.

It looked like armour, but it made sense for him to have backups. She took out the medkit, opening it on the floor. Finding what she needed, Omega walked up to the teenager.

Thanks to being a medical assistant, she was familiar with scars. Boba was smothered in them, having one on each part of his body. His back and shoulders were far more interesting, though. It looked like a tattoo, similar to what Hunter had. Unlike Hunter, it wasn't imprinting an image onto the skin.

It was like something had pierced his skin and ink injected into the wound.

"Never seen one like this, huh?" the teen said, somewhat amused. "It's a thing my clan does; it's a ta moko. It's painful but worthwhile."

The scars were still visible on his back, but there wasn't any attempt to cover them. He had no concern with having them, even the few on his face. Given his job, it made sense that he'd get scars.

"What was that language in the Toydarian's house?" she questioned, placing the patch onto his bruised chest.

"Mando'a. Haatyc or'arue jate'shya ori'sol aru'ike nuhaatyc."

"What does that mean?"

"Better one big enemy that you can see than many small ones you can't," he translated, ruffling her blonde hair. "You're small; they're going to underestimate you. When they do, you will show that you aren't the Kaminii's pet anymore. Nobody is more in control of your life and body than you."

Her body is her own, nobody else's. She chose to stay with Hunter, and that's where she was staying. Boba, her sort of cousin, casually brushed away every comment Nala Se used to say.

"My body is mine. I could get a haircut, or what you have?"

"Your body, your rules. Unless you give permission, nobody can touch you where you don't want them to. You've got a right to privacy and comfort. Not just that, but you're free to find your own path in this clusterfuck of a universe."

She liked the idea of that. She can be a Bad Batcher like the others, be strong just like them. Nala Se couldn't dictate what she did anymore.

"I wanna learn Mando'a."

"I'm very pleased that you do. How about after we get paid, ad'ika?"

[caws5749]

Can you write something like the reader is alone in the avengers tower cause everyone’s away on a mission and someone breaks in to hurt the reader and Friday informs Natasha or something and she saves the day hehe

A/N: I absolutely love this request! I am not sure if this is what you were thinking  but I hope you enjoy! (no one notice that this is so so so many months late). Also, as is my go-to, reader has water powers!

Promoting: Honestly, I'm not sure- a mix of my 2k celebration, a potential instagram live, who knows

It wasn’t often that you found yourself left alone in the tower, but you’d been feeling a little under the weather (which was interfering with your powers), leaving you left at home while the rest of the team headed off on the most recent mission. 

Pausing the latest episode of the sitcom that you’d been playing, you slowly removed yourself from the heaps of blankets on the bed, stretching before heading towards the kitchen for a snack. 

You’d made it halfway down the hallway before JARVIS was alerting you of the break-in. Normally, you’d head straight for the intruder, but you were left practically powerless. You could fight, but not well enough to fight off someone who had the audacity to break into the Avengers tower. 

Panicking at your predicament, you asked JARVIS what you should do, thinking heading to the panic room was most likely your best option. After receiving similar advice from JARVIS, you decided to do the opposite of that. You were feeling better, so perhaps your powers were restored. 

Testing them out briefly, you shoved your anxiety aside, willing your power to flow freely. After a bit of struggling, you were able to produce a bit of a storm, not nearly anything compared to your usual tsunami, but it would have to do. 

Conferring with JARVIS along the way, you made your way towards the intruder. 

“I’ve alerted the others of the break-in, by the way,” the A.I. commented. You nodded, knowing they were most likely hours away. 

++++++

“Do you think she can handle herself without powers?” Steve asked, after Tony had voted that they finish the mission. 

“If she goes to the panic room, as per protocol, she’ll be fine!” 

“She’s not going to go to the panic room,” Natasha followed. 

“We can’t let her take on whoever this is by herself, with no abilities,” Clint reasoned. 

“We have to go back.”

“We’re hours away,” Tony argued. 

“We’re an hour away, if we fly at top speed,” Steve retorted.

Turning away from the arguing group, Natasha pulled out her phone, quickly finding your contact and calling. 

“Come on,” she muttered as the phone continued to ring. 

++++++

“You have an incoming phone call from Ms. Romanoff,” JARVIS announced quietly as you made your way through the tower. 

“I can’t take that right now, I’m a little busy, JARVIS.”

“I am sure Ms. Romanoff is afraid for your safety, Ms. Y/L/N.”

Your heart softened as guilt washed over you. You probably should take her call. 

But then you heard a large crash a few floors up, effectively distracting you from your incoming phone call, and you took off, sprinting up the stairs. 

++++++

“Fly faster,” Natasha instructed slowly, her voice dangerously low. She’d been standing, looking over Tony’s shoulder from the start of the flight. 

“JARVIS, take the wheel,” Tony sighed, rolling his eyes. 

“Clint.” It was almost a plea from Nat, the only small clue she’d given that she was scared.

“I got it,” Clint nodded, taking the seat just vacated by Tony, giving Natasha’s arm a light, reassuring squeeze on his way over. 

++++++

Reaching the floor from where the crash came from, you hesitated just outside the stairwell door. Listening intently for any noises, you were about to open the door when a voice filled the quiet air.

“I have not found her yet, but I am certain she’s near,” a gruff, male voice noted. Were there more than one assailants? Given by the fact that you couldn’t hear a reply, you assumed he was on the phone or comms. 

“I know. We have to find her now. She has limited use of her powers, and with everyone else gone, possibly coming back, we need her now, or we’ll never get her.”

They were here for you? Why? You knew you had an interesting back story, and interesting abilities, but you really weren’t all that special..... were you? 

Breathing heavily, growing a tad dizzy, you silently and quickly made your way down the stairs, heading for the panic room. There was no way you were willing to fight the man now.. not when he knew so much, not when he was here for you. 

Wrenching open the secret door to the panic room, you locked yourself inside. 

“JARVIS, am I safe here?”

You knew you were, you knew exactly how the room had been designed, but you were still frightened now. 

“Yes. They will not find you here, and they would not be able to break in. Would you like me to get Ms. Romanoff on the line?”

You nodded, sitting down in one of the chairs in a corner. You hugged your knees to your chest, trying not to be so scared.

++++++

“Y/N?” Natasha breathed, answering the call. 

“Hi.”

“Are you okay? Are you in the panic room?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Nat breathed, sighing in relief. “We’re about a half an hour out.”

“The man who broke in... he knew, Nat. He knew everyone would be gone, he knew my powers were weakened... he’s here for me, I heard him.”

So you hadn’t gone to the panic room right away, Natasha thought. Just as she’d expected, making the wave of relief even greater now that you were safe. 

“We’ll be there soon,” Nat soothed. Clint’s hands tightened on the controls, and Nat’s eyes flickered in his direction. He was flying as fast as possible. He was scared too. 

“Stay on the line with me.”

++++++

Less than half an hour later, JARVIS was alerting you of the jet’s arrival, and Natasha was reluctantly hanging up the phone, promising that she’d see you soon, and instructing you not to leave the panic room. You had begrudgingly agreed to that, frustrated that you couldn’t help with the capturing of the intruder. 

You paced back and forth for a few minutes, before the door was opening. You expected Natasha, but it was Clint who walked into the room. 

“Hey,” he greeted, surprising both of you by pulling you in for a hug. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“Me too,” you chuckled. 

“Tasha wanted to be the one to take the dude down,” Clint explained. You nodded. She could be ridiculously protective, you knew that. 

“Did they get him?”

“I’d be surprised if they hadn’t by now.”

++++++

With JARVIS’s alert that the intruder had in fact been taken care of, you hurriedly made your way through the tower with Clint. 

Entering the living room, you threw yourself into Natasha’s arms. 

“Who is he?” You asked. Nat didn’t answer right away, instead choosing to step back and look you over to ensure you weren’t hurt.

In her silence, Steve chose to respond, launching into who he was and who he worked for. It turned into a debrief, and you settled down on the couch, Natasha sitting next to you, her hand not leaving your thigh. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she murmured in your ear, placing a quick kiss to your temple.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t fight him,” you whispered back. Her brow furrowed. 

“It’s not your fault. Any other time you would have been able to take him down in an instant.”

You hummed. 

“Thank you for coming back so quickly.”

“For you? Anything.”

++++++

Tag List: @mymarvelwomen @morbid-gaymer @natasha-romanoff-fics @taramitch96 @marvelbanan @lesbian-x-blackwidow @firstangeldragonranch @stillfiguringmeout @natasharomanoffsbitch-x @5aftermidnight @disneykid125 @clintashaotp @arkkarchive @determinedpines @stop-drop-and-drumroll @newestnewgirl @missmarvelobsession @pussy-puncher-its-an-inside-joke @niquey-salvatore @1-danid @nowthisisliving27 @swanqueensupercorp @hopingforbarnes @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @natxhiddles @marvelb00kwolf @imnotasuperhero @canarypoint @im-hella-bright @nervousspiderling @swords-are-cool @bechloesupercorp @hcartbyheart @buckybarnesplumwhore @peggycarter-steverogers @nat-romanoffdanvers @aaron-despair

[banashee]

My first story from my @badthingshappenbingo​ card.

*+~

 Fixing the damage

 The pain is overwhelming and nauseating.

 Steve is faintly realizing that he is no longer trapped under the rubble of a collapsed building, but somewhere white and bright that smells of antiseptic - probably a hospital. He squeezes his eyes back shut, trying to breathe.

  It eases his mind, a little bit, just for a few seconds before the worry hits him once again. His mind is sluggish, but just now it comes back to him that he wasn't alone under the steel and stones.

 *+~

     The warehouse breaks down faster than anybody is even able to react - at the time, Steve is in there with Clint because the mission had lead them there while the rest of the team takes care of the threats outside. But suddenly, there is an explosion and the walls and ceilings around them crumble down. There is no time left to think, and Steve reacts lightning fast and instinctively - he throws himself right over Clint, shielding im with his own body in an attempt to keep the damage minimal. His own chances to survive this, to survive the injuries, is one hell of a lot higher than his very human teammates.  

     Both of them curse violently, and a moment later, the dust settles slowly.  

     Steve is right over Clint, propped up on his arms even though they are now in odd, unnatural angles. A heavy piece of rubble is pressing down on his back and he is bleeding, judging from the sudden wetness under his uniform and the stabbing pain that creeps through him. His ribs feel broken, too. Steve is in pain and shaking with it, but he keeps going, keeps himself up to protect them both from getting crushed.  

     Some of the blood drips down from his face, red droplets a stark contrast to his friends pale skin.  

     For the fraction of a second, there is panic on Clint’s face, then he visibly calms himself, breathing even as to not waste any air while they’re buried down here. They’re pressed close to each other, but there is a bit of room filled with precious air in between them - they’ll have to make the best of it until their team can get them out.  

     Loud voices over the comms let them know that they are onto it. They’ll get them out, but it sounds frantic in their ears. All they can do is trust them.  

     Steve is tired, and he really wants to close his eyes, but he can’t.  

             “Hey.” Clint’s voice sounds softly from underneath him, “Don’t pass out on me, Cap. Keep talking.”  

     “About what?” he manages, voice scratchy.  

     “Tell me a story. Complain about the turn of events or bitch about the patriarchy. Anything as long as you stay awake, Steve.”  

     And he must be trying, but he really doesn’t know what he is even saying - everything's a blur and he couldn’t tell which way is up or down.  

     If it’s been minutes or hours or even longer - Steve doesn’t know.  

 *+~

 In the fog of pain, Steve can make out voices.

 He recognizes his team, and it sounds like most if not all of them are there - immediate relief fills him, because it means they are alive. There is also the voice from somebody that his sluggish brain faintly recognizes as a doctor he might have met a few times before - SI, not SHIELD.

 She talks about broken bones and healing powers, about partially healed injuries that went back together wrong due to the time it took to get him out from under the building. She talks about having to re-break bones.

 Even in this state of mind, it sends an icy shower down his spine and Steve just knows what it means - and even if he didn’t, the passionate “Fuck!” that sounds very much like Tony tells him enough.

 There are no sedatives that work on him. He might pass out from pain if he’s lucky, but there is no single chemical in the world, as far as they know, that puts him under or is able to relief pain. His enchanted metabolism burns through everything way too quickly to even begin to work.

 Steve can feel his heartbeat speed up, and faintly he can make out the conversation next to his bed, because he forces himself to.

 “We’ll need your strongest ones. Since Dr. Banner is currently passed out it will have to be you, Thor. And you too, Mr. Stark. Please get on your suit.”

 He can hear how Tony swallows audibly and says, “Oh God. This is wrong, so, so wrong.”

 “There is no other way, I’m afraid.” Answers the doctor, and she does sound sympathetic. “The longer we wait now, the worse it will get. I don’t think any of you would want his injuries to heal wrong, it will only cause him more pain and problems, and eventually this will have to get done - better do it now than later.”

 There is a long beat of uncomfortable silence in the room, and then the bed dips down with the weight of another person, settling down by his head, and calloused hands gently touching him until Steve’s head is pillowed on somebody's lap.

 “Agent Barton, maybe you should go back to bed while-”

 “Make me. I dare you to fucking try it.” Clint bites back without letting the doctor even finish the sentence. It is obvious he won’t go anywhere and Steve is grateful for it - he automatically leans into the touch of the hand that’s running through his hair reassuringly.

 The next few minutes are agony.

 Steve can feel the pressure on his body, bones breaking under it with noises that will stay with him for a long time and leave the whole room with dread. Voices around him are talking, but he can’t make out the words - he is too busy trying to keep himself from screaming. If he had to guess, it is probably a mixture of calm instructions, reassurances and apologizes for causing him more pain.

 There are intervals where bones are broken again, then he gets a small pause where his bones are set into place and held with casts and bandages, right away as to avoid them starting to heal again before they’re straight again.

  Later, Steve will think back on this, unable to decide which would be worse - having to have partially healed bones re-broken to set them, or having to be the one to cause a friend pain in this way, even when it is to help them.

 If he was able to, he would hold onto Clint with the one hand that still works somewhat, but straining his arm hurts too much. So his fingers spasm for something to grip, and they are soon held by a warm hand, grip light as to not hurt him further, but firm enough to be reassuring, thumb softly rubbing over the side of his own hand.

 A sharp push on his ribs sends another wave of pain through his entire body. Air leaves his lungs, and he can hear, “Breathe, keep breathing.” next to his ear, and he tries to accommodate. Somehow, he manages to breathe again, gasping for air, really, but there are now tears pooling in the corners of his eyes and he finds himself unable to stop them and they soak into the soft fabric of the pants where his head still rests, now running free after the pressure finally stops and the doctor leaves the room, leaving Steve in the care of his friends.

 The whirring sounds of the Iron Man suit tell him that it gets taken off, quick footsteps running for the bathroom and shortly after, he can hear Tony retching and throw up into the toilet.

 Steve can feel his bed dip down once again, and he is faintly aware that Thor just sat down by his feet, gently placing one of his enormous hands on his uninjured calf in an comforting gesture, talking. His mind is clearing up, now that the worst is over, and he rasps out a “thank you.” which is met with a sad hum, and Thor says,

 “Please do not thank me for this - I am sorry to cause you more pain, my friend, even when it was only to help.” After a short pause he continues, “Rest now, we will keep you company.”

 Steve nods, but is unable to fall asleep, so he dozes a bit, Thor by the end of his bed and with Clint still running a hand through his hair. He’s tense and trying to hide it, but Steve can feel it now. He wants to ask him if he is okay, but before he can gather his thoughts and voice for this, the bathroom door opens again, and Tony emerges. He sits down next to Steve, apologizing a million times before he starts rambling. It’s oddly familiar and comforting, the quick string of words at least, and it makes him smile a bit.

 “Can you stay here for a bit?” He can then hear Clint ask, which is clearly directed at Tony, who gives an affirmative answer. Then the archer gets up from his spot, and then the bathroom door shuts quickly. They can still hear him throwing up - Steve feels sorry for his friends and their reaction to this, but he knows they won’t want to hear it.

 Clint’s spot is quickly taken by Tony. His touch feels different, not only because his hands are slightly smaller than Clint’s and his movements more restless than calm, but it is just as comforting to feel him close by. Steve still doesn’t allow himself to sleep yet.

 A few more minutes tick by, and he can hear his friends talk. Clint must have come back by now, because Thor says,

 “You should rest, you are still concussed.” which is met with half hearted protest but Tony interrupts him.

 “Thor is here, I’m here. My fucking suit is here. Knowing the others, they’ll be here soon as well. Lie down, sleep. We’ll keep watch.”

 And surprisingly enough, he does.

 Clint carefully stretches out next to Steve, because good luck getting him to leave him right now. Steve knows that he feels responsible for his injuries, because he’s been protecting him. It’s a talk they’ll have later, when the world is less fuzzy and less painful.

 For now, he’s happy to have a warm body next to him, carefully touching, and two other friends in the room with them to keep watch.

 Now, he finally allows himself to sleep, and when he wakes up next, he’s feeling a lot better already.

 When he looks around, the whole team is scattered across his room, either reading or silently talking or playing board games, but everyone is here.

 They’re all okay, and that’s all that counts.

*+~

 Bad Things Happen Bingo.

 Square: Setting a broken bone

[platonicpepperpottsimagines]

Headcanon request: how about a stepmom!pepper with a reader (who is the stepchild) who is really chaotic and gets in a lot of trouble and how Pepper deals with/reacts to it

warnings: angst anGST ANGST MORE ANGST,, a whole lot of tony being a bad parent?? this is suuuuuper long im so sorry im sorry

and sorry this was more tony + pepper than just pepper 😅

disclaimer: kids please do not be like y/n they are a bit of a dumbass some times dont shoplift or just generally commit felonies ok great :)

• so

• you were a badass to put it lightly

• or a pain in the ass

• depends on who you ask

• you were also tony starks daughter

• a combination of neglect in your earlier years + being left alone in a giant compound for weeks on end = a rebellious teeanager

• you started to shoplift and making graffiti on buildings

• mind you it was all illegal

• subconsciously you wanted tony to notice and finally treat you like his child but no

• a woman with the name of pepper potts noticed instead

• actually she was always the one to clean up the mess you made

• you weren’t on the best terms seeing as she wasn’t your mother

• some nights you could hear sreaming from the master bedroom, most of the screaming was about you

“-anD I HAVE TO FIND OUT FROM A RANDOM PERSON WANDERING AROUND THE COMPOUND THAT YOU HAVE A CHILD. UNBELIEVABLE ANTHONY. I CANT BELIEVE YOU!”

• pepper didn’t like you

• you didn’t like pepper

• it worked quite well didn’t it?

• the routine went a little like this:

- y/n does something dumb or illegal

- y/n gets caught

- pepper bails y/n out

- pepper gives y/n a lecture

- y/n doesn’t listen

- rinse and repeat

• today you were bored

• so time to do something dumb!!

• yay?

• you decided to just be an asshole to all the teachers today and see what happens

• well it ends in pepper screaming at you in the principals office on a tuesday morning

• yeah you didn’t even make it to lunch...

• yikes

• next day you had detention for a week and you were also still bored

• you stole some shit

• and you got caught

• and you were sent home

• and tony was mad

• and pepper was ballistic

• you were now grounded and had detention for the rest of the month

• yay

• good job y/n

• now you were never really that guilty over all the things you did

• but one night as you tried to sneak out you walked past pepper and tony’s bedroom

• tony was out on a business trip

• and you could hear pepper crying and mumbling to herself

• things like:

“i just want to help them...”

“tony doesn’t care im the only one trying”

“fuck fuck fuck why??”

“i just... i can’t... i..i..”

• oh shit

• now you felt really guilty

• dammit

• you went back to your room and sulked

• you made your mind up to be nicer

• stop doing illegal stuff

• ya’know?

• and you made the personal and mental promise to not be an asshole delinquent anymore

• you really tried to improve, and after a few years you would laugh and cringe when someone metioned your “rebellious years”

• you redirected your desire to make graffiti by making other art

• (top grades in art class hehe)

• and you didn’t shoplift now that tony trusted you with money

• you could just buy stuff instead :)

• (then again when you shoplifted it wasn’t to get stuff it was for the adrenaline rush, which you replaced by doing sports and stuff)

• anywho

• you were a good kid™️ now

• you got closer to tony and pepper

• (shh dont tell anyone but multiple times you have called her mom accidentally shhh)

• you were not an avenger

• sadly :(

• but still very engaged and a valuable asset to the team in the way that you knew how to get information

• they never asked how or why you knew exactly how to take down that russian mafia and frankly

• they did not want to know

• seeing as you “helped” on missions you were also listening to the comms most of the time when they were out

• for example, you were right there with pepper, screaming at tony when he jumped on that flying donut

• you were right there when he came back too

• and for 5 years you lived with your new baby sister morgan

• you were a bad influence tbh but eh what can ya do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

• she was your only sister

• and alSO IT WAS NOT YOUR FAULT THAT SHE SWEARS FREQUENTLY!!

• AND NOT YOUR FAULT THAT SHE STARTED QUOTING VINES ONE DAY NOT YOUR FAULT, PEPPER IDK WHERE SHE GOT IT FROM

• of course, those 5 years were hell because so many of your friends were dead

• you became a bit of a recluse in a way

• but when natasha and the rest of the crew came, well

• you BEGGED tony to at least try to fix what happened 5 years ago

• and he did, all for you

• kinda

• you were with also pepper and tony in the battle in endgame with a suit that he had made with you just for fun

• you were also there when he got the infinity stones and snapped his fingers

• deep down, you knew that all of this, saving the world, wouldn’t come without a price

• you hated it but it was true

• somehow, it was still so hard to let go of your father

• even after all those years of neglect

“no no no no please dont go, dad please. i don’t... who else is going to give me ice cream at 2am?? why? please don’t leave! dad no! NO!”

• fuck now i’m crying

• it was one of the hardest things to do, to have to let go of him

• you kinda got through it even if you missed him so much

• after the events of endgame you became ironman 2.0

• not really, you had another name that i cant think of rn shh but you used the suit he made for you

• you got closer to peter, and you may or may not have a little tiny isty bitsy crush on him

• he was your partner in crime, though actually you two faught crime together

• you helped pepper raise morgan

• but no matter how hard you tried, when she asked about her dad you couldn’t keep it together

• happy also helped you through a lot

• including a shit ton of cheeseburgers with him and morgan

• pepper loved you and you two have an inseparable bond after all the shit you’ve been through

• you love her

• but even if you love her, you ended up breaking your promise once

• you needed to spray paint something

• when you were done, you smiled through your tears

• peter was crying too, and you hugged each other as you stepped back to admire the artwork

[mooksie01]

With Teammates Like These, Who Needs Friends (4/5)

Chapter Summary: It turns out that the only thing worse than a tense first date in an airship... is an awkward first date in a haunted dust mine.

Or: In which Clover feels like a moron, Elm causes problems, and nobody knows how to deal with a crush.

Warnings: More swearing, canon-typical combat, SPOILERS for V7C3, light angst

AO3 Link: [X]

Link to First Chapter: [X]

Notes: THIS IS A REPOST. Tumblr basically blanked my first attempt at posting this a few hours ago. Hopefully this one will actually show up. 

Long chapter today to make up for the short one yesterday! I hope you all enjoy!

Please like, reblog, and comment if you like this chapter, and thank you so much to all of you who have been! Your support means the world!

(Just to preface, I haven't edited this chapter as thoroughly as I usually do, as I'm currently in the process of packing to go back to college tomorrow. I might come back later and give it another run-over when I have time, but for now, I'm sorry if there are any major mistakes or awkward spots in the chapter!)

---

Walking through the abandoned dust mines with Qrow, Clover can’t help but be… a little distracted.

Up until now, Clover had only ever seen the other man move in a manner so instinctively disconnected and introverted that he’d just assumed that that was how Qrow always was. Now, though, he sees that he was wrong before; beside him, Qrow marches forward, back straight, shoulders carefully held lax in preparation for any possible conflict, head high, and eyes shining with a startling clarity and determination that takes Clover’s breath away.

In short, he’s a vision and it’s a herculean task not to stare.

Still, Clover is a soldier first and foremost, and he doesn’t allow himself to be sucked in so much that he might lose focus on the mission.

After a few long moments punctuated by nothing but his team’s routine check-ins, Qrow speaks up, “Gotta say, ’m still not really used to working with other huntsmen in the field.”

Clover glances at him out of the corner of his eye, mentally jumping hurdles in an attempt to figure out what the best route to steer this conversation in would be. He decides to tread lightly--nothing too personal. “But you were on a team before, weren’t you?” he asks, as though he doesn’t already know. That should be safe.

Qrow sighs softly and his gaze darts to the ground.

Fuck.

Just kill him already.

“Long time ago…” Qrow’s voice comes out sounding gruffer than usual, “I’ve just found working alone tends to be for the best.”

Clover’s heart constricts in his chest. What is he supposed to do?! He’s already upset Qrow (twice, now!), how is he supposed to avoid doing it again?! He doesn’t want him to shut himself off from the Ace Ops just because Clover can’t stop sticking his foot in his mouth! Should he comfort him? He seems like he needs comfort. Fuck, he has to respond. What can he say?!

“Well, I think that’s a shame,” he blurts out, and immediately wants to punch himself.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, he is saved from having to ruminate over his social missteps when Qrow suddenly pitches forward, his foot catching on the uneven terrain of the cave floor underneath them.

Clover dives after him, seizing him by one arm and grunting with the unexpected strain of having to pull his partner back to his feet, then moves one hand to clasp his shoulder and make sure he’s steady. He is unsure if he has his skill or his semblance to thank for the feat, but he is grateful nonetheless to whichever it is.

He determinedly does not think about how this is the second time today that he has gotten the opportunity to hold Qrow close. Because that would be weird.

Once Qrow is standing again, they stare at each other for what feels like a long time, but is probably only a split-second. Clover feels like tiny nevermores are making a mess of his insides the longer he looks into Qrow’s eyes.

Then, those incredibly nice-looking eyes narrow into a slight glare and Qrow takes a firm step back. Rather than think about what he’s messed up this time, Clover decides that now would be a perfect time to report in to his team.

“Alpha, here. Give me an update.”

Qrow falls into step behind him as they proceed forward. Once again, the minutes pass mostly in silence but for the intermittent interruptions of their comms. Unlike Squads Bravo and Charlie, they see no sign of any sentinels or the target itself, but Clover has a feeling that they will soon enough.

His comm buzzes in his ear and makes a soft beeping noise, a signal that someone is contacting him through the Ace Ops’ private channel. Clover is about to answer aloud, but stops when a quiet series of taps and drags echoes down the line. It takes him a second to realize he’s being spoken to through morse code. His heart starts racing. They almost never use morse code in the field. Has something gone wrong?

He listens closely.

“ ....  ---  .--  …  /  -.--  ---  ..-  .-.  /  -...  ..  .-.  -..  “

HOWS YOUR BIRD

He takes a deep breath in and steadily lets it out through his nose. Now is not the time to figure out if it’s possible to throttle someone through a comm line. Instead, he tries to discreetly raise a hand to his ear and respond:

“  ..  --  /  --.  ---  ..  -.  --.  /  -  ---  /  ..-.  ..  .-.  .  /  -.--  ---  ..-  “

IM GOING TO FIRE YOU

“Who are we firing?”

Clover startles, whipping his head around to look at Qrow. The other man stares impassively at him, a single eyebrow raised. Clover swallows hard because oh no, he’s hot. “Nobody. Well, Elm, probably.”

“What did she do?” Qrow asks, quickening his pace half a step until he is walking shoulder-to-shoulder with Clover again.

“Fooling around on comms during a mission. Don’t worry about it.” Clover stops walking, turning to face Qrow, who takes the hint and also comes to a halt. “How do you know morse code?”

Qrow shrugs, folding his arms over his chest. “Just a useful skill for a huntsman to have, isn’t it?”

Clover scrutinizes Qrow for a long moment, detecting that there’s something more to that. Unfortunately, though, he’s not Robyn, and he doesn’t know Qrow well enough yet to pick up on any tells he may have, so he just nods and they continue walking.

“Must’ve been something real interesting,” Qrow says after a few more minutes spent in silence, “to get you to blush like that.”

Clover’s steps falter. His face grows hot as he stares after Qrow’s retreating back.

Fuck.

He isn’t allowed to stew in his embarrassment for long, as their target suddenly phases through the cavern wall and appears right in front of them. Before Clover can even react, Qrow has already drawn his weapon and started shooting one-handed at the geist.

While Qrow keeps the creature busy, Clover shakes himself out of his stupor and speaks into his comm, “This is Alpha! We’ve engaged the target!” He pulls Kingfisher from his belt. “All squads head towards our position!” He extends the pole, and casts out the line, hoping to catch the geist by its ribs and haul it in before it can reach any materials to build a body out of. Unfortunately, his shot misses, the hook clattering to the ground just as the target darts into a giant chunk of ice sitting on the cavern floor.

Pieces of rock and ice begin to float into the air around them, pulled unrelentingly into the geist’s orbit. Clover curses under his breath and rushes forward, hoping to snag the geist and pull it out of its half-formed body before it can finish construction….

...Only to hear Qrow’s panic-filled voice echo from behind him, “Wait, stop!”

Clover looks up just in time to see a large metal beam tumble from the ceiling above. He raises his arms and takes a stumbling step back as it crashes into the ground just a few feet in front of him.

When the dust settles, he peers down into the hole it had made, taking the target with it.

Dammit.

He knows for certain that that beam would’ve done some serious damage if not for Qrow’s warning. He probably wouldn’t have died, but he certainly would’ve been out of commission for more than a little while.

Still, the target got away, and as Qrow runs to stand beside him, he reports in to the rest of the teams, “Target escaped. Last seen headed east.”

He shoots a sideways glance at Qrow, who is staring contemplatively down into the chasm, a strange light in his eyes that Clover can’t quite comprehend.

He looks back into the seemingly-bottomless darkness. Kicks a medium-sized stone into the newly-made pit in an attempt to get a rough estimate of how deep it goes. “Thanks for the call-out,” he says, suddenly remembering that he should probably express his gratitude toward Qrow for saving him an awful lot of injured leave. He props a hand on his hip and shifts his weight as the rock lands below. “That could’ve been bad.”

Qrow sighs heavily next to him, “I wouldn’t thank me….”

Clover is taken aback at the sheer amount of self-loathing and shame loaded into those four little words. He looks at Qrow. The other man is firmly avoiding his gaze, and the strange quality that Clover had noticed in his eyes earlier now registers in the back of his mind as guilt.

This… was not the Qrow Branwen that Clover had thought he’d be dealing with. Just a few hours ago, he couldn’t fathom a world in which such a famous huntsman would be anything less than confident and secure in himself, but it is becoming increasingly clear that that assumption couldn’t have been more wrong, as the intense self-contempt Clover hears seems to settle within a well-worn place in Qrow’s face and voice.

Qrow angles his upper body away a bit more so Clover can no longer see his expression. “My semblance brings Misfortune. Sometimes… I can’t keep it under control.” His voice gets weaker at the end of the sentence. His fists clench weakly at his sides.

Clover’s chest seizes with some unnamed emotion.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Of course Qrow had been upset this morning--his semblance was literally bad luck and here Clover had been, walking around with a bunch of good luck charms and making luck-based puns.

Reviewing the events of the past hours, more and more pieces fall into place. Qrow’s sudden shift in mood from playful to downtrodden after they’d run into each other, how he’d repeatedly downplayed his hurt feelings as “dramatics,” the way he’d said on the airship that he “couldn’t blame” Clover for--for what?

He remembers the way Qrow had gestured to his ensemble earlier. His world tilts on its axis.

Oh, Brothers, Qrow thought that Clover already knew his semblance and had been wearing all of his charms as some sort of twisted precautionary measure. To ward off him. A human person with thoughts and feelings.

Stupid, stupid, so stupid.

He shakes his brain’s attempts at self-punishment away. What’s more important at the moment is that he now knows what’s wrong, and that he can fix it, and Clover decides in this moment, a million thoughts running through his head, that he no longer cares about the other Ace Ops’ teasing. If hanging around Qrow from here on out is what it will take to boost this gorgeous man’s self-confidence, then that’s what Clover will do.

“That so?” Clover asks, as though he hasn’t been rethinking every single one of their interactions up to this point. When Qrow turns to look at him, eyes wide with shock, having obviously expected a far worse reaction, Clover flashes him the most reassuring smile in his repertoire (and that’s saying something, since he has a lot of reassuring smiles saved up at this point). “Well, hey,” he says, purposefully making a show of glancing casually at his scroll’s screen and extending Kingfisher, “don’t beat yourself up about it.”

(He hopes desperately that this remark comes off as encouraging, rather than callous.)

He pulls down what’s left of the metal beam that had almost crushed him, resulting in a small-scale landslide that just-so-happens to give them a way down with which to follow the target.

He turns to face Qrow, making direct eye contact with the other man, who seems to have frozen in place.

And hey.

“My semblance is good fortune….”

If he can get in a little flirting while he’s hanging around the aforementioned gorgeous man?

“...lucky you, huh?” He gives the other a wink as he speaks. Qrow’s eyes widen. Clover raises his eyebrows and turns away, watching Qrow until the last possible moment.

Well, that’s neither here nor there.

---

More Notes: And there we go! Only one chapter left in this part of the series! I'm glad everyone seems to be liking it so far, and I'm so, so thankful to those of you who have been so kind and supportive in the comments. You're all amazing! Lots of love, fair game rights <3

[ckret2]

Here’s my @secretsolenoid​ gift for Kiwii! The prompt was “[IDW] Megastar: dancing”! (You also made a reference in your wishlist to drawing and i spent all december like “o shit are you hoping for fanart” i hope you’re okay with fanfic i am sorry im but a humble ficwriter.)

Also posted on AO3 here.

About 3k words of Starscream talking Megatron into learning to dance as Iacon burns.

“Lead Me”

For the first time since Optimus took control of the Autobots, the Decepticons held part of Iacon.

Just a small corner of it, west of the Septentrio Expressway, not quite reaching all the way north to the warehouse district—far from where Metroplex had squatted down over the Citadel. But it was several square miles—most of which they’d already gleefully bombed to rubble the day before, and tonight were very personally finishing the job of flattening—and it included a massive convention hall with underground hotel facilities that had been once used by the Senate and those few elites who had been rich enough to move in the senators’ circle.

Now, the hotel facilities were Decepticon bunkers—even with six to the average room, it was far more luxurious than anything they'd had in Kaon—and the convention center on top was filled with weapons and makeshift medical facilities. Most of which were currently empty, except for a couple of stragglers getting outfitted with weapons; everyone else was in the streets, slaughtering the cowardly neutrals who had failed to evacuate the blocks that the Decepticons now controlled—making an example of those who didn't either bow down to the Decepticons or get out of their way.

Megatron had elected to spend this battle—if it could really be called that—back in their headquarters. This close to Metroplex, if he showed his face outside, it would invariably lure Optimus into battle, and he felt his troops deserved an opportunity to slaughter the civilians in peace without having to worry about Autobot retribution. Shockwave had stayed behind as well and was somewhere in the armories, no doubt scavenging parts from the choice weapons for some unsanctioned experiment. Soundwave was out with the troops, going street by street and building by building, telepathically scanning them one by one for survivors hiding in the dark, and sending his friends in to kill them.

Which left one question.

Where was Starscream?

Megatron hadn't seen or heard him anywhere in the convention center-turned-base of operations. His comm unit was off. A call to Thundercracker, out dropping bombs on tall buildings with Skywarp, confirmed that Starscream wasn't with them, although Megatron commanded Thundercracker to report if they found Starscream. Where was he? Starscream wasn't the type to vanish quietly into the shadows, especially when there was a victory to revel in—and if the victory was too boring for his tastes, he was eager to let Megatron know. So what in the world...?

He was trying to decide whether he should be irritated or start suspecting foul play when he got a comm from Skywarp. "Found him! Sir."

"He's with you?"

"No, sir!" Skywarp sounded far too chipper for Megatron to like where this was going. "He's back at the command center."

"Where?"

"In that big room, near the top, with the giant window wall."

Megatron had surveyed this building top to bottom, and there was only one room that met that description. "The ballroom?"

"Yep!" And Skywarp promptly hung up—Megatron would have Starscream chew him out for that later—before Megatron could ask what, exactly, Starscream was doing there.

One way to find out. He found the stairs and headed up.

Megatron found the entrance to the ballroom—entrances, really, an absurd bit of ostentation, three broad double doors right next to each other, each tall enough to accommodate a shuttle with a car standing on each shoulder—and pushed wide the door that Starscream, evidently, had left ajar. And stopped dead in the doorway. "What on Cybertron are you doing?"

Starscream stumbled, but didn't stop. "I suppose you talked to Skywarp?" Which didn't answer Megatron's question, but really, it didn't need answering; Megatron might not have been terribly acquainted with the high arts, but he knew dancing when he saw it. "He was waving at me from the window." Starscream gestured toward the massive floor-to-ceiling window that covered the long wall of the empty ballroom, from which in the day time there could have been an excellent view of the one-sided battle below—but in the dark, only the fires and occasional tiny flashes of lasers were clearly visible.

Starscream turned the gesture toward the window into a twirl as he glided across the floor. If he was at all self-conscious about having been caught dancing alone by Megatron—and Megatron had little doubt he must be—he was doing an excellent job of hiding it by carrying right on with what he'd been doing. That, Megatron thought, deserved a little admiration.

But only a little. "You're not going out to raze the city?"

"Is it an order?"

"No. But I thought you'd be able to appreciate the value of helping."

"Hah! We're bombing empty buildings and civilians." He twisted his wings as he spun, and Megatron could feel the breeze from the air they displaced. "They don't need my help."

"It's not about whether help is needed. There's no serious resistance out there, and that's precisely why we're fighting them—to give the troops a chance to celebrate, and to assert the superiority of the Decepticons. To show how easily their city crumbles and their people fall. We're dominating Iacon."

"Hmm." Starscream twirled across the floor, and in the split second that Megatron's gaze was captured by Starecream's arms and shoulders rather than his legs, he could have sworn Starscream was gliding, his motions were so effortlessly smooth. "You're not going to dominate anything until you take out Metroplex."

Starscream was, regrettably, right. Megatron looked past him and out the massive windows at Iacon. Even from here, even with the fires and intermittent explosions occasionally overtaking the dark, even with the reflection of the ballroom making it hard to see through the window—he could see the dull red light, the one atop Metroplex's tallest tower, flashing on and off like a single optic winking tauntingly at Megatron: here I am, here I still am.

They could crush all of Iacon to dust, but until they conquered the Autobots' stronghold, they'd dominated nothing.

"It's psychological warfare," Megatron said crankily. "To terrify and intimidate the opposition, and make them easier to crush. Not your area of speciality, I know."

Starscream snorted. "You're only terrifying neutrals, and they're already terrified. The Autobots aren't going to be impressed at seeing we can kill unarmed, defenseless civilians. If anything, they'll be inspired to revenge on the civilians' behalf."

Revenge they wouldn't be able to get, because they were too weak to do anything but hide behind Metroplex's walls, and the Decepticons had just seized control of the main route by which they were bringing in supplies; but Megatron couldn't make that point without first conceding that this wasn't about intimidating the opposition, and he wasn't ready to surrender that point yet.

He was still contemplating his next argument when Starscream continued: "Besides, if you're going for psychological warfare, a fighter jet dancing in a ballroom used by senators is far more terrifying than a pack of fighter jets dropping bombs."

Megatron could see what Starscream was getting at—oh, the existential horror that would inspire in Functionists—but he was going to make Starscream work for the point before he awarded it. "And how is that more terrifying?" Go on, Starscream, elucidate your argument. Megatron started a global resistance movement with a couple of essays; he grades hard.

Starscream arched back, lifting one leg into the air—could he lift it as high as his head? Primus below—and wrapped a hand under his knee to help keep it lifted. "Thrusters," he said, kicking his lower leg demonstratively. "I'm going to leave horrifying scrapes and exhaust stains all over their pretty marble floor."

"HAH!" Megatron hadn't expected that answer. He didn't mean to laugh. Starscream obviously knew that, if the smug smirk he favored Megatron with as he lowered his leg was anything to judge by. All right. Megatron conceded the argument to Starscream. He was more productively serving the Cause by dancing than he would be by bombing Iacon.

And not just by scratching the marble. A fighter jet dancing in a senators' ballroom was equivalent to flashing one's tail lights at the entire lineage of Primes and the Functionist Council all at once.

Megatron had often wondered: if he were to ever write another essay, what would it be about? It seemed unlikely that he would. Right now, he was far too busy waging war to focus his thoughts on writing—if there was one thing that could be said for mining, it was that it was mindless enough that he could turn his mental faculties to writing in his head as he worked. And ideally, once the war was over, there'd be nothing he lacked the power to fix through direct action and so he’d have no need to try to change it through polemics. But, if he did write again...

He had already decided that his next treatise would be on Starscream: a case study on the mistake of Functionism. Because of the shape of his wings, the density of his armor, and the power of his thrusters, he was relegated to the position of common soldier. The highest rank he could ever hope to achieve in life was cannon fodder for the Primal Vanguard. Anyone who ever met him could easily see what a waste to Cybertron it would be to force him to serve as a flying gun.

Within moments of meeting Starscream, even as he was still gushing enthusiasm at meeting his gladiatorial idol, Megatron could see how his entire personality sparkled with charisma. And it didn't take another half hour, as Starscream introduced himself to the growing Decepticon movement and struck up small conversations, for it to become obvious how intrinsically brilliant he was and what a keen observer he was of his surroundings. After making a single circuit of the Decepticon headquarters and returning to Megatron, the first thing he’d asked was "So where do you keep the big guy who splits into two vehicles locked up when he's not terrorizing gladiators?"—based on nothing but what he'd seen of Overlord in combat against Megatron, Starscream had concluded that he was 1) part of the Decepticons, even though he wasn't currently visible, and 2) too dangerous to be allowed out by himself. Astoundingly astute.

Starscream brought in recruits in droves—he knew just what to say to inspire devotion to the Decepticon Cause, when even Megatron's own words could not. He made himself welcome and indispensable everywhere, smiling and and simpering for the Senators until they let him into their confidences, smirking and swaggering for the laborers and gutter trash who needed to see someone from their end of the social ladder who could carry himself like a king. He had the benefit of no education but a fighter jet's standard boot camp training. And yet, he had the mind, the wit, the cunning, the acumen of any of the most highly-trained military minds he had been pitted against so far. He should have been—and Megatron would never use this as a compliment for anyone else—he should have been a politician.

He was cannon fodder. Had he been shipped out with the Primal Vanguard and died on an alien world, the Vanguard wouldn't have considered his body important enough to carry home.

Starscream alone was reason enough to justify this war.

If Megatron ever wrote that treatise—he didn't think it was necessary, now, but if he did—this would be how Megatron introduced it: with Starscream dancing, arms outstretched, wings upraised, legs gliding across the floor. Mechs with Starscream's frame—mechs with any warrior frame at all who hadn't been promoted to the position of global hero—were described as heavy, burly, graceless, thuggish, clomping. Starscream was twice as graceful as mechs with half his armor.

Starscream pirouetted on the tip of one foot, wobbled, stumbled to catch himself, and abruptly turned to face Megatron. "You know what would be even more horrifying than watching a fighter jet dance."

"What?"

"A miner."

"Absolutely not."

"Oh, come on." Starscream kicked the floor where he'd failed his pirouette; he'd left a nasty scratch in the marble. "Don't think you can top that?"

"I have no interest in trying," Megatron said stiffly. "Dancing is a waste of time. The idle pursuit of alt-mode exempt mechs who want to gloat about the leisure that being freed from a function affords them."

"All the more reason to do it! Since everyone should be alt-mode exempt, right?"

"Wrong. It's a hobby that's been claimed by mechs at the peak of a hierarchy that should never have existed. Imitating them would make it look like I'm aspiring to be like them. My goal is to tear them down, not to seat myself among them."

"Believe me, Megatron, there's no one left alive who would mistake you for an aspiring idle aesthete. I don't think your reputation would be irrevocably damaged if you whirled around the dance floor a couple of times." Starscream planted a hand on his hip and—his optics glittering in challenge—said, oh so very casually, "Anyway, the rest of High Command has been taught how to dance, who could hold it against you if you learned too?" A double insult: the suggestion (accurate) that Megatron not only chose not to dance but also didn't even know how; and the suggestion that, by not doing so, he lacked a skill that all of his commanders had. It was a low blow and an elitist accusation, and one that Megatron couldn't pay Starscream back for without making it look like he'd been insulted. And Starscream knew it, if his smirk was anything to go by.

Megatron would make him regret the jab later. For now, he could only challenge the validity of it. "You? Have been taught how to dance? I would think this,” he made a vague gesture that was supposed to be indicative of Starscream's graceful-but-unstructured glides across the floor, "this prancing wouldn’t be considered ballroom appropriate."

"Oh, of course not! That, I'm making up as I go. But I've been taught to dance properly." He snapped his heels together, raised his arms as if to support an invisible partner, and started dancing neatly, his steps forming smooth, uniform squares across the floor. "Taught by a superior who'd been to officer school—they learn in case they go to any Senate functions; anyone who moves in senators' circles is expected to know how. It might not be formal classroom training, but it's good enough that Zeta Prime never questioned my credentials as a delegate to the Senate." Starscream flashed a wink as he turned his invisible partner around a ninety-degree corner. Megatron scowled. The thought of Zeta with his filthy hands, gilded in fake armor, clutching at Starscream's waist...

"That hardly means the rest of High Command knows how."

"Shockwave was a senator. He knows, of course."

Wasn't that a wild mental image—Shockwave, dancing. "He would never."

"No, but he knows."

"Soundwave doesn't. His background is no higher than yours or mine." Megatron still didn't know Soundwave's exact origins—Megatron didn't even know Soundwave's full name—but Ravage had made passing comments to taking Soundwave in, which meant whatever his background, it had started lower than a cold constructed beastformer with no bipedal mode.

"Do you think Ratbat let his top agent get away with not learning how to dance? Even secret Senate messengers must represent their bosses well."

"At what? Black market business meetings?"

"Even black marketeers have balls."

Megatron laughed derisively.

"I'm serious! Ask Soundwave. Or Ratbat himself, if you want all the greasy details," Starscream said. "Should I go on? You wouldn't believe what Scorponok—"

"That's enough." Megatron had watched Scorponok cave Grimlock's face in, he didn't want to hear that he could dance too.

Starscream finally danced around to facing Megatron again, and favored him with a deceptively sweet little smile. "Well?"

"... All right." Starscream knew Megatron too well. Megatron couldn't abide the thought of being unable to do something his subordinates could. He walked onto the dance floor, head high and feet planted wide, as though proudly stepping into the gladiatorial ring. "Show me."

Starscream broke off his dance with his invisible partner, his little smile spreading into a wide grin. "Since this is your first lesson, and I'm going to be teaching you…” There was something subtly menacing behind his words as he said, "I will lead."

"For now," Megatron said, with what he thought was more indulgence than the look in Starscream's optics warranted. "Show me where to put my hands."

One hand in Starscream's hand, the other on his shoulder. Starscream's free hand settled on the corner under Megatron's arm, and Megatron immediately tensed, battle protocols quietly activating and rearranging his HUD, hyper-aware of the palm pressed to his side and the fingers against his back. And it occurred to him that, since he had left the mines, the only people who had touched his torso were either medics or enemies determined to kill him. The hand felt wrong. It felt dangerous.

Megatron's apprehension must have shown on his face—and an apprehensive-looking Megatron was a deadly-looking Megatron—because Starecream's smirk quickly shrank to nothing and he now looked rather like he was reconsidering this entire conversation. He could probably feel the heat of Megatron's cannon warm up next to his head. "... Sir?" He loosened his grip on Megatron's back.

Megatron tightened his grip on Starscream's shoulder, pulling him close enough that their chests nearly touched and the EM fields orbiting their sparks could brush against each other.

Perhaps Starscream had the body of a soldier, but he had the mind and spark of a politician—and a good politician, at that. If he ever decided he wanted to defeat Megatron, he wouldn't be doing it in single combat. Even a knife in the back mid-dance was too brazen an assault. Megatron had nothing to fear from the hand on his back.

It was the clever, smirking little mouth he had to watch out for. The mouth that turned day laborers into terrorist soldiers, that let cannon fodder walk confidently among senators, and that convinced miners to dance.

"You said you'll lead?" Megatron asked. "Then lead me."

Starscream's optics brightened. His grip tightened again. "As you command." He leaned forward, pressing his right knee into Megatron's left. "Everything I do, you do in reverse." Megatron stepped back with his left foot; Starscream's foot followed. "Just like that."

Megatron wasn't nearly as graceful as Starscream. But by the time the guns fell silent and the fires began to die down, Megatron had successfully learned how to dance from one side of the ballroom to the other.

He was far prouder of the ugly scuffs they left across the ballroom floor.

[alienslovetea]

the magic of gardens (a langst minific)

since im currently working on my rebel!lance au and torn apart (and maybe some more of lachesism!lance ;) ), i thought I’d give you guys some langst and fluff since I haven’t written anything in a while!

If there was one thing that was obvious to Lance during his time in space, it was how lifeless it was. Of course it wasn’t always that way, the paladins were often wormhole-ing from one galaxy to another and seeing a multitude of different planets every day. Yet there were also those moments where it was just the castle and the vastness of space, leaving them without any planet to anchor to. 

It was in those moments that Lance truly missed his home, not only for his family, but for the life that always bloomed on Earth. Back home, Lance had had a garden, both outside and in his bedroom. The plants ranged from succulents to flowers to even vegetables, filling Lance’s room to the brim with life. 

That’s when it started, Lance would have to say, a day like any other filled with boring missions. The team had been visiting a planet by the name of Gaji, specifically its markets for supplies for the castle. Lance being Lance, had wandered off, hoisting his bag over his shoulder in search of something cool and discovered a little shop at the end of the row, where a small alien sat surrounded by plants. The alien itself was a soft lavender with three eyes, each peering at Lance with curiosity. “Are you interested in buying some plants?” The merchant asked, gesturing around the shop, “Anything specific?” Lance shook his head and peered around the small shop, looking at all the odd plants that were scattered around. Some glowed, while others moved, each unique in their own way. 

“May I ask where you got all these plants? I haven’t seen any of these on Gaji?” Lance said instead, interested. 

The merchant laughed, sounding almost like a bird chirp, at his words,”Oh no, these are plants I’ve discovered while traveling. I have my own garden and I like to sell any plants I already have or do not need anymore.”

“You have a garden? Is it here on Gaji? How do you manage it? I used to have one too back on my home planet, sorry if I’m asking too much!” Lance replied excitedly, he never had thought to start his own garden out in space. 

“Oh no you’re fine, I enjoy talking about my garden, ask as many questions as you’d like! You remind me of an old friend, they too loved nature. And yes, it is here on Gaji towards the mountains so it can receive direct light from our sun. My family mostly manages it for me while I’m away, however I also have some droids who help out as well!” He explained, pointing to a small robot on a nearby shelf. 

“That’s so cool! How do you collect the plants? Especially these larger ones?” Lance asked.

“Oh that’s simple, have you ever heard of Bev? No? Well, he’s an inventor who created these small boxes that expand and then shrink to carry whatever you need. I’m not exactly sure of the science behind it, but it helps me with the business! Oh and please take a seat! You must be getting tired simply standing there, would you like a cup of lepaz as well? It’s a de-stresser tea, the plants can tell you’re a bit stressed.” He ushered Lance into a soft cushion before disappearing behind a door and emerging with two mugs and some cookies, or rather space cookies. 

“Oh, you didn’t have to do all this! I haven’t even learned your name yet!” Lance exclaimed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“Oh no, it is custom with my people to provide support, especially to those who appreciate nature! My name is Zad, and I’ve heard tales of you, Blue Paladin. Now may I ask some questions as well? Is it true you battled a sea monster with only your wits and saved a whole planet?” Zad handed him his mug and the two talked for hours about the universe and plants in the cozy little shop. For the first time in months, Lance felt completely relaxed.

Before he knew it, he was getting a call over the comms to return back to the castle, ruining his good mood. 

“Sorry Zad, I have to get going back to the castle now,” Lance sighed, placing his mug on the floor. 

Zad smiled and stood up, gesturing for Lance to as well. “It was nice to meet you Blue Paladin, please accept this communicator as a away for us to keep in touch! And back to my first question before you go, are you interested in any of these plants? I’m sure you’d be a great caretaker!” 

Lance happily accepted the small communicator, ignoring the second beep alerting him to head back to the castle before responding,”I sadly don’t have any money on me, our team leader was carrying it before I wandered off. I really have to go now though, I’ll make sure to keep in touch!” 

Lance was all but running out of the shop as his helmet beeped a third time, but was interrupted by a loud, “Wait!”

Zad ran up to him, holding a small cube in his hand, “Take this then, it has all you need to start up your own garden.” Lance was about to retort that he couldn’t possibly accept such a gift when his helmet beeped once again, this time with a short and angry message from Allura, leaving him with no option but to accept and sprint back to the castle.

The lecture he received once he returned hadn’t been a fun one, that’s for sure. 

“You can’t keep wandering off like that Lance! You could have gotten seriously hurt, I expected better from you,” Shiro reprimanded as soon as he was onboard, practically fuming. He had to pinch the bridge of his nose and take a deep breath before continuing, “Just… just act as a Paladin all right? I know you’re tired and the market was cool, but we have to be the responsible ones and that means not jeopardizing a mission to go sight-seeing okay?” Lance could only nod, keeping his eyes trained on the floor as he trudged back to his room quietly. He’d face the rest of the team tomorrow. 

Once he reached his room he immediately went and changed, going through his nightly routine as well. It wasn’t until he was putting on his face mask when he remembered the small cube Zad had given him. He went and pulled it out the bag he had brought with him, admiring the intricate designs that covered the cube. There was a small button on the cube and without thinking Lance immediately pushed, which was a mistake. 

Items began pouring out of the box; boxes of soil, fertilizer, tea boxes, and plants began to cover his floor. Zad had said he gave him enough to start a garden but he hadn’t thought it was this much! It was going to be a long night. 

Lance barely got any sleep after having to organize all the supplies he had been given, which now covered half his room even after being put into stacks. He almost face planted into his food goo during breakfast, which didn’t go unnoticed. 

Coran had pulled him aside before training asking him if he felt alright, twisting his moustache in worry. 

Lance ran his fingers through his hair,”Well um, I’m feeling fine I just stayed up a bit a late due to an…accident.”

“An accident?! Are you alright? Should I go start a healing pod, you know how-”

“Its fine! I was given a gift the other day at the market and it kinda exploded all over my room? So it kinda resembles a garden shop at the moment with all the supplies that’s in there,” Lance mumbled, “You wouldn’t happen to know where I could put all of that right? I can’t use half of my room currently, which is a small problem.” Coran was speechless for a moment before a huge grin overtook his face. 

“A garden you say? I have just the thing. But first, let’s get you out of training, yeah? You look a bit rugged and I think this will do you some good!” Coran winked at him, heading back into the dining room to alert the team that Lance would be helping him with some castle repairs for the rest of the day, which Shiro begrudgingly agreed to. 

The pair then quickly went to Lance’s room where they locked the door to keep their job away from prying eyes. 

“Now, I haven’t properly been able to alert you all of the functions of your rooms, which is quite a shame! You see, if you press this panel here, it opens up a small chamber! And if you press this one, it opens a wardrobe, and this one opens a-” Coran rambled, opening up a small room that had both an upper level and a lower level. It was lined with shelves and great lighting, exactly what Lance needed. “-and then the panel closed on his foot! Hah! On Altea…Lance, are you alright my boy?”

Lance hadn’t even realized he was crying, lifting a hand to touch the tears rolling down his face. He reached over and hugged Coran,”This is perfect Coran, thank you so much.” He wiped the tears away before grinning excitedly, “Now lets fill this baby up! This is going to be the coolest thing ever!”

By the end of the day, most of the bottom section had been filled with plants and Lance’s room was empty once again. Zad had given him a total of fifteen plants, each differing in size and type. His favorite had to be one that resembled a succulent, that glowed a soft blue and had shiny blue leaves. 

At dinner that night, Lance was about to tell the team about his cool new garden when he remembered that they were all angry at him still. That certainly put a damper on his happy mood. He couldn’t tell them about the garden now, not when they were angry, it would make them think he didn’t take this seriously. So he kept it a secret, promising himself to tell them when the time was right.

As the days turned to weeks, Lance found that instead of telling the team about his garden, he simply continued to add to it. He carried the cube with him on scouting missions to fill with any cool plants he might find along the way. This resulted in him filling up the entire bottom layer, the shelves full to the brim with plants. In a way, it was therapeutic, having something so simple to take care of and keep his mind off of the war he was fighting every day. He would often call up Zad on the communicator while he was in the room, talking to him about his garden and asking for any tips on certain plants. Zad had even went as far as to teach him a bit about plant magic, showing him the basics of the web of life that made up the world. It was relaxing, and even the team began to see a shift in him as well. In Pidge’s words, he was more “chill”.

It even helped him with his bond with Blue, as Zad had suggested he tried out meditation (which Lance had originally thought was lame) and he saw huge improvements in the way he could communicate with his lion. Her words came out sharper and he could speak to her over greater distances.

All thanks to these little plants. 

Of course, this was Lance however, and nothing ever went his way. 

He was just placing a new flower he found on the planet they previously visited, when a voice startled him and ended with the plant hitting the floor. 

“What. The. Hell.” Lance turned around to see Keith standing in the doorway, awe clearly displayed on his face. 

“Keith! What are you doing here? Why didn’t you knock?!” Lance yelled, “Goddamit, I broke its pot. Are you good little guy?” 

Keith only stared at the room in front of him, that was honestly one of the prettiest things he had ever seen. From the soft lanterns that floated around to all the glowing plants, it looked like something straight out of a disney movie. 

“How did you even…when did this happen?” Keith asked, staying in the doorway in fear of ruining the almost magical atmosphere of the room. 

Lance sighed, making his way down to the bottom level where Keith was,”Um, a while ago when we went to that market on Gaji? There was a plant shop there with this cool dude named Zad, who is a gardening god by the way, gave me a bunch of plants after we had this like huge discussion. Then Coran helped me set this up.” Lance smiled proudly at his garden, peeling off his gardening gloves. “Um, why did you come into my room anyway?”

“Oh um, I wanted to see if you wanted to spar but you seem busy so I’ll just go..” Keith said, slowly making his way back into Lance’s room. 

“Well now that you know about this, feel free to stay! I’ve got this awesome tea, or at least resembles a tea, that you should try! And-” Lance was interrupted by a song ringing, filling up the room, “One sec!”

Keith awkwardly stood there while Lance spoke to ‘Rad Zad’, not knowing whether he should stay or leave. Finally when Lance was done he turned to Keith. “Sorry about that, I just wanted to tell you I’ve got this cool fire plant thing that you would like!” 

The two ended up spending the rest of the afternoon exploring Lance’s garden, sipping on lepaz and enjoying a moment of magic in the midst of the madness.